#and now it's picked up again so :P

[14dayswithyou]

Hi, Howdy! Hey! I really love your novel!! I got a little confused by the 4 day, may maybe you help me please? who is it? why we got the bad end staying the night in Ren’s apartment and he disappear of the home screen? I can’t understand “unset memory” game, sorry if I wrote smth wrong or smth sounds rude, I swear that I didn’t mean it if happened, I’m really a fan of the novel, I’ve been playing the game since day 1 or 2 I guess, probably day 1, english isn’t my first language, but I tried lol

⌞♥⌝ I hope you don't mind me answering these as bullet points!! ^^

"It" will be revealed later in the game! So I won't reveal too much right now.

You can only get the Dead End in Day 4 by staying at Ren's apartment — the rest of your choices before that don't matter. I'd also pay closer attention to the black smoke and Ren's reaction towards it!

Ren disappears from the home screen because he promised to help the player out (and stop them from getting the Dead End again). Try replaying the game again from the beginning for a surprise!

"Unsent Memories" was another visual novel (initially being written by @10chimes / @unsentmemory, though the project has since been dropped and handed back to me /pos) and is set in the same universe as 14 Days With You. Its storyline and characters are completely separate from 14DWY, so you don't have to worry about them while playing 14DWY.

[mimpinightmare]

(Still Waiting)

Reference Meme Template:

[kuiinncedes]

i’m READINGGGGGGG BABEL

[lilbabylemon]

crazy how much weed helps aall da physiical symptoms i get :// puuked like 4 tiimes2day ccuz da nausea is so bbad even wiv my meds :((

[pyrosomatic-metamorphosis]

(ao3)

The worst thing, Bad knows, is the way that nothing changes. 

The clouds move slow across the sky, gentle giants on an eternal trek. The waters dance with fish; the brooks burble and sing. Grass grows. Sheep eat. Grass regrows. 

On, and on, and on, and on. 

Bad breathes in, slow, and holds it. 

It’s enough to go mad over. To become enraged for. To rip everything down just so that everything can match the- the keening lack in his heart. Grass grows. Grass has always grown. There is nothing that could ever stop grass from growing. 

His hands are curled into the ground at his sides. He clutches handfuls of the wretched plant and pulls, almost gently, and doesn’t snap a single blade.

He exhales, slow, and doesn’t inhale again. What point is there? He’s alone. No one will know whether or not he needs to breathe. He’s been alone before- days that Dapper doesn’t wake up, days where the other eggs are with their other parents. Days where he falls asleep in his chair and the ghosts are left to amuse themselves. He’s been alone before. 

He’s lost before. 

There is a sob in his throat. He refuses to let it out. It chokes him, and he takes another deep breath to try to settle it. 

There’s always- he misses Skeppy. Of course he misses Skeppy. He can’t lose Skeppy, but Skeppy isn’t here.

Dapper isn’t here. Pomme isn’t here. Richarlyson. Leo. Ramon. Chayanne. Tallulah. They’re-

Bad tears the grass out of the ground. He stares at his hands, dark claws curled around torn green plant. He tries to imagine the grass is white fur instead, but he can’t find the enthusiasm. That’s okay. The anger will be back later. 

He just- he can’t feel much beyond the loss, right now. The lack. The empty, quiet island where sheep eat grass and clouds keep moving and no eggs place any signs at all. That’s not okay, but he knows that, at least, will change. That’s how grief works. The world ends, and you end with it, and while you claw yourself up from the rubble the world ends again and sends you back under, and then again, and then again, but by the third go around you know what the tremors look like. You start to predict where it hurts the most. Then the world keeps ending but the ending just becomes a part of your world, and sometimes everything shakes but you shake with it and it’s not okay but it’s better. You get so used to the shaking that sometimes you forget that your world ever ended at all. 

How long will it take for him to forget them? 

Bad leans forwards, slowly, until he slumps into a miserable little puddle of limbs. He presses his cheek into the cool grass and when the sob rises up again he bites it back with teeth. The sun is blocked by a sombrero, now fallen awkwardly over his face, that Foolish had cheerfully placed on his head hours before. Bad doesn’t know why Foolish had put it there- except he does, and he’d seen it in the in the slightest tremor of Foolish’s smile, and so he’d kept it on. 

He can’t see them, but he can hear them laughing. Mouse, Jaiden, and Foolish, just around the corner. There have been so many people ‘just around the corner’ today. They’re so loud. They’re not the right type of loud. He feels guilty for the way that they’re comforting him, that he’s taking up their time, and then he feels angry that he feels guilty because he remembers the cage, and he knows what he really means to them, and-

They’re still here. The eggs are gone, and they’re still here. 

Forever isn’t here. 

Forever hasn’t given him a gift basket yet. 

…

…It doesn’t work. It’s a close thing, though- there’s a flicker of irritation at the thought of Forever’s awful, handsome face. Not anger, not nearly enough emotion to fill the void that is Bad’s heart, but maybe it could be. He’ll try again tomorrow. Isn’t that fun? Isn’t that something? There’s so much emotion he can’t feel any of it at all. 

Maybe it’s a bad dream. There were no remains. There was just Dapper’s top hat, and Pomme’s beret. No shell, no dead eggs. No eggs. It’s driving him mad, the maybe-yes maybe-no nature of his children’s fate.

He thinks, maybe, that tomorrow he will build a drill. 

Today, the world is dark beneath the sombrero, and the grass is scratchy and full of small twigs. Foolish laughs once, too loud. Automatically, Bad pushes himself up, because he knows Foolish, and knows how long he’s been away from the group, and he feels sick. He fumbles for his warpstone and- Foolish’s head pops around the corner- Bad freezes. Too late. 

Foolish looks at him, grin bright and neverending. Bad looks back. He can’t bring himself to say anything- he drops the sombrero at their feet. 

Foolish’s smile fades. Bad activates his warpstone again and, though the particles, he sees Foolish give him a sharp, left-handed salute. Bad can’t bite back his little laugh; Foolish knows him, too.

And then Foolish is gone. The world is purple. Then the world ends, once again, in Bad’s home. All of Dapper’s machines have stopped. Echoing noise to almost-echoing silence. Ah. Right. None of the island’s machines are working correctly. Bad will have to make a smaller drill. But he will build his drill, and he will dig, and he will find his son. 

“Dapper?” he calls, his voice cracking. The sound echoes. Only the animals answer back- they’re the only thing that stops the base from being completely silent. Grass grows. Sheep eat. Grass regrows. There’s so many animals here. What good company. It occurs to Bad, suddenly, that they’re good company. Dapper is gone, and his animals are still here, and Bad- 

He won’t kill Dapper’s pets. He is suddenly holding his scythe and he won’t hurt his son’s pets because he can’t trade them for his son and there’s a special sort of heartache to the fact that his son left behind instructions to machines that don’t work and so many animals that can’t keep Bad company the way Dapper kept him company and Bad- 

He’s holding his scythe. He’s holding the Sunshine Protector. He tries to take a breath but it comes out stuttery and he bites his tongue and. Dapper was-is always so sweet. He made Bonnie to keep Bad company, and Bad is always haunted by little ghosts but now most of all he is haunted by the love of his son. 

“Where are you?” His voice cracks on the third word. He stumbles to Dapper’s room and doesn’t think about the fact that they never got to build one for Pomme.  

The hole in his heart could swallow an island. 

Please don’t take- 

The scythe gets left outside. Bad can’t bear to look at it. Protector. There is a secure door in front of him that keeps nothing secure because now there is nothing to protect and Bad- 

-my sunshine away. 

He falls to his knees next to the empty bed. He chokes out, “I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you, Dapper.”

When the sob rises again, he lets it.

[syncrovoid-presents]

I will continue being gone for a few days, sadly my original al plan of releasing the newest chapter of The Consequence Of Imagination's Fear has also been delayed. My apologies

Can't go into detail because its hush hush not-legally-mentionable stuff but today is my fifth 12 hour no-break work day. I'm also packing to move too in a fortnight (which is a Big Yahoo!! Yippee!! I'll finally have access to a kitchen!! And no more mold others keep growing!!! So exciting!!!)

[beatcroc]

Oh yeah I watched the digital circus thing. It was alright

[knittinglizards]

it is kind of funny watching comedies from the mid aughts and being reminded that at the time in the us at least 'nerd' was an insult with some amount of actual bite to it and like. adults would care at all about being called it. did not register for me at the time on account of being in elementary school and by the time i was more or less able to gauge these things (like 2011ish) the connotations of it had shifted

[tonycries]

50 Shades of Kento - N.K.

Synopsis. You help your hot uptight boss blow off some much-needed steam, and he makes an absolute mess of you - that annoyingly flirty new employee of his. Deal?

Pairing. Nanami Kento x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! flirty!reader, CEO! Nanami, office AU, pánty-stealing, jealousy (Nanami’s side), Higuruma cameo, he goes FÉRAL, ROUGH S, chokíng, semi-public, manhandIing, p talking, p sIapping, spítting, slight angry s, he’s BIG, cervíx kíssing, talking you through it, oraI (fem rec.), creampíes, cúmplay, male mast., ínnuendos, no curses AU, slight bóndage, use of “work wife”, proposals, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 9.7k

A/N. CEO Nanami? I wanna be SAVED.

“-the boss looks really mad-”

“-where’s he storming off to before the meeting?”

“Bet he’s going to fire someone again-”

Now, it’s not like Nanami Kento intentionally built himself such a painfully strict reputation in the office. 

In fact, he’d spent the first few months as CEO wondering just what he might have done to make it so that none of his employees could even look him in the eye. Hell, they barely even seemed to breathe whenever he passed by. 

All of them except you - that pretty new hire always buzzing around his department. Even when it might not be too…professional. 

But, right now, professionalism was the last thing on his mind. 

“Dammit. Dammit.” Nanami’s hissing, sharp edges of his pearly whites sinking into his bottom lip to stifle away a ragged moan. Hard enough to bruise when he shuts the nearest bathroom stall with a resounding clatter! “B-before a meeting, too-”

Barely wasting even a split-second before unbuckling his belt and inching his greedy hand past the too-tight hem-

All because of you and that damn skirt.

“God fucking dammit-” His voice tumbles out in heady puffs into the air, murked with a growling tint of desperation.

Fingers usually so dexterous and deft whenever he’s typing away, now fumbling with the mere latch on his stubborn zipper. He’s spitting out a few slews of profanities before panting out an impatient tut and all but ripping his formal slacks down to his knees. 

Nanami’s sculpted thighs weaken, smearing out widely as he leans his back against the firmly shut door with a groan. Cold against his feverish body. 

Shit, he’d barely even touched himself yet already feels like he’s melting.

Because Nanami wasn’t just rock-hard - it was as if his swollen cock was built out of fucking diamonds. 

Hot. Heavy. Sobbing out a glistening streak of precum that slobbers access his washboard abs and wayyy down to his tawny happy trail. He wanted you. He needed you. 

“Fuh-fuck!” He gasps, instantaneously clamping his delirious mouth shut. Loosening that yellow speckled tie just so he can breathe, “Never been sooo fucking h-hard. Shit this isn’t- fuck.”

Achy red shaft throbbing out a needy ba-dump—! in his meaty palm, ribbons of treacly pre splatter in copious torrents down to his angled wrist. He’s making such a puddling mess all over the tiled floor, swiping up the fatly padded curve of his thumb to plug up those never-ending droplets. 

“N’ this is all your hngh- fucking fault.” Nanami’s canines glint in the dimmed lighting, snarled at that strawberry pink blush on his mushroomed tip. The very same shade of pink to match your flimsy panties today. Fuck. “Should fire you. Should really, r-really…”

But the heaving man can’t even finish those syllables, can barely even finish his thought before it’s once more overtaken by that image of you from only a few simple minutes ago. 

Knees bent to pick up some useless document for the meeting, too-short skirt hiking up just enough to flash him a good eyeful of your cute pink panties. You looked like the sweetest fucking dessert in it, and that adorable bow fastened onto your underwear was just the erotic cherry on top. 

That memory was going to burn behind his lids for the rest of his life. And oh, he could tell. 

That glint in your gorgeous eyes - how you’d batted your lashes up at him in exactly the way that made him gulp - told him everything he needed to know. 

You knew. Oh, how you pissed him off. 

“Sh-shit.” The thought makes Nanami’s poor heart race, plump balls twitching oh-so-eagerly when he dips into the side of his pants pocket to pull out something treasured. His secret good luck charm. “Know exactly what you’re fucking- hah- doing t’me. W-with your damn panties, n’ those skirts I hate and- and-”

And if anyone else had seen the uptight CEO of Jujutsu Tech right now, then they would have fainted. Undoubtely. Because dipping out of his pocket, he’s pulling out nothing but a frilly black garter.

Yours.

The very same one you’d “accidentally” slipped off in your chair after a meeting with him last month.

“Mmm—” He’s drinking back a few swallows of candied saliva once he brings the gauzy fabric up to his nose and sniffs. Long. Hard. The stuffy stall air notches up a few scorching degrees higher when Nanami curls his free digits around his bulky base and squeezes. “Bet that pretty pussy smells even s-sweeter.”

The thought only makes his slacked maw water even more guiltily. Bet you taste sweeter, too.

And like an animal, Nanami’s hunching his Herculean body over to spit out a steady stream of saliva right onto the bawling divot in the middle of his bloated cockhead. Watching it slosh in rivulets down his pulsing length.

Calloused thumb swiping over the weighty masses that top his filthy length like buttery icing. Biting back a whimper and tugging. He can’t stop.

“L-look how fucking hard y’got me–” He’s babbling away underneath his breath, clammy foreskin drawling up and down like adhesive with every roughened jerk. “All your fault hck! All your fucking- ptwah!” He gives himself another one, two, three more wads of excess spittle over his crownhead, taking a solid lick of your pretty garter. He breaks off with a pained mantra. “-fault.”

And shit, Nanami doesn’t know when he found himself acting like such a…pervert.  

But he blames you. Blames you and the way that thin lace of yours looks so sinful wrapped around his thick cock. Round n’ round coiling to massage every thickly inflated, lightning bolted vein-

“Hate how I’d never d-do this before-” He’s spilling out in throaty groans, swirling mahogany eyes widening at the sultry scratch of it up and down up and down his tender underside. With trembly fingerpads his smushing it all over the delicate curvature of his balls, “-before…you.”

And, shit, Nanami had a meeting in what- a few minutes? He can’t help but thinking about what his clients would think if they knew. What his employees would think. What you would think.

Would you…like it?

A muggy gust of air heaves out of his chest, sweat-slicked brows crinkling at the direction that those thoughts had just taken. Precum clinging onto his skin like adhesive, he fucks his fist like he’s angry.

He is - at you and every teasing touch of yours that makes every ounce of blood sprint down to his heavy cock. You, with your sunny smile and your eyes dazzling as if you weren’t just undressing him with your gaze. You, and your pretty outfits and stupidly sexy panties that make him run off right before important events-

“Gonna fucking- p-pay for this-” Nanami’s nose crinkles when he’s tugging his claggy white undershirt underneath his firmly grit teeth. Free hand straying to twirl little hearts over his puffy, bubblegum pink nipples, his tensed abs flex with every jerky buck. “-gonna- ngh-”

Gonna shove you down and make you feel just as needy as he is. Oh, Nanami’s thumbing underneath the heated line of his slippery slit, musing away just how much your clingy pussy would smooch it even better. 

“Wonder if I could ngh- fuck you stupid-” Nanami finds himself chuckling - chuckling. Low and crazed, plump lips twitching up at the sparks of bliss at the bottom of his abdomen. He was furious at you. “-would ya still be mouthy? Slutty? Ohhh, darling, I fuck you in every ngh- dream I have.”

And isn’t that what you wanted? What you’ve been driving him crazy for every since you stepped foot here? 

Joints in his wrist aching with that sloppy tempo, Nanami thinks he almost catches a rim of battered, stinging pink right where his fisted hand was hitting his toned abs. 

What he’d give to make your pretty pussy feel just as if she was his- what was it you call him? 

Ah, Nanami’s blossoming-red tip flinches as if being hit with a zillion volts of electricity as your words echo in his brain, his favorite melodic tune. His “work wife” was what you call yourself. 

“Tch, damn work- wife.” He’s murmuring, a blotchy blush taking over his handsome features - burning all the way up to the very tips of his ears. Fingers trawling faster and faster. Sloppier. He’s spraying out sheeny ropes of pre with every bruising pull off his swollen length. “Gonna show ya- gonna ngh- for how you make me- gonna make ya mine-”

“Kentooo? Are you in here?”

Fuck.

Without warning, Nanami’s teeth come latching harshly into his fist - he needs to. 

He has to, because just the mere notes of your voice from the other side of the door is enough for his ballooned balls to give a depraved pinch. Enough for him to cum.

Shit. Nanami’s head falls back against the wall, letting off strained gruffs around his flesh. 

A slow trickle of sweat beads down his temple at the sweltering splash of his undershirt being coated with vulgar cobwebs of thickly viscous seed - so much. Hot. 

And Nanami always did cum more whenever he thought of you - but this was almost too much. Such heaping volumes that it was like he couldn’t stop. Soaking your sopping garter, pooling out swashes of cum that formulate a sticky ring down his fingers. He’s leaking from his twitchy tip over n’ over-

“Fuck-” he’s hiccuping out, vision sparking with stars. He was too late - too entranced - to plug up his geysering orifice now for any semblance of order now. He hated how he was so weak for you. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck- fuck!” 

You really have corrupted him, because Nanami doesn’t feel even a single speck of shame when he leans even further against the door. Biting the insides of his cheek into silence, his ringing ears crane to hear just a syllable more of your tone-

God, he feels dirty.

But victorious. 

“Well, the meeting starts in a few minutes.” Nanami feels himself blush, he doesn’t give a single shit about some meeting - not when those words are enough for his aching cock to dredge out a few more ivory ounces that hit the tile with a deafening pap! “Hurry up, m’kay? It’ll be real boring without you, Ken—”

Minx. 

And Nanami doesn’t know what’s louder - the creaking shudder of the now-broken door hinges as you saunter out of the bathroom, or his beating heart.

Pulsing halfway out of his chest - not only at the fuzzy high of his orgasm, but at you. You, and those cute lil’ panties no doubtedly hidden away underneath your tight silken skirt. While you pretended to be all professional in the meeting that he is supposed to lead.

Dammit. Nanami’s head drops incredulously when his reddened cock gives another ravenous twitch. You were going to be the death of him.

.

.

.

You had no idea why everyone in the office was either scared senseless of your boss, Nanami Kento, or simply too intimidated by him to feel anything else. 

No one knew much. No one sought much.

But you knew that your self-proclaimed “work husband” was a gentle giant, surely - you’ve caught the way he silently comes into the building early with snacks for the break room, and leaves the latest personally finishing up documents he deems imperfect. What you simply didn’t understand was why no one else saw how hot he was.

Didn’t they see the absolute specimen of a man that towered around daily in tightly-fitted suits and perfectly combed blond hair? 

Those big, beefy arms, long lashes you’re almost jealous of, and regal features that dusted an innocent pink whenever you teased him too much. Always so worked up with the stress of running a company, that you couldn’t help but wonder if that would translate into bed.

Honestly, after years of men that disappointed and bored you - especially down there - could you really be blamed if you made things a little…unprofessional?

And you could tell that Nanami wasn’t complaining. 

Oh, he wasn’t complaining at all. 

No matter how much he’d falsely scowl or tut - you’d already “lost” one of your black garters, and you swear you saw just the slightest centimeter of it dangling from your boss’s pocket. 

The all-powerful CEO, but so weak for you.

What you really didn’t understand was why he didn’t take things to the next level.

You’d initially thought he would during your training period, whenever you’d stuck by him with your trusty notepad and tightest silky blouses that Nanami loved to pretend he wasn’t looking down. Always snapping his glassy eyes away after taking a long look at your bra, toying with his velveteen ties as if trying to choke either the hunger or the life out of him.

But when that came and ended, and you’d finally been awarded a permanent position, you finally got the chance to…have a little more fun.

Your favorite pastime was getting on your knees because of how oh-so-clumsy you are, brushing just past Nanami’s tersely bouncing knees. Lingering mere seconds longer when he presses his meaty thighs into you hotly.

“Oh?” It was like a little routine at this point, for you to faux gasp from your position on the floor as if you’d just noticed the touch. Each and every time. “My, how forward of you, work husband.”

Only to immediately get a choked-up groan of your name, and extra documents to finish by the time the work day was over. Worth it.

Because you had made the ever-stoic Nanami Kento blush. 

And the employee groupchat would text you about it for hours on end. Some swooning. Some skeptical. The rest of the office thought you were either very brave, incredibly slutty, or plain stupid. Possibly all three.

But seriously, you bite your lower lip to force down a giddy giggle when Nanami catches your winking eye for the nth time this past hour. Hastily looking back towards the hefty contract each n’ every time with a furiously grit jaw. He was so bad at pretending he didn’t want you.

Too bad you were getting impatient. 

“Right!” Comes the booming voice of a businessman that’d just secured a lucrative contract, you snap out of your whirlwind of thoughts when your client- President Higuruma from Kyoto Corporations, you think - stands up. Oh, the meeting was already over? “Now that the hard part is done, why don’t we all get the celebrations in, Kento old pal.”

They’d known each other a long time, you hear. And had apparently been rivals prior to forming this close relationship.

You think that your poor boss has never looked more grouchy than when he shrugs off Higuruma’s sociable hand off of one broad shoulder. Staring longingly at the clock that showed you’d all run way into evening overtime, “I’m not much of a partier myself, Hiromi.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, when you have a team as good as this, then you simply must treat them.” The other man sweeps his dark eyes across the room, resting ever-so-slightly on you. “Or else the pretty ladies here will think you’re boring.”

“I-” Oh, you should’ve gotten tips straight from Higuruma - because Nanami’s cheeks ruddy. Eyes narrowing at you, then darting to his friend, “-I’m terminating our contract.”

“And I’m taking you to crack open the good whiskey I know you hide in your second drawer.” To everyone’s shocked amusement, Higuruma lugs his all-new business partner bodily out of the door. Words carrying from the distance, “You know you never did tell me whether you got a padlock for that drawer because of me…”

You’re still careening towards the glassy door to hear more snippets of that conversation when suddenly you hear a loud SMACK!

It hits your ears right before it hits your senses that Shoko had turned over in her seat beside you and planted a harsh swat on your arm. Hissing at the ache, you’re huffing at her knowing smirk, “What if I’m into that?”

She snickers, giving you another resounding strike just for the sake of it. You really, really didn’t know why the two of you were friends-

“Oh, I bet our boss would know, then.”

Kidding, of course you knew. And you can’t stop yourselves from falling into your familiar old gossip, the rest of your coworkers listening in curiously be damned. “I wish. You should’ve seen the way he reacted when I fussed over his tie before this. Seriously, it’s not my fault it was crooked for once n’ he almost ran away.”

“Ran straight back into the bathrooms, you mean.” She’s wiggling her brows, stopping only when you tilt your head curiously. “Oh- shit, you didn’t know? I heard from Utahime who heard from Yaga who heard from Ijichi who went to the bathroom that uptight CEO Nanami here was almost late to the meeting because he was having a fun little him time in there.”

You hear yourself gasp- no-nonsense, sensible Nanami Kento? Touching himself in the bathroom? “That’s why he looked…so fucked out. No.” 

“Yes.” She nods seriously. “And you know what’s even better?”

“What?”

“Ijichi - who was hiding underneath the sink out of fear, by the way, pfft- claims he’d been holding onto a frilly black garter.” Pointing very blatantly at the practically skin-tight skirt you’d decided to wear today. “And I know someone who just-so-happened to ‘lose’ a black garter in the office.”

“What-” you’re sputtering out, not because of the accusation - no, Shoko knew all about that - but about the confirmation of your suspicions that Nanami really did have your lacy lil’ number. “But if he liked that so much then why doesn’t he make a move?”

Shoko crosses her arms with the wise air of someone that had just solved the answer to the meaning of life, and was intentionally being coy about it. “Don’t you realize that you have the perfect solution for that?”

“What?” Wow, you really were on an eloquent streak today. 

Just then, the heavy meeting room doors slide open - and in walks a sternly reluctant Nanami and Higuruma with too many dozens of prized alcohol. Said Higuruma who winks at you garishly- 

You glance at Shoko’s smile, the kind she gets when she’s about to cement a contract that would result in several lawsuits that she already knows your company would win. Oh. You get it. 

.

.

.

And so does Higuruma, apparently.

Because even though he might not know of your little plan, the man was more than happy to keep you company amongst the thrumming masses celebrating. 

Somehow, the entire department had been roped in and packed inside the sprawling meeting room. Mingling over dim lights and softly playing music from the corner of your impropmtu office party. 

Which worked out in your favor, surprisingly, as it gave you the opportunity to eye a stony-faced Nanami’s reaction - stood right next to you when you leaned against Higuruma with a wheezing laugh.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re really funny, President Higuruma?” You’re tittering out and, admittedly, his humor was amazing - but what was more interesting to you was the way that Nanami’s neat brows furrowed. 

“Mhm, you’ll just have to get used to that, sugar.” You swear you hear the glass in Nanami’s vice-like grip clink! Thickened digits, so easily powerful and tightening until his mountainous knuckles shone white. “After all, we’ll be working together to take care of some big packages now.”

You feel your lips curl up into a sleazy grin, eyes locked dead-set on Nanami’s own. “Yeah, I’m quite excited to be handling those big packages, actually.” 

Higuruma raises a brow, “S’that so?”

“Of course.” And if you inched in ever-so-slightly closer to him, if you let your voice dip saccharinely in honey, then Nanami couldn’t do anything about it. Nothing but spill out a sharp huff, mouth tightening into a harsh line across his pretty face. “I only hope they’re bigger than what Jujutsu Tech has currently been working with.”

“Oh yeah, much bigger.” Nanami looked positively like an explosion just waiting to go off, and you didn’t know whether it was slight fear or anticipation that made your thighs clench sinfully together. “This contract will be like nothing you’ve ever seen.”

“The bigger the better.”

You risk a glance downwards, just barely catching the way that your dear boss adjusts his sleek formal pants down near his thigh. Oh, lips parting, he was big, huh? Really big. 

And the quieter Nanami grew, the more talkative Higuruma became. More confident. “Pardon my forwardness, angel, but are we still talking business here?” And then comes the finishing blow - before you can blink, a strong arm latches onto your waist. “Because if we aren’t then-”

SLAM!

It’s all you can do to not shiver when you turn your gaze over to Nanami, who’d just clanged his half-full glass down on a nearby table. Veins bubbling with voltage from head to toe at the sheer metallic glint of something dangerous in his targeted gaze. 

Locked purely and utterly on you.

You can see the way his sharp jaw jumps with a furious tick. Fawny strands of blond curtaining over his furrowed brows, that slightly bumpy trail of his vein-

“I believe my employee is out of line, Hiromi.” Nanami bites out those words - sharp, and rugged. Piercing through your figure and sprinting right down to your heating core. The grin he gives you makes you shudder, “I will correct that.”

What? 

“Ken- ah!” You’re yelping when Nanami doesn’t give you the time for it to sink in, for you to even register anything other than the way his massive palm locks around your waist tightly. 

Doughy pads of his fingertips dig into the curvature of your hips, and you almost get whiplash at the tug of Nanami’s strong arms stealing you away from Higuruma’s touch. Tucking you into his blistering hot side, you think you feel dizzy with just how heady the combination of skin and cologne was. 

And then you leave - the both of you. Higuruma only calling after, stricken. 

You’re walking - or, at least, it feels like you’re walking. Almost on autopilot, you’re stuck on the firm set of Nanami’s jaw when he guides you briskly through the throngs of people. 

“Kento-”

“What now, darling?” Darling? He’s never ever called you that before. Never manhandled you with only one of his arms until you’re striding - running - down the familiar route to his richly-kept office. 

Oh.

Your own fingertips dig into the shimmering fabric of his fitted suit jacket, words coming out a little bit more breathless than you’d have liked. “Ken- sir, what are you-”

But, of course, Nanami Kento never let up that easy. Of course, he would never let you get the last word in if he had the chance. And tonight was all about chances. 

Whatever probing question dies in your throat when Nanami pauses - for a mere split-second - although it feels like hours in slow motion before he bends down and jostles you into a princess carry. Firm curves of his biceps digging underneath your thighs, a tender palm splays out across your back. 

Yet, the way that he’s staring deeply down at you is anything but.

“Oh, you know what the fuck I’m doing.” He wrenches out, vibrating you with the rumbling baritone that husks from his chest. So close that your own heartbeat matches with his fervent ba-dump! ba-dump! ba-dump! Each word just coated and dripping in something so raw that you barely even notice until after he weightlessly carries you past that familiar arching doorway. “It’s what you wanted, after all. Isn’t it?”

Dazed. Until the metallic click! of the door being locked by one of Nanami’s hands pull you out of your whirling thoughts.

He’s striding inside fast. Depravedly. 

“Is that jealousy I hear?” You sing-song, fingers trailing up to rub over his fuzzy undercut. And the moment you touch him, it’s like something in Nanami snaps. Something in him blinks…awake.

“Stop that.” 

Wasting with not a single nanosecond of hesitation before cupping his greedy palms on the squirming curve of your ass. He sneaks in a nice, long squeeze with one hand, the other facing down on the table in a long swipe to clatter down everything but that golden CEO Nanami nameplate onto the floor.

You suck in a sharp inhale when he splays you out like some spellbound slut on the cool surface of his mahogany office table. Unceremoniously. 

You’ve never seen him like…this.

He spanks his thick fingers along where your sinfully tight skirt was perking up to show off skin that makes Nanami’s mouth water. That makes him angle his head greedily for a flash of those very same pink panties that had him forgoing all duties earlier today. 

“Trying to make me fucking jealous. You forget your place, my love.” His index toys over the ribbony straps of your underwear. “I’ve been crazy for you since you stepped foot in this place. I’ve been yours.”

You, on the other hand, were still reeling to make your jumbling thoughts somewhat coherent. 

Rutting up into the merciless weight of his sculptured front pinning you down - Nanami’s body was feverish. So hot that it made your skin break out in a humid layer of perspiration, you felt so hot. You felt like you were melting already.

And his muscles, oh- even through a jacket, and that cotton button-up you so loved on him, he was so toned that you could count every delicious ridge of Nanami’s glissading abs. 

Rounded centers of your knees attach around his slender waist, you’re gasping at the firm plane of muscled obliques that welcome you. “N’ that’s what made you jealous? Heh- that’s so cute- mmpf-”

“Does it amuse you to break me, my love?” Nanami grapples two of his tough digits to smush your cheeks together, sultry leer piercing its way through his mask of fury. He growls, “To make me fucking furious?”

“Ngh- Kento—” The whimpers just won’t stop spilling from your lips, his gaze drilling into your eyes and falling straight to your drenching cunt. Your hips arch needily off of the icy cold wood to nudge your pussymound for more more more- “I- fuck-”

SMACK!

“Talk to me like a big girl.” He hisses, knotting his fingers around your tender throat so tight. Tight enough to drain you of the necessary volumes of air strangling in your throat, letting only a few weepy gurgles leave your mouth. Hard. “Ah ah, a big girl I said. If you can talking with fucking- President Higuruma, you can talk to me.”

“Want- want-” Your nails claw patterned lines that paint across Nanami’s muscular forearms. “I want you to kiss me, Kento.”

There. You’d said it. 

And Nanami’s smile was almost blinding.

He’s closing in the hypnotic inches until his plump lips hovered simple milimeters away from your puckered ones. Much too far for you, in your opinion. 

Fisting a single hand around Nanami’s sapphire collar, you’re dredging up your strength to finally pull him in for the kiss you’ve been waiting ages for at this point. Finally. Singing off a brief sigh at the heated proximity of his maw-

Only for Nanami to pull away.

“Wh-where are you going?” You’re mewling out, brows furrowing with the type of upset desperation that only Nanami was able to bring out in you. You needed him - and you needed him badly. 

But the only answer you get is the balmy breeze of his snickers clouding down your body, so scorching that it made flames of want zip down between your legs. And Nanami does kiss you - between the heaving valley of your chest, right underneath your left tit, your tummy- down, down, down.

Rip—!

There go your limited-edition fishnets - torn right with only a few tugs of Nanami’s carnal canines. Right with his mouth that burrows between the pliable hole he’d made between your legs. 

“Hm? What was that, darling?” He’s drawling away, shuffling until he was right between your legs. Until your big, bad boss was kneeling in front of you. “Oh! My sweet girl wants a little kiss, doesn’t she? How cuuute.”

Rutting up your hips, you just barely manage to get the edge of your slick-flooded thighs to stroke his dimpled cheek. Lips jutting out into a pout, “Yes- yes.”

“Too bad she didn’t earn it, hm? As if I’d kiss a mouth that flirted with another man in front of me- no matter how pretty. ” Nanami continues, like he didn’t even hear your pleas right now. Thank goodness you couldn’t see the way the cracking rawness to your voice made his pants so much tighter. 

There’s the stubborn schwf! of your skirt being pushed up in a rough tug. And it’s only once he turns his heart-eyed stare down between your legs that you realize. “So, guess m’just gonna hafta kiss you.”

He wasn’t talking to you. He was talking to your dripping cunt. 

No sooner does this realization hit, that Nanami’s eager kiss does too. A filthy, sodden French snog planted right through your soaked panties. 

Nodding along as if he was translating every slurp weaving its way from between your bloated folds. “Oh? What’s that you say? More?” 

He’s trawling the pointed edge of his nose up n’ down the your slippery slit, teeth nipping along the rubbery folds to make your entrance gush out slivery ropes of slick. You count exactly one smooch at your dripping base, two right where your pussymound was the pulpiest, and the final - longest and most lingering - on your throbbing clit. 

“See?” He hums, fleshy thumb outlining the slobbering fringe of your pussylips. Just peeking his manicured fingertip past your useless underwear, and inching backwards with a saturated squelch whenever you squirmed for more. Tease. “Now tha’s a good girl, she’d never flirt with another. You’re mine, right- all mine? Or- well-”

Your breath hitches when you feel the wet splatter! of a slimy clump of saliva striking your teary cunt dead-on. And Nanami’s thumb rolls over the sheeny glaze with such utter love, “Now you’re all mine.”

Your fingers sneak their way to tangle into Nanami’s mussed-up locks, pulling his sappy mouth even closer. So close that his curved chin hits your pussy with a wet plap! And the crisp whoosh of him drinking in your scent deeply has you whining, “Ken- more. More.”

Nanami growls and it’s almost feral. He’s knocking out a deafening mewl from your lips with a sharp, sultry spank exactly on the target of your pulsing clit. “More? More, huh?” Purposefully rovering the chilling band of one signet ring - holding it firmly down where your hole was leaking. “After you got this wet for Hiromi? Nice try.”

“This isn’t for Higu-”

Thwack! The hollowing noise of flesh meeting flesh sings out in your ears, every swat after swat being left on your pussy enough to make your head throw back helplessly. 

The sight of it only makes Nanami’s scouring fingers pry apart your gluey folds even wider, kissing every nook and cranny. Over and over. Taunting. “N’ now you’re talking about another hah- man when you’re w’me? I should fire you, darling.”

You already know he never would. 

But you can’t stop yourself from spilling out a string of swears anyway, “Th-this is all for- ngh-” Flinching bodily when he wraps the waterlogged remnants of your panties around one fist, ‘round and ‘round until your pussy was allll on shamefully display, and your delicate pink panties dig into your fleshy mounds. “-for you, Kento.”

And when Nanami pulls at the silky fabric with one hand, you’re dragged down across the table right with it. Till you were exactly where he wanted you.

“Correct.”

Your panties were in tatters now - and he tucks it away into his pocket with a wink. For later. “Hate these slutty fucking panties. Wanted them off every fucking time.”

Swiping away the syrupy trickle of saliva overspilling from his mouth, Nanami’s instantly surging over to connect his lips with your puffy ones. Groaning out a throat mmmm– the moment that candied flavor sugarcoats his lips.

The most lecherous squelches! speak across all four corners of his decadent office when Nanami handlessly tilts his head to let his scratchy tastebuds maze through your weepy pussy. 

He doesn’t even care that he’s getting the frames of his glasses all messy. Swirling out slow circles around the elastic ring of your entrance, before pumping inches in-

“Fuck-” You’re squealing, throat clogging with a leaden ball the moment he’s contracting his tongue to stretch your entrance out wiiidely agape. In and out until your rubbery hole was tenderizing to his ravenous shape and texture, “-fuck just like ngh- that.”

“Oh yeahh? You like this, huh?” Meeting Nanami’s gaze from between your cracked-open legs results in shockwaves all over your body. Because his molten gaze was gleaming - practically glowing. “Getting so turned on s’like you’re a ngh- damn waterpark. Think anyone else could get you this f-fuck- soaked?”

And you couldn’t even hide it just how aroused you were. Just how close. 

Wiry ropes of your webbed slick clings onto Nanami’s mouth with each soppy plap of his mouth clashing onto your cunt. Harder. Fucking you with his tongue just the way his thick cock was aching to do right now-

SMACK!

“Mmm sweet girl, makin’ such a mess. Answer me.” He spits into your syrupy pussy, urging out a few fresh waves of slick that laminate his fat digits in pure gloss. A gloss that he sucks up happily.

“You-”

He doesn’t even let you finish. Because you were so adorable being eaten out until you were stupid, none of that usual flirty snark present when he was making out with your cunt like a man parched. 

Swirling out tiny hearts on your clit with the mushy tips of his fingertips, he yearns to skim the perked edge of his tongue all over your gummy walls. Bumping into every delicate orifice, Nanami’s free fingers fly down to trace your tight ring of muscle. “Oh yeah?”

“O-only you–” Your blubbers are so adorable, mouth loosened into an oh! yet the only thing coming out of it are repeated shrills of Kento! How cute, Nanami can only hope that these walls aren’t thick enough that those outside won’t hear. He wants them to. “-only you can make me so- ngh-”

“Shy, darling?” He sounded so painfully pussydrunk right now. Rouge blush burning, gazing up at you heavily shuttered eyes, a maw that was drooling more and more with every lapping snog placed on your slobbering pussy. “What happened to my flirty girl?”

His flirty girl. 

Shit- the words themselves affect him just as much as they do you. Nanami’s muscular thighs manspread even wider with just how fat his painfully hard cockhead was bloated. Close. It’s so sloppy how he quickens his pace to toy with the button of your clit.

His, all struggling to get out the words from your mouth - battling with your heavy tongue to get out a keening- “You. Yours. Hngh- Only y-you can make me feel like this. M-make me feel so hck! close, Kento.” 

His perfect girl.

“Ohhh, say that again. Dunno if I quite believe that.” He groans, budging your thighs over to suffocate his head even deeper, god, he knows that he could pass out right here and still be the most content man on Earth. Holding your ankles behind his hand with a second hand, you can’t help but ogle the rippling bulge of his biceps. “Lock them.” Your tangling motions were limp - weak. But Nanami finds himself grinning anyway, holding you in place tightly, he’s doubly stuffing in two digits past your slicked entrance. “Say my name.”

“Ken- Kento?”

Piling upon wads and wads of stringy cum that sprinkle all over your thighs, just the striking sensation is enough for you to see stars. Enough to gasp when his probing digits pillage your gooey depths, “Again.”

“Kento.”

And of course, Nanami Kento wasn’t a merciless man. Mean. Filthy with just how much he’s clacking his jaw to grind into the supple rim of your, your knee bounces up even higher at the taut spring of something hot pooling in your tummy. 

He could tell. Oh, he could tell. 

You were always so adorably readable - especially with your wobbling lips, and those crinkling beads of tears spilling over from the corners of your eyes. Mumbling, “Kentooo-!”

And all he really had to do was pound a battery swipe along your sweltering walls, deeply. Skidding right across where he knew your magical g-spot would be. He’s giving your perky clit not one - hell, not even two - but three solid pinches on your sensitive hood. Hard. 

The babbling words “C-cumming-” are barely starting syllables out of your mouth before it crashes into you headfirst. 

You feel like you’re being run over with such waves of bliss, pupils sliding allll the way into the back of your scrunched lids. 

The wooden desk trills out a ringing creak! when you arch your spine into the perfect semi-circle, dragging Nanami’s mouth all over each and every crevice of your quivering cunt. Riding out your high in long sloppy drags. 

Using him. And how Nanami loved to be used by you.

“Yeah- yeah yeah—” Holding your gaze fatally, you can only watch as the pearly beads spraying from your cunt drip the long trailway down to hit the back of his throat. Your fingertips dig into his scalp, mushing his face even closer, “-cum. Cum all over m’face, my love. Make a fucking mess of me.”

You swear that Nanami’s voice was shattering into a whimper towards the very end. Prominent Adam’s apple bobbing with every greedy gulp, and he doesn’t stop. He can’t stop.

Not even when your sparking high fades out into nothingness, not even when that white-hot pleasure formulates into something sensitive. Almost painful. Gasping out a sharp ah! with every drag of Nanami’s tongue over your too-tender cunt. 

“S-sensitive-” You’re mewling, desperately trying to push on his blond head. Stacks of sweat-dampened hair plastering across your palm, “Ken- Ken, m’too sensitive.”

“Tch.” He’s panting, eyes latching on instead to your glistening pussy - all pretty with trickling layers of sweet, sweet juices and his saliva. What a mess he’s made. He swears he can spot a darkening patch oozing out all over the desk. 

Nanami rubs his fleshy thumb over the tantalizing curve of your pussymound just a few repeated times, “Let me ask her- hm, wanna let me ah- go? Ready to say goodbye, darling?”

And whatever slurring squelches that emanate from your soppy lips speak to him. Enough so that he finds himself nodding mindlessly, “Fine then.” Planting an exaggerated mwah! on your clit, “I’ll see you later, m’kay?” 

He was so gentle kissing your pussy goodbye - but so, so mean manhandling you off of the desk. In a singular fluid motion, scooping you up with two beefy arms underneath your legs and falling back into the CEO’s cushy chair.

“O-oh.” You find your thighs straddling his sculpted hips, hands falling precariously on top of his bulging deltoids. What a feast Nanami Kento was. 

He barely even had to try to make your hips grind in a jerky up and down on his too-tight bulge. Splotching out gluey patches of slick wherever your driveling lips were hitting. Nanami counts exactly six slippery streaks before he grabs your throat and pulls-

“Think ya earned it now.” He hisses through a simpering groan. You’re so pliable like this - so open to being dragged into a filthy, filthy kiss. “Mm- might just be my favorite ngh- lipgloss on ya.”

You’re smacking at the curvaceous valley between Nanami’s pecs - nothing more than kittenish pecks for him, “That- that’s so filthy, Ken.”

Skin dappling with a second skin of goosebumps with every inch exposed to the heady air, he’s unbuttoning your blouse slowly. Lazily. Pop! Pop! Pop! Taking his precious time to watch every minute huff and puff you cloud out. 

“Oh, darling.” Bursting out a bout of laughter that hits you to your very core as soon as your top and bra hit the polished floor. Nanami tilts back in his seat sexily, angling you to take up even more space on the comfortable seat of his lap - his thick, outlined bulge. “We haven’t even gotten started.”

Fuck.

He pants, “Hated these slutty skirts- fuck- made me almost call HR because you looked so- beautiful.” With your skirt soon shed, you’re suddenly reeling with the realization that you’re the only one naked right now. “Better with them off.”

Never one to fall behind, you can’t help but tumble your greedy digits downwards. Mouth lathering with a sloshing wave of greed as soon as your fingertips skim the rock-hard tent struggling in Nanami’s pants.

“Fuck- greedy girl.” At this point, it’s as if the exact measurements of Nanami’s hand were branded into the mounded flesh of your ass. Because each spank has you crying, “Don’t you worry now, m’gonna fuck that ngh- feisty mouth shut soon, but for now…”

You’re left hanging, waiting on where Nanami’s drawling words would take you next. 

But it just-so-happened that you didn’t have to wait. Didn’t have to register anything but the way that he’s tugging down his too-tight pants and boxers just enough-

“Oh my-” You gasp at the sight below you, blinking your weighty lids just a few times to make sure that you weren’t imagining things. Because, sure, on those lonely nights you’d imagined Nanami to be big - but this was just ridiculous. “-Ken, you’re so-”

Big package for sure.

“H-heh.” He preens, wrenching down the velvety fabric until it looped halfway down the padded meat of his thighs. “Don’t act so cockdrunk, my love- s’only gonna make me ngh bigger.”

Roaming five dexterous fingers to grasp his bulky base, the rest of Nanami’s nine- no, ten inches drip down needy gumdrops of pre onto your hand. He was long, girthy - blushed on his swollen mushroom tip a pretty cerise pink that matched your ruined panties. 

“Wan’ you inside me.” You’re purring out, and Nanami’s heart races as he catches a few glimpses of that complete and utter tease you usually are. You swipe your thumb over the syrupy top coating of precum on his tip, plugging it into Nanami’s mouth.

Well, he might be the boss - but not in here.

After all, who was he to go against anything his pretty girl said? 

“Mmm- s’that so?” He’s suckling right on your doughy pads, fringes of his neat teeth nipping your flesh. Looking you right in the eyes while leaving a few streaky smears across your drooling slit, up and down. Golden blond lashes so long they flutter against the flushed apples of his cheeks, “Gimme a kiss first, my girl.”

So sweet.

Or so you thought.

Because you’d just inched your allured body closer to give him what he wanted. Digging your rounded knees into the sides of his body to just let your pursed lips brush in an innocent, innocent skim across his kiss-bitten ones- 

Before Nanami wraps his hand around your throat and tilts your head back to let himself spit. Just seconds before nudging apart your sticky folds and pushing in-

“Ah!” Your eyes sprint between snapping open in sheer shock, and screwing tightly shut at the pure stretch. The tightness. You could almost hear the elastic creak of your weepy entrance being pulled to its very limits around Nanami’s globed tip. “O-oh my god-”

“Shhhh you can take it, good girl- my good girl.” He’s thumbing away the purposeful spatteres that decorate the sagging edges of your lips. Rounded centers of his fingertips sinking in tight around your throat, “Mmm- s’this a big enough package for ya?”

It’s an uphill battle to force your lids to shutter open, only to peer into Nanami’s glassy eyes to see that yeah, there was still a glint of raw jealousy in them. Still. 

Your hand dips its way down to swipe open your dewy pussylips, rubbing over the most tender spots on your drooling cunt when your hips stutter down inch by fucking inch. 

Splitting your tight orifice in half with his vast cylindrical cock, every wild rut that pumps Nanami even deeper makes you dizzy. Your ajar maw spilling with drool while he fucks himself furiously harder and harder and-

Head lolling over into the clammy crook of his shoulder, your tongue licks up a long stripe along his neck. “Ngh- s-so fucking big– Don’t know if I c-can take it.”

“Now now.” With a rude spank! your fingers are swatted away meanly, Nanami’s own taking over in its place. Not to do the job - just to toy with the buzzing nub of your clit while he pumped you snugly full of his never-ending shaft. “Move that hand, lemme see my girl’s hah- pussy take my big fuckin’ cock.”

Salty tears spring to your eyes and end up dripping onto Nanami’s awaiting tongue, voice laced with something primal. “Poor baby, getting nervous. Don’tcha remember what you told Hiromi?” You did. “The bigger the better?” You remember. “So buckle up n’ take it like a good girl now, my love.”

Your answer is nothing but a half-lucid nod, “Y-yes, Ken-” 

“Hm?” He pinches your clit. A warning. 

“Sir.”

“Atta girl.”

And then Nanami’s bottomed-up, his hefted base sagging against your sopping wet lips, globular swell of his breeder balls nestling up behind your cunt in a congratulatory smooch. And he was kissing your other lips just the same.

Leaving wet swabs that decorate your pulpy cervix in translucent streams, you’re squealing after each n’ every fat thud! of Nanami’s rotund cockhead mushing into your gooey depths. Probing veins massaging you incessantly.

He couldn’t get enough.

“Atta girl-” He’s snickering into your mouth, pounding and pounding even more despite the clingy push of your pussy. Despite the way that he can’t even go any deeper - his cock was still aching for more. To strike the bullseye of your womb. “O-ohhh atta giiirl. Open wiiiide f’me.”

Like a mantra. You weren’t any more coherent, with your words garbling out over every leathery creak! of the pristine office chair. “Loud- g-gonna be loud, Kento.”

“I don’t care.” Nanami spits out immediately, leaving a heavy-duty swat on your bulging pussy folds as if to ask why should you care, too? He had such a way of speaking to you with his body, rendering you speechless after only a few seconds in the presence of his vicious tempo. “Let them hear, they couldn’t fuck you like this. Let them know hck! wh-who makes this slutty cunt feel so good.”

And it wasn’t a question, but you’re answering anyway. Looping your boneless arms around the expanse of Nanami’s broad shoulders, your limbs stick to the sweat-drenched fabric of his button-up and you huff. 

“You- need you to-” You’re murmuring away, numb tips of your fingers fumbling with his pearly buttons. Two seconds away from ripping this damn shirt off of him, “-need to see you.”

“Oh yeah?” He’s letting his top fly open to reveal what looks like yard upon yards of smooth, sculptured skin. Shiny with a glimmery sheen of humid perspiration and slick - puddling from your weepy cunt at the way that Nanami was so sexy. All jiggling pecs and abs for days, you find your pussy gulping his length up n’ down even faster. Nipping along bites that redden his flesh prettily, “Woah- Really are a slut, my love. N’ I fucking love it.”

Nanami was always such a possessive man, one hand latched onto the side of your waist and helping you stumble along with every pap! The other wandering down to pat that proud curve where your cozy hole was being overstuffed with his fat cock, before traipsing up to your clit-

“Mmm– gonna have everyone know.” He’s biting down on his bottom lip, looking up at you through teary lashes. Tapping your clit, “Say my name, my love.”

“Ken-”

“Louder.”

“Ken!”

The chair bustles with every jerk, and the unsteady motions only have Nanami driving even deeper. “Mmm- now say his name-” He’s settling your mouth open with another clump of saliva, kissing away the smearing excess. “-say his name. Say Higuruma-”

But it was no use. The only thing your mouth seemed to be able to form into was a loud Ken. Just as he’d wanted. Just as what makes him chuckle, “Gonna fuck you s-so good that fucking Hiromi s’gonna know from a mile away.”

Ohhh, how he loved that cute lil’ thought. 

He was certainly jackhammering you like it, motioning your hips into eager gyrations even faster than your fatigued legs could handle. Practically carrying you through every claggy slap of skin-on-skin, Nanami’s tensed core burns with the friction. 

But he doesn’t care. Doesn’t even burn the sting of anything other than the way his sensitively enlarged balls were papping against your skin. Painting sweet, sweet bruises for days. 

“Would ya like that?” He’s mindlessly babbling away, and even through his hooded eyes you could tell that Nanami was completely pussydrunk. He wasn’t even circling your clit now - he was writing out on top a rapid K-E-N-T-O. Gone. Ruined. Rolling his hips in sloppy bucks, “Wan’ me ta fuck you until everyone knows?”

You’re nodding. Nodding and nodding away, and Nanami thinks this can’t get any better. You’re so gorgeous when you’re fucked dumb like this, who knew his office tease would be so…pliant?

He’s already in heaven with each saturated slip n’ slide massaging your weeping orifices. Angling his hips ever-so-slightly to the side to feel more of you-

That’s when he hits it.

That spot. 

And oh, Nanami thinks he could cum right then and there with the way your slicked walls kiss his length in a lingering smooch. Just as lovers do. 

“There-” you’re mumbling out, your lips leaving tiny pecks across the grinning corners of his lips. But you didn’t even have to start for him to already be bouncing you with the target of exact, precise strikes to your g-spot. Spotting steamy splotches of parched precum over that bulging spot, “R-right there, Ken- don’t miss don’t miss.”

“Would never fuckin’ imagine.” He has the audacity to roll his eyes. 

You believed him - just as much as you believed in the flurries of stars bursting countlessly behind your eyes. Hushing out, “M’close, Kento- gonna cum- fuck m’gonna cum.”

How could you not be close when he’s back to his favorite hobby that makes you squirm - pinching your throbbing clit right in time with the long, long lines his battering tip glides across your sweet spot. Ending allll the way back at your cervix. “Mhm, gonna make you cum on m’fucking cock. Hafta l-let those fucking ngh- losers know whose pretty pussy this is.”

And once the ever-stoic Nanami starts babbling, it’s like he can’t stop. 

“Mine-” Sucking on your bruised lower lip like his favorite candy. “Mine.” Twice. “Mine.” Thrice. He’s fucking you like he’d die if he slowed down right now, massaging your rubbery entrance deliriously raw. Teeth grit the closer and closer he inched himself, “Gonna let Hiromi know. Gonna let Ijichi know- Shoko- fucking Ino who w-was making eyes at my girl. My wife.”

You’re gasping, “W-wife?” And it seemed like such a highly tense moment to finally accept you as his work wife. That is, before-

“Mhm—” And there’s no regret, none of that usual shyness in Nanami’s eyes as he fucks you with deep eye contact. Thumb finishing off drawing a final KENTO on your clit, “Better know that m’gonna buy you th-the biggest fucking diamond you’ve ever seen, my love.”

Maybe it’s the way that he’s so serious. Maybe it’s the drilling pace of his thumping cock. Or maybe it’s just Nanami himself; boring up at you through droopy eyes and foggy glasses, a delirious smile plastered all over his face while he rammed you to your orgasm.

Fat tears collecting on your waterline, your vision blurs with just how intense of an orgasm he’s wrenching out of you. You swear it’s the best you’ve had in years - maybe even in your entire life.

“F-fuuuuck–” Your fingers drag unorganized lines all over his smooth shoulders, making it out as if he’d just been attacked by wild cats - but it’s just you. You and your sappy folds milking Nanami’s very soul, hot puffs of condensed breath hitting his craned neck when you lean in. “A-all for you, Kento.”

And the exact moment Nanami feels your lips descend upon his skin to suck - the exact moment he realizes that you’re marking him - his breath strangles in a gasp. 

“Darling- darling.” He’s panting out, shivering fingers setting the soft spots of your cunt free to get a good grope of your ass. To muster all his fucked-out strength to whack your pussy against his sharp hipbones with a resounding pap! “Oh, darling m’cumming- fuck- better take every drop now.”

But it was impossible to.

Because Nanami was cumming so much - even more than he had in the bathroom just hours earlier. Torrenting out sticky webs of seed that glue your walls feebly together and scratch such a primal urge inside you to have him fill you up.

He’s fighting to keep his head from throwing back, blinking away the sparks that bolt behind his eyes to drink in the sight down below. 

In awe at just how much of it was overspilling in ivory ribbons from the stretched-out ends of your sodden slit. Stretching thickly over his bulked base in a buttery ring, it’s so messy that he’s barely thinking before smearing over the wadded mess.

“Ken- mmpf-” Your mouth falters as soon as he stuffs in the glazed-over tips of his fingers, swirling around a slow circle inside your unhinged maw. He already knows this is going to be good. “Want more.”

More.

More.

Here you were - stuffed until your poor pussy couldn’t even handle just how much cum Nanami was still fucking into you. Spraying out a fountain of creamy globs with every pressurized thrust planted on your pussy - and you still wanted more?

Something flashes behind Nanami’s eyes.

And before you know it, you’re whimpering at the loss of his girthy inches weighing down in your cunt. There’s a saccharine fwop! followed by the slosh of trickling cum when Nanami pulls out, “C-come back.”

With a ringed finger plugging up your geysering hole from losing any precious ounces, Nanami carries you over to that familiar office desk in a single stride. Splaying you out - manhandling you - with ease until you were bent over the cool surface. 

Your cheek being pushed into the currently saliva-soaked wood, wrangling hands instantly tied behind your back with something silky - fuck, Nanami’s tie. Your cunt once more stuffed to the very brim with all of his throbbing cock. 

He’s leveraging the little restraint to jostle your hips ever-deeper. You’re squealing at that stretch - one you’re sure you’d never get used to. “K-Kento, sir–”

“Shhh, my love.” You hear in throaty groans from above you, and Nanami’s muscular weight pinning down your body makes you even wetter. As if he was just melting his abs into your curved back, smearing back n’ forth in tiny smudges after he starts pushing- “Say another word n’ m’gonna get ya pregnant- then they’ll really know you’re mine.”

.

.

.

It’s not like Nanami Kento to ever be late to a meeting.

Given, there was that one time a year ago when he’d almost been late before an important contract discussion with Kyoto Enterprises. But thirty five whole minutes late to a meeting? 

Well, that was unheard of. Impossible, really.

And Shoko finds herself sighing, tapping her nails impatiently on the glass table. Honestly, there were so many better things she could be doing with her time than waiting for her mystery of a boss. And - just her luck - you weren’t here today to distract from the boredom of corporate life, either. 

The universe is against her, really. 

“Oi, Ijichi–” She calls out to the fidgeting man seated across from her - and she doesn’t know whether he jumps because everyone on the team is on edge, or simply because this is Ijichi. “Five more minutes, then we file a missing persons report.”

“I-I am sure Mr. Nanami is ah- fine-” He pushed up his dangerously low glasses, muttering underneath his breath. “...hopefully.”

“I think we should go with the missing persons report.” Higuruma pipes up from one end of the room, the man had become a much-loved addition to this department since the contract. “Because I hate to say it, but the man has no life. There’s no reason for him to just-”

SLAM!

“My apologies, I’m late.” Nanami pants out into a silence that could only be caused by the object of your conversation suddenly intruding. A blur of impeccable suits and blond hair. 

Well, Shoko couldn’t see his face properly from the way he was hunched over to catch his breath like that - but she was glad he seemed unharmed.

Or, at least, that’s what she thought.

Because then Nanami stands up properly.

And honestly, she doesn’t know what makes her heart stop more. The fact that Nanami Kento arrived late to a meeting - or that he arrived late to a meeting with lipstick stains all over his lips, his jawline, his neck. And- and were those hickeys bruising his neck?

The coffee cup in her hand falls, and it’s not the only one. Surely, this had to be a prank- wait, does her boss even know what that is?

Still thinking it’s some strange practical joke, she’s squinting to get a closer look at the strangely familiar color of that lipstick. That- shit, wasn’t that your favorite shade?

Nanami snaps his head to Shoko the very moment she says your name - almost as if a form of experimentation. Before looking down at himself and finally - finally - seeing the state he was in. He sighs, fond. “Ah, my apologies again. My beautiful wife held me up, and I forgot to check if she left marks.”

Wife. 

Higurua drawls out the question striking through everyone’s mind right now. “What. The. Fuck.” 

And Ijichi squeaks out the second most striking question, “W-wife? D-do you mean your w-work wife, Mr. Nanami?”

“No.” He’s tilting his head in confusion, as if there was any possibility of anything else otherwise. Pulling out a glinting golden band hung around a simple chain from underneath his suit. A wedding ring. With your name engraved. “My wife wife.”

A/N. Hope you have a lovely week <3

Plagiarism not authorized.

[eversncenewyork]

hello hello

[ilikeevilblondes]

Beck and Call

18+ MDNI!

Summary: You’ve been divorced from Joel for a little while, now. But when your sink breaks and threatens to flood your house right before a date, you have no one else to call but him. Why does he come? You don’t know. Why does he look so fucking good? You don’t know, either.

W.C: ~6.2k

TL;DR: Rule number one of getting divorced: don’t fuck your ex-husband. (Optional).

Warnings: ex-husband!joel x ex-wife!reader, sappy love confessions, improper use of a sink, praise, oral f!receiving, mirror sex, unprotected p-in-v sex, (no outbreak!)

Note: as a child of divorce, i am allowed to touch upon this matter. anyway, happy fucking i mean reading

Part One | Part Two

One-third. A married couple’s least favourite fraction. 

It was (and is) a well-known fact that one in three marriages ends in separation. And of course, you—being the lucky duck you were—found yours rapidly accelerating toward that destination.

You and Joel had agreed that you’d be better off apart. Joel got his own place while you kept the house. And Sarah lived with you every other week.

All you needed to do was send your attorney the signed divorce papers.

Outside of the sympathetic comments you received from acquaintances and relatives almost daily, you were doing just fine.

In fact, tonight you had a date.

A date. The kind that made you choose a tight-fitting dress that hugged your curves just right. The kind that inspired you to wear your hair in something other than a claw clip. The kind that provoked you to shave places you haven’t shaved in a long time.

The lucky bachelor was a fellow divorcee named Mark, whom you had met on a single-parent dating app. He had a full head of hair, a decent sense of humour, and two rescued Labradors. He offered to bring you to his favourite Italian restaurant, bringing up the fact that he’d pick up the bill no matter what, much to your protests. Needless to say, you had a good feeling about him.

After one last check in the mirror, you grabbed your coat and slung your purse over your shoulder, ready to head out the door.

Then, you heard it.

A faint gurgling. 

You blinked twice, trying to zero in on the sound. Proceeding a few moments of intense concentration, you followed the sound into the ensuite bathroom.

The faucet was running. Had you forgotten to turn it off?

You reached for the handle. Twisted it. It spun freely, and nothing happened. 

You tried and tried again, but all your efforts were in vain. You could only watch the tap stubbornly defy you as the handle jutted uselessly, loose in its socket.

“Shit.” You breathed.

The faucet sputtered out a particularly heavy spurt of water as if to say: shit, indeed.

You sighed, staring helplessly at the sink as it stared contumaciously back, water that couldn’t be swallowed by the drain toppling over the edge of the sink.

A quick Google search informed you that you needed to turn off the principal water pipe—the mains. Which you didn’t know how to do. 

So, you resolved to delegate the problem to more capable hands. Like, a twenty-four-hour plumbing service. No, they could easily overcharge you. You could call your dad? No, he was too far.

Or…

Sighing, you dug out your phone from your purse and called your only remaining option. Someone who was a seasoned contractor, someone who dealt with this sink before, and someone who you just so happened to be divorcing. 

He answered on the third ring.

“Hey—everything okay?” Joel’s concerned voice filtered through your phone.

“No.” You inhaled. 

“No?” Joel echoed hesitantly, then waited for elaboration.

When nothing came, he cleared his throat.

Slightly confused, slightly wry, he continued, “This is the part where you tell me what’s wrong.” 

“Um, my sink’s busted.”

“Your sink… is busted?”

“Yeah. Faucet won’t turn off. It-It’s a lot of water.” You bit the inside of your cheek, leaning on the wall. “I didn’t know who else to call.”

A moment of silence, then:

“You need me to fix it?” 

Was that annoyance? Exhaustion? It definitely wasn’t exhilaration at the prospect of doing manual labour at eight o’clock on a Friday evening.

“You know what? Forget I called. This was stupid. Sorry to bother you—”

“I’m on my way.”

Despite the gravity of the situation, after he hung up, the smallest of smiles began forming on your face. 

Fifteen minutes later, a knock came from your front door.

You swung the door open, and there he stood. Tool bag in hand, flannel shirt stretching tightly over his broad shoulders, salt-and-pepper hair just a little bit unkempt.

It had been a good few months since the two of you went your separate ways, but there he was—still at your beck and call. What that meant, exactly, remained to be seen. 

But you were glad to see him, nonetheless.

“Hi,” You said breathlessly.

Upon seeing you, Joel’s brows shot up, and he blinked a few times.

“Hi.” He said back slowly, then cleared his throat. “Am I… interruptin’ something?”

You glanced down. Right. Tight dress and makeup.

“I have a date in…” You raised your left wrist and winced as you looked down at your watch. “Five minutes ago.”

“A date.” He clicked his tongue, nodding to himself. “Well, I’ll try to make this quick, then.”

You hummed a noise of agreement, pivoted, and, with a wave of your hand, invited Joel inside.

He stepped through the doorway with a quiet grunt. And, as he bent down to undo his boots, his coffee-brown gaze landed on a pile of unopened mail by the entryway table. A few envelopes had slipped to the floor, and he crouched to gather them without thinking. 

But, as he straightened up to his full height, his eyes lingered on the recipient line.

“Mrs Miller?” Joel read aloud.

“What?” Your breath caught in your throat, and you spun around to meet his stare.

Joel wordlessly held the envelope up with two fingers, the corners of his lips slightly upturned.

“Oh.” You cringed inwardly. “Yeah.”

“Didn’t, uh, realise that you were keepin’ the name.” He shrugged offhandedly, tossing the stack of mail onto the entryway table.

“I’m not. I just…” You ran a hand through your hair. “Paperwork isn’t final.”

For the divorce.

Joel’s eyebrows pinched together. “I sent you my signed copies, if—” 

“I know you did. I just haven’t sent the papers to my lawyer yet.” You pressed your lips into a thin line and avoided his gaze. “Just got a lot on my plate, recently.”

That was very unconvincing.

Joel hummed a noncommittal noise.

“Well…” He huffed sheepishly. “You know I always liked my name on you.”

You swallowed, feeling your stomach do a funny flip and your ears burn up. Why were your ears burning up?

“C’mon. The problem is upstairs.”

The faucet, to your dismay, hadn’t stopped. It was worse now, if that was even possible, spitting little rogue sprays of water alongside the main stream. Great.

You checked your watch again. Fifteen minutes late. You would no doubt have a few missed calls from your poor suitor if you had the guts to check your phone.

Joel sank to one knee as he inspected the sink, squinting at the appliance and shaking his head. Miraculously, he reached in and, a few rusty squeaks later, the water stopped.

“You fixed it.” You blinked.

“Far from it,” He muttered, frowning. “The cartridge’s shot. And the valve stem’s stripped. Who installed this?”

Without missing a beat, “You did.”

“…Right.”

You leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over your chest. “So?”

“So, this isn’t a quick fix. I need to pull out the whole assembly. Maybe replace the handle, too. And judging by the corrosion around this nut—” He held up a discoloured metal hexagon like it had personally offended him. “You’ve probably had a leak back here for a while.”

You blinked. “And you didn’t notice that when you lived here?”

Joel turned to shoot you a look. “I was your husband, not your handyman.”

“Really? I could’ve sworn I married you for that toolbox of yours.”

“And here I thought it was ‘cause of my radiant personality.”

“Definitely not that.” You huffed out a laugh.

Despite his back being turned to you, you could just about make out a reluctant smile forming through his slightly greying stubble.

You watched as he rolled up his plaid sleeves, exposing tanned forearms that were entirely too bulky for someone in his mid-forties. He then dug into his bag, fishing out an Allen Wrench.

“You can go on your date,” Joel added, not looking at you. “I’ll be out of here in an hour. Two, tops. But… if you feel like gettin’ frisky, maybe do it at his place. Just in case.”

Right, your date.

Biting the inside of your cheek, you took out your phone. Six missed calls and a flurry of concerned texts.

Decidedly, you typed out an apologetic message mentioning a water-related emergency and stuffed your phone back in your purse.

“I’m staying with you.”

Joel froze and turned to look at you from over his shoulder. “No, you ain’t. I’ll take too long.”

“Well, I can’t leave you to fix my problems while I’m out eating overpriced ravioli.” You shrugged and, with a soft grunt, took a seat against the wall near him. “You’re not a plumber, you’re a… you’re my…”

Ex-husband.

You cleared your throat, then emphasised, “You’re not a plumber.”

Joel let out a slow exhale. “Do whatever you want, but I doubt watching me fix your sink is gon’ be as fun as your date.”

“I’ve got a full bottle of Pinot Noir in the fridge.” You tilted your head. “We can make it fun.”

Joel’s eyebrows shot up.

“Not—not in that way.” You rubbed a clammy hand down your face.

To your surprise, that earned you a small, gruff laugh from Joel, his eyes crinkling momentarily the way they only did when he was truly amused.

His voice was soft when he responded. 

“Go on and get the wine, then, sweetheart.”

Two crystal glasses and a little while later, Joel had put down his wrench and opted instead to sit beside you on your tiled bathroom floor, his shoulders brushing up against yours in the cramped space.

Efforts to tame the defiant sink had long since been forgotten. He did the best he could, but retired upon discovering that you had no spare sink handle lying around—how very unprepared of you.

The bad news was that you weren’t going to be able to wash your hands in the master bedroom ensuite tonight. The good news was that you were having a surprisingly good time with Joel. The conversation evolved from discussing your stood-up date (you showed Mark’s profile, Joel was convinced he was lying about his dogs being rescues), then to how his company was going, and then, reminiscing about the good ol’ days.

“All I’m sayin’,” Joel continued through a laugh. “Is that she did it on purpose.”

“My mom has always been bad with names!”

“Bad enough to still call me ‘George’ after a year of us datin’?” He scoffed.

You stifled a giggle. “In her defence, it’s a very similar—”

“Like hell it is. And your dad? He was worse.” Joel chuckled, finishing the last of his wine. “How is he?”

“Fine. Just called him yesterday, actually.”

“He still callin’ me–?”

“He still calls you ‘porn stache’, yes.”

Joel snorted into his hand, his shoulders bobbing up and down with laughter. Real, genuine laughter.

You smiled and turned to steal a glance at his profile.

His eyes crinkled at the corners, his hooked nose scrunched mid-chuckle, and his laugh was exactly as it was before—low and rough, but somehow boyish and unguarded.

You had almost forgotten how his whole face lit up when he laughed.

And, you didn’t mean to stare. But you did. 

God, you missed this.

“I think I prefer George.” Joel ran a hand down his face, still smiling.

You cleared your throat and leaned over to retrieve the almost-empty wine bottle, refilling your glasses.

“Sarah told me to say hi to you, if I got the chance, by the way.” You said, pouring the Pinot Noir into his glass. “She’s with my parents at the lake house.”

“The lake house?” Joel hummed, taking another sip of his drink. “Still disappointed I didn’t get that in the settlement.”

You snorted, amused. “You don’t even like lakes.”

“No, I don’t like the mosquitoes that come with the lakes.” Joel corrected you, pointedly. “But, I don’t know, I guess I just miss it. A lot of good memories there.”

You felt yourself smile. “Yeah. Yeah, there were.”

A beat.

“Hey, at least you kept the cars. And the boat. And the frequent flier miles. And, well, you see Sarah every other week.” You turned to look at Joel, but he was already looking at you.

A certain vulnerability swam in the brown of his eyes. Something you hadn’t seen in a very long time.

“Yeah, well… there were more important things I couldn’t keep.”

The air thinned. The wine, the laughter, the conversation—everything dissolved in the quiet admission, hanging thickly in the space between you.

And suddenly, there was only you and Joel and the mistakes that had wedged you apart yet somehow brought you back together again; on a random Friday evening on the floor of a bathroom you used to share.

“Joel…” You swallowed, your hand falling from your lap onto the tiles.

But you couldn’t form any semblance of a sentence. How could you? 

There was nothing to say. Yes, you missed him. ‘Missed’ was an understatement. 

Sometimes you’d roll over in the night, wishing to feel the weight of his arm resting on your waist, reassuring you that these past few months had only been a bad dream. Sometimes you came to pick Sarah up early, just to get a few more minutes with him. Sometimes—no, a lot of the time, memories of him came rushing back, cleaving your heart into two, further and further each time.

No matter how hard you tried, you just couldn’t let go of the man you spent so many years loving. 

Joel’s eyes still bore into yours. And nothing in the world could have torn you away.

He exhaled slowly, then set down his glass with care. His hand barely brushed yours, but it was enough to make your breath hitch.

“I think about it,” He said softly. “More than I should.”

“Think about what?”

A quiet, almost sad laugh escaped from his throat. He leaned back against the wall, staring up at the ceiling.

“How things used to be.”

“Oh,”

A moment passed, marked only by the metre of your incessant heartbeat pounding in your ears.

And then, “Do you ever miss us?” Joel asked.

You faced him once more. The answer was on the tip of your tongue, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say it. Because that was too complicated. Because that would break you.

Joel didn’t need you to say it. He found the answer in your eyes.

All the time.

Instead, you asked, “Do you? Miss us, that is.”

“Of course, I do.” He said softly. “More than you can imagine.”

You held your breath.

Joel heaved a sigh.

“I think about calling,” He added, voice low. “Just to hear your voice.”

“I’d answer,” You said, barely above a whisper.

He smiled in a bittersweet, melancholic sort of way and leaned in just slightly. Unconsciously, you mirrored him.

And then his eyes flickered down to your lips. It was only for a second, but it was enough to make your stomach flutter.

This was dangerous. You should’ve told him to leave ages ago. Or, maybe you should’ve left yourself and gone on your date.

But you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away.

“Can I ask you something stupid?” You whispered.

Joel whispered back, “Always.”

“Do you…” You trailed off, biting your lip.

“Do I what?”

“Do you—does even a part of you… want what we had back?” 

You knew what he was going to say. You just wanted to hear it for yourself.

And you did.

“Yes,” He admitted earnestly.

You searched his face for any sign of deception, but found none. The only thing in his coffee-brown eyes was regret. And, maybe, something else, too. Something softer.

Your eyes widened. “We fought a lot.”

“We did.”

“And we probably said some shit.” You sighed, looking up at the ceiling, as if all the answers were written there. Joel did, too.

His voice came softly, sadly, “We did.”

Silence again. Thick and fragile and charged with so many unspoken words.

Joel’s knee brushed yours, neither of you pulling away. It was nice to have him close, to feel his familiar warmth, to see him—really see him. Bare and raw and vulnerable. No facades of indifference. No hiding behind closed car doors. Just Joel, your Joel, there beside you; soft-eyed and quiet, like maybe he was seeing you, too.

Your fingers twitched on the floor beside his. You wanted to reach for him, but you wanted him to reach first. Absently, you fiddled with your left ring finger, suddenly aware of its bareness.

He looked at you then. Not a glance, but a full turn, slow and deliberate. His dark eyes searched your face, pausing on your mouth, your cheek, your lashes, then settled on your eyes again. He looked at you like you were something he’d spent months trying to forget, and only just now remembered why he couldn’t.

You held your breath.

Joel’s voice, when it finally came, was low, cracked around the edges.

“I know it was bad in the end, but I meant what I said.” He breathed. “I miss us. I miss you.”

Your heart twisted. And there went that cleaver again, slicing further.

“I miss seeing your keys on the kitchen counter and knowing you were home. I miss kissing you before work and smudgin’ your lipstick. I miss watching stupid movies with you that we’d fall asleep to halfway.”

His throat bobbed. He leaned back against the wall, like it hurt to say it out loud.

“Yeah, we fought and said some real mean shit. But God help me, I’d give anything to go back in time and fight for you like I should have. Because you were it for me. You were everything. Still are.”

His eyes glistened as he held your gaze, fierce and unflinching.

“Because, no matter how hard I try to ignore it,” He smiled to himself, shaking his head like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I love you.”

He loves you.

Those three simple words rang in an echo in your mind. He loves you, he loves you, Joel loves you.

“You love me?” You could barely hear your voice above the deafening thrum of your pulse.

Your faces were barely an inch apart, now. You could smell the familiar scent of his laundry detergent, and traces of his cologne, and wood, and tobacco, and something that was so uniquely him.

Joel nodded.

“I never stopped.” He whispered.

Without thinking, you closed the remaining distance, smashing your lips against his. Joel grunted in surprise, but quickly gave in, exhaling through his nose like he’d been holding a breath in for years. 

He returned the kiss with equal fervour, reaching out to cup your face and pouring all his pent-up emotions against the haven of your lips—longing, relief, desire.

You pushed yourself closer against him. Closer, impossibly closer, until you were straddling his lap, moving against the tent in his jeans, feeling his big hands instinctively settle on your hips, and tasting the Pinot Noir on his lips.

Shit. Was this even a good idea?

You pulled away suddenly. A tiny whine came from Joel, who tried to chase your mouth, but you were insistent.

“Wait,” You panted.

His eyes opened fully. His brows were knitted, his lips were kiss-swollen, and his chest was heaving slowly.

“What?” Joel asked quietly, his thumbs idly tracing circles on either side of your hips.

“This…” You breathed. “I don’t want this to be a one-time thing. I don’t want it to mean nothing.”

Joel smiled softly at your words.

“Means a whole lot to me, sweetheart.” His hand went to gently tuck a stray strand of your hair behind your ear, caressing your cheek in his wake. “We can talk about what this means, if you w—”

“Okay, good. Means a lot. Talk after.”

“After?” His eyebrows rose.

“After you fuck me.”

A breathy ‘Jesus Christ’ slipped from his throat, but Joel didn’t spend a second refusing your bold assumption.

With a hand on your nape, he leaned forward to capture your lips in another searing kiss, which you happily accepted, sighing against him.

His big hands then travelled to the back of your thighs, and the next thing you knew, he carelessly swept away whatever was decorating the base of your faucet, and carried you with ease to perch you atop the sink.

“Joel.” You mumbled urgently into his lips.

“Mmm?” He hummed back, not wanting to break your mouths apart for even a second. 

“Might break the sink again.”

“Don’t care. I’ll fuckin’ fix it again, then. Just… need you,” Joel groaned. “Look too fuckin’ good,”

And he pulled away. His half-lidded, cloudy gaze drank you in, sweeping down the snugness of your dress, and lingering on the generous amount of cleavage it revealed. His hands drifted higher and higher up your thighs, until they reached the hemline—dipping under just slightly.

“Too fuckin’ good,” He snarled.

You smirked. Knowing him, he was definitely going to ask if—

“How much was this dress?”

Sighing amusedly, “It wasn’t cheap.”

“How attached are you to it?” He mumbled, a hand reverently skirting up to your hip.

“A moderate amou—”

“Can I rip it off you?”

There it was.

In the many years you were married, Joel shredded more than enough articles of your precious wardrobe in similar heated moments. If you were to count the offences, you’d likely run out of fingers. Your wedding dress had been among the few survivors of his destructive tendencies, though not for lack of trying on his part.

You stifled a snort and shook your head, reaching up to caress his face. 

“No.” You smiled. “Because I’d like to wear it again.”

Joel held your hand against his face and huffed out an exaggerated sigh. “Next time.”

And then his hands found the zipper on your side, pulled it sharply down, and tugged the dress off you.

His eyes darkened.

You had chosen to don an intricate, black, lacey number underneath your dress that teased just enough and only hid the bare minimum. Of course, you had. You hadn’t had an opportunity to wear anything vaguely provocative in ages and were expecting some luck after your date.

You certainly didn’t expect that your ex-husband would be the one seeing it.

“This for him?” Joel’s lip twitched.

Heat rose in your cheeks. “Well, I—”

“Yeah, these don’t get a pass.”

With a sharp tearing noise slicing through the air, Joel ripped the flimsy lacey bra clean in half, watching intently, hungrily, as your tits spilled out.

“Joel!”

“I know, I know,” Joel grunted. “I’ll buy you a new set… buy you all the fuckin’ sets.”

You were about to object, intent on citing the price attached to that particular pair, but Joel had sunk back on his knees and spread your legs apart.

He pressed his lips on your inner thigh, scruff tickling your skin as he slowly, softly trailed his mouth upward, leaving goosebumps in his wake.

His face came to a stop in front of your core, noticing how heavily you were breathing, and his eyes flicked up to yours, smirking. Smug fucking bastard.

“Joel.” You gritted your teeth.

“Yeah, baby?”

“Don’t fucking tease me.” 

And he leaned his forehead against the lower part of your navel, taking a second to breathe in the unmistakable scent of your arousal seeping through your lingerie. 

He was practically salivating, now. 

“I’ll try not to, ma’am.” 

Without another word, he took the lace into his teeth, yanked his head sharply, and tore your panties open.

Confirming his suspicions, you were absolutely soaked. Slick drooled freely out of your puffy folds, taunting him and draining every ounce of self-restraint he had. 

Fuck, you were gorgeous.

“Tell me,” Joel said lowly, meeting your gaze once more as a thick finger swiped lightly through your lips, collecting your arousal. “This for him or me?”

“You.” You breathed without a second thought.

“Louder, sweetheart. My ears ain’t what they used to be.”

“You.”

Smirking wider, “Damn fucking right.”

Then, he happily hitched your legs over his shoulders, leaned forward, and dove in.

His tongue prodded into your heat, dragging down your walls and sending jolts of electricity down your spine. He worked fast and sloppily, sliding through your folds and flicking into your walls, urgently tasting you like he wouldn’t get another chance. 

Your arousal coated the lower half of his face, his eyes were almost black with desire, obscenely wet noises echoed in the silence of the tiled room as his tongue eagerly devoured you whole—

“Fuck, almost forgot how good you taste. So fuckin’ sweet.” Joel mumbled against your sex, entirely, wholly bewitched. “She missed me, too, huh? Just drippin’ for me…”

He continued to furiously lap at your entrance, scruff rubbing against your inner thighs. And then he moved up, planting messy kisses higher and higher until he reached your swollen clit.

You gasped brokenly, flinging a hand to grasp his curls as his lips alternated from pressing messy kisses along your seam to greedily sucking at your bundle of nerves, latching onto it almost desperately.

After a particularly delicious drag down the roof of your core, you rolled your hips up into his mouth and brought him closer to you with your grip in his hair.

“Shit—sorry.” You panted, breathing heavily.

He barely pulled away to look at you.

“Don’t fuckin’ be. I can handle it, you know I can.” Joel all but growled, before returning to attend to your needy fucking pussy.

He was like a man possessed; lapping frenziedly, groaning lowly into your sensitive skin, curved nose swiping through your folds as he worked.

Very soon, a familiar tingle in your lower stomach introduced itself.

“Joel,” You called urgently, attempting to warn him.

He knew you were close. Oh, he knew. So, he went faster and harder, pressing himself further against you, suffocation be fucking damned.

His low, wrecked voice came slurred and slightly muffled by your sex, “Y’gonna come? Go on, baby, all over my face—thaaat’s it.”

A shattered moan escaped from your throat, and you felt your release take over your body almost violently. You couldn’t help the way your legs clamped down around his head, but Joel loved it, letting you smother him and humming happily into your heat as he worked you through your climax, swallowing your release and eating like a man starved.

Finally, he pulled away with a wet squelch, softly pressed a kiss to your inner thigh, and gently let your legs down.

And you were immediately greeted with the sight of his lower face shining with your slick.

A good look on him, if you’d say so yourself.

He smiled lazily, eyes blown-out and absolutely fucking pussydrunk. 

“That good for you, sweetheart?” He mused.

“You, Joel Miller, are what we call a munch.” You smiled back.

Pride bloomed across his face. “Gladly, sweets.” 

And you pulled him up by the collar of his flannel shirt into a filthy kiss, tasting your arousal on his lips.

He let his eyes fall shut and reached up to curl a hand around your jaw as he returned the kiss, his brows furrowed in concentration.

Not wasting any time, your hands flew to his belt, blindly fumbling at the leather material to slide it out of the loops of his jeans.

Joel chuckled, leaning forward to trail his lips down your neck, leaving a path of open-mouthed kisses.

“Need somethin’, baby?”

“Wanna return the favour,” You glanced down at the bulge in his lap.

“Mm-mm. That was more for me than you. Missed your sweet fuckin’ pussy.” Joel mumbled against your pulse point.

“Munch.” You couldn’t help but giggle.

“Yeah, yeah.” Joel sighed, lifting his head and undoing his jeans just barely enough to pull himself free from his boxers. 

You heard yourself swallow.

Joel Miller was a big man, and you were very aware of that fact. It was written all across his body; from his impossibly broad shoulders, to his beefy arms, to his thick fucking cock.

He stroked himself, once, twice, as his eyes fell to your pulsating, slick core. Beads of precum leaked from his flushed tip and down his length as he did so.

“Spread those legs wider for me, baby. Let me see you,” He breathed lowly.

And you very willingly obliged.

“There’s my girl,” Joel hummed.

With a hand around his base, he guided himself closer to your drooling cunt, nudging his swollen head against you.

Sighing, “Deep breath, baby.”

And he slowly forced himself in, one hand on the small of your back, the other on the underside of your thigh, prompting you to wrap your legs around his waist as he steadily fed you his cock.

You gasped some variant of a plea.

Needless to say, he was a tight fucking fit.

“Takin’ me so well. That’s it, baby, let me in.” He blabbed mindlessly as he continued to sink deeper inside. 

Deeper, deeper, deeper…

He winced. “Shit—there you go.”

When all of him was nested inside your welcoming channel, he let out a gasped expletive at the sensation.

Full. You felt so full with him inside. You always did.

“Fuck, missed this.” Joel panted, resting his forehead against yours. 

You tried to echo the sentiment, but the only thing you were capable of doing was letting out an incoherent groan of his name.

Joel got the message, though.

Maintaining an unhurried tempo, he rolled his hips back and forth, slowly dragging his thickness against your walls, making you painfully aware of every last inch of him.

“How’s that feel, baby?” He mumbled, voice airy.

“Good. Feels so good.”

And, fuck, he did. 

He felt amazing.

His tempo soon picked up, leaving your mouth to fall open as you took every inch of him again and again, stretching you open with enough pleasure to dull the slight pain.

��Tell me,” Joel hummed as he continued to drive ceaselessly in and out of your tight channel, adopting a false lilt of indifference. “Who’s fuckin’ you so good, huh?”

An incoherent syllable slipped from your lips.

“Who, baby?” Joel urged you, unrelenting in his pace. “Sure as hell ain’t fuckin’ Mark.”

Dumbly, you shook your head.

“You, Joel.”

Your words were almost drowned out by the symphony of your own moans, which were accompanied by the obscenely wet slaps that sounded every time his hips fully met yours.

“Louder.” He snarled, punctuating his response with an intentionally rough ram. “Neighbours can’t hear you yet, c’mon.”

“You, Joel!”

Satisfied, his hands went to hold you by your waist, keeping you as still as possible as he drove insistently into you, his tip now kissing your cervix with every thrust.

You cried out at the feeling, nails raking down his back.

Heat pooled in your gut, your vision blurred, a high-pitched ringing almost deafened your ears.

“Joel, Joel, I’m…” You babbled.

“Close? Go on, gorgeous. Let me feel you choke my dick.”

With his blessing, his name left your mouth in a high-pitched scream, and you felt yourself clench around his throbbing length as your orgasm rippled across your body like an earthquake.

Joel, being the overachiever he was, didn’t stop for even a second until your breathing slowed and your eyes fluttered open again.

And, once he saw that you had recovered, he leaned forward to slant his mouth against yours, swallowing your sighs.

“You okay?” He mumbled into the kiss, barely breaking away.

“Yeah.” You exhaled. 

He smiled against your lips.

“Good. Almost there, baby. Gonna take you against the sink, now, and you’re gonna give me one more, how’s that sound?”

You nodded dreamily, feeling him slowly pull out.

He leaned back and, with his hands on your waist, delicately set you down.

“Turn ‘round for me, sweetheart.” 

You acquiesced without hesitation, bracing yourself on the porcelain countertop.

Joel hummed, kicked your legs open even wider, and, not long after, sank the entirety of his cock into you in one deep thrust.

A sharp breath hit the air behind you, and an airy ‘fuck’ followed it. This angle made him feel bigger, if that was even possible.

He didn’t wait long after that. He couldn’t. Overcome with the need to feel you, he started moving. The first thrust was slow. Experimental. The second was hard. The third was harder.

Before you knew it, his big hands found a home on your hips, and he began to drive roughly into you, as if making up for lost time.

He certainly proved he was willing to atone for his absence, thrust after thrust.

“Oh, look at you.” Joel tutted and pulled your hair to tilt your head upwards.

You came face to face with the woman in the bathroom mirror.

Somewhere in between thrusts, your mouth had fallen agape, letting loose a long whine of pleasure, which was stuttered by every slam of his hips against yours.

Your hair was frizzy, your face was flushed, your hooded gaze was flooded with desire, and a light sheen of sweat doused every inch of your skin.

You were a wreck, thanks to the man fucking you so well behind you.

“Eyes up here.” Joel sighed. “Keep ‘em open. Gotta watch how well you take me.”

Joel was even more of a sight. 

The top few buttons of his flannel were undone, his sleeves were haphazardly rolled up, his hair was wild, and the look on his weathered face was nothing short of territorial as he held you to him and fucked you with reckless abandon.

Your eyes fell to where your bodies were connected, hypnotised by how easily his tanned cock disappeared in and out of your puffy cunt.

Again.

And again.

And again.

The corners of his lips were coyly upturned when he cooed, “Don’t we look good, baby?”

You could only respond in broken syllables.

“Yeah,” He grunted. Then, after a particularly forceful thrust, “we do.”

He continued to ram into you, finding your cervix with each thrust, keeping his eyes trained on the mirror, fixated on how your tits bounced so prettily for him.

“Beautiful.” He whispered, jaw tight.

If your brain hadn’t been turned to mush after the two orgasms he forced out of you, you would’ve heard him. But all you were focused on was the rush of another climax approaching.

You gripped the countertop harder and gritted your teeth, feeling warmth collecting in your stomach and bracing yourself for impact.

As if reading your mind, Joel’s hand moved from your hip to your front, trailing down until he brushed your clit, rubbing sloppy semi-cricles and whispering sweet things as you whimpered.

“You gonna give me one more?” He murmured encouragingly, his nose nudging the side of your face.

You could only manage an open-mouthed nod.

His fingers sped in their motions, swiping at your clit feverishly as he continued to rut into you, grazing your cervix each time.

Again. And again. 

“Come for me, sweetheart. I’ll catch you.” He whispered gently.

Your jaw slackened, your heartbeat quickened, and, in a blinding flash of pleasure, you came with his name on your tongue, helpless to the throes of your climax.

“There you go. Shit… so good for me.” Joel groaned. And then, urgently, “Where—where do you want me to–?”

Not even a full second later, “Inside.” 

“You sure?” He panted, starstruck. 

“I have an IUD, just—please.”

He didn’t reply. Instead, he pressed closer, his chest flush against your back, letting you feel every shaky pull of his breath as he caged you in. His hands found yours at the edge of the sink, lacing over them gently. His head dropped beside yours, his forehead nearly touching your temple, and a warm breath fanned across your skin as he sighed. 

And then he resumed his earlier pace.

He rammed into you hard and fast, chasing his own release as if it were a life-or-death situation. And all you could do was take it.

After a dozen more jerky thrusts, his breath caught in his throat and, with a low curse, he came. Hot ropes of his spend spilled inside you, and he rode it out until he couldn’t give you any more, which took a few more lazy rolls of his hips.

His breath evened not long after, warm and steady against your browbone. Soothing, almost.

Gently, he pulled out of you, and you felt his come slowly drip down your thighs.

“Fuck,” He breathed, pressing a soft kiss to your hair, scruff rubbing against your crown as he did so.

And he bowed his head to rest it on the crook of your neck.

“That was great, George.” You panted.

Joel snorted tiredly. “Just couldn’t help yourself, huh?”

“Nope.”

He huffed out a chuckle.

Then, he languidly pressed a trail of open-mouthed kisses wherever his lips could reach—the underside of your jaw, your throat, your neck, and down, still.

A warm, fuzzy sort of feeling radiated from his touch, lulling you into a state of bliss. It felt like love; it felt like coming home.

You couldn’t help the smile that stretched across your face.

Joel mumbled something unintelligible against your shoulder.

“What?” You replied, breaking free from your trance.

“I said,” He pulled away and, with two fingers on your chin, tenderly turned your face to look at him. His voice was wrecked and so very earnest when he finally repeated himself. “Don’t send the papers. Please.”

He held the rest of his plea in his eyes in the way they shone with a certain sincerity.

You smiled softly and shook your head. Because you knew you never really had any intention to. Because you wanted to hold on to him. And you were glad he wanted to hold on to you, too.

Your lips found his. Gentle, delicate, a reassurance. He gave in to the kiss almost immediately, sighing into your mouth.

“I won’t.”

And you meant it.

thanks for reading!!! reqs are open, if you wanna send an idea or anything over :)

🏷️: @whaddupbaby, @pedritodowney08, @martuxduckling, @aadhinagony, @lanabobana, @pedr0swh0r3, @romancherry, @strawberriesandhotmen, @streamermattsgf, @bonneyzsk, @worhols, @serendippindots, @paprikainfurs, @lanternnightgarden, @12vamppp, @savvyisss, @umadirectioner, @tinawantstobeadoll, @not-the-teen-witch, @wundagre, @im-nowhere-but-also-somewhere, @guelyury, @joelspickle, @callofdiva, @hotnmad, @brightestxxwitch, @pearl-diver-m, @kungfucapslock, @hellokittyyloverrrr, @meganfoxismywife, @natalieispunk, @billionairecowgirl, @my-tearsricochet

[leclerc-hs]

romantic chocolates? - op81

pairing: oscar piastri x fem!reader summary: in which you and your best friends brother accidentally eat aphrodisiac chocolate OR you and oscar get so fucking horny while on a yacht in the Maldives. warnings: smut smut smut, all smut basically. oral, p in v, dirty talk, language, marking kink, slight voyeruism, exhibitionism??, not sure what else...NOT PROOFREAD! (might be some typos) word count: ~3.9k author's note: SURPRISEEEE ITS OUT EARLY (I worked hard over the weekend lol) hope you guys enjoy!! THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING FOR OSCAR EVERRRR (aside from a one shot i've had sitting in my drafts for months lol) comment and let me know what you think!!! xoxo

ln4 cl16 mv1 op81 cs55

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You’ve always had a sweet tooth.

Everyone knew it. Oscar especially. He used to tease you over it when you were younger. Would point out when your fingers were sticky with something sugary.

He never said it unkindly. Just amused. Soft. Something like you’ve got chocolate on your face and then passed you a napkin you didn’t ask for.

He’s always been like that. Gentle. Kind. The boy who was never loud. More of a listener than a speaker.

And he never made you feel silly. Not when you cried after falling off your bike and scraped your knee. Not when your towel slipped. Not even when you accidentally spilled juice all over your shirt on a long flight. He just handed you a new one from his backpack like he knew it’d happen. 

You’d grown up like that. 

And now here you were, years later. Sunburned and salty on a private yacht in the Maldives, still with a sweet tooth and one of his old McLaren shirts he gave you when he first got signed. Pulled over your bikini.

His sister, your best friend, left on in the morning for a tour with the rest of the group. Something about history and snorkeling. You’d both waved your hands declining. Something about being too burned and too sleepy for it. 

“She’s going to get bored halfway through,” You sip on your drink. “Probably will call us in two hours.”

Oscar gives you a shrug. “I give her one.”

“She said it was a once in a lifetime experience.” You throw up your hands while repeating her words. Mocking her almost. Smiling.

“So is sitting here.”

And you laugh.

He’s sitting across from you, towel slung around the back of his neck, sun catching his shoulders. His hair is damp. Skin flushed from the sun. No shirt. Just a pair of swim shorts and bare feet.

You shift slightly where you are. Curled up in the shade. Bare legs stretched out. The oversized shirt clinging to you just a little too much where your bikini top was wet.

He glances at you when you move. Doesn’t speak. Just tracks it with his eyes. And looks away again.

His hand reaches for the table. “What’s this?”

You look over. 

A little box. Dark. Red ribbon wrapped around it.

“Some welcome thing, I think.” You shrug. “Dropped it off yesterday.”

Oscar pulls the lid open, brows lifting. He picks up a wrapped square, amused.

“Well, well.” He says, looking at you. “Your kryptonite.”

You grin. “Shut up.”

“You gonna pretend you didn’t spot this the second we sat down?”

“I did not.”

He tilts his head, giving you a look.

“Mm, you’ve got that look.” He says.

“What look?”

“The one you used to get before stealing cupcakes at birthday parties.”

You roll your eyes, but blush. Cheeks reddening. “I did not steal…”

“You did.” He cuts you off. Already unwrapping one of the chocolates. “Always had sugar on your hands. Icing on the corner of your lips.”

You open your mouth to protest, but he tosses a piece toward you.

You catch it.

You watch him bring the chocolate to his mouth, tongue darting over his lip without thinking.

Peel open your piece and press it to your tongue. It melts fast. Rich. 

You hum, licking a smear of it off your finger. “That’s actually really good.”

He doesn’t respond right away.

You glance up and catch him mid-swipe across his bottom lip. Looking dazed. Distracted.

Then he blinks, clears his throat. And nods. “Yeah, pretty good.”

He closes the lid of the box, slides it to the side. Then leans back, looking at the water.

And you sit there with him. Across from him on the cushioned benches. Chewing slowly. Feeling that heat bloom beneath your skin.

It’s soft at first.

Then deeper.

A warmth in your chest. A pulse between your thighs.

The wind sweeps your skin. And the fabric of your bikini suddenly feels too damp. Too thin. Too tight.

You swallow. Trying not to fidget.

Oscar hasn’t moved much. His gaze is still on the ocean, but it isn’t really. And you watch the way his jaw flexes. The way his foot shifts on the deck. Like he was grounding himself.

He doesn’t look at you.

And he always looks at you. 

You shift again. Cross your ankles. Press your thighs together.

You glance at Oscar again.

And his lips are parted. Just a little bit. And his brow is slightly furrowed.

You sit up slightly. “You okay?”

He shifts. Then clears his throat, blinking. “Yeah. Just…hot.”

You nod slowly. “Same.”

He leans forward, breathes out. But his fingers twitch. And you notice as his back muscles roll slightly as he drops his head down, towel slipping down.

He stays like that for a few seconds. Then rubs a hand over the back of his neck.

His voice is quiet. Flat. “What was in that chocolate?”

You don’t answer right away. Because you’re fucking throbbing now. And your bikini is definitely soaked.

“Do you feel…” He swallows, throat bobbing. “Strange?”

You nod. And then remember he isn’t even looking at you. “Yeah.”

His jaw clenches.

He shifts again. Still not looking at you. And that’s how you know something is wrong.

Because he never acts like this. 

You’ve seen him flustered, sure. After a race, dealing with the media, around too many people. But never like this. Not this tense. As if he’s afraid.

“I didn’t think chocolate could….fuck.” His voice cracks. And he laughs under his breath. 

He grips the bench. Looking like he’s in pain.

“I think I need to go inside.”

And he stands too fast. Towel falling down. Hands clenched at his sides as he turns on bare feet and walks toward the main cabin.

You stare at his back. His shoulders. And he disappears down the stairs.

You’re so hot that you could cry. Unbearable.

You press your palm flat to your stomach. Like it’ll help.

But it doesn’t.

Because it’s not just the chocolate. 

It’s him. Oscar.

Gone for less than a minute and his voice is the only thing in your head. The way his mouth looked when he licked the chocolate off his thumb. His hands. The muscles of his back straining as he leaned forward

The silence stretches heavy.

You make a quiet sound in your throat. Barely audible. And you can’t sit still. Can barely think. Can’t stop seeing him.

Your hand slips beneath the hem of your shirt. You’re hesitant at first. But then trail your fingers to the center of your ache.

And your hips lift off the cushion. A heavy breath escaping.

Your other hand grips the bench as you rock slowly against your own fingers. Over the bikini. Slow circles. Each one, pressing harder.

You let your head fall back. And the sky above is almost blinding.

“Oscar…”

You don’t even realize you said it out loud. It just slips. 

And a few moments later, you don’t even hear him come back. Your fingers still at your bikini. Rubbing.

You lift your head. He’s there.

Flushed. Hair ruffled like he ran his fingers through it a million times. Eyes fixed between your legs like he’s in some sort of trance.

He just stares. Doesn’t even speak.

“I can’t stop,” You whisper. Honest.

“You’re…” He blinks. Voice low. Stunned. Like he just walked into his favorite fantasy and doesn’t know what to do. “You’re fucking touching yourself?”

You nod. And he groans.

“To me?”

“Couldn’t stop thinking about you,” You whisper.

“Jesus.” His hands twitch at his sides.

You shift, spreading your legs a little wider without meaning to. Unable to stop rubbing the tight circles.

“You look so pretty like that,” He mutters.

You tremble. “I need help.”

And his eyes widen.

“Please,” you whisper. “I can’t…Osc, please.”

He groans. Hands dropping to the front of his swim shorts, palming the hard line of his cock through the fabric.

“Come closer.” You plead.

And he stares at you with wide eyes. Flushed. He doesn’t move. At least, he doesn’t at first.

But then his gaze drops back down to your legs. Spread open. Your fingers rubbing slow, desperate circles. And his hands twitch.

“I…” He says, but he’s already squeezing himself. “I shouldn’t.”

“Oscar…”

“I shouldn’t be seeing this,” his mutters. “And I shouldn’t be this fucking hard.”

Your eyes fall to where his hand squeezes against his cock. Like he’s trying to fight the ache between his legs.

And you whimper. Hips jerking. “I can’t. I need….I need help.”

His hand squeezes himself tighter.

“Fuck.” A pause. A few silent moments of heated stares. “Do you know how many times I used to think about this?”

His voice has gone rough. And you blink at him. Heart stuttering.

“I used to jerk off in my room and feel sick after,” He whispers. “Because it was you. My sister’s best friend. Always walking around in those tiny shorts. That blue bikini. Always so fucking sweet.”

Your fingers slow. Jaw falls slack.

“I’ve thought about it,” His voice shakes. “Fuck. I’ve thought about this. When we were younger.”

Your breath hitches.

“Thought about your pussy more than I should’ve.” He mutters. “Wondered how soft you’d feel. How tight. If you’d let me take my time or if you’d beg me to fuck you rough.”

Your back arches.

“Wondered what you’d sound like when you come.” He continues. “If it’s all breathy. Or if you’d cry. If you’d say my name.”

“I’d press the pillow over my face after so no one would hear me,” He admits. “Every time.”

You gasp.

“I would.” You gasp.

His hand pushes harder into his cock. Groaning. “I’ve thought about fucking you with my tongue. Holding your legs and licking you for hours.”

You press your fingers even harder.

You whimper, other hand reading for a pillow or something to grab onto. “Osc, please.”

“You want my fingers?” He whispers. “Right here? Want me to fuck you with my hand?”

You nod. Repeatedly. Fast. Almost pathetic.

Oscar lets out a whimper. And then he’s kneeling in front of you before you can blink. Hand still pressing into his cock. The other trembling as his fingers brush your thigh.

“You’re so warm.”

Your hand falls away and he replaces it instantly. Pressing two fingers against the soaked fabric. Groans loudly when he feels it.

“Fuck, pretty…” He groans. “You’re soaked. Fuckin’ dripping.”

And then he pushes the fabric aside, stares. Pupils blown. “God, look at you…"

You shake your head. “Please.”

“I’ve thought about sliding my fingers into you since I was seventeen,” He pushes them in. Half-laughing. “Thought about curling them deep and slow….hearing you moan just like that.”

Oscar swears under his breath, leaning closer. Jaw locked tight. “I’d keep you like this for hours if I could. Legs spread and needy….mine to play with.”

You cry out. Rocking your hips.

And he curls his fingers. Watching your face.

“Yeah?” His thumb circles your clit now. Slow. “Right there? Knew I’d find it.”

And you careen forward. Hands flying to grab his shoulders.

“Come for me,” He mutters. “Right here. In my fucking shirt. On my yacht. On my fingers.”

And you do.

Hard.

And he watches every second. His lips parted. Cock throbbing.

And then he drags his fingers out of you slow.

Brings them to his mouth. 

Licks them clean. Eyes locked on yours.

“Taste better than I ever dreamed,” He says softly.

And then he’s grabbing the back of your neck. Pulling your lips to his. Kissing you like he’s starving.

His tongue licks your mouth like its his. Like he already knows how to pull those sounds out of you and wants to hear every single one. 

And his hands slip down your body. Down your shoulders, over your ribs. Brushing the dip of your waist. Until he’s gripping your thighs.

“Wanna see bruises here,” He says. “Want people to see bruises and know.”

He stays kneeling between you, chest heaving.

“You’re soaking, baby.” His voice cracks.

He leans forward. Kissing your inner thigh. And then opens his mouth, sucking hard. Pulling a moan from you.

You feel the bruise forming as he licks over it. Sucks it again. Fingers pressing into your skin, gripping it.

“That’s one,” He mutters. 

He leaves another one. Higher. 

Then a third on the other leg. Right by your cunt. So close that it makes your hips jerk into his mouth.

And then he’s standing. Grabbing you under your thighs. And lifts you. 

Laying you down on the table. The welcome basket crashes onto the deck with a thud, but neither of you acknowledge it. The box of chocolates dangling on the edge.

He grabs it.

“What are you doing?” You ask. Breathless.

He doesn’t answer. Opens the box, takes out a single piece and holds it up. Gaze dropping down to your cunt spread open for him.

“Need to taste you with this,” He mutters.

He leans over you. Pressing the chocolate between your lips. “Bite.”

You do.

The sun’s hot against your skin.

And then he kisses you hard. Tongue lapping against yours, sharing the chocolate. You both moan and groan into each other before he’s dropping back to his knees.

“Look at you,” He breathes. “All messy. Want my mouth, baby?”

You nod.

And he leans in. Licks you.

One long drag up your slit.

You cry out. And he groans into your cunt. Licking you. Tasting you.

“Fuckin heaven.” He drags a hand to your leg. “Can’t believe I waited this long.”

“Oscar…”

He doesn’t stop. Just hooks his arm under your thigh, and pulls you closer to the edge. Legs over his shoulder.

And buries his face in your pussy.

You grind into him instantly. Chasing every flick of his tongue.

Your hands fist into his hair, dragging his face closer against you. And he moans. Wrecked.

“Fuck,” you yell. “Oscar…oh my…fuck.”

He drags his tongue through you. Flicking your clit over and over.

“Keep fucking my face,” his voice is hot.

“You sound…my God..Oscar, you sound obsessed..”

“I am.” He grunts. Fingers curling in you as he nudges your clit with his nose.

And then he pulls one arm away. You barely notice it. Until you hear it and look down.

He’s got his hand wrapped around his cock, fisting it fast. Leaking.

He jerks his cock faster. Hips twitching into his own fist as his mouth works harder against you. 

“Gonna come,” he confesses. “Gonna come from tasting you.”

You cry out.

“C’mon…” He urges. “Let me taste it, yeah?” 

And it breaks you.

You moan into the open sky. Grinding against his face. Jaw slack. Eyes squeezed shut.

And then he groans, standing up and comes hard onto your cunt. 

Hot, messy ropes of it. Spilling over you. 

And then he’s dragging you off the table without a word. Not giving you time to even breathe. Panting. 

His hands tight around you, and then he’s spinning you. Forcing you to face the ocean. Chest hitting the metal railing. 

And he’s behind you. Silent.

You start to turn your head, “Oscar…?”

“No.” He says. Voice rough. “Stay just like that.”

His hands drag your shirt up. Slow.

His name in bold letters stretched across your back.

He groans. Violently.

“I should’ve fucked you in this years ago.”

Your breath falters.

“Fucking knew it,” He grabs a fistful of the shirt, twisting his hand in it. “Knew one day you’d bend over in this and I’d lose my fucking mind.”

You feel the heat of his body behind you, shoving your bottoms down with one swift flick of his hand. Cock thick and heavy. Dragging through your folds, collecting his come and your wetness.

He groans. You shake.

He presses forward, hips rocking against you. Grinding into your thighs.

“You’ve no idea what you look like.” His breath is heavy behind you. “Bent over. My name on your back. Come still dropping down your cunt.”

And you bite your lip. Arching into him harder.

One hand grips your hip, the other fisted around the shirt.

“You wore this shirt for years like it meant nothing,” His voice quieter. Mean. “Didn’t think about what it did to me every time you wore it.”

“Osc…” You attempt to say his name, but he shifts his hips into you harder and your voice cracks.

He laughs.

“Now look at you. Dripping all over me. Wearing my name like you belong to me.”

He sinks in slow. So slow that you feel every pulse. Every ridge. 

And you whimper. He groans behind you. Like he’s in pain. Like he’s trying so hard to not ravish you.

But when his hips meet you, and he’s bottomed out. He just….stops.

Breathes in heavily.

“Fuck.” He says soft. “You’re so fucking tight around me.”

His fingers dig into your hip even harder. Bruising. Marking.

“You’ve ruined me,” He laughs. “Y’know that?”

And you don’t even get a chance to answer.

Because he pulls back and slams into you. Hard.

You cry out, hands gripping the railing that your knuckles turn white.

His pace isn’t gentle at all. It’s feral.

“Fucking ruined me,” He says again. “You in this shirt….you in my fucking name..do you even know what that does to me?”

You moan. So loud. And his hips smack into you. Over and over.

“You’ve been walkin’ around in it for years.” He spits. “Like it’s nothing.”

He thrusts deep, angling his hips at a better angle. “Like I haven’t been dreaming of fucking you in it since I gave it to you all those years ago.”

You’re babbling now. Unable to breathe properly. Your entire body trembling.

His hand slips from your hip and slides up your spine. He grabs the back of your neck and pushes you down. Just a little bit harder. Forces you to arch even more.

And fuck, he nearly collapses when he feels you clench tighter around him.

“You should see yourself,” He grunts. “Squeezing around me like you’re desperate to never let me go.”

And he’s lost all rhythm. He’s just slamming into you. Cock so deep. 

“Can’t believe this is real.” He’s panting. “Can’t believe I get to fuck you in my shirt. Pussy covered in me.”

Your orgasm is close. And you’re shouting. Moaning. 

"Bet she'd lose her mind if she knew what a slut you were f'me..."

You cry out. He feels you teetering on the edge. 

“Don’t.” He snaps.

And you cry, “Oscar…please.”

“You’re gonna wait.” He demands, fucking into you more rapidly. 

And he’s losing his mind. It’s sooo good. 

“Say who’s inside you.” His hands squeeze the back of your neck. “Say it.”

You gasp. Jaw falling slack. Chest pressed harsh into the metal railing. “You…Osc..fuck, it’s  so good..”

You sob out his name and Oscar fucking snaps.

“That’s it, baby.” 

His hips hit you faster. Deeper. The filthy sound of it heard over the waves lapping the hull. 

You sob into the railing. 

He leans into you, head falling forward.

“Gonna come,” He chokes out. “Gonna come right inside you. Stuff you full. Let it leak out.”

And you break.

Orgasm ripping through you. Violent and hot. Back arching so hard into him. You sob out his name. Your walls clenching around him in a tight grip.

And he crashes with you. Body shuddering. Cock throbbing. Spilling into you.

He’s still panting against you when he pulls out. And it’s a fucking mess in between your thighs.

But before you can say anything, he’s dragging you upright. And you’re stumbling as he drags you across the hot deck. Hand across your stomach. Keeping you close.

And then he’s shoving you into the rinse off shower.

He reaches up. Turns the handle. And the water is so cold that you gasp from it.

Oscar laughs behind you. “Too cold?”

Your head falls onto his shoulder. “Asshole.”

And then he turns the temperature warmer, and then it’s all steam and heat again. 

You expect him to rinse you off gently.

Instead, he grabs the shower head. Detaches it from the hook. And pulls your back against his chest.

“Gonna clean you up.”

You’re about to ask what exactly he means. But then he;;s nudging your legs apart. Brings the shower head straight to your cunt. 

And you jolt forward with a sharp cry.

The heat. The pressure.

“Oh my god…Osc,” You’re mumbling.

And he watches you. Holding one leg to keep them apart.

“Stay open,” his voice is soft. “Wanna see you come again.”

And you whimper. Begging. “Too much…fuck.”

But he doesn’t stop. Just tilts the shower head just right. Hitting your clit.

“Thought I’d have to work harder for this,” He mutters. “But you’re soaking already.”

“Fuck…fuck.”

"Y'like this, hm?" He whispers into your ear. "Being used like some filthy secret?"

Your hands reach behind you and slip their way into his hair. Pulling it. He groans. Rutting his hips into your backside for some friction.

“C’mon, pretty.” He grunts. 

And the water just keeps hitting you. 

You sob. And then crash again.

Your legs shake. Cunt clenching around nothing.  But he holds you up, turning you to face him. Pressing your back against the wall.

He finally sets the shower head down. Lets it spray onto the deck. 

And then his hands are back on you. One at your lower back, one gripping your thigh, pulling it up to wrap at his waist. You balance on one leg.

He presses a kiss to your temple. “Y’okay?” His voice gentle. Caring.

And you nod, pressing your head into his neck. And his heart stutters when you lean into him. Like he can finally breathe.

“I’ve got you,” He whispers.

And then, he sinks back into you.

Slow. Gentle.

Your mouth falls open. The stretch still almost unbearable after everything. But the way he slides in, feels too fucking good.

You gasp. Digging your nails into his skin. And he cradles you against the wall.

He moves slow. Rocking. No rhythm. And he feels massive. Thick. 

“Oscar,” You hush into his skin. “You feel…Y’feel so good.”

He nods. “I know, baby. I know.” And his voice is a whisper. 

He grinds deeper. Barely moving but pressing into you. “Can’t believe you’re still this wet…” He grunts. “Still want more? Want me to stuff you full again, hm? Fuck you til it leaks down?”

You nod. Mouth open. Moaning.

“C’mon,” He pants. Hips jerking. Cock throbbing. 

It’s quick. The feel of you wrapped around his cock. The overstimulation of the stretch.

You both come quick. Crying out into each other’s skin. Soft kisses in between the moans.

And then you’re both laughing. Smiling at one another.

-

“Holy shit…I’m dying.” Your best friend announces. “Never let me go on another tour ever ever again.” 

Oscar snorts from beside you on the bench, looking at his phone. “Told you you’d hate it.”

“You didn’t say I’d almost drown.”

You keep your face still. Sipping your drink.

And she plops down on the lounger across the deck, sighing.

And for a moment…it’s quiet.

Until Oscar leans in slightly, elbow brushing your arm.

His voice low. “Y’think she noticed?”

You glance at him. Shake your head.

“She’s never been less observant,” You whisper back.

And he grins. One of those fuck-you grins that makes you stutter.

And you hold back a smile.

Your best friend groans across the deck. “God, I feel disgusting. Should we order dinner in an hour?”

Oscar clears his throat. “Sure.”

“Yeah,” You say.

And then you lean, just slightly, into his side. Just enough that his thigh is touching yours again. 

He doesn’t move. And he doesn’t stop smiling.

"Hey, what happened to the welcome basket?"

Oops? taglist (holy shit SO MANY OF YOU ILY): @landoscarinthefastlane @dudenhaaa27 @330bpm-whiplash @xoln04f1xo @sainzluvrr @minjiahyung @madicecream123 @star73807-blog @simpfortoomanymen @art-h1ve @annaswrites00 @forumlabee @butterfly-daisies07 @nothereneverherever @widow-cevans @suns3treading @fmejenson @megatrilss1885 @10iceicebaby @sh1nedreamsm1le7 @ptrickbateman @chasingosc @uuoozzii @idkwtdwml123 @pinkdeadtopia @chiara8104 @ellie-bellie-29 @piastri-my-boy @1-of-my-many-obsessions @8junejpg1 @jaydensluv @astrlape @idontknow0704 @whistlef0rthechoir @op814kitty @asmoothoperator @illicit-affcirs @lilith-123321 @teddybearbeth @saudianna @skylyn-vais @fleurdangz @angxedxtz @marekmybeloved @liafics @dxrlxb @gabyasworld @treebranch23 @drysdalesv @morganalatina21 @bigcatharmony @ilovemuppets @acina27 @angelabunbun @megatrilss1885 @ilikecarsalotsometimes @roxanne-ragnvindr @euphoriapillz @luminouskalopsia @trinity2058 @livsturnioloo @wdsara48 @ini3103 @shimmermotorsport @marslovesran4eva @wherethezoes-at @monsterdesandia @mythicalmaven @3in1shampooconditionerbodywash @ella284-3 @landossainz @redcrescentmoons @jaeger-chan @altaccount283927 @ericasdumbworld @aerie717 @the0twst0shrimp0mc @ysavelelelel @phillza-my-beloved @thenalovescars @zicosbitch @scaroscar8115 @wertyuizxcvbnm @needy02 @dessashippr @quill-vy @o6hellnah @enchantedwaspwhisper @awesome-fandom-panda @biancathecool @lilorose25 @wowzees (not sure if all these worked but I took them straight from my comments on the sneak peak)

[inkandapex]

stream madness pt. 2

Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: Lando Norris embraced his now-public relationship as a chance to openly and unapologetically adore his girlfriend. Fans saw it as a win—though it came at the cost of Max F constantly getting roped into their antics.

Words: 4.8k

Warnings: swearing, mentions of sex, suggestive dialogue

part 1 | part 3 | part 4

Protect Max

Fans were absolutely loving how Y/N had become a bigger part of Max’s streams. They got to see a side of her they’d never caught on social media and beyond the glimpses from the paddock with Lando.

It was just another day of chatting and gaming for the two during a break between races, the pair sat in an ever familiar room in Lando's place in Monaco, but with him absent as Max had mentioned he went out for training.

"We just agreed on not using grenades you cheat! Lando's rubbing off on you way too much. I don't like it" Max exclaims as his character on Counterstrike once again, gets killed by Y/N less than a minute into the round.

"Oh go cry about it Max, just admit I'm better than you" Y/N smirks as she grabs her water bottle to take a sip

"You cheated! I got absolutely knocked by that"

"Fine! You big baby, no grenades this time, promise" Y/N groans as they start another round

"they're so sibling coded" "not bob getting dethroned from being Max's gaming partner" "she's so gonna beat Max again this round"

“Okay, chat, no need to rub salt in the wound—by the way, I was the one who taught you how to play, you should be grateful—shit!”

Max was mid-sentence when Y/N sniped him, knocking him out of the game and securing yet another win—this time, fair and square.

“The student becomes the master,” she smirked, leaning back in her chair, clearly enjoying the moment.

"What's going on here?" the mic picks up Lando's voice before he even enters the frame.

"I'm absolutely dominating on counterstrike—did you just get back?" A playful smile spreads across Y/N's face as Lando walks into the room, standing behind her chair and gently massaging her shoulders.

"I've already showered and everything. Been here the past 30 minutes, you two were too busy bickering—I could hear you all the way down the hall," Lando chuckles, looking down at her with a cheeky grin.

He leans in, but Y/N quickly shifts away, avoiding the kiss.

"You're avoiding my kisses now?" Lando teases, his mouth hanging open in mock surprise.

"The stream, Lan..." Y/N mutters, a little pout on her lips, making Lando laugh softly.

"Alright baby, for our eyes only, yeah?" Lando smirks, leaning back down while reaching for the camera, his hand covering it just in time to hide their kiss.

"Hello?! My eyes! My eyes! What about Max’s eyes?!" Max's shout makes the two burst into laughter as Lando pulls his hand away, revealing Max’s face, twisted in utter disgust.

"lol poor max" "bet he misses P a lil extra today" "i think im going to cardiac arrest they're so cute"

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

Snitches get stiches

The night before testing in Bahrain, Lando hopped onto Max’s stream for a few rounds, confident as ever. After absolutely schooling Max, he decided it was time to call it a night, shutting down his setup and stepping away.

What he didn’t step away from, however, was the chat.

Curled up in bed, phone in hand, Lando lurked—dropping smug messages every few minutes. No matter how much Max tried to ignore him, chat was loving it, egging Lando on as he tormented his friend from the shadows.

" 'Just take the L—' Mate, I did take the L. You’re the one still lurking in chat," Max laughed, shaking his head as yet another message from Lando popped up. "You have testing tomorrow, by the way."

Then, a new message appeared.

"Ed said he let you win this morning."

Max smirked, grabbing his phone. Without a word, he held up a finger to the camera and pressed dial. The stream went quiet as he waited. After a few rings, a familiar voice came through the speaker.

"Hey, Y/N, you alright? Sorry if I woke you. You’re in Bahrain with Lando, yeah?" Max finally said, his grin growing wider at the thought of absolutely snitching on his best friend.

"Hey, Maxie. No you're good, just in the other room catching up on work. Lando went to bed about an hour ago. Everything okay? Do I need to wake him up?" Y/N sounded concerned.

"Yeah, 'bout that... he’s wide awake, actually—just finished streaming golf with me. Wouldn’t leave my chat."

The pause on the other end was almost too satisfying. Max leaned back, waiting patiently, his smirk never fading. The sound of rustling and soft footsteps had him turning up the volume, bringing his phone closer to the mic. He even covered his mouth, stifling his laughter, determined to catch this golden moment in all its glory.

"bro is cooked" "oh no she's mad" "not max snitching on lando AGAIN"

"You’ve got testing tomorrow, Lan." "Fucking snitch, Max! Grow up!" Lando’s voice barely made it through, muffled. "You said you were going to bed an hour ago," Y/N said, clearly not amused. "Baby, I am in bed," Lando mumbled, his tone defensive. "You were just playing with Max—" "—For one round, my love. I’m in bed now, aren’t I?" "Don’t play me, Norris. Go to sleep, or I’m taking your phone away." “How am I supposed to sleep without you next to me, huh?” Lando’s voice was full of fake desperation, stretching the words out like he was pleading for a lifeline.

“Right, well, now I’m about to throw up,” Max interrupted, cutting through the conversation with his dry humour.

"Fewtrell, you knew better. shouldn't have entertained him when he asked you to play." "yeah that's right! you get him baby" "Didn't I say go to sleep? I'm telling Jon about this tomorrow" "This isn't over Max!" Lando manages to shout before the line cuts.

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

Taking her back

Lando, Max, and Y/N had been best friends long before Lando and Y/N started dating, and though Lando loved how well his girlfriend and best mate got along, there were times when his jealousy got the best of him.

"Baby, come on. You've been playing with Max forever!" Lando whined, his voice dripping with playful frustration. Both Y/N and Max paused their game, turning to see Lando dramatically sprawled out in the chair behind them, looking all sorts of pouty.

"Lan, you’ve been glued to your phone for the past two hours," Y/N teased with a laugh. "We’ve asked you to join us, like, a million times"

"That’s different!" Lando huffed. "I need you. Did you not miss me? It’s the first time we’ve seen each other in a week!" He gave them a puppy-dog look, and Y/N couldn’t help but smile at his adorable pout.

"A week’s not that long, mate," Max teased, unable to resist poking fun.

"Shut up, you dickhead. I wasn’t talking to you," Lando snapped back, a grin playing at the corners of his mouth. "You're only saying that because P’s been with you the whole time."

"Y/N is literally 6 feet away from you—" Max shot back, raising an eyebrow.

"—Yeah? And you’re about 6 feet away from getting punched," Lando retorted, his playful threat making everyone laugh.

"You’re so easy to wind up," Max said, shaking his head in amusement, clearly enjoying Lando's reaction.

"Very mature, you two," Y/N spoke up, watching the back-and-forth between Lando and Max with an amused smile.

"Baby, please, can we kick Max out? I need some me and you time," Lando groaned, rolling his chair closer to Y/N, his eyes full of exaggerated desperation.

"Lando, chat asked her to join my stream today," Max protested, raising an eyebrow. "You’re really gonna steal her away from them?"

"They’re stealing her away from me right now," Lando shot back, narrowing his eyes playfully at the camera.

"Alright, you big baby, one more round, then we'll leave Max alone," Y/N chuckled, turning to face Lando and gently running her hand through his hair.

"No. Now," Lando pouted, shamelessly showing just how needy he was, making Y/N laugh as she gave him a soft, teasing look.

"I'm about this close to bleaching my eyes and ears, mate," Max teased, smirking at the chaos unfolding.

"I'm about this close to kicking you out of my flat—" Lando leaned forward, narrowing his eyes at Max.

"—OKAY. Chat, my kids are throwing tantrums now, I think it’s time for me to go," Y/N sighed in defeat, sitting up straight with a playful roll of her eyes. "You two are impossible." She gave both of them an exasperated but affectionate look, knowing she’d have to be the voice of reason.

"boooo! not bob stealing y/n from us" "NOOO don't leave Y/N" "LN being selfish lol" "hes neeeedy"

Max let out a laugh as he read through the chat, clearly enjoying the chaos. "They're booing you, mate—yeah, chat! That's right! He’s stealing Y/N from us!" Max egged them on, his voice full of mischief.

Just as Y/N stood up from her seat, ready to leave, Lando grabbed her arm, pulling her back down onto his lap. He held her firmly by the waist, giving her a quick kiss.

Y/N gently shoved him, standing up again with a soft laugh, trying to hide the flustered look that had crept onto her face from his sudden move. Lando, now sporting a proud smirk, looked straight at the camera. "Gotta take my girl back now, chat," he said with a playful wink. "We’ll see you guys next time."

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

Look at my girl

"Did you get the code? I sent it to you on WhatsApp," Lando said, setting his phone down and turning his attention back to his screen as he finished setting up the game.

"Yep, got it. We're using in-game mics, yeah?" Max replied, joining the lobby.

Before Lando could answer, a soft knock echoed through the room. He instinctively pulled off one side of his headphones, swiveling his chair to find Y/N standing by the door.

"I'm heading out now, bub" her voice carried through the mic, chat flooded with messages about how soft Lando’s gaze had just turned.

"Look at you all dressed up—where are you headed, my pretty girl?" Lando smirked, leaning back in his chair, eyes shamelessly trailing over his girlfriend.

A blush crept up Y/N’s cheeks as she shifted on her feet, slightly embarrassed by her boyfriend’s proud declaration. "I’m having lunch with Alex today, remember?"

"You look beautiful, my love," Lando murmured, his grin widening before turning back to his stream. "Chat, doesn’t Y/N look absolutely stunning?"

"Maate, start the bloody game!" Max groaned, dragging out the words in frustration.

Y/N chuckled softly, shaking her head. "Alright, Lan, I gotta go—they're arriving soon."

"Alex is picking you up?" Lando asked, tilting his head as he kept his eyes on her.

Y/N nodded. "Charles offered to drop us off at the restaurant. I'll bring you home food, and I’ll send you the menu when I get there."

Lando’s expression softened. "Have fun, my love. Text me if you need anything."

"Got it. Bye, chat—" Y/N smiled, giving a small wave as she stepped out the door.

"—What?! Hey, hey, no! Come back—baby, my kiss!" Lando whined, nearly pushing himself out of his seat, watching her leave with a dramatic pout.

She let out a playful groan but stepped back into the room, making her way toward Lando.

"Look at her, everyone—stunning," Lando grinned, taking her hand in his. "Alright, bye, gorgeous. Have a great time."

Y/N smirked, holding her hand up to the camera—mimicking the way Lando had covered it on a previous stream—before leaning down to press a soft kiss to his lips.

"Thanks for that, Y/N, really appreciate the modesty," Max's voice rang through Lando's headphones, dripping with sarcasm. "Hope you do that to my eyes next time, yeah?"

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

Don't look at my girl

Lando had been on Twitch for a good hour now, casually playing UNO with Max and a few other friends on who were on Discord. It was all easygoing banter, a way to kill time before diving into a more intense Tarkov session.

Y/N walked in not too long after, carefully balancing plates of food in her hands. Without looking up from his screen, Lando muttered a quick, “Thanks, love,” too focused on his cards to even glance her way.

It wasn’t until the chat suddenly exploded with rapid messages that his attention flickered toward the comments. His brows furrowed, eyes scanning the screen.

"hi Y/N" "okay hot mama!" "Y/N you look stunning babe" "can Lando fight?"

“‘Can Lando fight’—chat, what the fuck?” he scoffed, finally turning his head toward his girlfriend.

And then he saw it.

The slightly cropped, low-necklined tank top hugging her in all the right places, a sight he was very much happy to see, just not so happy to share with the rest of the world.

His reaction was instant. “Baby… where’s the rest of your shirt?” Lando whined, reaching out to tug at the hem of her top as if he could magically make it longer.

Y/N only laughed, swatting his hands away. “It’s literally just a tank top, Lando.”

“Yeah, and apparently, it’s starting fights in my chat.” He shot a glare at the screen before narrowing his eyes at her playfully.

As Y/N stood up, completely unaware of the way the camera was angled, she leaned forward slightly to grab something from behind the monitor.

Lando, ever vigilant with his quick reflexes, moved faster than ever, one hand darting out to cover her chest while the other reached for the mouse, ready to slam the stream off if necessary.

“Woah, woah—baby! Careful, please,” he blurted out, eyes wide as he practically shielded her from the world.

Connor’s laughter echoed through the call. “LN’s about to have a heart attack, mate.”

Y/N, finally realizing what had just happened, let out a soft laugh as she sat back down, napkins now in hand. “I was just grabbing these, bub. Calm down.”

Lando let out a dramatic sigh, clutching his chest like he’d just lived through a near-death experience. “Baby, please, I’m begging—could you put on a hoodie or something?” His voice was almost desperate, eyes flicking between her and the chat that was going absolutely feral.

Y/N raised a brow, arms crossing over her chest. “You’re overreacting.”

“Yeah, well, they’re not getting a free show,” Lando huffed, shooting a glare at the screen before rolling his eyes. With one last grumble, he finally turned his attention back to his game, picking up his fork to dig into dinner—all while side-eyeing the chat every few seconds.

Meanwhile, Max was wheezing through his mic. “I swear you just aged five years.”

Connor chuckled. “Bro’s fighting battles no one else can see.”

"still cant believe he was able to pull her" "Y/N leave him be with me" "she looks unreal" "lando better know how to fight"

Lando didn’t say a word, just stood up abruptly and rushed out of the room, leaving his friends confused as his turn in UNO was about to run out.

“Where’s he gone now?” Max muttered, clicking onto Lando’s stream, only to see Y/N sitting there, casually eating and playing in his place.

She simply shrugged, unfazed, taking Lando’s turn for him as she popped another bite of food into her mouth. A few seconds later, Lando reappeared, arms full, determination set on his face.

“Pick.”

“Huh?” Y/N blinked up at him, mid-chew.

“Pick one. Shirt, hoodie, or blanket?” He stood in front of her, dead serious, holding up the options like this was a life-or-death decision.

Y/N let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Baby, pick.” Lando repeated, unwavering.

“Lan, it’s really not that—”

Before she could even finish, he had already tossed the clothes onto the floor and made the executive decision himself, unfolding the blanket and draping it over her shoulders. “Right, blanket it is.”

Y/N sat there, wrapped up like a burrito, staring at him in amused disbelief.

Max was howling through the mic. “Mate, she’s looks like she's about to go to bed”

Lando glanced over at her, a proud grin spreading across his face as he admired his work. “There. Better,” he said, his tone smug but warm, clearly pleased with himself for making sure she was all cozy and covered up.

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at how serious he was about it, “You’re ridiculous, you know that?” she teased, tugging the blanket a little lower, enough to free her hands.

“I’m just making sure you’re comfy,” he replied, his grin only widening. “Don’t want you catching a chill, do I?”

She shook her head, playfully rolling her eyes, but the smile she gave him was all warmth. “You’re something else, Lan.”

Lando only winked, clearly pleased with his efforts. “I try.”

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

Rumour has it

It had only been a couple of weeks since Lando and Y/N had last been seen together in public, but the internet had exploded. Breakup rumors, theories about a fallout, and even claims of a “divorce era” started circulating among fans. Of course, Lando and Y/N found it all utterly ridiculous. But why not have a bit of fun with it?

Tonight, Max was streaming, and Lando was, as usual, by his side. The chat was absolutely flooded with questions and speculations, with fans wondering where Y/N had gone, why they hadn’t seen them together lately, and if they were still a couple. Usually, they wouldn't entertain it, but Lando couldn’t help but grin at the chaos as Max glanced at him, his face filled with mischief.

“Mate, you’ve been dodging questions for weeks now. People are asking if you and Y/N are okay. What's going on? Is it true? Are you in the ‘divorce era’ now?” Max teased, his voice full of drama.

Lando leaned back in his chair, groaning. “Oh don't even say her name around me. We're happily separated,” he said with exaggerated seriousness. He watched as the chat went wild, fans speculating whether he was joking or not.

"this is NOT funny im fighting for my life over here" "i honestly cant tell if hes serious pls" "stop asking ab their personal lives guys" "theyre clearly fine, look at him" "oh theyre fine lol"

Max laughed, clearly enjoying it. “Heard it here first chat, there you go”

Lando shrugged dramatically. “Sometimes, I still hear her voice"

Before Max could respond, the door behind Lando opened. Y/N walked in casually, wearing one of Lando’s hoodies, hair up in a messy bun. She stopped when she saw the camera, raising an eyebrow at Lando’s ridiculous grin.

“Hey, guys,” she said, giving the camera a casual wave.

"See! it's like she's still here” Lando pretends to wipe a tear

Max burst into laughter, while Y/N, confused as ever, attempts to read the chat. "Why are you guys talking about me like I've died?"

Lando looked at her with all seriousness. “Baby please. We're broken up remember, gosh keep up will 'ya"

Y/N nods, the expression on her face immediately switching from confused to locked in. "Oh— guys, being in this room right now pains me. I can't even look at him"

Max, lounging back in his chair with a smirk, couldn't help but shake his head. "You two were definitely eating up this breakup rumour stuff, huh?"

Lando and Y/N couldn't help but break, letting out small laughs at the comment. “Oh fuck yeah, we’ve been lying in bed, giggling like idiots, reading threads and watching tiktoks about it,” Lando said, acting like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“We purposely stopped liking each other’s posts and hid from the public" Y/N grinned, “And had so much fun doing it,” she added, sticking her tongue out at the camera.

Max threw his hands up. “You lot deserve an Oscar for this shit”

Lando, still grinning, nodded enthusiastically. “Oh, mate, you’re telling me— I had Carlos knocking at my hotel room at three in the fucking morning after reading some random breakup article online.”

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

Not so subtle

It was well past 1 AM, but Lando was still wide awake, glued to his Twitch stream, deep into another round of Tarkov with his friends. The chat was slowly saying their goodnights, viewers logging off one by one—but Lando? He and the guys were more awake than ever, already planning a few more rounds like the night had just begun.

Y/N was not one to stop Lando from enjoying his alone time, but it was getting late. She had just finished yet another episode of her go-to comfort show—but sleep still hadn’t come. With a glance at the clock and a sigh, she finally got up, padding toward the other room. Maybe she could convince Lando to get some rest… or at least come fill the cold, empty space beside her.

“Baby… it’s late, come to bed.”

Y/N’s soft voice barely stood a chance against Lando’s, drowned out by his rapid-fire strategy talk and the sharp bursts of gunfire from his game. He didn’t even flinch, too locked in, too focused.

It wasn’t until she stepped closer, bathed in the soft glow of his monitors, that the chat began to stir, messages flooding in at the sight of her. Only then did Lando pull off one side of his headset, glancing up at her with a lazy smile.

“Hi, gorgeous. Thought you were asleep already,” he murmured, seamlessly giving out directions to his teammates in the same breath.

“Couldn’t sleep… You should come to bed now. It’s late.”

“I know, baby. Just give me ten minutes, alright?”

“Bedtime for little Lando?” Connor teased, earning a chuckle from Max and an eye roll from Lando.

“Shut up, Connor."

Instead of leaving, Y/N plopped down in the free chair beside him, mindlessly scrolling through her phone. She barely noticed how time slipped by—until she glanced at the clock. Fifteen minutes had passed since Lando promised he’d be done.

“Lan, it’s been 15.”

“10 more minutes, baby. Just a little longer,” he mumbled, eyes still glued to the screen.

"he's so stubborn lol" "poor y/n" "listen to ur gf pls lando, im sleepy but i have fomo"

Another 15 minutes passed, and Y/N, now visibly annoyed, let out a sigh. “Lando.” No pet name. Just his name. Max chuckled on the other end.

“Mate, I’d log off now if I were you. Y/N is scary when she’s tired and cranky.”

Lando glanced over, taking in her tired expression. “Baby, go to bed, you look exhausted… I’ll be there soon, okay? C’mere, gimme a kiss.”

Smooth. A clear attempt to buy himself a little more time.

Y/N gave him a blank stare, then simply nodded before standing up. No protest, no further attempts to drag him to bed. Instead, she turned to the stream with a small smile.

“Okay… goodnight, guys. Have fun playing with Lan. Goodnight, baby.”

Lando blinked, a little surprised that his plan actually worked. He grinned up at her, feeling triumphant, until she leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, her lips barely brushing his ear as she whispered.

“I was gonna let you have me any way you wanted tonight… your loss.”

His smirk vanished instantly, his head following Y/N's trail, now exiting the room.

"WHAT DID SHE SAY OMG" "look at his face she definitely said something" "bro is cooked lmao" "lando fumbled baaad"

Beyond distracted by what his girlfriend just whispered in his ear, he misses an opponent causing Max to get killed in game earning a battering of complaints

"Gotta log off now guys, goodnight" Lando, without saying a proper goodbye, had managed turn everything off, leaving both the game and his stream in record breaking time.

Max, watching Lando vanish without a word, quickly put the pieces together as the chat exploded with teasing. Realizing he could save his friend from some serious trouble, Max cleared his throat and leaned into the microphone.

“Bet she’s got him in trouble now. He’s probably getting an earful for keeping her waiting.” Max grinned, adding, “Man’s gonna need a serious apology when he gets off. You know how it is—no escaping when she’s upset.”

Even the chat could pick-up how he's working extra hard to save the his best friends from a PR nightmare.

"Max working extra hard tonight" "LN and Y/N got Max sweating bullets lol his face" "Max being the bigger man, respect" "Theyre bout to hear an earful from max too after this"

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

Shameless

Chat was going wild. It was a random Friday night, no announcements, yet, somehow, Lando had appeared with his own stream. Even Max, mid-game, was caught off guard when the messages started rolling in, asking him to play with Lando.

Lando, sitting in his chair, still looked like he had just stepped out of the shower, his hair damp, he wore a matching grey sweatsuit and hoodie.

“What’s going on, mate? You’re back early. Thought you two were out for dinner?” Max’s unmistakable voice crackled through the speakers as he joined the group Discord, clearly catching onto the sudden shift in the vibe.

“Aye chat, Max is here! Yeah, mate, we were, but got back home and decided to hop on,” Lando cheered, clearly stoked to hear his friend's voice.

“Loving the enthusiasm, man. You seem happy tonight. You up for some golf?” Max chuckled, amused by the energy radiating off Lando.

“We can play whatever you want, Max. Feeling really lucky tonight,” Lando replied, a grin spreading across his face.

Max raised an eyebrow, eyeing him with a teasing smirk. “You’re worrying me a bit, mate. You sick or somethin’? Bit too happy for my liking.”

Lando just kept dancing and singing along to his music, looking even more upbeat, and Max couldn't help but laugh. “Alright, what’s going on with you, seriously?”

It was as if the universe had perfectly timed it—Y/N walked into the room, completely unaware that her boyfriend had already started his stream. She was wearing nothing but the white long-sleeved button-up shirt he had worn during their date earlier that night, the one fans had captured in photos. Her hair was slightly messy, giving her a carefree, just-rolled-out-of-bed look as she casually walked in.

"Lan, did you see my cleanser by any chance? It’s not in the bathroom." Y/N stood just by the door, just enough to be in frame of Lando’s camera.

As soon as she appeared, the chat went wild, and Max couldn’t help but laugh, not even attempting to rescue them this time. “Hey Y/N, my chat's saying Lando’s shirt looks better on you than it did on him.”

Y/N froze for a few seconds, her face turning bright red before she quickly dashed out of the room, her voice still audible through the mic as she shouted, “Lando Norris, you little shit!”

Lando, in too good of a mood to keep it together, couldn’t help but laugh. “Alright, chat, calm down—we’re all adults here.” He leaned back in his chair, a grin spreading across his face as he wiped away a few tears of laughter.

After a beat, he stood up, still chuckling to himself. “I’ll be back in a minute, guys.”

He left the room, probably heading off to help Y/N find her cleanser, maybe even consoling her after the little reveal. The chat was buzzing with teasing comments, but it was clear Lando wasn’t too worried—he’d be back soon, and the situation was already too funny to be mad about.

"post sex stream is insaaane" "man was glowing, no wonder" "PR team fighting for their life after this" "Landos phone bout to blow up" "meeting being set up as we speak"

Lando returned, a smirk still tugging at his lips as he casually sat back down, as if nothing had happened. “Right, Max, what are we playing tonight?”

Max raised an eyebrow, eyeing his friend with a grin. “Look at him, so smug. Had a great night, didn’t you?”

Lando let out a laugh, shrugging nonchalantly. “Told you, mate, we went and had dinner.” He paused for a second, then winked at the camera, his smirk widening. “Just had to head home early to have some dessert.”

[muntitled]

Better Than Drugs

Pairings: Namgyu x Fem!Reader | Brief!Thanos x Fem!Reader

Summary: Reconnecting with your shitty ex boyfriend in the games.

Warnings: Language, Substance Abuse, Toxic Relationship, Male Manipulation, Coercion, Smut (+18) mdni, High sex, Dub/con, Choking, Exchange of Bodily Fluids, Unprotected Sex, Unedited (we die like soldiers)

A/n: literally no one will read this but I need him and I wrote this for me!

Being treated like a lamb being led to the proverbial slaughter in a death game sucked ass but seeing your ex boyfriend there sucked even more, somehow. From your vantage point perched on your bed tucked away from all the central conflict, you notice them talking about you again.

Call it past bully traum but you knew when people were talking about you and although you couldn't make out what they were saying, a part of you just knew...

Another vote had ended and Namgyu was still staring at you, his head bowed, chewing his fingernails. He was watching you, while you were forced to watch as democracy crumbled around you.

Your brain made you think Namgyu was perhaps berating you in front of his new friend. Bad-mouthing you to absolutely no end, perhaps saying what a lousy, uptight girlfriend you had been in the outside world. How you kept him from his habit. How you tried to force him into rehab countless times.

And so you shrink into yourself, squeezing yourself further into your bed, hugging your knees.

How were you supposed to know the conversation went nothing like how you thought it was going?

"We need to get her on our team," Thanos had said when the voting concluded and they were watching you pick at your roll of tin-foiled kimbap.

"She's already on our team," Namgyu muttered, more quiet than usual as he watched you through the corner of his eye. He didn't feel like eating. He felt like doing drugs. And fucking, maybe, but eating? It never occurred to him.

Without you to remind him to eat, and to actually take care of his bodily health outside of his substance abuse, he really was a mess.

"Oh yeah," Thanos muttered dumbly before turning back to his own food, "Kay, well, I need to sleep with her."

Namgyu didn't even look up from his food, still leaning against the metal beds as he murmured a quiet, "Nope." Popping his lip, extenuating the 'p'

Thanos himself was rallied into silence as Namgyu casually clicked his tongue before adding, "I called dibs on that bro," he steals another glance. You're searching your chest for a piece of cucumber that's fallen out of the kimbap

This unfortunately, zeroes his gaze in on your ample chest, miraculously squeezed into that tracksuit jacket. Now Namgyu was thinking about your tits while Thanos' head whips to the side, his brow lifted.

Namgyu couldn't take his eyes off you since the games began. Watching you during voting time had stirred up all kinds of lost emotions. The easy and almost thoughtless way you had pressed the blue button before tucking your hands in your pockets, never sparing anyone a second glance. He had to adjust the bulge forming in his sweatpant. If it weren't for him you might have continued to go amongst the games as an anonymous spectre, with that cash prize as your only goal.

"I didn't know we were calling dibs!?" Thanos stomped his feet petulantly, "That's not fair, man. Not. Cool."

"That's the point of dibs," Namgyu said, pushing his hair behind his ears as he continued to stare you down. "Who knows how long we'll be here?" As he watched you, he tilted his head downwards, causing a thick shadow to fall over his eyes as he watched you. He leaned against the railings of the metal beds piled up to the ceiling, watching you tuck your hands deeper into the sleeves of your sweater. Really fucking cute.

"B-But Homies don't call dibs on girls!" Thanos whines.

"Yeah," Namgyu nods, "but, I'm gonna need more than magic pills and a homie to get me through the night," He made a ring with his index and thumb finger, pinching his one eye shut as he spied at you through it, "She can help,”

Thanos was quiet, eerily so. Good things never happened when Thanos was quiet,

"Let's go over to her right now then. Since she's stealing my homie-"

That immediately snapped Namgyu out of his lust-filled gaze, promoting his shoulders to straighten as he tried to stop Thanos from taking another step towards you.

"Senorita-" he said in a singsong voice and you rolled your eyes as you saw them approaching. Namgyu walked behind like the shadow he always tried to be, with his hands tucked in his pocket. Your bed is relatively low to the ground and your heart stammered when both their shadows fell over you.

"Don't have any change," your eyes whipped to your ex-boyfriend before narrowing, "Or drugs. Sorry." you mustered a painfully sarcastic smile as you attempted to turn in another direction, hoping they might take the hint.

Thanos' teeth stretched as Namgyu swallowed thickly, watching you in that distinctly predatory way of his as he propped his forearm against the railing of the bed. You hate how both of them make you feel and your eye scans in vain around the premises, hoping someone might save you from the duo.

"Lemme make this quick," Thanos said with his drug addicted hand gestures. "My bro wants you and whatever bro wants-" he taps Namgyu's chest behind you- "Bro gets."

Silence passed with you staring deep into Namgyu's dark, almost sinister black eyes. You admitted that you were still painfully attracted to him. Knowing that he knows your body. He's already seen what hid under your blue tracksuit, it was dizzyingly sobering.

He still seemed so devastatingly sleezy it bordered on attractive, like he didn't care about what anyone really thought of him. It still brought an uncomfortable amount of attraction that you didn't really know what to do with. "No thanks," you said, bending your head to take a bite of the kimbap.

"Cunt." you heard him mumble under his breath. That caused your head whip up to glare at him.

"I'm a cunt because I'd rather not fuck a drug addict?"

"No," Namgyu shrugged, "You're just a cunt."

Your nostrils flared as something diabolical ignited inside you. Up until this point, fear had been the only emotion you allowed yourself to feel. The fear of dying to keep you alive. But right now, you're being plagued with another emotion and it's setting you alight with interest.

Your dating preferences were never orthodox. You knew you could never truly be satisfied with any other timid nice guy, and that's what drew you to him. You hated admitting to it but Namgyu calling you a cunt did more than irritate you, it ignited you.

"I'm not here to make friends,” You marvel now, in the tense darkness, how confident you had been then.

“How about a boyfriend then?” Namgyu asked and Thanos whistled lowly as he mutters a ‘nice bro,’

“How about choking?” You shot back, “I tried the boyfriend thing and he stole all my savings to buy drugs.” Namgyu’s jaw ticked and you can see his fist fold and unfold. Thanos’ commentary continues. ‘Shit boyfriend-’ he says under his breath.

“Don't be a bitch so early in the morning…” Namgyu says finally before turning his head, somewhat distracted, “Or at least I think it's morning. Hyung do you think it's morning-”

Thanos raised his hands, “Morning is what we make it in here, bro.”

“Leave me alone of I'll fucking scream.” you cut through all their useless chatter, letting a tense silence settle between the three of you. Eventually, Thanos reluctantly pulls Namgyu away. Murmuring a quiet ‘just take a hint bro.'

Soon, you were left in your bed but not without one more backwards glance from Namgyu over his shoulder. He wasn't done with you and that thought sat heavily on your shoulders until the robotic voice from unseen speakers made the countdown to lights out.

The very last thing you remembered, before the overhead lights were snuffed out, was his black, almond eyes still watching you from his bed.

The blue 'O' velcroed to your breast burns a hole through your conscience as your eyes flutter open in the middle of the night, really needing to pee. The prize money acts as the only source of gold light illuminating the hall while everyone else remains soundly asleep.

Life in the games was so much more stomachable during the day, but when the lights went out, you were forced to sit with your thoughts. That piggy bank didn't have money inside it, it held bodies, and the ghosts practically filled this room.

Still, you can't help but whisper to yourself, “I really have to pee.” The only thing stopping you from going to the bathroom is the gaze you knew would somehow find you from three beds over. Your ex boyfriend watches you, even when the lights go out.

Paranoia be damned.

Cursing softly, you maneuvered yourself to the ground. Trying to make the least amount of noise possible as you moved through the row of beds.

If you were being followed you'd never know. Everything was too dark but a part of you sighed as you reached the small arched doorway completely unscathed.

Almost unscathed.

Your heart hammers in its cage when you feel his heavy arm settle over your shoulders. Your mouth falls open but Namgyu is already banging on the arched door with a closed fist. You flinch with every loud, metallic hit.

The little window opens to reveal a triangle-masked soldier. He stands there emotionless.

“My girlfriend's on her period- she's bleeding everywhere. We need the bathroom.”

There is silence from the Guard who is clearly unimpressed. Just before the little window is about to slide shut Namgyu kicks at the door, “Hey! I wanna fuck my girl- if you want, we could do it out here?!”

You try to wrench yourself out of his grip, toilet be damned but your heart absolutely sinks to find the pink soldier opening the metal door.

Namgyu only twirls, pumping his fist before pulling you in his arms, biting back a smile.

“Can't believe that worked,” Namgyu says, with a raised eyebrow and a happy little shrug as he drags you across the threshold. The trip to the women's bathroom is relatively short as you writhe and fight in his hands. There's virtually no reason for the pink guard to think any of this was consensual but they kept their stoicism on their face as you reached the girl's bathroom.

“We'll be quick,” Namgyu assures the guard with a tight sort of smile before pushing you into the bathroom, and closing the door after himself.

You trip on your way running into one of the stalls and he watches you, biting his nail.

“This is the girls bathroom, or are you too high to notice?” You hiss absolute venom as he bites his fingernail.

“Nah, I'm sober right now, which means I need something to take the load off.”

“Cool. Use your hand,” you sigh from within the stalls before dropping your pants to pee. It irked you that he was standing there, on the other side… waiting for you.

You make quick work of it all. Wiping, flushing, and making a beeline for the sinks. He lets you wash your hands but before you make it to the door his arms are wrapped around your waist.

“Uh Uh,” he tsks, “No ‘i miss you’ kiss, huh?” He drags you into his arms, kicking and screaming as he swipes your brains from across your panicked face.

“Only competent boyfriends get kisses,” Despite the fuss, the door doesn't open. Those guards have quite literally abandoned you in here to fend for yourself.

“I can make it up to you,” he said, “I miss you really bad, baby,” Namgyu's pushing your back against the sink, stained with that sickening, pastel colour as he lowers his nose into the crook of your neck. You writhe as he breathes you in deeply, before sighing. His erection pressed against your thigh.

“Someone else could walk in here,” you cry, feeling a dampness seep out of you, wetting your underwear. Your body was being traitorous because it was enjoying feeling anything other than fear. It yearned for it.

“Sto-” you attempt to catch your breath as he gropes at your breasts from over your tracksuit. “Stop touching me-” you say despite your legs getting weaker and weaker.

“You don't get to touch me anymore. You lost that privilege when you stopped being my boyfriend.” He was so much taller than you when he stretched his hand across your cheeks, forcing your neck back to make more space for his lips. A moan nearly spills out of you.

His hands are trembling and his tongue swipes out to lick the length of your neck. To your shock and horror, you melt in his grasp.

“You don't mean that-” he whispers against your skin. “No one's gonna fuck you like I do-”

“No one's going to steal my money like you do either-”

His hand flies down to your throat, choking as he says through clenched teeth, “I told you I had a problem-” he squeezes and for the briefest moment, you see stars. “I needed help and you abandoned me, you bitch-”

“I didn't abandon you-” His lips are on yours, silencing you in one messy kiss that him forcing his tongue into your mouth.

“You gonna be good for me, Huh?’ He says, hoarsely, your eyes glare up at him.

“Leave me alone-”

“You know I love it when you try to fight back,” his mouth breathes against your hair, “You trying to get me riled up babe, huh?”

His fingers find the lining of your own sweatpants and your heart stammers as he turns to push your front against the sink. Your hand grips at the cheap plaster and you avoid your own traitorous reflection in the mirror, lest you find not only fear in your eyes, but lust

“You know how bad I've needed this- fuck,” his voice cracks when fumbles his cock out, grinding against your ass with his eyes closed in ecstasy and his mouth hanging open. Your finger curls around the sink as the first moan slips out of you. It had his eyes flying open to look down at you in amusement and awe.

“I knew you weren't a completely stuck-up bitch,” he says, pulling you up by the base of the throat, “I knew you still wanted me.”

“I don't,” you squeak out as he pulls down your pants.

“No- but your body does,” he swipes your underwear to the side.

Your body spasms as he roughly sinks his digits into you once before pulling out.

“You miss me real bad,” he brings your fingers up in front of your face and your heart drops to find the arousal webbing his index and middle.

He continues to swipe your arousal from from your ass to your puffy clit and the need wracks through your entire body, building as you arched your ass backwards against him.

His mouth is by your ear, breathing heavily as he lines his cock up at your entrance, already leaking precum, “I know I gave you hell when we were out there-”

“Hell doesn't begin to cover- FUCK-” he rams his cock into you. Positively brimming with need as his hips stutter against you.

“Y-ou stole my fucking savings for drugs-” you get the sentence out quickly before moaning into the air, as your boyfriend fucks out all the frustration he's been carrying, all the need and the withdrawal.

“And I ate you out as an apology-” He reaches his hand around to clamp down on the base of your throat. Your mouth falls open when he cranes our neck back, his eyes boring into yours. “Don't you miss it baby, don't miss having me inside of you?”

“Y-Your eyes are diluted-” you begin to say, utterly incredulous. “You're high right now!”

His hips thrusts in shallow, quick strokes. “And your pussy's wet, guess we're both fucked.”

Your pussy tightens around him like a long lost friend, it knocks you out how deeply you've craved him. Needing reprieve from all the fear. “You're squeezing around my cock, you fucking slut-” that nearly has you seeing stars. Your body spasms.

“That it…” he whispers, “Don't think I haven't forgotten the way you abandoned me out there… But in here,” your eyes roll to the back of your head, “You dont so much as fucking breathe without my permission.”

Your eyes squeeze shut as his cock hits that particular pillow of nerves inside you, nearly flipping you off the edge.

“Spit on my hand,” he says, an edge to his voice that let you know he was far too close. You forgot how messy things got when you had sex with him. How much of a mess he made of you.

You do it without thinking about it and his eyes widen as he presses that same hand to your clit.

“F-Fuck!” Your eyes are squeezed shut as he reaches around to rub you to your orgasm. His movements only fumble when his hips start stuttering.

“N-Need you to cum for me-” he breathes out. “I’m jittery- baby. I need it- shit-” you slip into your orgasm right in front of him, milking his cock for all its worth. “F-Fuck this is so much better than drugs,” he murmers, eyes rolled back as a drunken smile ghosts over his face. He's in complete and utter euphoria.

Two rough knocks on the door signal the need for your return but Namgyu's cock is still spilling ropes of his cum inside you and you're doing nothing but taking it.

“I hate you,” you breathe out, because it's true. If it weren't for him you wouldn't be here.

His breath is warm against your neck as he says, “I love you too.

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