#he’s at parties and friend get togethers. you catch him at the bars and group weekend plans. and of course your eyes are naturally drawn to

[tinycoffeeroom]

girlfriend of the enemy | charles leclerc

face claim: none ♡

request: here !

tags: max verstappen x reader, thoughts of infidelity, max sucks a lil in this i'm sorry

part 2 | part 3

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You knew the novelty had worn off. Max was known for picking up things that were shiny and brand new to him and dropping them without a moment's notice. You just never thought you would be one of them. The two of you had met in the paddock, you having been invited by your reporter friends. Instantly the two of you had hit it off, chatting the whole night and enjoying each other's company. 

That was 7 years ago. 

Now the two of you were attending the end of the race year celebrations but you may as well be strangers. 

He’d swirled you around his friends, eye candy on his arm to match the fact that his face was plastered across the entire room. After he was sure everyone had seen the two of you together, he subtly brushed your arm off and went to talk with Daniel and Checo who were standing by the bar. 

Taking a seat at one of the tables strewn out across the large dance hall, you picked nervously at the acrylics on your nails. Max knew events like this made you nervous, with the large crowds full of people you barely knew. At the start of your relationship, he never used to leave you alone, constantly having a hand around your waist or resting on your knee so you knew he was there, but it was as if he no longer cared. You hated this side of him, missing the funny and attentive man you fell in love with. 

Drivers passed back and forth behind your chair, often bumping it accidentally as they walked, too deep in conversation with their walking buddy to notice they had knocked you. It had been at least 2 hours since you had seen Max, having watched him stalk off to a dark corner with the two men he was chatting with at the bar. You knew you looked miserable, but you were so tired of hiding how you truly felt, how Max made you feel. 

A hand brushes the back of your chair as someone takes a seat beside you. A soft voice barely audible over the loud music pumping through the room, close enough that their breath brushes across your neck. 

“Not having fun?”

You jump at the proximity, whipping round to come face to face with Max’s longtime frenemy, Charles Leclerc. He simply smiled, either not noticing how close the two of you were or simply ignoring it.  

You’d come to know Charles through the years you’d spent as a wag. He was always polite, full of kind smiles and funny anecdotes. You knew he wasn’t a fan of these things either, choosing to excuse himself early, either with his teammates or Oscar whenever things got a little too raucous. His two closest friends on the grid, Daniel and George, were more open to the party atmosphere, often getting to the point of drunkenness where you had to mother them a little, rounding up the giggling boys and wrestling them into an Uber. 

You loved chatting with the group of friends, never having a dull moment as each of them tried to outdo the other with a joke or a roast. However, you were always a little more drawn to the Monagesque, finding his warm voice and awkward jokes lightened the tension that festered deep inside whenever Max abandoned you at one of these events. 

You smiled back at Charles in the present, toying with the Tiffany bracelet around your wrist. “Not particularly. Never really liked these kind of events.”

If it was anyone else who had asked, you would have lied. Various excuses of not feeling well or simply needing a moment to yourself, but Charles had never once shown judgement towards your lack of enthusiasm for these nights. 

“Where’s Max?” His eyes flick around the room, elbow coming to rest on the bar. He must realise his mistake straight away as he pulls away, the stickiness of the counter following him. 

You sigh, reaching to drain the last of your mojito. “Fuck knows. Last time I saw him was just after 9.” 

He raises his eyebrows, turning to catch the attention of the bar staff. “Another mojito and a vodka soda, please.” Turning back to you, he checks his watch. “It’s 2am.”

You return the eyebrow raise, welcoming the new drink he hands you. “Yeah, it is. He’s probably with Daniel and Checo if you want him.” 

You were used to people approaching you just to get to the other. Nothing new but it still irked you a little that you were only ever seen as an extension of the great Max Verstappen, never just y/n l/n. 

Smiling softly, he raises his glass for you to clink yours against. “Nah, I’m fine where I am.”

–

The hours passed quickly, the two of you hunched over the bar as you tried to make out what the other was saying over the loud bass of the music. You could lie and say your heart didn’t flutter every time he laughed, eyes sparkling as he listened intently to every dumb joke you made. It made you feel a little bit sick, the butterflies in your tummy stabbing tiny little daggers into you as you try to remember the last time Max had ever spent time with you like this. 

He was a busy man, with the racing and Twitch and the various other events Redbull required him to do, the two of you rarely saw each other. You tried to organise monthly date nights in order to reignite the spark you once had but every time Max texted that he couldn’t come, not even mentioning the word sorry, you felt a little piece of your heart fall away. 

Through some kind of sick manifestation, Max rounded the corner of the bar, flagged by a barely conscious Daniel and a still chipper Checo. 

“Charles! Nice to see you!” Checo was his ever lovely self, dapping Charles up and pulling him into a brief hug. Daniel barely acknowledged either of you, slumping into the chair on the other side of you and drunkenly resting his head on the back of your shoulder. Max was neutral, eyes darting between the two of you. 

“Yeah, nice to see you Charles. I see you’ve met my Mrs.”

You hated that term. “Mrs”. Maybe if he showed any kind of interest in actually taking the next step and marrying you after 7 years together maybe you wouldn’t mind. He knew you hated it to some extent, having used it often as a joke in media events to make you roll your eyes and send him a cheeky text. But now the word just grated you, imaginary hackles rising at his standoffish tone. 

Charles smiles at the two, briefly eyeing Daniel from where he was snoring on your shoulder. “Yeah, me and y/n have met quite a few times at these things. Normally when I’m too tired to deal with Daniel and George’s shit.” He aims the last sentence towards you, joining you in a small chuckle. 

Max laughed sarcastically, hand coming to grip your free shoulder. The strength of it made you shrink slightly, hating the possessiveness it held. “Well, it’s getting late, I better get her home.” His head nods down at you, the resignation in his voice a poor attempt at humour but it lands flat. 

Charles eyes him, then the hand gripped harshly on your shoulder and finally lands on you, eyes warm with a tint of ice. “Sure. It was nice to chat to you, Y/N. Don’t be a stranger.” He rises from his seat, hand raised to deliver a half hearted fist bump to Max and Checo before he disappears, swallowed by the horde of people still present at the event. 

You grab your bag as Max shakes the sleeping Daniel on your shoulder. The two of you work side by side to sling an arm of Daniel’s around each of your shoulders, Max thankfully taking the brunt of the weight. Silently, you make your way to Max’s car, humming at the drunken gibberish from the man hanging between the two of you. 

As you settle into the passenger's seat of Max’s car, you can’t help but wish it was Charles sliding in beside you. 

–

👤 maxverstappen1 Liked by redbullracing, charles_leclerc and 592,048 others

y/nstagram eindejaarsfeest met mijn lief en jouw wereldkampioen ♥️ (end of year party with my love and your world champion)

fan she’s so gorgeous, maxverstappen1 can you fight? ♥️ 39,927 others

redbullracing never mind the trophy, we think you’re the real prize ↳ fan damn admin got rizz ↳ redbullracing 😎

fan why does max never like her photos anymore i miss the “here before the dutchman” jokes ↳ fan they’ve been together 7 years maybe the honeymoon phase has just worn off? ↳ fan idk even when we see them in the paddock he brushes her off all the time  ↳ fan i thought we all agreed to stop prying into their relationship?  ↳ fan true but 7 years and no ring?? I’d have wifed her up immediately 

charles_leclerc si belle ↳ y/nstagram merci charlie :) ↳ fan ariana what are you doing here?  ↳ fan he’s been in her likes / comments since he joined f1, i’m pretty sure they’re friends ↳ fan he always comments “beautiful” or smth sappy on her posts… ngl i kinda ship them ↳ fan saying that on a post where she’s just called max her love��� seek help ↳ fan damn sorry that i just wanna see her be treated the way she deserves???? She posts max nearly weekly and the last time she graced his ig was like 6 months back ??? AND he never likes / comments on her posts even when she tags him AND he ignores her in the paddock like all the time ↳ fan he’s a 4x world champion and the face of redbull, he’s a busy man damn 

-

-

Another country, another race, another day of Max ignoring you. You’d always been understanding of the fact that, as the current world champion, he had a lot of pressure on his rather wide shoulders. People called for him wherever he turned and he’d follow, giving piece by piece of him to whoever needed his attention. Race engineers, press, other drivers, even Christian himself. In the earlier years, he’d drag you along with him, hand wrapped firmly around yours as he discussed better ways to reduce drag or answer the same god damn question from the same 10 faces you saw at every race. 

Nowadays, he’d barely look your way as he gets out of the car, instead letting you roam around of your own volition. You often found yourself walking up and down the paddock, looking at all the other drivers who would throw a loving glance to their girlfriends as they rush around their garages, or drop a small kiss to the crown of their heads as they pass by to the back rooms or even something as small as readjusting their stance as they spoke to their engineers so they could press a thigh or an arm against their other half. 

So far you’d passed Alpine; exchanging quick hugs with Kika and Flavy before they went to the back rooms, McLaren; where Lando and you had exchanged a quick fist bump whilst you swiped away his questions about Max’s whereabouts, and Haas where both Kevin and Nico had waved brightly at you as they entertained their children on the garage floor. Looking up, you find yourself standing in front of the Ferrari garages. More specifically, in front of Charles’. 

Whether the halt in your footsteps has been subconscious or not, you couldn’t stop yourself from hoping for a glimpse of Charles. Flashes of red passed your vision, engineers and strategists moving amongst one another like a well oiled machine, but no sign of white fireproofs or padded red race suits. 

Sighing softly, you turn on your heels, ready to head back to the Red Bull garages where you’ll inevitably end up being forced into putting on a headset and a fake smile when it’s race time. 

Eyes focused on the ground, you walk slowly away from the Ferrari garages, not wanting to see all the loving couples around you. Only three steps down, a pair of race boots pop up in your vision, eyes trailing up until you meet Charles’ worried gaze. 

“Y/N, what are you doing all the way over here? It’s nearly race time?” His head quirks a little to the left, reminding you of an inquisitive puppy. 

It’s enough to bring a small smile to your face, eyes flicking over his face. “Hey Charles. Honestly, I didn’t even realise I’d made it this far into enemy territory until I looked up and saw your garage.” 

He matches your teasing smile, nudging his foot with one of yours playfully. “I wouldn’t say enemy, just unfamiliar.” He takes a moment to give you a once over, eyes clinging to the ever present furrow of your brows. “Where’s Max?”

Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you huff quietly. “God knows. Last I saw, he was in a very heated debate with GP, something to do with the rear wing.”

He nods in response. “Does he know you’re in enemy territory?” He teases softly, aware of the way your expression darkened at the mention of your boyfriend. 

“I don’t think he would realise if I upped and left to be honest.” The second you said it, you regretted it. Charles has enough to worry about on race day without you piling your relationship problems onto him. “Sorry, ignore me. Must’ve woken up on the wrong side of the bed or something.” You laugh unconvincingly, trying to avoid his knowing eyes. 

He’s quiet for a moment, pensive silence spreading between the two of you. It makes your skin crawl, all too aware that he was probably already clued into your crumbling relationship. You wanted him to make a joke, to nudge his shoulder with yours as he quips about how you should join the other side for once. You wanted him to make you smile, knowing he’s been the only one to do so in so many years. 

A knot sits heavy in your stomach. Wanting another man to make you smile like your boyfriend isn’t standing 20 feet away. Another man who was the best friend of your boyfriend. 

Yours and Max’s relationship wasn’t all arguing and sneaking into bed whilst the other slept far on the other side, but the only times he made you laugh recently was in front of cameras, smiles too large and laughter too loud to be believable to either of you. 

With Charles, it was easy. Almost like breathing. He was still a little awkward with you, jokes sometimes landing flat but the way he would wince and chuckle at his own bad lines were enough to have you laughing loudly and unapologetically. 

You needed to get out of here before you said or did something you’d regret. Luckily, Xavi came to your rescue, spotting Charles out on the paddock and rushing over to sling a friendly arm around his shoulder. “Charles, vamos! We have to get ready for the race. Sorry to steal him from you, Y/N, but I can’t risk him sharing trade secrets with the girlfriend of the enemy.” He pairs the teasing jab with a wink at both of you, the arm hooked around Charles’ neck pulling him gently away. 

Charles’ throws a smile over his shoulder, waving a hand goodbye as he’s dragged into conversation with Xavi. You wave back, energy not quite matching his. 

It was a throwaway comment, something every team said when you’d chat with their racers, normally coupled with a squeeze of the shoulder or a friendly grin. Charles had even said the same thing himself two minutes prior. But something about it being Charles’ race engineer left a sour taste in your mouth. 

To Charles, you were just the girlfriend of the “enemy”, and that’s all you could be. 

-

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a/n: i swear i'm working on a happier one for charles' monaco win buuuut before i spend another 2 weeks finishing this off - anyone interested in a part 2?

[aceyalonso]

a win-win situation? - LEWIS HAMILTON

pairing : lewis hamilton x fem!reader

summary : Fresh from a Formula 1 race win, Lewis Hamilton parties with his friends at a club. Y/n L/n, troubled by the condition that she must be married to inherit her father's company, is at the same club. They hit it off, have a few too many drinks, and wake up in a hotel room, shocked to realize they got married

warnings : drinking, swearing, suggestive content, 11-year age gap (reader is 28 years old)

word count : 7.1k

song : it won't stop - sevyn streeter, chris brown

a/n : 200 followers special & lewis win post!!! (i'm not sure if i want to make a part 2 to this ngl)

Sunday, 11:49 PM

The club was loud and chaotic, with people dancing, yelling, and drinking. The lights flashed colors in time to the music, giving off a disorienting feeling. The room was stuffy and hot, with people packed together like sardines, attempting to talk over the music and flirt with strangers

This club was like a small universe within itself, with each group doing its own thing and making a lot of noise while doing so. The music was loud enough to drown out any conversation that would have otherwise been attempted, and the alcohol only helped the chaos grow.

Some people were there to celebrate and have a good time, laughing and dancing with their friends to the music. Others were sulking and sad, either nursing a drink or trying to drown their miseries with alcohol.

Lewis was one of the people there to celebrate, and he was having the time of his life. They were all drinking and dancing in the center of the crowd, laughing and talking loudly to be heard over the music.

Unlike Lewis, who was having the time of his life on the dance floor, Y/n was at the bar with one of her friends. She was downing shot after shot, her mood sour and her temper short. The alcohol was dulling the edges of her anger.

Y/n

With a sigh, I slammed my glass down on the bar, my temper flaring. Lyka turned to me, her gaze curious and concerned as she asked, "So what did your father say that's got you in such a mood?"

I grumble, my irritation and bitterness clear in my voice. "My dad said I could inherit the company, but..."

I trail off, my mind swirling with the implications of my father's statement. Though part of me was undoubtedly happy to know that the family business would one day be mine, there was something else that bothered me.

Lyka picked up on my hesitation and leaned in closer to ask, "But what? You should be happy about that, right?"

I snort derisively, my shoulders tensing. "Yeah, I should be happy... But there's a catch, of course. There always is with him."

She frowns, sensing the weight of my discontentment. "What kind of catch are we talking about here?"

My words came out sharp and bitter, my eyes hardening. "I have to get married. That's the catch. My dad said I can inherit the company, but I have to be married first."

She gasps in surprise, clearly not expecting such a stipulation. "Wait, seriously? He's telling you that you have to be MARRIED just to inherit the company?"

I nod grimly, my expression darkening. "Yeah, that's the deal. I've got to find someone to settle down with if I ever want to take over the family business," I chuckled sarcastically. "It's ridiculous, I know."

Lyka's eyes widen, her face filled with sympathy. "damn, that's... rough. You don't even get a say in who you marry?"

I nod, my expression a mixture of frustration and resignation. "Yeah, that was the compromise. I get to choose who I marry but must be married within the next year. It's like he doesn't trust me to run the company by myself."

She lets out a sympathetic sigh, reaching out to comfort me. "That's so unfair, you shouldn't have to get married just to prove yourself. But I guess it's better than having someone picked for you, huh?"

I nodded grudgingly, letting out a small huff. "Yeah, I guess so. It's just… I'm not even sure if I want to get married at all, you know? The whole idea of it just feels so… I don't know, constraining, I guess."

Her friend nods, trying to shift the conversation to a lighter topic. "Okay, enough about your dad's stupid rule. Let's talk about something else. How's work been going for you?"

Y/n takes the chance to change the subject, grateful for the distraction. "Work's been alright. I've been so busy lately that I haven't had time for anything fun."

"Yeah, I know how that is," her friend replies sympathetically. "It feels like work just takes over your life sometimes. But hey, at least you're making some good money, right?"

Y/n lets out a dry chuckle, her mood lightening slightly. "Oh, yeah. I'm making really good money. So good that I practically live at the office these days."

Lyka laughs as well, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Damn, girl. Sounds like you're going to be rolling in it if you take over the company. You'll be able to buy anything and everything you've ever wanted."

Y/n grins, a little spark of hope reigniting at the thought. "Yeah, that's true. I could buy a nice house, or take fancy vacations whenever I want. I could pretty much do whatever I want, really."

Y/n's grin fades, her expression turning thoughtful. "But… I won't be able to take those vacations with a husband, would I? It would mean having to consider someone else's schedule and preferences, and I wouldn't be able to just take off whenever I want anymore."

Her friend nods sympathetically, her gaze understanding. "Yeah, that's a good point. Having a partner would definitely change things, especially when it comes to travel and leisure. It's not quite the same as having the freedom to go where and when you want, without any strings attached."

Y/n lets out a sigh, her irritation beginning to return. "Exactly. And it's not just the travel that's the issue. It's the whole idea of having to compromise and make sacrifices for someone else. I don't know if I'm ready for that, or if I ever will be."

The girls down another shot, the alcohol giving them a pleasant buzz. Y/n, feeling a little looser now, turns to her friend. "Hey, you know what? Let's go dance. We didn't come here just to sit at the bar all night, right?"

Her friend grins and nods in agreement, clearly ready to cut loose. "Yeah, let's do it. I could use some movement after hearing about your dad's ridiculous rule."

Y/n pushes away from the bar, her steps a little unsteady as the alcohol takes effect. Lyka laughs and steadies her, both of them making their way to the crowded dance floor.

They push their way through the sea of people, the music and lights creating a chaotic and energizing atmosphere. Y/n begins to sway and move to the beat. Lyka joins in, both of them letting go of their worries and simply enjoying the moment.

As Y/n is dancing, she suddenly feels the presence of someone behind her, close enough to dance but still leaving a respectful distance. Startled at first, she quickly realizes is being careful not to violate her space.

Y/n turns her head to catch a glimpse of who's behind her, her curiosity and excitement growing.

Her eyes widen as she turns and sees a man behind her. His hands are covered in intricate tattoos, drawing attention to his veiny hands and making her curious to know the stories behind them. But what truly captures her attention is his smile, a warm, charming grin that seems to light up his whole face.

"Hey," Y/n says, her voice a little breathless as she takes in his appearance.

His grin grows broader, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Hey there," he replies, his voice carrying over the music. "I hope you don't mind me joining in. You looked like you were having a good time."

Y/n laughs, the alcohol helping her loosen up. "No, it's fine. I don't mind at all. I was just surprised, that's all."

She continues to dance, her movements more fluid and relaxed now that she has someone to dance with. She glances over at the man, taking in his tattoos and his easygoing demeanor.

The man dances alongside her, his steps matching hers effortlessly. He moves with a grace and confidence that is almost captivating, his body flowing with the rhythm of the music. Every now and then, he'll glance at her, his gaze lingering for a moment before darting away again.

As they continue to dance, he takes the opportunity to introduce himself. "By the way, I'm Lewis," he says, his voice smooth and pleasant to the ears. "What's your name?"

Y/n glances at him with a smile, appreciating his forwardness. "I'm Y/n," she replies, her voice a little louder to be heard over the music. "It's nice to meet you, Lewis."

Lewis nods, his smile widening at her response. "Y/n. A pretty name for a pretty lady." He glances at her again, his gaze openly admiring her appearance.

Y/n feels a little thrill at his compliment, her cheeks heating slightly under his gaze. She glances back at him, her eyes taking in his tattoos and his confidence. "You're not so bad yourself," she replies with a flirtatious undertone.

Lewis raises an eyebrow at her response, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. "Is that a compliment I hear?" he replies with a hint of amusement. "Careful now, you might make me blush."

Y/n grins, enjoying the banter between them. "Oh, please. I doubt a guy like you blushes easily. You're probably used to girls fawning over you all the time."

Lewis lets out a laugh, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "You're right about that. I do get my fair share of attention, but it's nice to have a conversation with someone who's not afraid to give me a little snark back."

Y/n grins, her earlier irritation completely forgotten as she dances with Lewis. "Oh, I can definitely give you snark. And don't think I'll go easy on you just because you're cute."

Lewis raises an eyebrow again, clearly enjoying their back-and-forth banter. "Oh, I would expect nothing less. It wouldn't be as much fun if you went easy on me, now would it?"

Y/n chuckles and leans closer to Lewis, the alcohol giving her a bit of courage. "Hey, if you're gonna keep me entertained with your witty banter, the least you can do is buy me a drink."

Lewis grins, clearly enjoying her demanding tone. "Oh, you drive a hard bargain, Y/n. But I think I can manage that."

He offers her his hand, a smirk on his face. "Come on, let's head back to the bar. What do you want to drink?"

Y/n takes his hand and follows him towards the bar, feeling a little flutter in her stomach. "I'll take a vodka soda, thanks," she replies, her gaze lingering on his tattoos again.

Lewis nods and leads her through the crowded club, his grip firm and reassuring on her hand. They reach the bar and he signals for the bartender, calling out Y/n's drink order. As they wait for their drinks, he turns to her with a mischievous glint in his eye.

"So," he says, leaning in close to be heard over the music. "You said you're not afraid to give me snark. Does that mean I have to watch my words, or are you just full of empty threats?"

Y/n laughs, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Oh, I'm a woman of my word. If you say something stupid, you can bet I'll call you out on it. Don't underestimate me, Lewis."

Lewis grins, clearly enjoying her feisty personality. "Oh, I wouldn't dream of it. In fact, I find a woman with a sharp tongue quite refreshing. It keeps me on my toes, you know?"

Y/n smiles, his comment making her heart flutter a bit more. "Well, you better get used to it then. Because I don't plan on holding back, no matter how charming you are."

"Good," Lewis replies, his voice low and sultry. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

Just then, the bartender slides their drinks over to them, interrupting their conversation. Lewis hands Y/n her vodka soda, his fingers brushing against hers in the process.

Y/n feels a shiver run up her spine as their fingers touch, his touch sending tiny sparks across her skin. She takes a sip of her drink, the alcohol instantly making her feel more relaxed and carefree.

Lewis sips his own drink, eyeing her over the rim of his glass with a sly smile. "So, Y/n," he says, his tone a little more serious now. "What brings a woman like you out dancing by herself on a Friday night?"

Y/n glances around the club, her gaze landing on her friend who is dancing nearby. "Oh, I'm not actually here alone," she replies, her voice slightly amused. "My friend is over there. We came together, but she ditched me to dance with some guy."

Y/n turns to Lewis and gestures in the direction of her friend. "See that girl over there? The one who's talking to the DJ? That's my friend. She left me here to go flirt with him."

Lewis turns to look at the DJ, his eyes lighting up in recognition. "Whoa, wait a minute," he says, his tone tinged with surprise. "That's actually my friend, Lando."

Y/n raises an eyebrow at this new bit of information. "Wait, really? You know the DJ?"

Lewis nods, a small smirk on his face. "Yeah, we've known each other for a while. We met a few years back. We've been friends ever since."

Y/n takes a moment to process this new information, glancing over at her friend and Lando. "Well, I guess that explains why she's been dancing with him all night then."

Lewis laughs, clearly amused by the situation. "Looks like it. Lando has a way of charming the ladies. Seems like your friend isn't immune to it either."

Y/n chuckles. "Clearly not. She's practically drooling over him. But I can't blame her, he does have a certain charm."

"That he does," Lewis agrees, taking a sip of his drink. "He's a good guy, but he's got quite the reputation with the ladies. He has a new girl on his arm every weekend, it seems."

Y/n shakes her head with a smile, diverting the conversation back to Lewis. "Okay, enough about my friend and Lando. I want to know more about you."

Lewis grins, clearly enjoying her attention. "Oh, do you now? And what exactly do you want to know about me?"

Lewis chuckles at her question and replies, with a hint of mystery. "Well, I'm certainly older than you, that's for sure. Let's just say I've got a bit more experience under my belt."

Y/n grins, his response only making her more curious. "Oh, so you're an experienced one, huh? How much experience exactly? Or are you going to keep me in suspense?"

Lewis smirks, clearly enjoying their banter. "Now, Y/n, where's the fun in giving away all my secrets at once? You'll have to be patient if you want to find out more about me."

Y/n feigns disappointment, her expression exaggerated. "Oh, you're going to make me wait, huh? Fine, I guess I'll have to be patient. But I warn you, I'm not a very patient person."

Lewis relents, his smile widening as he answers her question. "Alright, since you're so insistent. I'm 39."

Her eyes widen in surprise, and she lets out a whistle. "Seriously? You're 39? I thought you were younger, like early 30s at the oldest."

Lewis chuckles, clearly enjoying her reaction. "I guess I'll take that as a compliment. I may be a bit older, but I like to think I still have a young heart, you know?"

Y/n grins, her initial surprise replaced by a touch of admiration. "That's impressive. You definitely don't act your age. You still look and act like you're in your 20s."

Lewis shrugs, a hint of pride in his gaze. "I take care of myself. I work out, eat healthy, and stay active. I guess it pays off, huh?"

Y/n nods approvingly, taking in his toned physique. "Yeah, it definitely does. You look like you could give guys half your age a run for their money."

Lewis quirks an eyebrow, a curious smile on his lips. "Alright, speaking of age, now it's my turn to ask. How old are you, Y/n?"

She takes a sip of her drink before answering, a touch of nervousness in her tone. "I'm 28," she replies, trying to sound nonchalant.

His eyes widen slightly, a look of surprise crossing his face. "28, huh? You look younger. I would have guessed you were in your mid-20s, tops."

Y/n chuckles, a mix of pride and embarrassment in her tone. "Thanks, I guess. I try to take care of myself too. I don't want to look like a fossil anytime soon."

Lewis laughs, clearly amused. "Fair enough. It's always good to stay young at heart, no matter your age. And it seems like you're doing a pretty good job of it so far."

Y/n grins, feeling bolder now. "Well, you know what they say - age is just a number, right? It's all about how you feel inside. And I feel pretty young and free right now."

Lewis nods in agreement, a twinkle in his eye. "That's a good attitude to have. Life is too short to let age define you. You gotta embrace every moment, no matter how old or young you are."

Y/n grins, raising her glass in agreement. "Here, here. To embracing every moment, no matter how old or young we are."

They clink their shot glasses together and take a swig, the alcohol burning their throats and adding to the already buzzing feeling in their systems.

Fast forward to a few hours later, Y/n and Lewis are both feeling the effects of the alcohol kicking in. Their movements are looser, their inhibitions lower, and their words a little bit slurred. They're both laughing and talking animatedly, the boundaries between them disappearing with every drink they take.

Y/n leans against the bar, her head spinning slightly, her gaze fixed on Lewis who is standing next to her. "You know, Lewis, you're not so bad when you're drunk," she slurs, a lazy smile on her face.

Lewis grins back at her, his eyes slightly glassy from the alcohol. "And you're not too bad yourself, Y/n. In fact, you're a damn good drinking partner."

Y/n throws her head back in a drunken giggle, feeling lightheaded and carefree. "Oh, I'm the best drinking partner you've ever had, buddy. I can out-drink you anytime, anyday."

Lewis leans closer to Y/n's ear, his breath warm on her skin as he slurs out a suggestion. "Hey, you wanna go somewhere a bit more private? Somewhere away from all these people?"

Y/n turns to him, her eyes sparkling with mischief. The alcohol has made her bolder and carefree, and she doesn't hesitate to agree. "Yeah, let's do it. Let's get away from this crowd. Leady the way, Lewis."

Lewis grins, his hand wrapping around hers as he leads her away from the packed nightclub. They weave through the sea of people, their steps a bit unsteady as the alcohol continues to flow through their systems.

They finally reach a quieter corner of the club, a more secluded area away from the hustle and bustle of the dance floor. Lewis leans against the wall, pulling Y/n closer to him, his hands resting on her hips.

Y/n stumbles a little as she steps closer, her body against his. Her head is spinning a bit, and her senses are heightened by the alcohol. She looks up at him, her eyes half-lidded. "This is better. Just you and me, away from the crowd."

Lewis nods in agreement, his eyes dark with desire as he looks down at her. His hands grip her hips tighter, pulling her closer. "Just you and me, Y/n. No one to bother us, no distractions."

They stand there, their bodies pressed together, gazes locked in a silent, charged moment. For a few seconds, time seems to stand still as they take each other in, their breathing heavy and their hearts pounding in their chests.

The air between them crackles with electricity, their connection undeniable. Lewis' hands move up from her hips, tracing along her sides, and Y/n shivers at his touch, her skin tingling from his caress.

Lewis pulls her even closer, their bodies now flush against each other. Y/n can feel every muscle, every contour of his body against hers, and she can't help but shiver again. She lifts her chin, her lips parting slightly as she gazes up at him, her eyes hooded with desire.

Without warning, Lewis loses control and closes the gap between them, his lips crashing into hers in a kiss that's all hunger and need. It's a messy, sloppy kiss, fueled by the alcohol and the mounting tension between them.

Y/n responds instantly, her lips parting willingly under his as she returns the kiss with equal fervor. Her hands wrap around his neck, her fingers tangling into his braids as she clings to him, her body arching into his.

The kiss deepens, their mouths moving together in a frenzied, sloppy dance of desire. Teeth clash and tongues tangle, as they pour all their pent-up frustration and lust into the kiss.

Lewis' hands roam freely across her body, pulling her closer, his touch possessive and urgent. Y/n moans into his mouth, her body responding to his touch, her senses overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment.

After a few moments that feel like an eternity, Y/n manages to pull herself back, breaking the kiss. Her chest is heaving with every labored breath, her body ablaze with desire. Her eyes flutter open, and she gazes at Lewis, her lips swollen and cheeks flushed.

Y/n glances up at Lewis, her expression a little dazed and a little amused. "Damn, you know what? You're a pretty good kisser. I might just have to marry you for that reason alone."

Lewis laughs, his head leaning back against the wall. "Is that all it takes, huh? A good kiss and you're ready to tie the knot?"

Y/n grins, tilting her head to the side. "Hey, I'm just saying, I think you'd make a pretty good husband… as long as you keep kissing me like that."

Lewis chuckles, his hands still resting on her hips, his grip a little looser now. "Is that a threat or a promise?" he teases, a mischievous glint in his eye.

Y/n pretends to think for a moment, her index finger tapping her chin. "A little bit of both, I think," she replies, a cheeky smile on her lips. "I'll expect a ring, but you'll have to keep up with those kisses… among other things."

Lewis laughs, shaking his head in bemusement. "You know what? Sure, why not? Let's do it. I'll marry you. I guess a good kissing record is enough to secure the deal."

Y/n, giggling like a schoolgirl, grabs Lewis's hand and pulls him out of the club. The cool night air hits them, and she shivers slightly, her head still spinning from the alcohol. "Let's go! Let's go get married!"

Monday, 8:57 AM

Y/n groans as she slowly opens her eyes, blinking against the bright light streaming through the curtains. She lifts her head, her mind fuzzy and disoriented, and takes in her surroundings. She's lying in a hotel room, the unfamiliar surroundings taking a moment to register in her hungover mind.

As her vision clears, she becomes aware of the weight and heat of another body pressed against hers. She turns her head slightly and sees Lewis lying next to her, fast asleep, their hands intertwined between them.

Y/n's eyes widen as she glances down at her hand, her heart skipping a beat at the sight of the ring on her finger. Her head is still fuzzy from the alcohol and her memories of the previous night are hazy, but the ring on her finger is undeniable.

She tries to pull her hand away from Lewis's grasp, but his fingers remain tightly interlaced with hers, even in his sleep. The realization of what happened slowly starts to sink in, and Y/n looks from her hand to Lewis's sleeping face, her mind buzzing with confusion and disbelief.

The room is silent, apart from the steady sound of Lewis's breathing. Y/n lies still, her heart pounding as her mind races, trying to make sense of the situation. She glances at the ring again, her stomach churning with a mixture of shock, disbelief, and a hint of excitement.

She's married. She's actually married. To Lewis. The thought is both terrifying and exhilarating, and Y/n isn't sure if it's the alcohol still lingering in her system or the sheer absurdity of the situation that's making her feel so lightheaded.

She lies there for a few more moments, her hand still trapped in Lewis's grip, her mind swirling with a million thoughts and questions. What did she get herself into? How did this happen? And most importantly, how is she going to face Lewis when he wakes up?

As the minutes tick by, Y/n takes deep breaths, trying to calm her racing heart. She glances at Lewis again, his peaceful expression a stark contrast to the turmoil in her head. She can feel the warm weight of his leg draped over hers, their bodies intertwined in the narrow hotel bed.

A small part of her is scared, unsure of what the future holds now that she's inadvertently married Lewis. But another part of her, the part fueled by alcohol-induced courage and impulsiveness, is curious, excited even, at the possibility of what this unexpected turn of events could mean.

Still, her head is throbbing with a headache, a reminder of the night before and the alcohol they consumed. She tries to piece together the events that led them to this point, but her memories are hazy and fragmented, like pieces of a puzzle that refuse to fit together.

Y/n attempts to wake Lewis up, gently shaking his shoulder and calling his name in a soft, hoarse voice. "Lewis… wake up, Lewis…" she murmurs, her head still aching as she speaks.

Lewis stirs at the sound of her voice, his eyes slowly opening as he blinks against the bright light filtering through the curtains. He looks disoriented for a moment, his gaze bleary as he takes in his surroundings and slowly registers where he is, and more importantly, who he is with.

As his eyes focus on Y/n's face, a look of realization dawns on his own. He lifts his head, his expression a mixture of surprise and disbelief as he looks down at their intertwined hands. His fingers, still linked with hers, tighten around hers as he processes their current predicament.

"Holy shit," he mutters under his breath, his voice hoarse and dry from sleep. "Did we…?" He trails off, his gaze shifting from their hands to her face, his eyes searching hers for an answer.

Y/n nods slowly, her heart hammering in her chest as she meets his gaze. The reality of their situation is crashing down on her now, and she can feel the heat rising in her cheeks as she responds. "Yeah… I think we did, Lewis. We…" she swallows hard, the words stuck in her throat. "…I think we got married."

Lewis's eyes widen further, his surprise mirrored in his expression. He sits up slowly, still holding her hand in his. "We got married," he repeats, his tone disbelieving. He runs his free hand through his bed-rumpled hair, a look of disbelief and confusion on his face. "How the hell did that happen?"

Y/n shakes her head, her own disbelief just as evident. "I don't know. I can barely remember last night. We were at the club, and we were both drunk and…" her voice trails off as the memories of the previous night continue to elude her.

Lewis lets out a deep sigh, his hand still firmly holding hers. "Yeah, same here. It's all a blur to me too. I remember having a few drinks, and then…" He pauses, shaking his head in disbelief. "This is insane. We got married. Like, actually married."

Y/n nods again, her eyes still on their intertwined hands. "I know. It's unbelievable. We were just… having fun, you know? Having drinks, dancing, joking around. And now…" she trails off again, her mind struggling to process the situation.

Y/n lets out a slew of profanities under her breath, her frustration and disbelief spilling out in a rush of colorful words. "This is unbelievable. I can't believe we actually got married. Of all the stupid things we could have done, we tied the knot. What were we thinking?"

Her head is still throbbing with a killer hangover headache, and the reality of their situation is hitting her like a freight train. She glances over at Lewis, who is still sitting up next to her, looking just as shocked and bewildered as she feels.

Part of her wants to pinch herself to see if it's all real, but the presence of the ring on her finger and the warm weight of Lewis's hand holding hers confirms that it is indeed no dream.

Y/n's eyes widen as she looks at the documents on the table. They're official documents, a marriage certificate bearing both her name and Lewis's. Her heart skips a beat as the reality of the situation hits her like a ton of bricks. This is really happening. They're really, legally married.

The weight of this realization makes her feel dizzy, and she has to steady herself against the table, her hand clenching the edge of it. Her mind is spinning, the headache and the alcohol from the previous night not helping her process this new level of insanity.

Lewis stands up next to her, his movements slow and slightly groggy as he takes the documents from her. He glances through them, his eyes skimming the words and official stamps, the reality of their situation sinking in with each line he reads.

Lewis puts the papers back down on the table, his expression still laced with a mixture of surprise and disbelief. He turns towards Y/n, his expression serious now. "I think we need to talk about this. We can't just ignore the fact that we're apparently married now."

Y/n nods, her own expression solemn. She's still struggling to wrap her mind around the situation, but she knows he's right. They can't just pretend it never happened, not when there's a signed marriage certificate sitting right there.

She takes a deep breath, trying to steady her thoughts. "You're right. We need to talk about this. But I don't even know where to start."

Lewis lets out a deep sigh, running a hand through his hair again. "Neither do I," he admits. "But I guess we start with the obvious questions. Like, how the hell did we even end up getting married in the first place?"

Y/n shakes her head, her confusion mirrored on her face. "I have no idea. I remember us drinking, and dancing, and… well, not much else. It's all pretty blurry after a certain point."

Lewis nods, his expression thoughtful. "Same here. I remember having drinks, and things being fun and light-hearted, and then the next thing I know, we're waking up here, married. It's like a gap in my memory or something."

As the two of them continue to discuss their predicament, out of nowhere, a fragment of Y/n's memory resurfaces, a flash of her father's words from a few days ago. Her face twists with a mix of surprise and frustration as the recollection comes to her.

The memory of her father's words comes rushing back to her now, a sudden realization dawning on her face. The strange, cryptic instructions he'd given her a few days ago about being married come back to her, and now they make a terrible, twisted sort of sense in the context of her current situation.

She looks at Lewis, her eyes suddenly wide with shock and realization. "Oh my god… my dad," she mutters under her breath. The memory of her father telling her she needed to be married for the family business suddenly has a new, and very unnerving, meaning.

Lewis looks at her, confusion and concern on his face. "Your dad? What about him?" he asks, his voice filled with a sense of dread at her sudden outburst.

Y/n explains the situation to Lewis, revealing the deal she had made with her father regarding the inheritance and the family business. She also suggests that they stay married for a little while, just long enough for her to inherit, and then they could get a divorce.

Lewis looks stunned by her revelation and her proposal, his eyes widening as he absorbs the information. "So you're saying we only have to stay married until you inherit? Then we divorce?" he asks, his tone laced with disbelief.

Y/n nods, her expression earnest. "Yes, that's what I'm proposing. We stay married for a while, for the sake of the deal with my father, and then we get a divorce as soon as I inherit. It will be a temporary arrangement, nothing more."

Lewis looks at her, his expression still a mix of disbelief and contemplation. "Married for a while, then divorce," he says slowly, tasting the words on his tongue as he mulls over the idea.

He runs a hand through his hair again, his eyes locked with hers. "It's a lot to take in," he says finally. "Like, we're talking about getting divorced already, and we've only been married for…" He checks the date on the marriage certificate, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. "…for less than 24 hours, apparently."

He lets out a dry laugh, rubbing his face with one hand. "This is insane," he mutters. "Married. And already planning a divorce."

He looks back at Y/n, his expression a mix of uncertainty and a touch of humor. "You know, most couples don't start planning their divorce on their first day of marriage," he jokes.

Y/n manages a weak smile in response, the joke lifting the tension a bit. "Yeah, I know," she concedes. "But most couples don't get married in a drunken haze after partying all night either."

Y/n nods and extends her hand for a handshake. "Alright, it's a deal," she says. "We stay married until I inherit, and then we get a divorce. Agreed?"

Lewis looks down at her offered hand, a resigned acceptance in his eyes. He nods and takes her hand firmly, giving it a firm shake. "Agreed," he says. "Temporary spouses, here we go."

Lewis' expression suddenly shifts as he realizes the implications of their agreement. "Oh, fuck," he mutters, his eyes widening. "My PR team is going to have a field day with this."

He looks at her, his expression still one of disbelief at the situation. "My PR team," he clarifies. "You know, the people who manage my public image. They're going to have a lot to handle with this unexpected… development. It's not every day your client gets married out of the blue after a night of heavy drinking."

Y/n looks at him, a realization beginning to dawn on her. "Wait a second," she says, her eyes narrowed in thought. "You have a PR team," she repeats, her voice laced with disbelief. "Why on earth would you need a PR team… unless you're some kind of celebrity or something?"

Lewis laughs, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. "Yeah, uh, about that," he says, scratching the back of his head. "I guess I kind of forgot to mention that part. I'm, um, a professional Formula 1 racer, actually."

Y/n's jaw drops at his revelation. "Formula 1?" she echoes, her surprise evident. "You're a professional racer? And you didn't think to mention that before?"

Lewis grimaces slightly, looking a bit sheepish. "Yeah, sorry about that. It slipped my mind last night, with all the drinking and… well, the whole getting married thing. I didn't think it would come up quite like this, to be honest."

Her expression remains one of disbelief, but there's also a hint of intrigue. "Formula 1," she repeats, her mind now processing this new piece of information. "So you race high-speed cars for a living."

Lewis nods, his face now showing a hint of pride. "That's right," he confirms. "I race for Mercedes- Ferrari soon enough. It's a pretty public profession, hence the PR team."

Y/n takes a moment to process this new revelation. "Okay, so you're a professional racer, with a whole team dedicated to managing your image and public relations. And we… got married last night, without knowing any of that about each other."

Lewis nods, a rueful smile on his face. "Exactly," he concurs. "We had absolutely no idea who each other was, got drunk, got married, and now I have to deal with the fallout with my PR team."

Y/n can't help but find the situation a little insane, but she can also see the humor in it. "Well, this is certainly, uh, interesting," she says finally, her voice almost a laugh. "I can only imagine the look on your PR team's faces when you tell them about this."

Lewis lets out a dry laugh, hiding his face in between his hands. "Yeah, I am not looking forward to that conversation," he confesses. "But I guess it's part of the package when you're a public figure. Nothing stays private, even if you don't want it to."

Y/n's expression softens a bit as she looks at him, seeing the tension in his face. As much as this situation is affecting her, she can't imagine the added layer of scrutiny he has to deal with due to his job. "You really have to consider everything when you're in the public eye, huh?" she comments, her tone a touch sympathetic.

She puts a hand on her forehead, the lingering effects of the hangover headache making her wince. "You know what," she says, "we should probably get some aspirin or something. I can't stand this headache much longer."

Lewis nods in agreement, his hand still massaging his temples. "Yeah, you read my mind," he says. "I don't know about you, but I can't think straight with this headache pounding in my skull."

Y/n gets up from her seat, her movements a bit unsteady as she stands up to look for her bag. "I think I have some Advil in my bag," she says. "I always keep some handy for hangovers like this."

Lewis watches as she rummages through her bag, trying to focus despite the persistent headache. "You're always prepared, aren't you?" he teases, his tone a mix of light humor and genuine admiration.

Y/n flashes him a small smile over her shoulder. "I try," she replies, her hand pulling out a small bottle of pain reliever. "I've learned the hard way that hangovers are no joke after a night of partying. It pays to be prepared."

Lewis gets out of bed as well, wincing slightly at the sudden movement. "I wish I had your foresight," he says sheepishly, a rueful chuckle escaping him. "I seem to forget about the aftermath until it's too late."

Y/n shakes a couple of pills out into her palm, handing him a couple of them along with a bottle of water. "Learn from this experience, then," she suggests with a smirk. "Maybe next time you'll remember the consequences before you drink the night away."

Lewis accepts the pills from Y/n, his expression is still sheepish but his tone still holds some humor. "Yeah, maybe next time I won't find myself accidentally married," he quips, dryly. "Lesson learned."

Y/n can't help but chuckle at his attempt at humor, appreciating his ability to see the lighter side even in such a bizarre situation. "I'm sure we both learned a lot last night," she remarks, her tone lighthearted. "Mostly about the dangers of too much alcohol, I think."

Lewis downs the pills, washing them down with a long gulp of water. He hands the bottle back to her, his expression now a bit more sober and serious. "Yeah, it's definitely a lesson in moderation, among other things," he concurs. "And… communication, it seems."

Y/n takes the bottle back, her eyes meeting his. She understands his meaning - that maybe they should have been more open and communicative with each other before getting into this mess. "You're right," she agrees. "We definitely could have avoided a lot if we'd just… talked first, before…" she trails off, gesturing toward the marriage certificate on the table.

Y/n holds up a hand, signaling that she needs to excuse herself. "I'm going to use the bathroom real quick," she says, her voice a bit quieter now. "Then we can…" She trails off, leaving the sentence hanging, implying they can continue their conversation once she returns.

Lewis nods in understanding, his eyes following her as she leaves the room. Once she's out of earshot, he lets out a long sigh and sits back down on the edge of the bed, rubbing his temples again. "This is a lot to process," he mutters to himself, his mind swirling with the events of the previous night.

Y/n closes the bathroom door behind her and takes a moment to breathe, trying to gather her thoughts. She leans against the sink, her hands gripping the edges, as she looks at her reflection in the mirror. Her hair is disheveled, her eyes still slightly bloodshot from the effects of the previous night's indulgence.

She splashes some cold water on her face, trying to clear her head and shake off the last remnants of the hangover. As she blots her face with a towel, her mind drifts back to the conversation she just had with Lewis, and the magnitude of the situation they now find themselves in settles heavily on her shoulders.

Y/n leans against the wall near the sink, her mind going over their agreement. Stay married temporarily until she inherits, and then divorce. It all sounds so simple, so logical when put like that. But she couldn't shake the feeling that there's more to it, that they're getting into something bigger than they're prepared for.

She looks at herself in the mirror again, her eyes betraying the turmoil inside her. On one hand, she knows they have to go through with this, for the sake of her inheritance and the future of her family's business. But on the other hand, she can't ignore the twinge of guilt and doubt that comes with the decision to play house with almost a stranger.

Her mind is a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions, a jumble of pragmatism and uncertainty. She takes a deep breath, trying to calm her racing thoughts. There will be time to deal with the emotional aspects later, she tells herself. For now, they have to focus on the practicality of the situation, on navigating this new reality of being married, even if it's only temporary.

𝗆𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍

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[sophsbookstore]

Somebody Come Get Her

Lando Norris x driver!reader ｡･:*˚:✧｡

Masterlist can be found in navigation!

Word count: 1,627

“I'm literally fine!” She is not fine. Infact Y/N is the drunkest she's been in a while.

After placing in the points at the Montreal Grand prix, while simultaneously celebrating her friend's second place win, Y/N decided that getting absolutely wasted in Montreal was the best thing for herself to do.

“Y/N how many shots have you taken?” A concerned Lando Norris questions his best friend.

“This many.” Y/N says, holding up two middle fingers in front of Landos face.

Lando tried to hold in his laughter, Y/N wasn't a big party girl. Sure she would always accompany the rest of the grid out to parties after races, she usually doesn't drink that often, going a little crazy once a season, but never this crazy.

“I'm going to get you some water, please don't drink anything while I'm gone, okay?” Lando scolds Y/N. “Can I trust you won't do anything stupid?”. When the girl gives him a thumbs up he takes it as his sign to move, quickly walking to the bar, Y/N books it to the other side of the club, spotting a small group of wag’s sitting together.

Not even thinking twice she bolts to the other side of the tight Montreal club, speed walking as fast as her designer heels can take her. Lily Z spots her, not really the party girl herself notices Y/N practically falling over herself trying to get to them.

Laughing, Lily taps one of the girls on the shoulder, they all turn to face Y/N instantly getting up and running to the girl with drunken excitement.

“Holy fuck you guys are so hot.” Y/N blushes, giving each girl a compliment before finding Lily in the back of the group. Y/N clings onto the Australian for dear life, Lily doing her best to hold half of Y/N’s body weight.

The girls walk back over to their couch in the VIP section of the club, all of them talking over one another while house music blasts throughout the small room. Back at the bar Lando is constantly looking over his shoulder, trying his best to find Y/N, making sure she stays near him.

Just as he thought, when the bartender finally hands him his drinks she's gone. “Of course she's gone.” Lando scolds himself for thinking that she would have actually stayed.

Placing his hand over the top of her drink, Lando aimlessly walks around the club, trying to find Y/N so he can take her home. Back at the couch the girls are starting to move to the dance floor, all of them going crazy for the international house music being played on the speaker.

As Y/N spins around, her eye catches something in the middle of the club, a pole. The pole is placed in the middle of the club, sitting atop an LED podium. Throughout the whole night many people have drunkenly got on it and sloppily spun around. “Look!” Y/N shouts, all the girls following her line of vision to the pole.

“I need it!” before anyone can say anything Y/N sprints to the empty pole, practically jumping onto it before spinning around. The sudden movement of the pole triggers the people around to stare at the girl. For being absolutely wasted Y/N managed to do pretty well for herself, random girls at the club shoving money in her bra as her friends and random patrons cheer or record on their phones.

The sudden cheering alerts Lando, a big crowd of people move toward the center of the club, Lando turns, seeing what he feared most. Knowing this was going to be a PR disaster for Y/N if the videos got out he abandons her drink on a random table, moving quickly through the crowd covering any camera he can in the process.

“Excuse me, pardon me, sorry.” Lando says to complete strangers before making it to the base of the pole. Without a second thought he grabs her arm, pulling her into him. Drunk off her ass Y/N collides into Landos chest. “Come on, I'm taking you home.” Lando snakes his arm around Y/N’s waist, moving the two of them closer to the door as another girl jumps onto the pole.

“Why did you do that? I was having so much fun.” Y/N pulls away from Lando, folding her arms in front of herself, trying to get some stability.

“Y/N come on, you're too drunk right now.'' Lando puts his hands on his hips, the both of them knowing she has no chance in this fight.

“I'm staying, that's final.” Y/N turns away from Lando, walking back to the big group before suddenly she's swept off her feet. Lando kneels down next to Y/N grabbing her waist once more before throwing her over his shoulder.

Holding onto the back of her knees, Lando pulls his keys out of his pocket as he walks toward the exit of the club, eyes following the pair as they walk away. “Damn Lando, why didn't you ever say anything about this dumpy back here?” Y/N giggles, her face against his lower back.

Lando laughs, carrying her all the way to his car. He holds the door open for her, helping her into the front seat before buckling her in. Lando quickly moves to the other side of the car, typing in Y/N’s hotel a few blocks away, before starting the car and driving off.

“Oh shit!” Y/N shouts, pulling the money out of her stuffed bra. “I'm rich!” She cheers, throwing the money all over Landos car.

“Where did you get all of this?” Lando says, picking up a twenty from the dashboard.

“People just kept giving them to me, I ate.” Y/N shrugs. Lando smiles at the girl, Y/N turns her attention to the window beside her, resting her head against the glass as her eyes start to shut.

Lando plays some soft music to help Y/N fall asleep, within seconds she's out. The drive doesn't take long, about fifteen minutes, when Lando parks he takes a minute to admire the girl beside him, carefully tucking a loose hair behind her ear to wake her up.

Y/N stirs in her sleep, Lando whispering for her to wake up as he goes to her door to help her out. With a combination of alcohol and sleep deprivation it's a miracle Lando got Y/N to her room, avoiding eye contact with guests and staff on his way to the elevator. 

Lando lets the both of them into her room, helping Y/N into bed before placing Advil and water next to her bed. “You're so hot.” Y/N whispers, her glassy eyes stare at Lando.

“You're so drunk.”

“It doesn't mean I can't point out the obvious.” Y/N shrugs, closing her eyes and pulling the comforter close to her body.

“I'll see you in the morning, Y/N.” Lando smiles, setting up a “bedroom" for himself in the living room.

Lando spent the whole night thinking about Y/N, her dancing at the club, what she said before she went to bed. Lando has liked Y/N ever since they joined Formula 1 together, the two have always been inseparable, an iconic duo in motorsport. 

CLACK! “Fuck!” The sound of something falling, quickly followed by a semi quiet swear, wakes Lando up.

A shirtless Lando moves his head toward the sound, his gaze falling upon Y/N wearing a tank top and plaid pajama pants. The pair look at one another, Lando notices her wet hair and beautiful bare face.

“Goodmorning!” Y/N gives lando an awkward smile.

“Good Morning to you too.” Lando gets off the couch, stretching before walking over to Y/N, the girl's eyes looking him up and down before the two become face to face.

“Be honest, how drunk I was last night.” Y/N grabs a banana off the counter.

“Honest?” Y/N nods, wanting to know what stupid thing she did. “There was a pole at the club, it may have gotten a lap dance from a certain female driver.”

Y/N drops her banana, her face getting hotter by the second as she covers her mouth in shock. “No I didn't.'' Lando decided that he wouldn't tell her about how many strangers filmed the whole moment. “Please tell me that was it.”

“You told me I’m hot, which boosted my ego an unhealthy amount.” Lando laughs.

“Oh, that's not that bad.” Y/N shrugs, picking the banana up off the floor. “You are.” She starts unpeeling the banana, taking a bite out of it before going to get a cup of water.

Lando was shocked, too stund to speak. Y/N turns around laughing at Lando’s expression. “What, you seriously didn't know?”

“Know what?” The man quickly asks.

“I've had a crush on you for the longest time, I thought it was so obvious!” She finishes the water, throwing away the remainder of her breakfast.

“You gotta be kidding me.” Y/N stares at Lando, trying her best to read his emotions. “I've had a crush on YOU for the longest time!” Lando explains, both their smiles getting bigger and bigger.

“Well then what the hell are we waiting for!” Y/N steps closer to Lando. “Can I kiss you right now?”

“Always.” Lando replies, taking Y/N face in his hands before kissing her passionately.

“Finally.” Y/N says as the two pull away from one another. “But seriously, remind me to never drink in Canada again.”

[pucked-bunnie]

hands off ⎜m.barzal

pairings: mat barzal x reader prompts: "can you please come get me?" + "Don't fucking touch what isn't yours." warnings: mentions of stalking? ⎜drunk people ⎜reader is uncomfy ⎜ word count: 1.4k note: I got a lot of request for Mat so I decided that these two go well together and ended up combining them. Requests are open!

(UNEDITED)

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The party was supposed to be fun. 

It was supposed to be a good way for you to find new friends - to bond with some of the other wags. 

And sure the night started out fun. 

“I promise they’ll take good care of you, it’s just dinner and some drinks.” Mat had assured you as he watched you pull on your coat, the oversized denim jacket holding in any warmth it could manage, stopping the slight tremble of your limbs at the winter cold. 

Moving to New York had been a big adjustment, especially in the dead of winter. Mat had talked to some of his teammates, hoping to be able to set up a girls night with some of the wives and girlfriends on the team to help you adjust to being in a new city, to help you make some new friends to keep you company when he was away so often. All the girls were quick to agree, adding you to the team group chat to discuss the details. 

“I know, but it’s been so long since I’ve gone out and my sister warned me about the bars around here.” You respond as you glance up at him, pulling your lip between your teeth. 

You wanted him to comfort you. 

To give you a reason to cancel. 

Or to say he would come with you. 

Meeting new people was terrifying. 

“I swear it’ll be fine, just message me when you’re ready and I’ll come get you.” You nod slowly at his words, leaning up on your toes to press a soft kiss against his cheek, Mat giving you a big smile as he pushes you lightly towards the front door of the bar, leaning against the side of his car until the front door closes behind you. 

Mat was right. 

The night started out fun. 

But things changed so quickly. 

“Hey, you’ll be right to head home on your own right?” Anders asks, his wife draped against his side, a drunk smile on her face as he holds her steady with one arm around her waist. “Mat’s on his way?” He questions, you don’t really respond, just giving a tight smile. 

You had messaged Mat. 

You swear. 

Anders pats your shoulder softly, before dragging his wife out of the club, trying to avoid her incessant affections. You watch as they leave the constantly filling bar, the crowds of people getting louder, more boisterous as the night carries on. The others had been picked up earlier by their partners, each whisked off in a slightly tipsy haze. 

You had been left on delivered for the last thirty five minutes. 

And there was no sign of Mat responding anytime soon. 

“He’s probably fallen asleep.” You reassure yourself, you phone showing a time of eleven forty eight pm, way past Mat’s normal bedtime. 

Letting out a long sigh, you push away from the spot at the bar, grabbing your jacket off the back of your chair, slinging it over your shoulders, buttoning each button tightly before hefting your purse up on your shoulder. 

Your apartment wasn’t far away. 

The walk would have to be brisk with the cold seeping into your bones, but it was do-able. 

You smile softly as the door managers as you exit, crossing your arms over your chest with your phone tight in your hand as you start walking down the block. 

You can hear as they exit behind you. 

The four men bustling amongst each other. 

Each of them daring the other to close the gap. 

You type quickly on your phone, pressing the cold glass to your ear as the dial tone rings in your ear. 

You dare to glance back, the men pausing for a moment, discussing something between themselves. 

“Baby?” Mat’s voice is groggy, coughing a few times as he repeats, “Baby, are you there?” You catch yourself nodding in response - despite the fact that Mat can’t hear you - your free arm tight around you as you speed up a little more. 

“Can you please come get me?” You ask softly into the phone, you can hear the rusting of a blanket and the padding of Mat’s bare feet on your apartment floor as he moves around the rooms. 

“Where are you?” He asks quickly, “Are you safe?” 

“Like five minutes from the bar, I thought I could make it.” You continue, your body jumping as you hear the footsteps close in. 

“Hey, wait.” You hear a voice call out from behind you, the man's voice slurred slightly, his friends egging him on. 

“Who was that?” Mat asks, the jangling of his keys ringing through the phone. “Are you walking?” He asks again, his voice deeper, more gravely, the easiest to tell that he was angry. 

“You weren’t responding.” You justify, “It’s only a fifteen minute walk, I thought it would be fine.” You hear Mat let out a cuss, the words sounding far away. You can hear his fingers swiping on his screen before he swears again, the sound of a grunt a thump before his voice is close to your ear again. 

“I’m on my way - stay on the phone with me, okay?” You nod again, glancing once more over your shoulder the men are closing on you now. 

Mat’s breathing heavily into the phone, reminding you to keep walking. 

He’ll be there soon, he promises. 

The hand lands out your arm roughly, your body swung around to face them. 

“I asked you to wait.” The man groans, he couldn’t have been more than mid twenties, you wish he knew how scared you were right now. 

“My boyfriend is on his way to come get me. I’m not interested.” You speak confidently, you can hear the muffled sounds of Mat saying something into the phone, but you can’t make out the words, your arm dropping to your side as the man's friends stop around the two of you. 

“Let me go.” You say, firm in your words. 

“But you haven’t even heard me out yet.” The man whines, his tone similar to that of an upset child. “Please give me a chance.” He whines again, his hand still clamped on your arm. The man is clearly drunk, his friends goading him on. 

“I bet she’s lying.” One says. 

“She probably doesn’t even have a boyfriend.” The other adds. 

“Show her what she’s missing out on.” The last one says. 

The man in front of you pauses, his eyes flicking over your shoulder, heavy steps stopping behind you, the man’s hand loosening slowly. 

“Didn’t your mothers ever teach you boys manners?” Mats voice hisses from beside you, his hand reaching out to close around the drunk stranger's wrist, the man releasing you quickly. 

“Don’t fucking touch what isn’t yours.” Mat sneers, his body moving in front of your as he pushes the man away from the two of you. 

The men are smart. 

They retreat quickly, excuses falling from their mouths. 

“Sorry man.” One sighs. 

“Didn’t mean any harm.” The other adds. 

Mat glares at the back of them as they stumble back down the street to the bar, their attention finding some other people to focus on. 

“You ran all the way here?” You ask. 

“Yes.” Mat responds. 

“Are you mad at me?” You question quietly, Mat’s chest heaving, as he runs his fingers through his hair. 

“What?” He asks, spinning on the spot to face you, letting out a long sigh as he reaches for you, his arms wrapping around your head to pull you into his chest, his hands stroke your hair as he lets out another long breath. 

“I’m mad at myself.” He says quietly. “I told you I would come get you as soon as you messaged and I was an idiot and fell asleep.” 

“It’s okay.” You grumble into his chest, your words muffled by his thick hoodie. 

“I was so scared.” 

“So was I.” You agree, pulling your head away from his chest to look up at him, smiling as you pull yourself out of his arms, reaching to latch your hand in his as you pull him to start walking besides you. 

“I can’t believe you ran all the way to help me.” You chuckle softly, finally tucking your phone back into your pocket, the danger ebbing away as you watch your boyfriend's shoulders slump as he shakes his head in disbelief. 

“I can’t believe I did, either.”

[ann1eee]

Hell no!

In which your teenage bestfriend, Gojo Satoru doesn’t mind bragging about how good his favourite gravure model looks, and what he does when you’re approached by a “recruiter”

It was your last summer before senior year of college, and your friend group decided to head to the beach for a few days of fun, as a last hurrah before the assignments and tests began. You, Shoko, Haibara, Nanami, Gojo and Geto were all going together to Gojo’s family penthouse to spend the week relaxing at the beach.

Nanami had offered to drive, not because he was being polite but because he didn’t trust any of your friends’ driving skills to which everyone had agreed.

Once you reached, you were pleasantly surprised at the luxurious, spacious penthouse. The well stocked bar brought a smile on your face, but you waited for Gojo’s permission to raid the bar.

You had met Gojo’s parents a few times along with the rest of the group, and were quite polite and welcoming of your friends. They always had their doors open in case any of you ever needed anything. You always felt warm being around them.

The penthouse you were currently staying at had 7 bedrooms. Gosh, it was so huge you thought you’d get lost. Nevertheless, the excess amount of space meant that each of your friends got their own room.

You all quickly freshened up and headed to a nearby club for some much needed dancing and drinks. You and Shoko grouped together to do each others makeup and pick outfits, while the boys spent most of their time chitchatting and about 5 minutes actually getting ready.

You wore a strappy, glittery gold dress and dazzling gold party heels, while Shoko chose a sleeker black bodycon dress with matching kitten heels.

You met the boys at the front door and headed off into the night, Gojo occasionally catching glances at you while you weren’t paying attention.

Once you reached the nightclub, your ears were filled with booming party music, the atmosphere an array of blinding green and violet lights. You grabbed onto Shoko and headed to the bar, while she lit a cigarette. The boys followed soon after, stopping to stare at the raving crowd, hoping to find someone to dance with.

The bartender shot you and your friend a teasing glance as he poured just a little extra alcohol into your shots. You batted your eyes flirtatiously at him and thanked him for his generosity.

As you downed the shots, you swayed onto the dance floor, dragging Nanami along as Shoko clutched onto Haibara’s arm. The former sighed as he reluctantly let out a few dance moves.

Soon after, Gojo and Geto followed the four of you in the rave. You recall spotting them dragging two separate girls into different corners as soon as you entered the club.

You rolled your eyes as you flung your arms around Gojo’s neck, and playfully giggled as Nanami and Geto excused themselves to bring more drinks (and maybe girls).

Gojo eyed you carefully as you danced on him, hands steady on your hips. He wasn’t much of a drinker, but he could tell you had had quite a few drinks while no one was paying attention.

He let out a small chuckle as he saw you growing tired, and a bit grumpy because your feet ached. Despite wearing your high heels, you were nowhere near Gojo’s height, and he teased you plenty for that.

He quickly whispered something to Shoko, and you saw her nod. Then, he wrapped an arm around your waist and led you out of the club.

Although you protested, you silently thanked him for giving you a reason to finally leave and hopefully crawl into a warm, comfortable bed.

Gojo stopped at a roadside stand to buy a few sugary snacks, and offered some to you.

“Thanks Toru.” You accepted the concoction and popped it into your mouth.

“Are you excited to go to the beach tomorrow? We’re gonna spend the whole day there and have a barbecue afterwards.” Gojo said, staring off into the dark ocean.

“Mhm~ We’re gonna swim around all day.” You slurred.

He giggled as he unlocked the door to his house. He helped you into your room, asking you if you needed anything. Once you refused, he offered you a smile and shut your door.

“Goodnight, y/n”

“Night night toru” you mumbled as you shuffled out of your outfit and into one of his stolen borrowed shirts.

Morning rolled by quicker than you had expected. Your bed was really, really comfortable. You freshened up and changed into a stunning red bikini, complete with a translucent white cover up.

Shoko entered your room shortly after, and let out a cheeky whistle at your beach outfit. You giggled and dragged her out of the house.

Gojo and Geto were in white and black trunks, Nanami and Haibara in blue and green.

Gojo was showing something on his phone to Geto, at which the latter sighed.

“You really should stop making gravure idols your wallpaper.” Geto said, shaking his head.

“But she’s so hot! I’ve never seen anyone hotter than her.”

You cocked your head in wonder, curious about who the two boys were discussing.

On noticing you and Shoko, the group decided to finally make their way to the beach. Once Gojo got a look of you in your bikini, he was so bewildered that he stared at you silently for well over a minute, ignoring everything Geto was saying.

He quickly separated from his friend and walked next to you, hoping to strike up a conversation.

“Did you sleep well last night? I hope the bed was comfortable enough.” He inquired, leaning in expectantly.

“I slept great, Satoru. Thanks for letting us all stay here, your place is amazing.” You smiled up at him.

“Of course y/n. You know you’re welcome anytime.”

Once you reached the beach, you quickly discarded your cover up and jumped into the ocean, squealing as you felt the cold water on your skin. All of you splashed around in the water for a good two hours, after which you decided to spend some time sunbathing on the beach.

You opened up a folding chair, and spread sun cream all over your arms and legs, not noticing the dozens of eyes on you. A few minutes after you had laid on your seat, you shut your eyes resting one arm on top of them, and one leg folded up.

You were disturbed from this relaxing time by a strange man, who kept calling out to you until you finally paid attention, annoyed by the interruption.

“Hello miss. I must say, you’ve got an amazing body. Your body shape is absolutely perfect! So satisfying.”

You furrowed your brows, face comforting to an expression of disgust.

“Oh no, please don’t think I’m trying to be inappropriate! I work for a gravure magazine, and I thought to ask you if you were interested. I’m absolutely sure you could surpass the top idols with that body of yours!”

You listened in shock, wondering what the hell you could do to get this creepy old man to leave you alone. Suddenly, you felt large hands resting on your shoulders, and you looked up to find Gojo, staring at the man as if he had murdered his whole family.

“Sorry, my wife here is not interested in all that. Please leave.”

What the hell? You wanted an excuse, not a husband. Gojo was gonna get an earful for this one.

The man muttered a quick apology and left.

As you were about to open your mouth to ask what Gojo was thinking, you felt a bath towel drop onto your lap.

“You’d better cover up princess. Wouldn’t want any more recruiters eyeing my wife up.”

“I’m not your wife Satoru!”

He giggled playfully as he pulled his own chair to lay next to you, making sure to pass a deadly glance to the men checking you out shamelessly.

“I heard what that man said. Gravure, eh? Didn’t think you’d be the type to listen a man ramble about offering you a job in that field.”

“I am not! I was just thinking of a way to get him away.”

“Good thing I showed up then, huh?” Gojo said cockily.

“If I was doing gravure, would you put me as your wallpaper too~?” You playfully flirt as you hold back a giggle.

Satoru turns red at your words. He didn’t think you had heard him talk to Geto, and his cheeks flushed at the thought of you sprawled out like that.

You smirked as you saw him go red, and decided to mess with him further by snapping a quick picture of you in your bikini, making a peace sign at the camera. You sent it to him, and lay your head back down.

“There, you can use that.”

Satoru’s eyes widened as he analysed your picture, face blushing and blood rushing to places he couldn’t allow you to notice, yet.

He’d get you back for teasing him, somehow.

[moonchildstyles]

Do you think you could write a blurb where witch! Harry is finally comfortable w Mitch and his friends so one night when they’re all out together Including Sarah and y/n, Harry doesn’t really pay as much attention to y/n as he usually does, and y/n becomes more clingy than usual and it makes Harry happy 🥺🥺

this is a little different than the exact request but I hope you enjoy!! thank you for sending this in:)

wordcount: 4k+

—————

Fiddling with his fingers in his lap, Harry watched as (Y/N) readied herself at her vanity. He wanted to be distracted by the sweeps of cosmetics across her skin or the flutter of her lashes as she dusted sparkles over her eyes, but he knew it was a losing battle. He'd already spent all of his distractions when he conjured up his outfit and fussed over his own hair in the mirror. His nervous hands had prepped him too early, leaving him with way more time available than he needed. 

"You know," (Y/N) started, catching his gaze in the reflection, "we don't have to go tonight if you don't want to. We can stay here and relax or go back to yours and cuddle with the girls. I don't mind." 

There was a split second where he considered her offer, folding his bottom lip between his teeth before he thought better of his indecision. (Y/N) had agreed to these plans earlier in the week and was almost done with her makeup already, there was no way he was going to let her cancel on his account. 

"No, I want to go," he insisted, matching her gaze though he figured he looked about as convincing as he felt, "I know I'll have fun, 's jus'... You know." 

A gentle smile touched the corners of his lover's lips. "I know," she assured, "We'll have fun once we get out there. This is the hard part." 

He gave a quiet nod in agreement. It was easier to stay home with her and luxuriate in the familiar, but he was trying to grow himself into a member of the world once more. Besides, Sarah's boyfriend, Mitch, was supposed to be there tonight with a couple of the others he'd met a few months back. As long as he found his space in that group again, he'd be able to make it through. 

Worst case scenario, he'd cling to (Y/N), say the word, and they'd be on their way home before he had a chance to crawl out of his skin. 

This was going to be good for him, he reminded himself as he continued watching (Y/N) through the mirror. 

He was going to have fun tonight. Probably.

—————

With his fingers laced between hers, Harry followed (Y/N) into the restaurant. The plan tonight was to go to dinner before heading to some of the bars downtown as some kind of informal celebration for Sarah's upcoming birthday. (Y/N) had gently let Sarah and Mitch know to go ahead without her and Harry (it was a small ruse to allow her some extra time to get ready and Harry an extra moment in the quiet apartment before braving the world), leaving them to be one of the last to arrive. 

The restaurant was loud and crowded, tables packed with chairs and bubbly patrons. The bar was busy, both servers and guests seated on the stools keeping the bartenders busy with plenty of orders. Fresh pizzas were being fired in the brick oven that worked as the centerpiece of the establishment, though there were plenty of spicy, greasy bar staples flooding out of the kitchen. 

As much as Harry worried over these kinds of outings, still on unsure footing when it came to the world outside of his bubble, the energy of this place fed him. Though it was a different kind of feeling compared to the hazy parties of the seventies that he was so ingrained in, this wasn't that far off from what he had been so accustomed to in the past (there were decidedly less drugs here, and more decency but that's besides the point). He could feel eyes trailing after him when he walked past, his stride bringing attention to the glimmering threads of his clothing and the woman on his arm. 

"Hey, guys!" (Y/N) greeted as they approached the table in the back the hostess had directed them to. On either side of the long table, faces turned to the sound of (Y/N)'s voice. Harry recognized the majority of them, though there were a few unfamiliar faces that he was both eager and nervous to meet. 

"You made it!" Sarah cheered, Mitch at her side with his own usually stoic features shifting into a smile when he caught Harry's eye. 

"Yeah, sorry," (Y/N) started, leading Harry down to the two free spots at the end of the bench seating, across from Mitch and Sarah and next to a familiar head of bleached hair he'd met at the concert night a few months ago. "The Uber took the weirdest way, and then hit traffic. I don't know what he was trying to do." 

Sarah shrugged and rolled her eyes as if this was a story she'd lived through just as many times herself. 

(Y/N) took the spot next to the semi-unfamiliar couple, leaving Harry on the very end of the bench without any extra neighbors. She and Sarah took up another avenue of conversation, others beginning to jump in now that the party could truly start with all guests in attendance. He held her hand tight in his lap, his attention drifting this way and that as more and more color and noise and new caught his eye. 

"Have you ever been here before, Harry?" Mitch asked from across the table, centering his wandering attention. 

"No, this is m'first time," Harry offered, a small smile on his lips. He felt a bit better knowing that Mitch was here—next to (Y/N), he was one of the only people he felt comfortable with. 

"Really?" Mitch sounded, his brows rising, "Don't you work around here, now? At that one music store?" 

Harry eagerly nodded to the question. He loved talking about his job—he loved spending so much time around music and the extra money that came with it was very exciting.

"I do, yeah," he smiled, "Have y'ever been there before? You'd love it." 

Mitch matched Harry's smile with his own grin, taking a sip from his drink with a slow shake of his head. "I haven't, but I might have to come see you sometime. Friends and family discount, right?"

Letting out a laugh, Harry nodded his head. He really hoped Mitch meant it when he said he'd come visit—he wasn't sure how to add discounts yet to the register, but he'd make sure his friend got whatever he wanted when he came by. 

As Mitch started on a new avenue of conversation, Harry relaxed further the longer the night went on, feeling less and less of the anxiety that he left the house with. He felt thoroughly distracted—comfortable, even, when the semi-familiar man (Kid, he thinks was their nickname) on (Y/N)'s other side piped into his and Mitch's conversation. The edge he had been standing on slowly dulled until he was laughing loudly and settling into his skin the way he used to back in the day. 

Once ordered, drinks and dinner were delivered to the table. Honestly, Harry almost wanted to speed through his meal knowing that the rest of the plans for the night were to head to a bar down the plaza, leaving more room to hang out with his friends. He was having too much fun to waste time like this. Under the table, (Y/N)'s hand was settled on his thigh, turning palm up once he attempted to wiggle his fingers between hers. 

Looking up at her, his hand loaded with a slice of plain cheese pizza, he saw her looking at him with a raised brow. 

"Feeling better?" she murmured to him, the others around them distracted by their own food to listen in. 

A small smile was on Harry's lips as he nodded his head. "Yeah, a lot. I forget how nice everyone is." 

"And, how much they like you," (Y/N) added, "I'm happy you're feeling better, though. Do you still want to go to the bars with everyone after?" His eager nod had to be enough of an answer with the way she let out a huff of laughter, her hand squeezing his under the table. "Okay," she smiled, "Just wanted to double check." 

Tipping her chin, (Y/N) puckered her lips just enough to draw him in for a short kiss. Harry felt his heart skip a beat in his chest, even if the contact was nothing more than a small peck on his mouth. The vine tethering the chambers of his heart to hers pulsed, urging him to stay close to her. 

"Thank you," he murmured, blinking up at her through the fan of his lashes. 

"For what?" she asked, nudging him, their private moment drawing on long enough to catch the attention of Sarah across the table. Her eyes softened as she glanced at them.

"Taking me tonight," he answered, keeping his voice low. If Sarah could watch, he just hoped she couldn't hear every word. "I know 'm a lot sometimes—thank you for still wanting to bring me even if I wasn't sure." 

She tipped her head, eyes fond and tender to match the smile on her lips. "Of course, H. You don't really have much of a choice, though—you're my soulmate, you pretty much have to come with me."

He knew she was trying to joke with him, get him to laugh the same way she realized her own plume of laughter, but he liked hearing her call him her soulmate to do anything more than surge forward for another kiss. 

————— 

(Y/N) with Sarah and some of the other women at her side, didn't take much time before getting their first round of drinks to indulge in the dance floor of the bar, cheering in celebration of Sarah's birthday. Harry, along with Mitch and the rest of the few that didn't want to brave the sweaty congregation all hung back, drinks in hand with a table luckily claimed along the back of the bar. 

More often than not, he had his eyes on (Y/N), watching her like she was a bubble of sunshine in the middle of the dance floor. He could hear her laughter, see her dancing with her friends, and practically feel the beam of her happiness even sitting so far off. Mitch was much like him, watching his own girlfriend as she celebrated her birthday, a fond smile on his lips. 

The third time Harry caught him gazing with hearts in his eyes towards Sarah and the bobbing ponytail on her head, he asked, "How long have y'and Sarah been together?" 

Mitch blinked his eyes away from the dance floor, Kid at his side jostling him as he laughed with his own companion. "Hm?" Mitch hummed, taking a sip from his beer as he plugged into the moment once more. 

Harry knew the feeling well: what it was like to forget the rest of the details around him when he had his eyes on his sunshine. Chin in his palm with his elbow resting on the table, Harry let a small smile sit on his lips. "I asked how long you and Sarah have been together." 

"Oh, sorry," Mitch offered, sheepishly clearing his throat, "We've been together for a little over three years, now." 

"Wow," Harry awed, the romantic inside him sinking at the thought of having that much time with (Y/N) at his side. "How did y'meet?" 

Only having time to open his mouth to take in a breath before his story, Mitch was cut off when Kid butted in. His eyes were a bit glassy thanks to the alcohol in his system, but his words were clear when he interjected: "I set them up!" 

Kid's partner—Jenny—laughed at his insistence, especially when Mitch rolled his eyes though he couldn't completely stave off the amusement on his features. 

"Barely," Mitch countered, voice a petulant mumble when he looked back at Harry, "He just happened to know the both of us, but he didn't set us up." 

"Was I not the one that invited both of you to my birthday party?" 

Harry sat back, drink in hand, as he watched the light-hearted argument. It felt nice to be sitting among friends for the first time in decades, learning tidbits about their lives and finding where he fit in within the dynamic. (Y/N) was his heart and soul, everything that made his existence feel purposeful, but this was a facet of his life he hadn't realized he was craving so badly until it was offered to him. 

"Harry, don't you think that qualifies as a set up?" 

Perking up at the sound of his name, he plugged into the conversation once more, only to have three pairs of eyes waiting on him. Both Jenny and Mitch held amusement in their gazes though Kid seemed terribly serious with his request for backup.

Unable to help himself, Harry had to prod. 

"Well," he started, breathing in a sigh as he laid his forearms out on the table, "How long after your birthday did they go on a real date?" 

It was the chatter that started almost immediately after he finished speaking that had Harry smiling into the rim of his own cup, pretending to sip as he took it all in. 

—————

With sweat sticking her baby hairs to her temples and slicking down her back, (Y/N) practically stumbled after Sarah as they drifted from the dance floor. The few others that had paraded out there with them stayed behind for the rest of the song, while Sarah had insisted that she needed another drink before she could dance any longer. Sweaty hands pressed palm to palm, (Y/N) followed her out in the semi-fresh air of the rest of the bar now that they weren't tucked between the rest of the patrons on the dance floor. It was suddenly sobering to be out of the crowd, but that didn't mean she wasn't feeling the effects of the cocktail from dinner and the celebratory shots they took once stepping into the bar. 

With Sarah leading her to the bar, (Y/N) traced her eyes through the space, knowing Harry was around somewhere but she was a touch too intoxicated to rely on the tether between them. She found him, a bright sunshiney yellow spot, tucked at the end of the booth next to Mitch with Jenny and Kid laughing along to whatever it was that Harry was saying. It was silly to her, as she took in the moment, just how nervous he had been before leaving, worrying over not fitting in, doing nothing but clinging to her side, not having fun, to now being the center of attention. It was just as she figured it would be—no one was immune to his presence. 

Tugging her forward, (Y/N) went along with Sarah to the bar until they had fought through the two-deep crowd to the counter. Sarah didn't need to ask what she wanted, instead slurring out an order of two fruity cocktails with a drunken declaration that it was her birthday. Over her shoulder, (Y/N) could see the bartender laughing at Sarah's excitement, though that information would surely garner them a discount anyway. 

Once their drinks were in hand, Sarah didn't waste time before putting the straw between her lips and gulping down the drink. "Let's go say hi, then we'll go back!" she shouted over the music after taking down the mouthful of juice and vodka, gesturing towards their claimed table with the rest of their party. 

Nodding with her own straw between her lips, (Y/N) was more than happy to take a break and see her soulmate before heading back into the sweaty throng of people. 

It took a bit of maneuvering, but making it to the table was quick enough and well worth the small spill she made on her shoes when she saw Harry's face light up when he caught sight of her. Whatever story he had been in the middle was put on pause when the pair of them made it to the table, Harry opening his arms for her to fall into. Mitch as well looked amused to see his mumbling girlfriend, a familiar glimmer in his eyes when he took her in. 

"Hi, you," Harry murmured, taking a hold of (Y/N)'s drink and setting it on the stable table. "How are y'feeling, sunshine?" 

"I'm good," she smiled, languidly draping her arms over his shoulders as she fought the urge to climb on his lap instead, "Kind of drunk, I think, though. Are you having fun?" 

Dimples deep in his cheeks, dots of glitter shimmering on his cheekbones, he looked to her with tenderness coating his gaze. "'M having a lot of fun, sunshine. Are you?" 

"Mhm," she hummed, unable to hold back from pressing a clumsy kiss to the corner of his mouth, "But I feel like I've barely seen you tonight. You said you were gonna come dance with me." 

"Sorry, love," he crooned, smiling despite the pout on her own lips, "Jus' got a little distracted, but you know 'm right here if y'need me." 

"Yeah," she sighed, drooping like some long-suffering spouse, "But, I've missed my soulmate—I know you're right here, but it's not the same. You're too busy with your friends." 

Her petulance only pulled a plume of laughter from him, even if there was something decidedly softer than before in his eyes. "You're still m'best friend, love, you know that. Jus' wanted to let y'have your fun, then I was going to bother y'the rest of the night." 

"You never bother me," she countered, canting her head.

It was Harry's turn to tip his chin and press a kiss to her lips, though this contact was much more coordinated than her previous attempt. (Y/N) sunk into the contact, allowing Harry to hold her steady just before there was a call of her name from Sarah. 

"Hm?" she asked, pulling away from Harry with her lipgloss surely missing from her mouth though it now sparkled on Harry's. 

"We need to go back," she bubbled, taking her half-finished drink with Mitch looking on with a poorly hidden smile. "Listen to the song! We need to go out there!" 

Tuning into the moment once more, (Y/N) took note of the bright notes filtering through the bar. It took only a quick look over her shoulder to see the familiar bobbing heads of the friends they had left behind to get their drinks, one of the girls catching sight of Sarah and beckoning them back to the floor. 

"Go have fun, sunshine," Harry murmured, giving her a pat on the small of her back as if to send her off. 

That seemed to be all the encouragement needed for Sarah to grab a hold of (Y/N)'s hand and take her back towards the floor. Drink in hand, (Y/N) made a point to look back to Harry and give him a small wave goodbye for the moment. His smile only widened when she did. 

—————

"I love you." 

Despite the sweet declaration, Harry couldn't help the laugh that bubbled from his chest. He tightened his grip on (Y/N) as she draped herself over him in the backseat of their Uber (a concept he thoroughly struggled with until Mitch helped him both understand it as well as order one). 

"I love you too, sunshine," Harry murmured back for the third time in the span of five minutes. 

"Nooo," she moaned, curling into him as if she weren't practically on his lap already, "You don't get it, H. I love you—like, love you." 

His heart warmed even when she slurred over her words, the night dancing and drinking catching up to her finally. He wondered what their driver thought, listening into this drunken conversation. 

"I love love you, too, (Y/N). I—" 

"Why would you say that to me?" she cried, cutting him off drawing away from him with offense written all over her features. 

Glancing at the rearview mirror, Harry caught their driver attempting to hold back her smile before focusing back on the road before her. As a quiet favor, she turned up the radio just a hair more, an offer of privacy. 

"Why would I say what?" Harry crooned, unsure of how his love for her could cause her to feel so upset. 

"You called me by my name. Why would you do that? You never call me by my name, are you mad at me?" 

It took all he had in him to keep from laughing at her distress. He hadn't meant to upset her, he had hoped by saying her name she would see he was just as serious as she was. His arm looped around her middle kept her steady at his side. 

"Of course, 'm not mad at you, love," he cooed, erring on the side of caution with his voice terribly gentle, "Jus' wasn't thinking, I guess. I love love you, sunshine." 

His amendment seemed to be just enough to placate (Y/N) once more, drawing him into her with a blissed smile. 

"I love you more than anything, honey," she told him once more, back on track with her declarations, "I don't tell you enough, but I do. You're my favorite person in the whole world, and it's crazy that we could've never met if you didn't decide to live up in the mountain and do all your witchy stuff and—" 

"Oh, love," Harry cut her off before she could say much more about whatever witchy stuff he's got up to. Even with that, hearing her say she loves him more than anything in the world was enough to have his skin pinkening and warming. "You're my favorite person, you know that. Love you, so much." 

Before (Y/N) could try to argue anymore, declare her love for him to be the biggest (which was not true, because he loved her more), the car came to a stop at (Y/N)'s apartment building. 

"Here you are," their driver declared, peeking through the rearview mirror.

"Thank you," Harry smiled, the curl widening when (Y/N) seconded him with a bright chirping Mhm! 

"You're welcome," their driver smiled, "Have a nice rest of your night, you two." 

"We will!" (Y/N) brightly answered, struggling to get her seatbelt off. 

After helping her out, Harry collected (Y/N) in his arms and kept her steady when she stepped out on the sidewalk. She gave a final wave to their driver before clinging to Harry as he led her towards the building. 

"I had so much fun tonight, Harry," (Y/N) drawled, hanging off of him as he entered all the codes to get inside the building, her eyes warming the line of his profile. "Thank you for coming with me and taking care of me." 

"Thank you for bringing me with you," he said, parroting the sentiment from dinner. 

As he listened into her babblings as he took her up to her apartment, Harry felt his heart bloom like the petals in his garden. He'd had a perfect night, truthfully. While these were still people he had met through (Y/N), it didn't feel like he had spent the night with people putting up with him because of who his soulmate was. He felt like he had spent the night with his own friends, the kind that would have been a part of his hazy memories from the seventies, full of laughter and silly conversation. 

All for him to end the night with the love of his life. 

"I had a lot of fun tonight too, sunshine," he crooned to her, getting her safe inside the apartment once more. "I love you." 

"But, Harry, you don't get it." 

He could only laugh as he led her to her bedroom. He knew she would be arguing with him over the rest of the night.

Harry couldn't be happier.

—————

thank u sm for reading, sorry for any mistakes, and if you have any ideas of your own please send them in!!

[yesimwriting]

ELLE IM HERE FOR JEALOUS FELIX IDEA WE WERE DISCUSSINF …

olive i made felix extra unhinged here just for you <3

----

“So…” The word is as small as it is hollow. You squeeze your hands together, attention settling on the way your skin strains against the tendons. So implies that the person speaking has somewhere to go, something to say. 

Felix stalls, halfway between his dorm’s entryway and his bed. A beat passes before he finally turns around. “So.” His feels a lot more definite. 

The nail of your left thumb presses into the cuticle of your right. “I uh–” The world is too hazy for this. If you had known the night wouldn’t end in its usual way, with you and Felix giggly and content in that drowsy way, you would have turned down that last shot. “If you’re upset, we can talk about it.” 

He continues forward, steps casual as he reaches the bed. Felix sits down with a soft sigh, the sound tired but not exactly irritated. “Upset?” He repeats gently, body shifting back to rest against a pillow. “Why would I be upset?” 

The genuineness of the question throws you. Felix didn’t seem to need someone to explain why he would be upset when he practically pulled you out of the bar. Felix didn’t seem confused when he barely gave you a second to say goodbye to a girl you met through your roommate. He didn’t stop to think about why he might be upset when he left without saying anything to any of his friends. 

All of this felt so worth mentioning when you were walking next to Felix on an empty sidewalk, eyes focused on making out cracks in the pavement to keep yourself from staring at him. “Because we got separated at the party, and–” 

You blink. You’re sorry–you know you’re sorry that Felix’s feelings were bruised, and you know that you could have been a little more intentional in the way you treated him after you started drinking. Felix always takes you into consideration, it doesn’t matter who he’s with or what state he’s in. You know there are things you feel bad about, and you remember the moment that you realized that Felix wasn’t by your side, but the details, the bulk of the night, are all blurred beyond distinction. 

Early on into the night, you recognized Dina, a girl from your roommate’s friend group. Then, she introduced you to Nick. He bought you and Dina drinks, and then dancing…the three of you, and then eventually just you and Nick. After that, all you have is brief snapshots, each murkier than the last. Asking for a glass of water at the bar, Nick progressively moving closer, a girl complimenting your outfit, more drinks, Nick and the warmth of his breath against your ear. 

You take a step forward. “And I wasn’t the nicest.” You force your arms to relax. Felix veering towards unexplainable tranquility is strange, but it isn’t worse than his anger. At the very least, it’s disorientating enough to feel better than straight forward anger. “We went out together and I didn’t–you’re always so good to me.” You frown, guilt prodding at your chest. “You–you check in on me, and you get me water, and you sit with me…” The words cram in on themselves, wedging themselves in your throat. Great, you’re trying to apologize and now you’re going to start crying, “Even when everyone wants to sit with you.”

“Lovie,” he whispers the nickname so calmly it briefly throws you. For a beat, you’re too confused to be upset. Felix takes advantage of the lapse, lifting a hand to pat the available space next to him.

You take a tentative step forward, and then another, again and again until you’re within reach of his bed. Before you can try to sit, Felix extends an arm, hand moving to rest against your hip. The sudden contact makes you still. His thumb shifts, brushing against the sliver of exposed skin between your skirt and top. 

Your general uncertainty is catching up with your whiplash from all the directions you’ve been pulled in tonight. He’s touching you so carefully. How can this be the same guy that grabbed your shoulder and barely thought to mutter a tense we’re going before walking away.

Without thinking, you lift your hand, pressing your palm against the back of his so that his hand has to lie flat against you. “I’m sorry.” 

Felix tilts his head back slightly, eyes finding yours. You’re not sure what he’s looking for, but he’s far from shy about it, taking in every detail of your expression openly. “I know.” It’s not exactly the proclamation of understanding and forgiveness you wanted, but it’s not a bad start. You take a partial step to the side, ready to sit down. Felix squeezes your hip, forcing you to still. “Sit with me?”

The phrasing is familiar enough for you to understand exactly what he’s asking. You nod once. Taking that as all the conformation he needs, Felix pulls back to give you the space needed to sit on his lap.

As soon as you’re settled, Felix’s hand finds your knee. There’s an affection in the way that his nails drag against your skin that has you easing. You’re still not completely sure on where you stand. Felix’s mood shifted so quickly, and you’ve yet to talk about what happened tonight, but this, his care and affection, is something you can trust. 

“I didn’t…” His voice is quiet, soft. That doesn’t mean they don’t feel startling. You lean into him, turning your head to watch him openly. “I didn’t like feeling away from you.” 

“I know,” the admission is quick, as if accepting the guilt fast enough will warp time and space and erase his hurt from existence. You place a hand on his shoulder. “I don’t know what happened–I–I was really drunk and then I looked over and you–you weren’t there, and I couldn’t remember how long it had been since you were.” The explanation is awkward and wordy, but it’s the only way you can think to articulate anything, a testament to the alcohol still in your system. “You know I’d never do anything to hurt your feelings on purpose, right?” 

Felix pulls your hand off his shoulder. You frown until you feel his fingers find their place between yours. “Yeah,” he says, “I do know that.”

That’s something. You squeeze his hand, glad for the assurance of the contact. Your thumb brushes against his knuckles. Felix’s hand is now firmly settled against the space right above your knee. You’re on his lap. You’re not far from him. All of it should feel okay, should feel like enough. 

Slowly, you lift your other hand, setting your forearm against his shoulder as your fingers find his scalp. The softness of Felix’s hair is always a pleasant surprise. There’s a silkiness to the strands that feels enhanced. It feels like it should  be a result of expensive product, but Felix is so naturally lovely you wouldn’t be surprised if it was genetic.

He angles his head a fraction of an inch upwards to make it easier to look at you. He’s watching you with slightly parted lips. The little distance that’s left becomes a weight you’re incapable of supporting with no warning. You lean forward without thinking, lips meeting his. 

Felix reacts immediately, hand inching up your thigh. His teeth graze against your bottom lip with more pressure than you’re used to. With no warning, he shifts, lips brushing against the corner of your mouth. Felix continues at a pace that’s dizzying, a series of fluttery kisses against your cheek, your jaw, the start of your neck.

“Lex…” The shakiness of your voice makes the heat crawling up your chest burn a little warmer.

He briefly stills, forehead resting against your neck. “Lovie?” The only response you can manage is a distracted hum. Felix releases your hand in order to rest his palm near your shoulder. His thumb smooths circles against the base of your neck. “Have you ever had a hickey?”

The question is so absentminded and breathless you’re almost not sure if you’re meant to respond. Not that you’d know how to answer the question regardless. It’s not like you never went out before meeting Felix. You’ve had experiences, have kissed other guys, but you’re usually the type to push them off before drunken affection goes too far. 

Even though you’re alone with Felix, and you’re completely aware that he’d never actually judge you for the discrepancies between your levels of experience, it’s not an easy thing to admit. Especially when you think of all the times you’ve seen the start of maroon tinted marks peeking out from beneath the collar of his shirts. 

“Can give you one, if you want.” The offer is whispered so innocently, for a moment you think you must have misheard him. He presses another kiss against your skin. “So y’can see what it’s like.” 

When you don’t react fast enough, Felix places a chaste kiss against your collarbone. You force yourself to hold onto reality. “Lex,” you try again, voice doing its best to remain even. There should be a definite answer. You’re not sure what’s gotten into him tonight, and you know what the objectively correct answer is. This might be extremely casual to Felix, but you’re not as used to this kind of thing, and you’d never forgive yourself if you let something ruin your friendship. You’re trying to form the words, but you can’t get the rejection out. 

“If you want,” Felix starts again, leaving another kiss against your skin, “You can give me one after.” Another kiss. “That seems fair, yeah?” 

The offer catches your attention more than it should. You’ve seen marks littered all over his skin…and you’ve thought about them more than you would ever admit. Some concentrated, small, dark patches left there by teeth. Others more like a blend of ink blots, crawling up his skin, the edges a red that could just as easily be lipstick. Other people leaving evidence of their existence, of their closeness to Felix–your Felix.

Would it be such a bad thing to be that person just this once? 

You nod. “Yeah.” You’re still nodding when you feel his teeth graze against his skin. Your eyes shut on instinct. “Okay. That sounds–” You’re forced to cut yourself off with a sigh. “That sounds fair.” 

Felix grins against your skin. He’s more about it now, open mouthed kisses growing more urgent by the second. With each scrape of teeth against the sensitive spot at the base of your neck, there’s a soothing drag of his tongue against the irritated skin. The more time he spends on you, the harder it is to focus on anything that isn’t Felix. 

With a final trail of kisses down to your collarbone, Felix straightens. The loss of contact makes you pout. The reaction makes Felix grin as his fingers move to unbutton the top of his shirt. He leans forward, pressing a quick kiss against your lips. 

He releases his shirt, leaning back to give you more access. You lean forward before you can think, mouth brushing against the edge of his jaw. Felix’s hand finds the back of your head, holding you to him. You work your way down to the start of his neck, embracing everything that is him. His warmth; the smell of cologne, cigarettes, sweat, and something else that’s distinctly Felix; and the taste of skin. 

Your teeth press into his neck testingly. Felix sighs, the sound heavy and needy. His hold on you tightens, encouraging you to use your teeth more steadily. You give in, taking care to smooth your tongue against his skin after. You start the process over, repeating your ministrations over again and again until it’s hard to breathe right. 

You take your time pulling away, lips dragging against his skin before you finally rest your forehead against his shoulder. Felix’s hand drifts away from the back of your head, settling on your shoulder warmly. “That’s my girl.” The praise makes you grin. “You did so good, I’m almost jealous.” 

His good humor seems to constrict around that last part. You don’t fully get it, but you’re too content to question it. You lift your head enough to look him in the eye. “You know I only have eyes for you, darling.”

It’s an attempt at returning the joke, but the way his eyebrows pinch together make it feel like something else. That lingering angst seems to pass him by, because he leans forward, his lips brushing against your forehead. “Me, too, sweetheart.” 

You smile, letting your temple fall against his arm, completely content.

----

taglist; @vader-is-hot @spiritofbuddha @getosangie @freyafriggafrey @ilovehyperfixating @aryiannarae @willowpains @ker0senebunny @lilyrachelcassidy @khxna @imbabycowboy

[luvrhischier]

hi! can you do a friends with benefits with trevor, where you’re out with friends and dancing with some random dude and he gets jealous and admits he has feelings for you, and obviously you (we) do too! 🤭

jealousy, jealousy // trevor zegras

pairing: trevor zegras × reader

word count: 2.4k

a/n: strayed from the request (only the tiniest bit), another one that jumps between povs

a/n 2: feel like it’s similar to my other fics but it was requested so

warnings: alcohol/drinking

(you)

Yesterday’s game had been rough. A few unfair calls, more fights than usual, and a lost at the end. Trevor said he needed to go blow off some steam so him, Jamie, and a couple of the other guys were going out. Trevor always invited you out with him, even when he wasn’t really supposed to. 

The two of you were laying in your bed. Both naked from the activities that had taken place only minutes ago. No, the two of you weren’t together, you were just best friends and roommates who occasionally hooked up and maybe you felt something more but you’d never never be the first to admit that. 

When he asked you to go with him he had to beg you to come, you told him you had some assignments to catch up on but he gave you those stupid puppy dog eyes and pout and you instantly caved. 

That’s how you found yourself getting ready to go out. When you went out partying you always loved to get dressed up, it was fun and made you feel amazing. As you looked through your dresses you found the one you had recently bought. It was a little tighter than your other dresses and a lot shorter. This was the perfect opportunity to break it in. 

From the bathroom, where you were doing your hair and makeup, you heard Jamie and Trevor walk into your room and fall onto your bed. Nobody said anything, there was just a comfortable silence. 

“The Uber is gonna be here in 5,” Trevor finally broke the silence. You made one last finishing touch before walking out of the bathroom. You still didn’t say anything to either of them, and they were too lost in their phones to notice you. You walked to look at your shoe options. You couldn’t decide.

“Guys, which one? These or these?” You faced them and held up two different pairs of heels. For the first time since they had walked into your room they looked at you. Both of their jaws dropped. Jamie quickly closed his mouth then looked at Trevor with a smirk.

“That’s new,” Trevor stuttered. You smiled, surprised that he noticed. 

“Yes it is. Do you like it?” You asked, doing a spin to show the whole dress. Trevor just quickly nodded his head. “Now, which pair?” You asked again. 

Jamie finally looked back at you and at the shoe options. Trevor was too busy checking you out to help. Thankfully, Jamie wasn’t. With a nod you put on the one he chose. Right on time the Uber driver said they were here. 

You sat with Jamie on your left and Trevor on your right. Jamie and you were the only two talking. Trevor was silent, he just stared out the window. You placed your hand on his thigh and felt him tense up making you quickly pull your hand away.

“Are you mad at me?” You asked, genuinely confused as to what was wrong.

“No, not at all,” he said with a forced smile. You weren’t really convinced but you let it go. You nodded before going back to your conversation with Jamie.

When you finally arrived at the club you all got out and Trevor paid and thanked the driver before turning to you and Jamie. He walked to the door, still not really acknowledging you. You looked over at Jamie and he just shook his head and rolled his eyes. You sighed before following. 

They led you to where the rest of the group was. After greeting each other you made conversation with some of the girls, from the corner of your eye you could see Trevor trying to act like you weren’t there. You needed a drink. You turned to Jamie.

“I’ll be back.” You walked away after he nodded his head. When you made it to the bar you smiled at the bartender. 

“Hey, what can I get you?” He asked. 

“I honestly don’t know,” you laughed as you looked at the little laminated menu. He chuckled back and leaned forward on the bar. 

“This one is really good if you’re looking for something sweet.” He pointed. “And this one is really good if you’re looking for something strong.” 

“Surprise me,” you smiled as you looked up at him. Your faces close but neither of you pulled away.

“One surprise coming right up,” he smiled, finally leaning back to make your drink. 

You watched in awe as he made your drink. You felt your cheeks heat up as you two playfully bantered. When he was done he placed it in front of you.

“What’s in it?” You asked as you looked at the drink in front of you.

“You sat here and watched me make it,” he laughed.

“Yeah well I was a little distracted,” you blushed. He just smirked and looked at the drink.

“Just try it.” He leaned forward on the counter, not as close as before but still close enough that you could see that he had freckles scattered across the bridge of his nose.

“You went with sweet,” you said after you took a sip.

“Seemed appropriate.” He winked. 

“Now,” you paused and looked at his name tag, “Andrew do you flirt with all of your customers?” You joked as you took another sip.

“Only the cute ones,” his face scrunched up. “God that was so fucking cheesy I hated that.” 

You laughed.

(him)

“Guys, which one? These or these?” He heard you ask.

When he looked up and saw you in that dress he felt the air being knocked out of him. His jaw dropped. From the corner of his eye he could see Jamie’s do the same before he quickly composed himself and looked over at him. He could see the smirk on his face and he wanted to punch him. 

“That’s new,” he stuttered. He knew every single one of your dresses by memory and this one he had never seen, and it wasn’t like any of your others. This one was shorter and tighter.

“Yes it is. Do you like it?” You asked sweetly as you spun around. He couldn’t say words, he could only nod. He didn’t know how much longer he could keep his feelings a secret. He was only broken from his trance when he heard his phone alert them that the Uber had arrived.

You sat to his left and he couldn’t look at you. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, he wanted to more than anything he just knew that if he did he’d break. He chose to stare out the window instead. 

He felt you place your hand on his thigh. It was simple and innocent but still he tensed. You quickly pulled away.

“Are you mad at me?” You asked

“No, not at all,” he forced a smile. He hated that he was making you think he was mad but he didn’t know what else to do. You just nodded and turned back to Jamie. He knew this night was going to be difficult and he didn’t know if he was ready for it.

When you all arrived at the club everyone got out as he quickly paid and said thank you. When he turned he just looked straight ahead and walked in, maybe if he ignored you he’d be able to ignore the growing feelings inside of him. 

Quickly he greeted everyone before grabbing one of the unopened beers on the table. He didn’t look at you, even when he could see you looking at him. Finally, he saw you walk away and he felt like he could breathe again. He looked over at Jamie and Jamie rolled his eyes before pulling him over. 

“Are you gonna sit here and ignore her all night?” He asked.

“I’m not ignoring her,” he lied and Jamie only scoffed

“Are you gonna stop being a pussy and tell her how you actually feel?” He looked over at you before turning back quickly.

“Dude I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“I’m talking about how you’re in love with her and have been for awhile now,” he casually responded.

“What are you talking about? Me in love with her?! No!” His tried to play it cool but he failed, tremendously. 

“Okay so if I told you that she’s over there flirting with the bartender you wouldn’t care right?” 

He quickly snapped his head to the bar so hard that it hurt but he didn’t care. He saw as the bartender handed you a drink before laughing at something you said. Was that a smirk on his lips? Why was he leaning in? Why was he winking at you? What did he say that could have made you laugh like that? He didn’t like any of that at all. 

He turned his head back around and felt his body heat up. 

“Nope I don’t care. She’s just a friend,” he lied once again.

“You’re so full of shit,” Jamie scoffed. “Can you please just put us all out of our misery and just admit it so we can end this whole pining situation?” Trevor needed to go clear his head.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” he muttered. He set his beer down and for the first time he realized just how tight he had been gripping it. He made sure to not look if your direction as he passed by. 

(you)

You honestly didn’t know how long you had sat here talking, but you didn’t mind. You were enjoying his company. The only pauses in your conversation was when Andrew had to go help another customer. 

“Would it be completely inappropriate to give you my number?” Andrew asked when he returned.

“No, it wouldn’t.” You watched as he searched for a pen and grabbed an unused napkin. Quickly he wrote his number down before handing it over. You looked it over before setting it back down, hoping not to lose it. Before you could continue the conversation you felt someone walk up right next to you. You looked up and saw Trevor. You rolled your eyes before looking back at Andrew.

“What can I get you man?” Andrew asked politely. Trevor didn’t say anything he just looked down at the napkin with a phone number on it. He picked it up before turning it over to clean up a small spill.

“What the fuck?” You gasped. When he turned the napkin back around and saw that the number was smudged and illegible he smiled.

“Yeah, can I just get another beer,” Trevor looked up at Andrew, who also couldn’t believe what just happened. 

“There is plenty extra ones at the table so go get one of those,” you said through gritted teeth. 

“I don’t want any of those,” he shrugged simply. He had no right to be acting like this. You hopped off the stool.

“Andrew I’m sorry,” you apologized. “I’ll be right back.” You grabbed Trevor’s wrist.

“I wouldn’t count on it Andrew,” Trevor said. You tugged him harder. When you made it outside you were glad the streets were almost empty. You dropped his wrist harshly before turning towards him with your arms crossed. 

“What the hell was that?!” You asked annoyed. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said like a child. You scoffed in disbelief.

“Yes you do. I was having a good time with Andrew and you walked over and ruined that.” He rolled his eyes when you said Andrew’s name.

“Oops.”

“If you’re going to act like a child fine whatever I don’t care just leave me alone.” You walked past him to go back inside.

“He’s not good for you,” he said loudly. 

“You have no right to say that. You didn’t even properly talk to him. You acted like a dick.” You turned back around. “First you ignore me in the car and then you ignore me inside and when I finally start having a little fun and I’m really getting along with someone you come over and interrupt!” 

“I couldn’t.”

“Couldn’t what?! Acknowledge me? Let me have some fun? Last time I checked Trevor we weren’t exclusive.”

“Yeah you don’t have to remind me,” he whispered hoping you didn’t hear, but you did. That’s when it hit you. You smirked and Trevor rolled his eyes. “What?”

“You know I always knew you were the jealous type.” You stepped closer to him. He gulped. 

“Me jealous?! I’m not jealous,” he stuttered. 

“Oh so if I went back in there and got Andrew’s number again you wouldn’t care right?” You pointed behind you and took a few step backwards. 

“Nope,” he squeaked. 

“Okay cool I’ll be right back.” You turned but before you could even take one step he stopped you. 

“Please don’t,” he pleaded. You turned to him.

“Why not?” 

“Please don’t make me say it,” he whined. 

“Say it,” you needed to hear the words come from his mouth.

“You know I’m not good at this stuff.”

“I need to hear you tell me why you don’t want me to go back in there. I need to hear you say it so I know it’s real.” You walked up to him. You grabbed his hand and you felt him relax. 

“I don’t want you to go back in there because I don’t want you to flirt or go out anyone else,” he paused and looked you in the eyes. “I don’t want because I want us to be together. I love you, way more than a friend,” his voice was low but you could tell he meant every word he was saying. He closed his eyes, not know how you’d react to his confession, preparing himself for the worst.

“You don’t know how long I’ve waited to hear you say those words,” you smiled softly. His eyes shot open. 

“If this is some sick joke it’s not funny,” he said in disbelief. 

“Do I look like I’m joking?” He looked at your face and saw nothing but adoration. He let out a sigh. “This is the part where you kiss me,” you joked. Trevor wasted no time. His lips were on yours in a heartbeat. Both of you smiled into the kiss. Finally you both pulled away. 

“Can we please go home because if we go back in there I might end up punching Andrew in the face,” he said as he placed his forehead against yours. You giggled, knowing he was only slightly joking.

[abibliophobiaa]

Summary: You’ve never been one for love. Especially after your last round with it. Halloween rolls around and in comes Eddie Munson. He’s only in town for a couple days, you’re looking for no strings, and chances are you’ll never see him again anyway.

Easy, right?

That is, until you end up with an unexpected party favor.

mini series masterlist

next chapter

——

warnings: alcohol; smut; unprotected p in v; unplanned pregnancy and associated symptoms; major miscommunication. eddie munson x afab!reader(7k words)

——

“You’ve been staring around for hours. No one is catching your eye? Not even slightly? You’re not doing brain surgery, you’re just trying to get your toes wet.”

You knew this. But the music had been too loud, the room too heated, your body tucked away against the bar as you sat beside your best friend, sipping on a watery margarita that the ice had long since dissolved into.

All around you people bobbed and swayed to ‘Monster Mash.’ Cliche by all means, and yet it felt fitting when you appraised the crowd once more and noted the mummy dancing with his zombified partner. Further out you caught a werewolf in a particularly compromising position with a vampire, and a group of clowns crowded together hosting what looked to be a meeting.

“What about that Westley guy?”

Right — the one everyone had been talking about all night. The man who had the nerve to dress up as the direct counterpart to your own costume. With a huff, you hiked your leg up, crossing one over the other against the stool. The red dress around you shifted and moved, fingers reaching to adjust the belt around your waist.

“I haven’t seen him.” You shrugged, taking another sip of your drink. “For all I know, he doesn’t exist.”

Micah glanced about the room once again, her makeshift halo wobbling on her head. Somewhere in the distance her boyfriend, Jeremiah, was invested in a deeply riveting conversation about football with some of his friends from college. All of which had dressed in their old football jerseys, dark lines drawn haphazardly under eyes, helmets covering heads. She lingered on him for a moment, and then glanced further over your shoulder, lips tugging upward into a devilish grin. Oddly fitting for the girl dressed as an angel.

“Actually, he’s right there.”

Gravity sent your heart tumbling into your gut. Silly, when you’d thought about it. Just because he’d worn a costume from one of your comfort movies didn’t mean he’d be anything special. Multiple pirates, doctors, and the occasional Michael Myers and Freddy Krueger had already attempted to rouse a conversation, only for it to fall flat. This could very well end up the same, and this night was lost to the turmoil of the inner workings of your mind, still reeling from the sting rumbling in your chest over the past few months.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

But it wasn't a joke when you swiveled around on your stool and faced him. Not at all. In a dimly lit bar, packed too tight with too many bodies bumping you to and fro even as you presently sat, you spotted him. Found the guy people had been mentioning all night as the other half of your ‘couple’s costume,’ saying you both looked amazing together, despite the fact none of them knew he was quite literally a stranger to you.

He sat at a lonesome table. Leaned on an elbow with a cheshire grin spread across the prettiest set of pink lips. His dark curly hair was tied behind his head, tucked into the mask that covered the upper half of his face. Even partially obscured like that, he was handsome, freezing you in place with those piercing brown eyes that were locked unwaveringly on your silhouette.

So he’d noticed you too. Inwardly, you were beaming. After two months of couch surfing and feeling sorry for yourself after a failed relationship wherein you’d walked on your partner of two years with someone who most definitely wasn’t you, you’d decided tonight was the night you’d get back out there. A night of fun, a night to meet someone new, to let loose a bit.

“What are you waiting for,” your friend Micah asked, shoving you forward with a hasty push. “He’s your Westley. If this isn’t some weird ass fate, I don’t know what is.”

Your Westley’s smile grew wider as you approached. Corners dragged upward to form that broad grin, bracketed by the sweetest set of dimples you’d ever seen on a man. Heart pounding a bit, you leaned up against the table, letting out a noncommittal huff. Puffed out a deep breath that caught his attention and had those chocolate brown eyes solely on you.

“Is this space taken?” you asked, and he dipped his head in greeting. “So you’re the guy everyone has been talking about all night.”

“Ah, yes,” he laughed, and you couldn’t help but to smile at the very sound. It’s a lovely, hearty sound. The kind of laugh that seemed dangerous, because you might like it too much. “And you’re the girlfriend I didn’t know I had.”

“You too, huh?”

“Yeah,” he echoed, taking a step closer. “Though it’s all very flattering. Prettiest Princess Buttercup here.” He dropped the lowest part into a whisper, “Definitely a compliment because, if I’m being honest, you’re way out of my league.”

Your cheeks burned with the compliment, feet fidgeting beneath you where you stood. He reached over and slid a chair beside his hip, patting the surface so you could hop on up and join him, a hand of his reaching out to steady you when you wobbled a bit. Another round of drinks were ordered and you learned quickly his name was Eddie and he’d been in town only for a couple weeks now. Had a few gigs in the city for the band he played in and would be off in another two days. Blew in and out like the storm that presently raged outside, wind howling, rain splashing against sidewalks, lightning painting the night sky in a shock of white before leaving it dark once more. He’d grown up in a small town, but realized he’d only ever had dreams that were too small for the walls he’d been raised in.

So he’d ended up on a short tour and would head off to California to start laying down tracks for the band’s first ever album. He sounded so hopeful and eager, so rejuvenated and excited about life, and it had you endeared to him. Drifting closer as the night went on and he asked you about your own life. Learned you grew up here in the city but craved something quieter, very much unlike him. You’d studied creative writing and English in college and wanted to write the stories people would one day know and love and shelve in their homes, but in the meantime you worked at a library. It wasn’t the most thrilling job, but it kept you abreast, and he regaled you with the endless fantasy titles he’d known and loved through the years.

It wasn’t long before the hours trickled on by and Micah approached the two of you with a sulking Jeremiah in tow. The latter of the two a little too inebriated based on the slight sway in his form and the hand Micah kept firmly planted around his forearm.

Her blue eyes flickered up at Eddie’s face, then drifted back to yours. “I’m taking this idiot home. He’s in time out —”

“Noooo,” he moaned, forehead pressing into the crook of his girlfriend’s neck.

“Are you coming back with me or…?” Micah’s eyes trailed back upward to Eddie once more, brows arched curiously.

Eddie looked at you and shrugged. “Up to you, Buttercup.”

“I’m gonna stay…actually.”

Micah nodded, giving you both one last glance over before tugging her boyfriend along behind her in the direction of the door. As she passed, she leaned up against the hollow of your ear and said loud enough over the music, “Be careful. Have fun. You’re beautiful and I love you and you deserve to enjoy yourself tonight, okay?”

Once they were gone your attention returned to the man swathed in black standing before you, shoulder bumping his. “It's too loud in here,” you shouted for emphasis, insides nearly rattling from the music booming from the speakers positioned about the room. “Is there somewhere we can go that’s a little more…”

“Private?” he asked, leaning down toward your ear. Chills skittered along your arms as his lips nearly brushed your skin there, gooseflesh pimpling in its wake. “I have a hotel room two blocks over. How do you feel about running?”

“Let’s go.” You grinned.

“As you wish.” He beamed, holding out a gloved hand for you to take.

Outside, the two of you huddled up beneath the small awning growing smaller by the second with the other patrons who had similar ideas of waiting for their rides and cabs or braving the fall storm head on and taking off into the soaked streets in their full Halloween costumes.

Laughter bubbled up from your lips as a particularly hard jolt against your back sent you tumbling into his form, a quick hand of his reaching out and curling low around your back. He tensed, eyes locked on yours, awaiting your response and you leaned further into him, relishing in the heat of his form.

Moments skittered by under the awning. His eyes roamed your form, dark and beautiful, ringed with those little crinkles that appeared in the corners whenever he smiled. He’d been smiling all night — at you, a thought that has little butterfly wings quivering low in your belly, and lower still at the suddenness of the desire ramping up in your bloodstream.

The glowing lights from the bar filter out onto the street. Flashed orange and red across Eddie’s features, painted him in vibrant color, highlighting the plushness of his lips, the curve of his jaw, the bump of his chin. Hesitant fingers reached up to brush at the curls tied behind his head, curled one of the ringlet strands around and around a fingertip, your forearm spreading over the space between his shoulders, around his neck until he pressed in closer to you. Those chocolate brown eyes flickered southward. Lingered on your lips briefly before traveling back up, asking that question without words. Your only answer was the upward tip of your mouth, leaning into the space, waiting to feel him warm against you.

Electricity danced in the moments shared between you. In the fingertips that pressed into his shoulder and gripped tight as his nose nudged at the space beside yours, your mouth tipping up closer to his. From here, you could smell the mint he’d tossed in his mouth on the way out, could feel the tremble of his breath against your sternum, feel the heat of it fanning over your lips.

But the kiss never came. Behind you, a group of friends pushed and shoved toward the front door, nearly sending you and Eddie into the sidewalk and out of the shelter provided by your awning. It dawned on you then, however begrudgingly, that maybe you should move, give others a space to wait for their vehicles, and start to head in the direction of his hotel room.

He seemed to agree, sliding his palm down your forearm to twine his fingers between yours. “Guess that’s our cue, huh?”

“Bet you’re glad you wore the equivalent of tights for pants today, huh?”

“Suppose it makes it easier for me to whisk you away in the night, now doesn’t it?” He barked out a laugh, and clutched your hand tighter, dragging you out onto the street and into the rain.

——

You were presently in the midst of what was officially the weirdest, most endearing hook up you’d ever had. Moments after rushing out into the busy city streets and getting absolutely drenched from head to toe, Eddie tugged you toward a grocery store, suggesting he had nothing back at the hotel. Had looked a little bashful about it, even when you reassured him it was fine and you’d manage without, though he wouldn’t hear any of it.

As a result, you trailed behind him, dress sopping wet and clinging to every inch of your body, helping gather some things you might need in between what you hoped would be an eventful afternoon. Water, snacks, and the like. He seemed so giddy with it, and you hated the way his dimple in his cheek had your heart and thighs clenching. You preferred only the latter of the two, and couldn’t afford yourself the emotional aspect that came along with the former.

Eventually you had both found yourselves in the frozen food aisle, his shoulder bumping yours, your fingers dancing in the spaces between the two of you, the anticipation of after burning brighter with every minute that passed.

“How do you think they know what…oh, I don’t know…Moose Tracks taste like?” Eddie asked, turning his head over his shoulder.

Fortunately for you, he’d removed his mask, revealing more of his features. Those curls that dangled along his brow line, the smattering of freckles along high cheekbones, the crinkled corners of his eyes whenever he smiled at you.

“What?” you asked, once more reminding yourself of just how differently this night was going than you’d originally anticipated.

“Like what makes a Moose Track a Moose Track?”

“I think it’s just a…mix of things that remind them of…you know what?” His eyes twinkled, and you shifted a little closer. It really sucked that he was cute — obnoxiously so. “I actually don’t know. But, I do think we have more than enough stuff here to feed an army. And I think the rain finally let up.”

“You want to head out?”

“I think we should,” you agreed, tugging him along behind you down the aisle, in search of the nearest check out line.

The walk to the hotel room reminded you both of what you’d intended for that evening. The curious glances you would catch him shooting your way, the way you’d do the same when he focused his attention ahead. It increased with every step closer to the looming building, the desire for closeness, to feel, to touch, to taste.

Burned brighter when he swiped his key card and you started shoving the things he’d brought inside of the mini fridge, before snatching two water bottles and placing them down on the bedside table. He whistled as you walked around the room, fingers snapping, one of his curls tucked against the fullness of his mouth.

“You know, we don’t have to do anything,” you reassured him, sensing the nervousness radiating from his form.

Those dark eyes settled on yours as you approached, palm coming up slowly to rest against his sternum, right where you could feel his heartbeat clanging against his ribs.

“It’s been a while,” he settled on, voice softer than it had been all evening, a tremorous quality catching your attention.

“We’ll go slow,” you promised, leaning up to finally, and happily, close the space between the two of you.

It felt like a long, shared exhale. The way he immediately knew which way to turn his head, how you liked for his calloused fingers to rest against your cheekbone, that you wanted to be as close as possible, pressed flush against his form. Your head swam as he turned you around and walked you backward until your backside thumped against the edge of the dresser positioned against the wall opposite the bed. Grunted as he reached a hand up the back of your neck and sought out that pesky zipper you wanted so badly pulled down.

As if he’d read your mind, the man in question gave the zipper a nice, hard tug and the fabric shifted and dropped around your shoulders, baring the similarly colored bra beneath. So maybe you’d gone shopping for your first foray back after your break up? Based on the darkened eyes honing in on the lacy fabric, you’d picked correctly.

“Such a shame,” he groaned against the curve of your collar bone, fingers pushing the dress down and onto the floor, “really liked that dress.”

“My turn,” you mused, fingers reaching forward to tug the tunic free from his obscenely tight pants.

He helped you with ease, arms lifting just enough to help pull it over his head, giggling as his endless mane of curls sprang free. Tattoos jumped to life before your eyes. The multiple on his arms and torso, some looking faded and older, likely done in someone’s house, and others freshly inked, leaving a tapestry of stories he’d likely tell you if you’d only had the time.

“Fuck it.” He reached down and cupped your jaw, bruising kiss after bruising kiss laid upon your mouth, your toes digging into the carpet below as pale fingers trailed down the center of your chest, and then lower still, pausing at the hem of your panties. “Can I touch you?”

You might burst into flames if he didn’t. “Please.”

“Never have to say please with me, Buttercup,” he said, fingers pushing past that lacy barrier until they met your flesh, knowing exactly what he’d find there. “Sweetheart…this all for me?”

“Don’t tease.”

A broken sigh spilled from your lips, fingers clutched tight around his forearm as those expert fingers dragged a slow circle around your clit before sliding back to your center, pushing in. Your head rolled back against the wall, heat blooming anew as he stepped closer into the circle of your thighs, watching the rapid rise and fall of your chest, enjoying the sounds made only for him, the slickness of your center practically pulling his fingers back in with every perfect thrust curled in that spot right where you needed him the most.

“Fuck, just like that, sweetheart,” he panted, mouth pressed tight to yours, grinning against your skin as you keened high and tight, creeping closer and closer to your edge.

And just when you’d thought you were about to explode into dozens of tiny stars like in the night sky above, Eddie stopped. You nearly cried out his name in your frustration, only to find him dropping down onto his knees in front of the dresser, capable hands tugging you closer to the edge, before he pushed the dainty fabric back to the side and swapped his fingers for his tongue.

One long stripe from center to clit was all you'd needed for the rubber band to snap. For the shaking to start, the chanting of his name like a mantra or a prayer to rouse the neighbors likely next door and alert everyone in the building to what magic Eddie had worked between your thighs.

“Not,” you gasped, leaning your head forward to rest against his heaving chest, “fair.”

“What’s not fair, sweetheart?”

“Too good at that.” Another rasped breath pooled from your lips, quieted by the sound of your lips pressing to his chest. Hazy eyes lifted to his face, a satisfied exhale slowing the rise and fall of your chest. “Get on the bed.”

“What do you —”

“On the bed,” you repeated, grinning wickedly as he backed up just enough so his kneecaps hit the mattress. “I want to look at you.”

And god, what a sight he was. Once you’d finally managed to tug his pants down, revealing the boxers beneath, you were rewarded with the fullness of Eddie Munson in the flesh. The narrow waist, the smattering of hair you kissed along his abdomen, the curve of his chest, the freckles along his chest and shoulders. Traced along the tattoos on his chest, the sides of his ribs, the one on his upper thigh, before dragging upward to slide over the increasingly — and massively impressive — hardened cock peeking out from the waistband of his boxers.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” he blew the words out on a shaky exhale as you squeezed a little tighter, gauging what he liked.

Your grin grew as you wiggled the remnants of his clothing off his hip and cupped the weight of him in your palm. Perfect. He was absolutely perfect, and you wanted so badly to show him just how much you thought so, sliding down further onto the edge of the bed, tongue dragging a long line up the underside, along that prominent vein that had him bucking upward off the bed.

“Can I, Eddie?”

He watched through hooded lashes as your eyes zeroed in on his leaking tip, thumb sliding over the pre-cum there, before gliding your palm in a slow downward motion around him. He nodded, breath nearly cutting off completely as you finally, and blessedly, welcomed him into your mouth, immediately knowing nothing would compare to this moment and this girl.

Ruined. You’d ruined him for others, your pretty smile around his cock driving him too swiftly to a precipice he didn’t want to see the end of. Not yet. “Wait, wait, wait. Fuck. Your mouth is perfect, sweetheart. But — mmm — I need you.”

He pulled you upward with a gentle hand on the back of your neck, rolling you over beneath him, tongue marking a path along your chest, the peaks of your nipples, the delicate skin of your abdomen. With each pass of his lips over your flesh, you sank deeper into the mattress, knee bent, foot digging into the space above his hip, drawing him close enough that you could feel his glistening, wet hardness brushing your abdomen.

“Someone’s impatient,” you teased, moaning as his finger circled your wet entrance. “Want you inside me.”

“Patience, Buttercup,” he practically purred, reaching over into the bedside table to find…nothing. “No. Oh shit. We didn’t get condoms. I’m such an idiot, I —”

“Shit,” you whimpered, jolting upright and nearly smashing your skull into his as he double checked the inside of the drawer. “What about your suitcase? Wallet?”

“I told you I don’t exactly do this often.”

Those dark brows knitted together on his forehead, fingers pinching at the bridge of his nose. You remembered then the fortunate and recent development of starting birth control after Micah suggested she could never live without it, and suddenly you wanted nothing more than to clasp your hands together and thank the heavens for the little pills you had back home in your friend’s bathroom.

“I’m on the pill,” you told him, swallowing the nervousness that grew with every beat of your heart. “And I’ve been tested recently. I’m clean.”

Maybe it was stupid. Maybe you should have known better.

“I’ve been tested since my last time too. I’m good,” he said, unmistakable desperation filling his voice.

“I don’t want to stop,” you whispered as he rolled onto his back.

“Me neither,” he agreed as you clambered over his lap and bracketed his hips with a thigh on either side.

Lured with the wonderful bliss that was Eddie Munson’s lips warm and plus against yours, you gripped him in hand and slowly lowered yourself down onto him, completely bare. There was something so raw about the moment. About the shuddered breath you both released, the way his hands cupped your hips as he pushed in deeper than you ever thought possible, his voice a broken mix of ‘that’s a good girl,’ ‘taking me so well,’ ‘look so good full of my cock,’ as you move over him.

You wanted to hate that you end up doing something between fucking and making love. For something so casual, it feels almost too intimate, the way you collided together like two pieces fitted together of a puzzle that had only been missing those parts.

And it wasn’t gentle, his fingers clutched in your flesh, feet planted on the bed as he eventually pounded up into you — but it was also somehow tender. A complicated mess, just like the shattered pieces of your heart as he groaned one last time and urged you to come with him, pulling you closer in his arms. His fingers circled your clit until you cried his name and clenched down around him, whimpering at the warmth of him spilling inside.

As you both drifted back to reality, he maneuvered around the bed and washed himself from between your thighs. Cooed when you winced at the cold contact, dropping a kiss against your forehead and telling you that it had started storming again. He could either call you a cab or you could stay the night, he’d suggested. You hadn’t anticipated spending the night with him, but after he dug around for the ice cream and M&Ms you got from the supermarket, you found you couldn’t say no to him.

Especially when he turned on the television and, funnily enough, The Princess Bride was on. Fate, or something more, seemed to laugh in your face. Gleeful as you sprawled out beneath the covers naked as the day you were born beside the man who you quickly learned enjoyed handfuls of popcorn mixed with his sweet chocolate treats.

It didn’t take long before he’d grown hard again, the lights dimmed and the food forgotten, your soft sighs and pleasured peals filling the room as he pushed in and watched as your eyes rolled back and back arched prettily for him.

And later, after you were both satiated and satisfied, you fell asleep to the sounds of Inigo Montoya’s famous speech, and the gentle inhales and exhales of the man sprawled out beneath you.

——

Daylight streamed in through the olive curtains positioned against the wall across from you. You hadn’t noticed them last night. Hadn’t noted the wooden walls, the pale ceiling above, nor the cream bedspread across your hips. Hadn’t noticed a lot of things, it seemed, other than the man who dozed behind you, tattooed arm slung low around your waist, keeping you in close.

Fallen asleep — you’d both fallen asleep watching The Princess Bride, much to your grunted amusement as you shifted up and into a sitting position. Eddie’s arm thumped onto the bed, leaving a wrinkled mess around his sinewy forearm. Sparing a glance over your shoulder, you took in the curve of his jaw. The way he looked more boyish than his nearly thirty years, lips parted in a sleepy breathing pattern, curls strewn all about his face. A smile graced your lips, fingers of yours rolling over the curve of his back, the heft of his shoulder, the breadth of his bicep.

Part of you craved curling back up beside him. Wanted to feel his mouth roving over yours, across your skin, between your thighs once more. Would probably dream about the way his face had scrunched up in pleasure before he came apart beneath you last night for weeks to come. But your eyes noticed the time ticking on the far wall, alerting you that work started in two hours. Some weekend reading activity for the children in your town you’d volunteered to work weekend hours for; hindsight, as they say, was twenty-twenty.

“She’s running away in the night,” he grumbled beside you, mouth rolling over to press into the pillow you had slept soundly on for a shocking eight hours, letting out a loud yawn. You couldn’t recall the last time you’d done so. That curly head of hair lifted, too-long strands falling into his gaze as he pinched one eye shut and glanced toward the giant bedroom window. “Or…morning, I guess?”

“I have work,” you said, reaching over to snatch your underwear from off the floor.

He watched with rapt attention as you whirled around and clasped your bra into place, cheeks burning despite the fact he’d seen every inch of you merely hours ago. The man propped himself up onto one elbow, your eyes catching the bat tattoos on his arm as his fingers reached over to curl around your hip, dragging you back down into bed.

Soon enough it was loud giggles, his fingers dancing along your sides, noisy kisses against your own. But it didn’t take long before you were reduced to breathy sighs. His fingers against the span of your hips, his chest pressing yours into the mattress. Lips over yours, against your cheek, the curve of your throat, the hollow between your breasts, the valley of your abdomen. He stopped with a nip along your hip bone, tongue laving over the sensitive skin there.

“Do you have to go?” he groaned against your stomach, placing a final kiss there before crawling back up your body and cradling the back of your head with one hand, his body weight perched on the other elbow, face hovering over your own. Pretty, he was so damn pretty and you wished you could hate him for it.

“I guess I have a few minutes,” you suggested coyly.

And it was all Eddie needed before he had you beneath him once more singing a tune he knew he’d never forget.

You dressed in silence after. He pulled on a fresh pair of jeans and a thin sweater while you glanced at the wrinkled heap of your dress from the night before. It hadn’t dawned on you the complications of getting your feet wet on Halloween — at least, not until now.

“I can’t walk back to Micah’s in that,” you groaned, pointing to the messy ball of fabric on the floor.

“Wait — I have an idea!”

Eddie rummaged around a box in the far corner of the room and tossed a tee shirt your way. Across the front was ‘Corroded Coffin’ in a messy font that reminded you of how your brain often felt after one too many cups of coffee in the morning.

“Your band?” you asked, turning the shirt around to show him.

“Yeah.” He nodded, white teeth flashing with his smile. “You know, you could see us some time.”

You quickly slipped the dress over your head and let the skirt ruffle messily along the floor, then moved to roll up the billowy sleeves to your shoulders.

“I can’t say that I’ll be in California any time soon,” you told him, pulling the tee over your head next and draping it over the belt. Like this, it looked more like an oddly fitted skirt and a top. You already decided that was much better than a Halloween costume, so it would do until you got home and could change.

He nodded rapidly, like he knew that, but hadn’t realized that you’d be coasts apart in only a couple of days.

“Well…” he trailed off, searching around the bedside table for a moment.

Once he procured a pencil and a piece of paper, he scribbled down a string of numbers you immediately knew were the hope for something more from a boy with kind eyes, a beautiful smile, and a heart of gold. Your chest ached. If only you’d met him two years ago, at a better time, in a place where you were more open to whatever this could not be.

“My number — for the place I’ll be staying at for the next couple months,” he explained, tucking it into the exposed circle of your palm, closing your fist within his fingers. “Maybe, I don’t know…we can talk?”

“I can do talking,” you conceded, already hating the fact you knew you wouldn’t be utilizing the number.

It was better this way; he was better off this way.

You both parted with a kiss in the doorway. With his arms looped low around your waist in a way that felt too familiar. A way that suffocated, heart twisting at the soft smile that graced his pretty mouth when he wished you a good shift and you wished him a safe flight.

The walk home was all inward grins that flowed on your face until it hurt. Waves to random strangers passing on the street, curious gazes from onlookers at the billowing sleeves you kept shoving up into your tee shirt as you passed. Memories of the night before flashed in your mind. Of his fingers tugging the zipper on the dress, tossing your underwear alongside his on the floor, mouth on yours, hands learning the contours of your body, the way he fitted perfectly inside you.

Another time, another place, another day maybe.

And that day was not today.

Micah was sprawled across the kitchen island when you entered. You shut the door as quietly as possible behind you, only to find she’d already been awake anyway. A cup of likely long gone cold coffee rested beside her along with a bottle of painkillers, her forehead pressed against the cool tile, nursing what you imagined had to be the headache from hell.

“You’re home late,” she grumbled, pushing her head up into her hands. Blonde hair spilled around her forearms, face covered behind her palms. “I’m assuming you had a good time. Which will at least make one of us. Jere passed out as soon as we got home and snored all night.”

“Sorry, sweetie,” you apologized, stepping further into the kitchen, opening the refrigerator immediately for some water. “I…we had fun.”

“I’m going to need you to spill, because he was cute even with the mask. Don’t think I didn’t notice,” she mused, suddenly healed of her headache, what with the way she looked at you like she’d received the best news of her life.

“I accomplished exactly what I wanted to. I got my toes wet.” You shrugged, lathering some butter onto a freshly toasted bagel.

“You like him,” she screeched, making her own self wince at the sheer volume of it.

You did. You do. But those feelings would fade. Your resolve had already hardened because he wanted romance and flowers and you needed no strings. He deserved that much — he deserved so much.

“We had sex, that’s all. And he’s leaving for California in a few days. I’m never going to see him again. So it doesn’t really matter, now does it?”

——

It hadn’t felt real. For days, you’d doubted every symptom. Every inkling that might have alluded to your present condition.

First, it had been the realization that your period was late. Not even the one or two days you would have pushed aside as a result of stress, the extra hours you’d taken up at work to try and save a little money here and there for a new apartment, or your severe lack of sleep. Then, the nauseousness started. In waves, most days, and definitely not only in the mornings like you’d been led to believe your whole life. Your chest ached next; a fullness that felt unlike your normal, monthly symptoms. Chalked it up to your oncoming period. The same period by that point was nearly two weeks delayed. There was also the fact that no matter how much you slept, you’d still felt like it wasn’t enough. Found yourself dozing off at work, yawning standing in the line for groceries, losing focus while out with friends.

There was also the fact statistics were on your side. You’d done all the right things and were on birth control at the time. So it couldn’t be…that, right? Statistically improbable, unlikely, unwarranted. At least, that was what you had chosen to reassure yourself with, quieting the shouting in your skull that suggested otherwise.

It wasn’t until you were sprawled out against that obnoxiously crinkly white paper in the doctor’s office a little over a month after Halloween that you’d even allowed the thought to enter your mind. It also happened to be the first moment you wondered if you were about to have the entirety of your life changed by a night with a boy in too tight pants you’d definitely not thought about even once since you’d spent the night with him. And you most definitely didn’t picture his dark pupils expanding in the night as you rolled over him, his palms gripping your hips, your hands on his chest, heads thrown back in shared ecstasy.

No.

Not at all.

Six weeks, they told you, with sympathetic looks and uncertain smiles as you exhaled shakily and stared up at the ceiling to stop the room from spinning out of control around you. Six weeks pregnant and undoubtedly so, based on the rapid thrum of the baby’s heartbeat on the screen before you. Strong, they’d said. Perfectly healthy for someone at this point in your pregnancy. They printed pictures up for you of the tiny gummy bear with arms and you held it in trembling hands as they began to speak. Words strung together to form sentences you’d barely understood. Options for next steps, vitamins to take, habits to stop, foods to eat and foods to avoid, how much caffeine to drink, how much weight you could lift and what activities you should start to limit—your head spun with it and continued the whole quiet walk home back to Micah’s place she shared with her boyfriend, Jeremiah.

She welcomed you with open arms as you entered their apartment with a pamphlet on pregnancy in one hand and your pocketbook in the other, whimpered cries of not knowing what to do soaking through her knitted sweater. She’d accepted it without hesitation, just as she always did and would. Held you close to her chest — and hissed at Jeremiah to leave when he’d eventually poked his head in — as you processed the emotions swirling like an endless kaleidoscope in your mind.

And later, when your tears had dried and she’d plopped a freshly opened box of ice cream in your lap and demanded you eat, she asked, “Please just…tell me it’s absolutely Westley’s and not Paul’s.”

“Six weeks,” you sighed, watching her shoulders relax. There was no mistaking who the baby’s father was, and at least that brought you some comfort, “Definitely Westley’s.”

Though you weren’t sure if that made it any better.

“I just want you to know it’s going to be okay,” Micah reassured you, reaching over to rub at your forearm. But did she really know that? How could she? Because to you, it felt like the earth had fallen out of orbit, spinning dizzily now with no signs of stopping any time soon. “I know we don’t have the most space right now, but the couch turns into a futon. It’s yours until you find something otherwise, you know that.”

Telling Eddie his world was (potentially) about to change happened two weeks later. You needed some time to process, is what you’d told yourself was the reason why you’d delayed. After hours of debating, you decided to keep it, and knew that there was always the chance Eddie didn’t want kids — always the chance he’d want to pretend it never happened and that he didn’t want to be a part of its life. Regardless of what he chose, you’d set your mind on being a mother, and you’d do it alone if you had to. But he at least deserved to know; deserved the option of choosing them, even if all you’d had was a night fueled by lust, because you weren’t interested in anything more than that.

Fear had clamped your mouth shut, preventing you from forming those two words for fourteen days. Just two simple words that would have opened the dam to let in the floodgates for the conversation that needed to happen.

Eddie, I’m pregnant.

Eddie, I’m pregnant.

I’m pregnant.

You’d rehearsed it all afternoon, pacing a certifiable hole in the ground from how rapidly you’d moved. Had even stood in front of your friends and had them listen to it until you felt confident enough to do it for real. Gripped Micah’s hand tight as you swiped the man’s number from your pocketbook and dialed. It rang once, then twice, and you worried he wouldn’t answer or you’d caught him at a bad time when the line exploded with sound. Voices. Dozens of voices spilled through the other line, and music along with it.

You winced. “Uhm, Eddie? Is this the right number?”

A long pause extended, drowned out by guitar strings and drum beats. “Uh — uh, yeah. This is him.”

He sounded gruffer than you remembered — voice tinged with a smokier quality that seemed almost unfamiliar to you now. Not that you’d spoken much that night. Maybe he’d caught something, maybe he was sick. Maybe it was merely the weeks that had grown on since you’d seen him, and he'd become another person in the crowd already — someone you knew if only for a night. Heart pounding, you gripped Micah’s hand tighter and wound the phone wire around a pointed fingertip.

“Hi…I’m sorry I’m only calling now. Busy, you know?” A lie, because you’d never intended to call. It had been one night; that was all it was ever meant to be. “It’s the…girl from the party. The Buttercup to your Westley costume on Halloween.”

He chuckled in reply, and you wondered if maybe he was shy. He’d been looser the night you met — louder. Boisterous and passionate. Carefree and fun. But you wondered briefly if that was the glass of whiskey he’d drunk before you slipped away to his hotel room hearing him now. But you remembered that next morning, too; his splendid affection, the kissing, the exuberance of his persona, the way he’d made you fall apart around him again.

It seemed…strange now. Cut off, cold even.

“I’m…pregnant. I just —” You swallowed the knot of fear forming in the back of your throat and continued, “I just thought you should know…because it’s yours.”

There was another prolonged pause.

Nervousness welled up in your throat the longer it continued. Joined that roiling nausea that had become your friend and foe these weeks. Swallowing thickly, your fingers pressed over the span of your abdomen, over the knitted sweater and skin protecting your tiny secret — still not visible to others yet, but wholly your own all the same. You’d already decided you would love them fiercely enough for the both of you if he didn’t want anything to do with it, just so they’d never feel like they were missing out.

Then, after what felt like decades, he asked, “Who is this again?”

You repeated your name, nervousness rattling your bones, fingers trembling in Micah’s. Micah mouthed out ‘Breathe,’ even though you were doing anything but.

The line went dead, and your heart along with it.

——

let me know what you think! 🩷

[viennakarma]

New Year, New Us

Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: After you and Max broke up, you've never been on the same place at the same time again. That is, until the New Year's Eve party.

Word count: 4.3k

Tags: Smut, female reader, +18, sex (p in v), unprotected sex, ex!reader, a little possessive reader, spanking, cursing (but in a cool way), a bit of dirty talking, pet names, not beta read

Note: not me looking for a GIF that he's not wearing the team kit (there is none). This has been on my docs for a little while. English is not my first language (so please bear any mistake). If you’re my best friend, sophia, look away :)

Find me on Twitter!

“Are you sure he won’t be there?”, you text Alex, your best friend.

While waiting for her answer, you look at yourself in the mirror, checking your makeup, basic due to lack of time, but beautiful nonetheless and the red lipstick gives the whole look a boost. On your body, you wear a set of a mini skirt, and a kind of strapless corset that holds your breasts firmly, giving your look an extra spice. When you went shopping with Alex the day before, she had confirmed that it suited the casual New Year's Eve party the group of friends throws every year.

“Charles confirmed that Max is not in town.” is the response you get from Alex as you wait for the Uber.

It would be really embarrassing if Max was there, because he's the ex you don't want to see under any circumstances. Your separation was difficult, and it almost caused a split in the entire group of friends. Luckily, Max went away for the Formula 1 season, and it wasn't necessary for his friends to choose a side, as he was the one who physically distanced himself from everyone.

Despite everything, he still meets up with friends from the group the few times he's in Monaco in between races, and these outings are the ones you refrain from going to so as not to cross paths with him.

Even though your relationship has collapsed like a house of cards, you and him do your best not to take anything out on your group of friends, you don't talk bad about each other nor impose any “either him or me” choices.

As soon as you arrive at the party, you realize that the “New Year's Eve party with friends” has probably taken on greater proportions. That's what happens when the majority of the group is made up of famous extroverts who make friends so easily. Charles had guaranteed that there would be 30 people at most, but when you enter his apartment, it seems to be at least triple that number.

You look for Alex and your closest group and find them near the small bar, getting drinks. Alex waves as soon as she sees you walking towards them.

She hands you a martini as soon as you catch up to her. Alex hugs you, complimenting your makeup, and you turn to Charles, hugging him, as well as all your other friends. You all toasted together, laughing.

Alex pulls you onto the dance floor, and you both laugh as a Rihanna song comes on. Both of you dance for several minutes until you feel a bit of sweat form on your forehead.

“Shit,” Alex murmurs, immediately stopping dancing. She looks over your shoulder at something behind you.

As soon as you look back, you see Max entering the party carrying a big box of some alcoholic beverage. It's impossible to go unnoticed when he's one of the most famous there. You watch as he smiles when he sees Charles in the crowd, as soon as the two meet, they exchange a friendly hug.

“Sorry, babe. Charles had indeed confirmed that he would not arrive from his trip in time for the party,” Alex justifies herself, but you keep looking in Max's direction. He's talking to Charles when, suddenly, he turns and looks in his direction. His blue eyes bore into yours and you swallow hard. You calculate an escape route for a few seconds, but he looks away and goes back to chatting calmly with Charles.

Alex pulls you away, but you keep looking in Max's direction until she shoves you into another room, which you recognize as the kitchen.

“We can leave if you want, we can find a nightclub or something,” Alex says, capturing your attention again.

“Alex, I'm not going to keep you away from your boyfriend on New Year's Eve just because I can't stand my ex,” You shake your head no. “Besides, if he's so comfortable, I'm not the one who's going to act like I’m not over him.”

“Oh, wow! Girl power, damn it!” Alex yells, opening a cooler on the counter. She pulls out two beers and hands one to you. With a bite of the cap, you quickly open it and after toasting your bottles, you take a giant sip that refreshes you from the heat and makes you more determined.

“That's more like it, now let's get back to the dance floor!” You confirm, with a nod after downing the entire bottle at once. Alex does the same and grabs two more bottles for you and her.

Together, you both return to the dance floor, you and Alex dancing and jumping, screaming the songs at the top of your lungs, as if there was no one else around. When Beyoncé's 6 Inch starts, you two start to dance sensually and sing along. With the song halfway through, you open your eyes feeling other people watching you and notice that they have opened a small circle around the two of you.

The attention only seems to make both Alex and you even more excited. Unintentionally, your eyes meet Max's, and you notice that he, Charles, and practically the rest of the party have their eyes on both of you. You grab Alex's shoulders and pull her close until one of your legs is between hers and one of hers is between yours, her hand goes to your waist, and she smiles as she guides her hips into yours and you both roll your hips.

“I know what you're doing…” Alex whispers in your ear. “He's going to regret ever breaking up with you!” She adds in a conspiratorial tone that makes you laugh

You mumble the lyrics to her and Alex pulls your hand, making you spin so that you stop with your back on her chest, placing you facing Max. You don't find any trace of shame in yourself, maybe whether it's the alcohol and the music, or maybe it's all these people staring at you and Alex with so much lust.

You look into Max's eyes as you dance with Alex's hand running down the side of your hip. His eyes are focused on you as he holds a cup of some drink. At some point, his hand exerts so much force on the cup that the plastic bends, spilling a bunch of drink onto his shirt.

You can't help but laugh when he looks down and mutters a swear word. He turns around and leaves. You continue dancing with Alex for a few more minutes until your feet feel sore and you’re very thirsty. When you sit at your friends' table, Charles serves you fresh cold juice. Max appears soon after, now with his shirt changed.

He sits at the same table as you, of course, because he is part of the group. Max sits on the opposite side of it, facing you. You look away from him when you realize your friends are talking and you decide to join the conversation.

“What happened?” Alex asks when she sees you readjusting the threads on your heels for the third time.

“My heels are killing me” you explain.

“I can lend you a pair of shoes. Do you want it?” Alex offers and you nod, “My stuff is in the guest suite on the first floor, where Charles always keeps our bags. You can take it if you want.”

“Thanks! You’re a lifesaver!”

You get up, crossing the crowd of people drinking, dancing and talking, to get to the stairs. As soon as you go up and reach the first floor, you take off your shoes and walk barefoot to the guest room, feeling relief in the bottom of your feet.

You find Alex’s bag on a dresser, and you rummage through it until you find a pair of white Jordans. You go into the bathroom and wash your face carefully so as not to mess up your makeup, and wet your neck to relieve the heat. After drying off, you go back to the dresser and you’re about to put on the shoes when the door opens and someone turns on the light.

You look up to see Max coming towards you with decisive steps, looking like a man on a mission.

“What are you doing here?” you murmur when he stops in front of you and his height forces you to lift your head to look into his eyes.

“You know what you do to me,” He whispers, his hand touches your face firmly, his hand holding your jaw and part of your neck “You know what I want.”

As soon as he says that, your body betrays you and you feel a wave of goosebumps running up your arms. Still, even with the clear expression of desire on Max's face, he doesn't move forward, just waits for your reaction.

You would be lying if you didn't admit to yourself that you miss him. Almost everyday, you miss the domesticity of your relationship, you miss his eyes looking for yours across any room or being the first thing you see as you wake up, you miss his touch both when it’s rough or when it’s exploratory like he wanted his fingertips to memorize you, his nimble hands and his cock stretching you.

You stand on your tiptoes to close the distance, and it's still not enough to reach him, so you grab the collar of his shirt and pull him down until your lips meet. He kisses you tentatively for a few seconds, and then his arm wraps around your waist and he lifts you off the ground, pressing you against his body while opening his lips to yours to deepen the kiss. When his tongue meets yours, you let out a moan that he captures with his mouth.

Your fingers move up from his shoulder to the back of his neck and you pull his hair hard, thinking it should always be like this. That you both belong in each other's arms.

Then you remember he was the one who ended it. He was the one who dumped you right after going on the new season of Formula 1. Probably to be free to fuck some groupie or something.

You move until he puts you back on the ground, and as soon as you find your balance, you push him so hard that he stumbles back two steps, surprised by your sudden refusal.

The both of you are panting as you sit on the edge of the bed, running your hands through your hair as you try to find your sanity again.

“You did this to us” you manage to say through heavy breathing, “You broke up with me to go on new adventures, and you still have the audacity to talk about me as if I had broken your heart”

“Love…” He starts, the pet name probably a slip out of habit, but that makes you even more furious.

“Don’t fucking ‘love’ me!” you point an accusatory finger in his direction.

Max stands like a statue, panting and his lips are red and a little stained with your lipstick, and his chest is rising and falling. You stare at him not knowing what to do now. Then you look at his face, his eyes closed as if he was trying hard to think, his hair even more messy because of your hands seconds ago. Max takes a deep breath, then he takes a step towards you, and kneels right in front of you.

“I'm sorry. I am so sorry. I should never have done that, I love you and I miss you every fucking day,” He looks up at you, his blue eyes shining in surrender, in a way that leaves you weak. “I'll do anything to win you back,” He says, placing both hands gently on your knees. Max looks at you intently as he gently runs his hand down your leg, until he closes his hand around your ankle. He slowly lifts your leg, as if expecting a negative reaction, and then leaves a kiss on your calf without taking his eyes off you. “Please- I- let me win you back- I’ll do anything you want- Let me be good to you…”

The sigh that leaves your lips is almost involuntary when he kisses a little higher on your calf, and then another one above your knee, followed by a soft bite. You almost let yourself get carried away by the effect of his mouth on you, but then you remember to regain control of the situation.

“With how many people did you have sex with after me?” you ask, and he immediately stops moving to look at you.

“None.” He answers, and you bend forward to hold the back of his neck and you pull his hair hard until he lifts his head with a groan.

“Don't lie to me, it's been eight months, Max. Are you going to tell me you haven’t had sex with anyone?” you ask through gritted teeth, without letting go of his hair. He stares at you firmly when he answers again.

“No one.”

“You swear?” you ask, finally loosening your grip on his hair.

“I swear,” He kisses and nibbles your legs again, as if he doesn't want to leave any part of you untasted. “I- I just- fucked my hand thinking about you.” He whispers against your thigh and you almost don't hear him, he says it so quietly.

He continues moving up, and you gasp as he kisses the space at your waist between the base of your corset and the waistband of your skirt. Each touch seems to send a jolt of pleasure straight into your core, and you do your best not to give in too quickly. You hold Max's face and make him look at you again.

“You have half an hour. Better fuck me hard” you command, and he swallows hard, nodding his head.

You finally let yourself fall back onto the bed as he kisses your body again. He tries to lift the corset, but the fabric is too tight. Then Max pulls the corset down in one motion, just enough to release your breasts from above. As soon as your tits spill out, Max grabs them like he's starving.

You can no longer contain your moans when his hands hold your hips, trying to reach under your skirt and his mouth alternates between licking from the base of your breasts to the tip of your nipples, and taking in as much as he can put in his mouth to suck at once. And you know with how hard he's doing it, you're going to have hickey marks all over tomorrow.

“How does this come out?” He asks, looking like he’s having difficulties with the corset.

“From behind.”

Max leaves your breasts to kiss your neck for a moment and you feel one of his hands reaching between your back and the mattress to try to open it. With an irritated growl, he palms your back. You squeal when, with a quick movement, he pulls your back, rolling you around and turning you face down on the bed. He makes a sound of approval when he finally undoes the corset, takes it off you, and tosses it away. He pulls the zipper on the back of your skirt, but it catches halfway, so he pulls hard and you hear the ripping sound until you feel the fabric loosen on your skin. With a sound of disapproval, you're about to curse Max’s entire lineage, when he cuts you off:

“I'll buy you another one. I’ll buy you whatever you want.” He gasps and soon you feel his hands touching your back and going down until they palm each side of your ass. He squeezes hard and you groan against the mattress, probably making a mess on the bedsheets with your lipstick. “I missed this,” He says, and then he gives your ass a slap that leaves you weak, then another slap on the other side, which makes your pussy throb. He gently massages where he hit on your asscheeks.

“Are you going to stand there admiring or are you going to ‘win me back’?” you say in a sarcastic voice when you look over your shoulder and Max is kneeling between your legs, staring at your ass like it's the Eighth Wonder of the Modern World.

“You're very bossy, you know that?” He says with a soft smile. He pulls your panties down to your knees.

“And you are complaining too much for someone who is on probation,” you keep looking over your shoulder and see how he takes his middle and ring fingers into his mouth, sucking on them to moisten.

“Probation, eh?” He says, getting closer to you.

“Yeah, or do you think you can get back this easily into my life?” You scoff.

You stop looking when his hand disappears between your legs, and you feel his touch gently on your pussy. You grip the sheet expectantly, as he presses your clit and you moan against the sheets again. When his fingers penetrate you, you start to move your hips, following the friction of his long fingers.

Max knows your body like no one else, the bastard, and you feel embarrassingly close to orgasm in just a few minutes of stimulation. You hear the indecent noise of how wet your pussy makes his fingers every time he moves them in and out, massaging your G-spot with infuriating precision. When your pussy clenches against his fingers, you try to do something, anything, to delay the orgasm.

Without stopping his movements, Max bends over you, kissing the back of your neck, then he approaches your ear and whispers:

“I’ve got you, pretty baby”

You want to curse him for the power of this pet name in your ear but your mind simply explodes into a thousand fireworks when you finally come, still leaning over feeling Max's lips on the back of your neck. He keeps his fingers in you for a few seconds as you try to recover from the orgasm.

When Max moves away and you feel his weight leave the bed, you roll over so your back is to the mattress so you can see him. He gets rid of his clothes very quickly, and your mouth is practically watering seeing him completely naked.

“Are you sure?” Max asks, fisting his member before going back to bed.

“So sure, baby” you say, with one finger raised, you make a “come here” gesture. He starts to climb onto the bed, “And as I’m feeling merciful today, I will ride you just the way you love” As soon as Max is hovering over you, you push him until he falls back onto the bed, rolling over him and getting on top.

Moving your hair out of the way, you crawl down until you’re between his legs, holding the base of his perfect cock. You lick him from bottom to top, from his balls to his cockhead and his hips jerk with the contact.

“Love, please” He interrupts you, grabbing your face and pulling you on top of him. “If you blow me, I'll cross the finish line too soon.”

“Now, this is the first time this is a problem for you,” you tease him, letting a bead of saliva drop onto his cock which makes his little giggle turn into a groan.

“Baby, please, I need to be buried into you”

With a laugh, you do as he asks, and sit on his lap, pressing his length between the two of us and sliding your pussy over him, your wetness indecent.

“You're trying to kill me, woman,” He says in a tense voice. You watch the head of his cock disappear between your lower lips as you grind against him and more groans leave his throat.

You lift your hips enough to hold his cock and position it at your entrance. From top to bottom, you slide his length inside you slowly, and it takes some time for you to be able to fit him inside you completely. His girth is something above average, and the eight months since your breakup that you've been in a drought require you a minute to readapt to his size.

You let out a moan when you finally bring your hips together and feel overwhelmed by his size. You place both hands on Max's chest for balance and dig your nails into his pale skin. You lift your hips just a few inches and sit back down, the friction making you both moan so loudly that for a moment you worry you might be heard. Then you remember that the party is in full swing downstairs, and the music is loud enough that you don't need to worry.

Max's two hands hold your ass and you start to move with more rhythm, going very high before coming back down with everything, pushing his cock inside you. His lips are parted and you bend down to kiss his chin and neck.

“You are mine,” Something possessive inside you makes you say that. Max looks at you completely surrendered. “Do you understand?” He nods. You leave a hickey on his shoulder that makes him contract deliciously inside you and mark him as yours. You increase the speed of the rise and fall of your hips, your moans matching his.

Max gives up his control fully and just lets you ride him the way you want, his moans getting louder and louder by the second. He stretches you so well that your toes curl, and Max presses his hand on your lower belly, the pressure makes you feel something completely different as your eyes roll back in pleasure.

Your knees weaken and Max takes the opportunity to reverse your positions again, placing you on your back on the bed as if he were impatient. Without disconnecting your bodies, he reaches for a pillow and places it under your hips to lift you a bit in the new position. He put your thighs over his where he is kneeling between your legs. Max pushes into you slowly, going deeper and deeper with each thrust. Your head drops back when he goes all the way in, his hips meeting yours until there is no space in between.

“Max! Oh fuck- oh-” you practically scream, pinching your own nipples to find some relief, “Oh my God!

In the new position he presses deep into your G-spot and you know you won't last much longer. His hands hold your hips even tighter and he lifts practically half of your body off the bed to thrust into you hard enough to make your head bounce on the bed.

There's nothing you can do but surrender to the pleasure that's building inside you with the way Max manipulates your body, holding onto his forearms for dear life, probably leaving some nail marks behind.

Max puts you back on the pillow, one hand he flattens on your stomach to keep you in place, and the other he presses his thumb to your clit. From then on, it's a lost cause. It's a matter of minutes before the orgasm that has been building for the second time erupts.

Your brain blackouts for a second as he pushes you off the cliff, and your hip shakes so hard that you thank God you're underneath, otherwise you would have fallen. Your pussy spasms also make Max cum soon after. Panting, he pulls out and falls on top of you, his head against your chest.

You lay like that trying to catch your breath for long minutes without saying anything, one of Max's hands running up and down your side and your fingers playing with his hair.

You still haven't said anything when you get up and go to the bathroom to clean up. When you’re putting on your panties, you remember Max destroyed your miniskirt. You gather the fabric from the floor and fold it.

“I'm sorry about the skirt,” Max finally breaks the silence, giving you the button-down shirt he was wearing earlier. As soon as you put your arms through the sleeve, Max fastens the buttons for you. you end up wearing the bustier over the shirt, like these it girls do and the final look isn't so bad. Max puts on another outfit and looks for a new shirt in a backpack that you know belongs to one of your friends.

When you’re both dressed, you leave the room still unsure of what to say. Max holds your hand, stopping you from walking any further.

“How are we now? Will you give you another chance?” he asks, sounding anxious. You realize you haven't given him a complete answer yet, which is why he seems uncertain like this. You rise on tiptoe, and bring your lips closer, holding his neck.

“I said you're mine, didn't I?” you whisper against his lips. You leave a quick peck on his lips and pull away.

But this time he doesn't let go of your hand, he just keeps holding on, tightly as you walk down the stairs back to the party, just in time for the countdown to New Year's Eve.

When you arrive at your friends' table, they start shouting and applauding when they see that you are holding hands.

“You guys are back together?” Alex asks, hugging Charles, over the voices of people counting down from 20.

“Max is on probation, if he behaves, we'll get back together,” you say with a playful tone and everyone laughs.

Max wraps his arms around your waist and you two join the countdown.

5, 4, 3, 2… 1!

“Happy New Year, Max!” you shout, over the voices of everyone celebrating the new year. He holds your face with both hands and looks at you as if you were his entire world, his blue eyes shining with deep feeling.

“I love you,” He whispers in your ear, before pulling you to sit on his lap and placing a kiss on your lips. He clings to you like he is afraid if he let you go, you will leave again.

"I love you too, pretty baby," you whispered back, laughing as his face went red.

[nhlclover]

𝐈 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐊 𝐇𝐄 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖𝐒 | 𝐀𝐃𝐀𝐌 𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈

summary: after pining for one another for a while, you finally make a move

warnings: not proofread, the section written in italics is a flashback, mentions of drinking, little bit of steamy activity and allusions to sex, kissing

word count: 1.31k

You were starting to go cross-eyed from staring at him so much.

Every chance you got, whenever Adam was preoccupied in a conversation with Dylan who was standing next to him, you’d catch a glance at him.

You were out at a bar in Nashville, celebrating Adam being drafted by Columbus. Adam had invited tons of people to be in his group of support for the draft, including you.

You and Adam met in class, being partnered together for a mini assignment. Over the course of the project and the rest of the school year, the two of you became close friends. Somewhere along the way, you’d developed feelings for him. However, you couldn’t work up the courage to tell him how you felt. So you stayed friends. Close friends.

His right hand was gripping his glass of whiskey, beads of condensation rolling down to his knuckles. You eyed him as he brought the glass to his lips and took a sip. Your brain was wracked with images of his hands running up and down your sides, getting to know your body like it’s his own.

“Can you quit staring at my brother like that? It’s creeping me out.”

You turn to face Luca whose face is scrunched up in disgust.

“What?” You say.

“You’re looking at him like you’re being starved and he’s a fucking filet mignon.” Luca scoffs, sipping from his beer.

Your cheeks heat up, trying to defend yourself against Luca. “I’m not…we’re not…I don’t like him like that.”

You immediately regret even saying anything as your words come out rushed and unsure.

“Oh please everyone here knows you two are drooling over one another and frankly it’s disgusting.” He says.

You sigh. “Is it that obvious?” You ask.

“Are you kidding me?” Luca asks, a grin tugging on his lips. “The tailgate party for the final football game of the season? Do you remember that?”

Adam knew what he was doing. He had to. He was wearing the UMich t-shirt you had cut into a tank after you told him he needed more variety in his wardrobe. You had also added that tanks were hot on guys. He had to be wearing it for you, right?

But then again there was the chance that this was all in your head. The flirting that Adam had been doing since you’d finished your joint assignment could all be in your head and was just him being nice.

Suddenly Adam was on his way over to you and your friends, who made an excuse to leave so the two of you could talk alone.

“Your DIY is a hit.” He says.

“I am an artist if I do say so myself.” You chuckle, fiddling with the choppy left sleeve of Adam’s shirt.

Your fingers brush his skin, a slight rush running up your fingertips. You look at Adam’s face, a soft smile on his lips as he looks down at you.

“What?” You ask.

“You look good.” He says.

“Thank you.” You smile.

There’s a beat of silence while the two of you hold eye contact.

“What, you’re not going to tell me I look good?” He asks.

You scoff at his cocky comment. “I don’t need to tell you something you already know.”

“Oh, you think I look good?” Adam smirks.

“That is not what I said.” You say.

“Mhm, but that’s what you were thinking.” He laughs.

Your cheeks flush pink, Adam smiling at the reaction he got out of you. He rests a hand on the wall, leaning over you.

“I’m serious, you look amazing.” He says.

Your cheeks flush even pinker, if possible, Adam slowly leaning his head down.

“Get a room!”

You and Adam turn your heads to where some of his teammates are. All of them are staring at you, smirking and laughing at the two of you. Adam flips them off, turning back to you. “I’m sorry about them.” He sighs.

“I-it’s okay. I’m going to go find my friends.” You say, weaving through the crowd to find your friends.

Adam walks over to his friends, a fake smile on his lips. “I hope you guys are all impotent.” He says.

“You’re blushing just thinking about him.” Luca groans.

You glance over to Adam who you find looking right back at you.

“Listen,” Luca says, drawing your eyes off his brother. “Go to him. Get out of here, and take him with you.”

“Are you whoring out your brother?” You ask jokingly.

Luca rolls his eyes, pushing you towards Adam. You walk over to Adam, stopping next to Dylan. When Dylan sees you, he makes an excuse, leaving the two of you alone.

“I just wanted to say congrats, again.” You say.

“Thank you.” Adam smiles.

“I’m going to head out now, though.” You say. “Go back to the hotel…”

You trail off, hoping he would pick up what you were putting down. Looking down at you, you feel your heartbeat skip under his gaze. “Okay.” Adam says.

That’s it? You furrow your eyebrows slightly, expecting Adam to have picked up on what you were insinuating. You are slightly confused until a smirk begins to tug on his lips. You should’ve expected this, as his attitude was a common thing you got to see. Something you’d always wanted to force away.

He stayed silent, not offering you much more than his eyes dragging up and down your body. Was he going to make you spell it out? If Adam was going to make you jump through hoops, you were at least going to do it under your terms.

“Yeah, go back… Get out of this tight dress, maybe take a hot bath… Try on my new set from Victoria Secret…” You trail off.

Adam gulps, and you can practically see him imagining you in a matching lingerie set. You had him obsessed with you and you completely understood why.

“Fuck.” He mumbled, shifting his feet to try and adjust himself.

You giggled, liking the effect you had on him. You rest your hands on his chest, flattening his dress shirt. You can practically feel his racing heart in his chest.

“Of course, there’s always room for a plus one.” You say softly.

That’s enough to push Adam over the edge, grabbing his glass from the table and downing the remainder of his drink. He takes your hand, pulling you out of the restaurant. You briefly stop by Luca, Adam asking him to tell their guests that he wasn’t feeling well so they were going back to the hotel. Luca agrees to cover, sneakily holding his hand out to high-five you as you pass him.

You and Adam step out into the warm Nashville air, walking down the sidewalk toward the car that Adam had rented. He hands you the keys, seeing as he had drunk and you hadn’t. You slide in the driver's seat, Adam’s hand finding your thigh immediately.

You start up the car, turning onto the street. You hit a light, looking over at Adam, whose eyes hadn’t left your face since you got in the car. The streetlights lit up his face, his normally light blue eyes looking like a darker indigo colour in the nighttime.

You continue down the streets of Nashville, eventually pulling into the parking lot of your hotel. You two were fast into the lobby and into the elevator. As soon as the doors shut, Adam’s hands were on your hips, pressing you against the metal wall. His lips connect to yours, your hands going into his hair. He deepens the kiss, causing you to instinctively tug on his roots, eliciting a groan.

When the doors open, you split apart, darting down the hall to your room. Fumbling with the keycard, you eventually unlock the door, you and Adam slipping inside, your tongues a tangled mess.

[love-hs28]

Catch me if I fall

Summary: You learn the hard way that alcohol and an empty stomach don’t work well together, and adding partying to that mix was probably not a good idea. Don’t worry though, JJ is there to catch you when you fall. CW: Reader passes out & alcohol is present gn!reader A little routledge!reader but it doesn't effect the story Comfort 1.2k words Posted on: 5-25-24

Enjoy!! As always, pls leave requests for me :)

You and the group were at a party one night at the boneyard, as usual. There’s people all around; kooks, 'tourons' as JJ likes to call them, and of course, pogues. The music is loud and people are dancing, especially Kie, Sarah, and you. JJ and John B are standing by the fire talking with some friends and Pope is flirting with a girl nearby, or at least, trying to. JJ occasionally glances over at you girls and smiles at you and your horrible dancing. There’s not a person in sight who doesn’t have a red cup or beer bottle in their hands, and everyone is having the time of their lives. 

After a while, you guys get tired of jumping around and decide to go sit by the water where there’s less people to try and cool off. You sit in the sand next to Kie while Sarah runs up to one of her old friends. You silently watch the water and the moon and just relax. Again, after sitting for a while, the two of you get up and head back to the boys. You can feel the alcohol hitting now, even though you didn’t have a lot, and can feel the effects of it being in your stomach without any food. You hadn’t eaten hardly anything all day, and you were now beginning to regret that accidental decision. 

You, Kie, and Sarah go and sit on a log next to Pope and the two girls tease him about his flirting skills, or lack thereof, and you stare off into the fire and feel yourself getting dizzy. You can’t tell exactly what you feel like, but it’s not good. You need to leave. You need JJ. 

You get up to walk towards him; he’s still talking to people with JB. You grab his sleeve and he turns to you and smiles. 

“Hey babe,” Once he sees the look on your face though, his eye brows crease and he holds onto your arms. “Hey, what’s up?” 

“I don't - I don’t feel very good,” You mumble, starting to feel like if you don’t grasp onto his arm you’ll fall over.  

JJ’s face gets more worried and he leans down to your level to talk more privately. “Are you okay? Have you eaten anything today?”

You shake your head and hold onto his arm tighter, starting to feel more dizzy. “Just th- just the granola bar you gave me. But I really don’t feel good, I just, I think I wanna - I need to go home.”

JJ quickly nods and hands John B his drink, who now has his own concerned look on his face and asks what’s wrong. JJ shakes his head and puts an arm around your waist as you continue to hold onto him. 

“She just needs some air. I’m gonna take her home.” John B nods and tosses JJ the keys; he trusts him to take care of you. 

JJ starts to lead you both towards the twinkie but you stop walking after a few steps. 

“What? What’s wrong? You okay?” 

You turn into him and tighten your grip on his shirt, shaking your head. You suddenly feel a rush of cold go through your body, and the next thing you know, you’re passing out and falling into him. 

“Shit, fuck. John B! Get over here!” JJ holds you and lowers you to the ground. 

Thankfully, you’d gotten far enough away as to not draw attention for a crowd, but not too far where John B couldn’t hear you. He immediately turns his head and rushes over when he sees JJ kneeling on the sand next to your limp body. Kie, Sarah, and Pope notice John B running and once they see what’s happened, they’re quick to follow. 

John B kneels beside you and brushes your hair out of your face to get a better look.

“What’s going on?” Kiara hurriedly asks as she kneels down next to you to get a closer look. Sarah sets her hands on John B’s shoulder’s and Pope kneels next to JJ. 

“I don’t know! She just - we were walking and she just passed out! I was gonna take her home, she said she wasn’t feeling good, I didn’t - I didn’t know what else to do, I didn’t know this was gonna happen.” JJ breathes heavily and the worried look on his face only grows heavier. John B puts a hand on the side of your face and shakes his head. 

“It’s okay, she’s okay. This happens sometimes, when she forgets to eat or drink or just gets overworked. She should wake up in a few minutes. Sar, could you grab her a water, though? She should have it when she wakes up.” Sarah quickly nods her head and runs over to a cooler by a group of people, returning a few seconds later with a cold water bottle. This is when you start to wake up. 

After falling, the next thing you know and remember is slowly opening your eyes, seeing everyone looking down at you. 

“Oh thank god,” You hear JJ sigh, and he brushes the hair out of your face. 

You groan and John B helps you slowly sit up and lean against JJ’s chest. “What happened?” you murmur. 

JB shakes his head and rubs your arm. “You passed out, but you’re okay, JJ got you before you could fall and hurt yourself.” You haphazardly grab JJ’s hand and weakly squeeze it, silently thanking him. 

“Are you okay?” Pope asks, and Sarah hands you the water. You nod. 

“I think so.” Your hands are shaky as you try to open the water, so JJ gently grabs it from you and helps you slowly take a drink. 

“You scared the shit out of me, Y/n.” 

You softly smile and rub your thumb against his hand. “I’m okay, Jay. Thanks for helping me.” 

He nods and shakes his head while rubbing a hand across his face, clearly stressed out. You start to try and stand up and Kie grabs your hand to help. JJ puts an arm around your waist, holding and supporting you tight. 

“I’m okay, Jay,” you smile up at him and kiss his cheek. He blushes a bit and softly laughs. 

“I know. Just wanna be safe.”

John B looks you over for a second. “You’ll be okay if JJ takes you home?”

You nod and brush some sand off your legs. “Yeah, of course.”

Everyone nods and after checking one more time, they head back to the party. JJ helps you get to the van and aids you in getting into the passenger side to finally take you home. He’s extra gentle with you the whole night, and doesn’t rest until he’s positive that you’re comfortable and sound asleep next to him. 

a/n: Hope you enjoyed!! I've been on a obx kick recently with summer coming up, so expect more JJ content to come and PLS send your requests!! Love ya <3

xoxo

[kingkatsuki]

My friend showed me this video from L&DS and now I’m quite insane, delirious, unwell imagining it with old man Bakugou😫

Thinking about retired Pro-Hero Dynamight, who just wants a quiet drink in his local old man pub. Sitting at the bar as he nurses his whiskey, neat.

Any and all chances of peace swiftly snatched from his clutches when a rowdy hen party enters, unable to get into one of the main bars and clubs along the high street. Groaning into his glass when the bride orders a round of shots, definitely readying himself to leave early.

Until you catch his eye— a bright pink “maid of honour” sash wrapped around your frame as you wear a hideous pink tiara on your head, a flushed glow to your cheeks from the liquor already flowing through your veins from long before you found this quaint pub. Giving him a small smile when you notice him staring, and following your friend group to your table.

Bakugou surprises himself when he orders himself another drink, staying in this loud chaos when he’d probably be better off drinking at home. Continuing to observe you from afar. You’re definitely too young for him, too cute and pretty, and definitely not interested in an old man like him— but it doesn’t mean he can’t enjoy the view.

Until you pass him on your way back from the bathroom, sliding into the barstool beside him as you twist your body to face him. The same smile on your face as he leans back slightly to meet your gaze, “You lost, sweetheart?”

“Hi to you too,” You laugh, light and airy. It has Bakugou’s heart racing as it seems to flow directly into his bloodstream, “Drinking alone on a Saturday night isn’t fun.”

Bakugou motions to the barman to bring him another whiskey, turning to face you to ask what you want to drink. And it’s cute the way you seem genuinely thankful that he’s buying you a drink, not like most that’ll hit up every man in the bar.

“You can come and join us if you want,” You grin, picking up the drink to cheers against his whiskey glass (a glass that he doesn’t bother to cheers back— just leaves it sat on top of the bar) “No fun drinking alone.”

“Not sure I’ll fit in,” It’s the first smile you manage to get from him the entire night, “And I ain’t a stripper.”

“Well, you could be,” You laugh, “You’re hot.”

And Bakugou feels his cock buck at your admission, a rush of blood surging directly between his thighs as he adjusts himself on top of the stool.

“C‘mon,” You push, “You can’t sit alone all night, that’s so boring.”

“Ya don’t need to worry about me, sweetheart.” He shakes his head, sipping at his drink as he tries to stop the saccharine scent of your perfume invading his senses and causing him to loose all sense of control.

“Okay, how about a game of pool?” You try, “I can’t remember the last time I went to a bar that had one!”

“Play with your friends.” You’re not sure whether it’s a question or a statement as you lean in closer to him, your breasts skimming the side of his arm as you pout your glossy lips.

“They don’t wanna play with me,” And Bakugou has to hide the groan that threatens to spill from his throat at the implication, “And you look like you know how to play.”

“Yeah,” He scoffs, standing up from the stool as you realise just how tall he is, “Do you?”

“I dunno,” You hum, “Maybe you need to remind me.”

There’s a certain way he picks the cue up, his scarred palms wrapping around the length of it as his forearms flex when he chalks the tip that has you rubbing your thighs together. Taking a sip of your drink to hide how you’re blatantly ogling him now, holding it out for you to take when he’s done as he grabs another for himself.

“Let’s see what you’ve got, sweetheart.”

And of course your first shot would be awful— it’s been too long since you last played, you’re far too intoxicated to focus— and you’re not even sure it’s the alcohol.

His large form steps behind you as you feel the slightest hint of pudge in his round chest as his arms encircle you to hold the cue. Pressing your back against his chest as he moves your form on the table, keeping your arms apart and your legs spread until you feel it— unable to conceal the blatant moan that spills from your lips when you feel his semi press against the swell of your ass. And suddenly you don’t give a fuck about pool.

His stubble tickles the side of your face as he whispers “good girl” into your ear, his lips graze the shell of it before he pulls back as though nothing happened. The scent of his sweat mixed with whatever aftershave he’s wearing lingers around you as you use the length of the cue to keep yourself upright, shaking on wobbly heels as you lick your glossed lips.

And you’re certain you won’t survive as you watch him walk around the table to follow the white ball, leaning over the table as he takes aim and pots a red into the corner.

“So what do I get when I win?”

[grey342]

Bathroom

Phil Wenneck x reader

synopsis - Reader has been avoiding Phil so he pulls her aside at a party to talk..

warnings - MDNI 18+ content, semi-public sex, Phil being kinda dominant, fingering, use of names (slut), edging (kinda) and unprotected sex.

authors note - *insert 'Bathroom' by Montell Fish* This was the winner from the poll, I really hope you guys like it. Thank you for being so patient, you have no idea how much it means to me! I'm going to attempt to get one fic out per week but no promises. So sorry for the wait but I hope you love it <3

please do not steal my work - belongs to @grey342

He's been eyeing you up all night.

You’re celebrating Stu's promotion. He’s been waiting five months for this and you’re so happy that he finally got it.

You and the guys decided to do a surprise party for him with his friends, co-workers and family. You’ve been trying to distract yourself all night and keep your distance from him but, the tension hanging in the air doesn’t go unnoticed.

A couple of months ago you and Phil made a mistake. An amazing one but still, a mistake.

The group went out for their weekly hangout this time, in a bar. You had just broke up with your fifth boyfriend of the year and to say you were feeling depressed was an understatement. Phil was recently divorced and couldn’t be fucking happier. And what better way to celebrate than getting shitfaced with his best friends.

You were wearing a short green dress that showed off your cleavage and it was taking everything in Phil to not tear it off you right there and then. He was wearing his classic black button-up shirt, not done up all the way, and a pair of slacks with a bulging print in them. You had to keep your legs tightly pressed together whenever you looked at him. At one point you swore you drooled a little.

Neither of you would ever admit the sexual tension that hid in the cracks of your friendship. But it was there and it had been since high school. Moving on, a few too many drinks were had and the next morning you woke up not in your bed and not alone. Flashbacks of the night before ran rampant through your mind, you didn't want to face it so you got up and left.

You didn't speak for a couple weeks after that incident. Eventually, it came up when you had a moment alone at Doug and Tracy's:

You wait until you're one hundred percent sure everyone else is out of earshot.

"We need to talk." You say direct.

"Yeah, we do," he inhales, "i'm gonna be straight with ya' that was the best sex i've ever had." You open your mouth and close it, like a goldfish. Out of the list of things you had expected him to say, that didn't even make top 50.

"I-uh, come again?"

"No I haven't since then unfortunately." He smirks.

"Phil," You sigh disappointedly.

"C'mon, you're telling me that wasn't the best sex of your life? Hm?" He stares into your eyes. You would never admit it to him, but it really was the best night of your life. You remember the way he used his hands and mouth. How he made you scream with only two fingers. You were awakened from your daydreaming by his chuckling.

"That's what I thought."

"Phil I have no idea-"

"Yeah sure you don't now listen, I had a good time, you had a good time. Both of us just got out of a relationship so we're not looking for anything too serious. So I propose a friends with benefits agreement."

"What?" You say, almost too loudly.

"Lower your voice, I mean I don't see the big deal. All it would be is meaningless sex, anytime we want. NO strings attached. And we could break it off at any point. What do you say?" He puts out his hand.

"Really? We're gonna shake on it?," his expression doesn't falter, "fine. But we have to agree to not catch feelings and if we do we must break off the agreement immediatley."

"Sweetheart, don't take this the wrong way but that's not gonna happen." He nodded towards his hand and you shook it, not realising what the hell you just got yourself into.

Back to the present moment, you were talking with some of Stu's work colleagues when you felt a presence behind you:

"Sorry guys do you mind if I steal her for one second?" A voice you would recognise in a crowd of screaming people says. All the men nodded as you felt a strong hand grip your arm and drag you away.

He pulled you into the bathroom, shoved you against the door and locked it. You try to avoid his gaze but he grabs your chin forcing you to look at him.

"Why are you avoiding me?" He grunts.

"Avoiding you? I'm not avoiding you."

"Don't lie to me." He hardens his grip, squishing your cheeks together. You thighs clamp together.

"I'm not lying to-" Your cut of by your own moan as his hands reach under your dress and rub over your clit through your panties.

"What was that? Hm?" He prompts but your mind is too fogged with the pleasure he's currently giving you.

He moves his other hand from your face down to your breasts and begins fondling them, playing with your nipples through the fabric. Your head is spinning.

"What, you like that?," he scoffs, "of course you do." Your eyes are screwed shut but you know he has a cocky grin on his face.

He stops his actions completley and before you can protest, he pulls down your panties and shoves his two fingers inside you, curling them also. You let out a loud moan, aware that anyone passing by would've heard it.

He must've seen the slight panic on your face because he says: "Don't be shy baby, let them hear how much of a slut you are for me." You moan in response.

You hear his belt being undone as well as his fly, you look down seeing his bulging dick through his pants. You move your hand, pull him out and begin to slowly pump your hand up and down. He moans loudly as you start to kiss his neck. He moves his fingers faster, bringing you to the brink of an orgasm. Your pace quickens as you look up at him he places his mouth on yours, sharing breaths.

"Shit, i'm close." You squeak out. Hearing this he stops his movements. You open your mouth to curse at him when he silences you by thrusting into you, you wrap your legs around his hips and claim his mouth.

The pair of you fight for dominance in a clash of teeth and tongues. He ultimately wins, thrusting up into you at a pace that has you moving up and down the wall. You break away to catch your breath, he bites your bottom lip and pull on it lightly. You let out a whimper and claw at his back.

"You like that? You dirty little slut, this is what you get for avoiding me.." He speaks deeply. You can feel yourself getting close.

"Phil.." You warn, tears forming in your eyes.

"Scream my name baby, let everybody know who's fucking you this good." His hand moves down to rub harsh circles on your clit.

"Oh shit.."

"That's it let it all out, cum for me baby.." He groans, he leans down, kissing and sucking your neck. You moan in unison, he finds your sweet spot and bites down.

"Fuck!" You scream out the pleasure exploding over you, your legs begin to shake.

"Oh shit, oh shit!" Phil whimpers, shooting his load inside of you. Once you calm down and your legs stop shaking, he places you on the ground. You look at yourself in the mirror and fix your appearance as an attempt to look presentable. After he pulls his pants up, he grabs your panties and puts them on for you. Raising to your level he says:

"Now your gonna go back to that party with my cum still inside you," he kisses you, "meet me outside at 9. We're not done yet." He gives you one last kiss, a slap on the ass and opens the door for you.

You walk out the door with a huge grin on your face and Phil's cum trickling down down your legs.

[ayedafuq]

Hamzah imagine I’m sorry god

POV: You got invited up to Toronto by your friend (Y/F) who hangs in the same circle as the Slushy Noobz crew, u n Hamzah meet at a party, get a little too tipsy, and you flirt just a taaaad .

——

(Y/F) : bitch come out the room and DRINK

Currently hiding away in her room (where I’ve been a freeloader for the past 2 days), I see Y/F’s text to come and join the pregame she’s having in her living room. She moved from our hometown to Toronto, a place I haven’t been before this, and I’m visiting her for the week. I came up on Wednesday and after our playful time catching up together for the past two days, she decided it’d be a good idea to go out with some of the friends she made. She currently has about 8 people in her living room playing drinking games, and I’m sitting on the floor staring into her full body mirror, ready to go to the bar, nervous as FUCK about meeting her friends.

After ignoring her text for approximately 30 seconds, she comes into the room. “OOOO GURRRRL YOU LOOKIN GOOOOOD” she says. I know she knows I’m nervous.

“Wait close the door” I say to her, and she does. “Dude, what if they don’t like me.” My anxiety is clearly getting the best of me.

“Fuck do you mean what if they don’t like you? You’re quite literally my twin. If they don’t like you then I’ll KNOW they secretly don’t like me. And they love me, so chill the fuck out. Get up” she picks me up out off the ground and pulls me out into her living room.

“Guess who’s heeeerrrree” she says to the group, and they all start to cheer. “There she is!” One of the girls says. A guy chimes in, “The visitor has arrived!”

Y/f drags me around the party to share names, my nerves subsiding. Everyone here is really nice. Why was I even worried?

“Hey, I’m Mandy. I work at the animal shelter with y/f. I’ve heard so much about you!” The girl says. I reply telling her I’ve heard about her too. “Y/f says the only reason she goes there is to pet animals and hang out with you” I tell her. “Yea sounds about right, I do the same thing.”

Me, Mandy and Y/f chat for a couple minutes sharing some laughs and stories, until the guy who chanted earlier and his friend come up. “Y/n, this is my boyfriend Martin. And this is Hamzah, avoid him.”

I give my hellos and introduce myself to Martin. We banter for a quick second before I turn to Hamzah. “Hellooo, I’m Y/n.” I give him a quick smile he returns. “Hey Y/n, how do you like Toronto so far?”

Before I can even answer, Y/f interrupts. “I’m gonna need you guys to shut up and grab a drink. We’re leaving for the bar in 30, and me and Y/n still need to demolish half the party in flip cup. Grab two seltzers from the fridge” she tells me. “You better lock in, I told everyone you never miss a flip.”

—

Two hours later and we’re at the bar, and it’s safe to say I’m feeling preeeetty nice. Her friends are so sweet, and I can’t help but feel so happy that she found these people.

Mandy, y/f, Hamzah and I are standing by a high top table, and I take the liberty in sharing some stories of me and y/f from parties in high school.

“When I tell you I turned my head for 3 seconds and y/f was gone, I mean it. I’m running through the party like a chicken without a fucking head, looking like a maniac asking everyone where she is. Mind you, I’m like 17 and hammered, so I was probably acting like the hulk.”

“Jesus Christ y/n don’t..” she says.

“After 10 minutes where do I find this bitch? Asleep in this random bitch’s closet with her head, quite literally, in a bucket.”

Hamzah and Mandy are cracking up. “You didn’t even know who threw the party?” Hamzah asks between laughs.

“Not a fucking clue. Y/f felt right at home though” I say, giggling myself.

“Girl I hate you, but yea I did. That bucket was my crib. Need to go to the bathroom?” Y/f asks me.

I tell her I’m alright for now, and Mandy tells her she needs to go so they scurry off together.

“Wow, so you guys have been friends for a while huh?” Hamzah says, still smiling from the story.

“Yea, we’ve been through a lot together. She’ll never get rid of me I fear” I say back.

“Damn, that’s awesome. Y/f is super cool, I’m happy she moved up here. When’s it your turn?” He says, his smile becoming more of a smirk. It hasn’t gone over my head that this kid is fucking adorable, but hes been acting pretty shy all night. The sly comment took me by surprise.

“Man I wish I could. It’s been on my mind a lot since she moved here” I reply.

“What’s stopping you?” He asks.

“I guess I’m just scared. It’s a big move, and she’s got the balls to do it. I’m not sure I do.”

“I felt the same way too, I pretty much hauled ass across the country of Canada at 18. I lived out of my car for a bit actually, it was a nightmare. I’d do it all again though, it was the best decision I’ve made. If I could do it, a pretty girl like you could too.”

Pretty girl?

“Pretty girl?” I say back, a little smug. The drinks are getting to me I fear.

“I’m sorry, was that weird?” He gets a little shy again. I giggle to let him know it wasn’t.

“Not at all. Thank you, pretty boy” I playfully shove his arm. I cringe in my head. I gotta be fucking kidding.

“Pretty boyyy I see I see” he says with a smile. “You think I’m a pretty boy?”

“Only a little bit. Like, this much” I pinch my fingers together the closest I can without having them touch.

“Well, thiiiis pretty boy” he mimics my fingers, “thinks you should move to Toronto thiiiis much” he separates them a little more. “Because he’d like to see you more thiiiiis badly” he separates them as far as he can. Damn, he has nice hands.

“Wow that’s pretty badly” I respond. Thank god I have makeup on because this cheesy shit might be making me blush.

“Yea, it’s alarming. Think about it, pretty girl” he tilts his head towards me playfully as he says pretty girl, getting a little close and then backing his head away swiftly. His smirk is fully activated and the eye contact we’re making is pretty hot. I smile back at him with my tongue touching my canine (do yk what I’m talking about like that lil sexy smile), tilting my head slightly to the side as if to say oh, ur flirting with me, noted. and just as I’m about to respond, y/f and Mandy return from the bathroom.

“Stop harassing her Hamzah she’s never gonna want to come back” Mandy says. “Come on, we’re gonna go back to y/f’s and play drinking games. This bar is boring.”

Hamzah follows after Mandy, glancing back at me quickly with a cheeky smile before turning his head. Y/f gets in my ear.

“Hamzah likes you. Mandy can tell. She told me in the bathroom.”

—-

Okay guys hi this is like so bullshit but I was feeling playful idk I hope you enjoyed if you made it this far

-ayev

[privategurlsblog]

They’re ‘Casual’ - A.T

Not intended for minors. 18+

Warnings: piv (unprotected), oral (f receiving), very smutty, he’s dominant, jealousy, possessiveness, public

PLOT: You and Alex have a complicated dynamic. When he sees you talking to another man, he sets you straight in the best way possible.

🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩

You hovered near the bar, craning your neck to catch sight of Alex. He wasn't your boyfriend, you didn't really have a right to watch his every move but you always ended up doing so nonetheless.

It had been 2015 when you'd met him, at a shoot for a music video where you were topless and you'd slept together that very same night. He didn't keep you around per se, but you made sure to be around whenever you could. And there had started the complicated situation that you two were in, some kind of friends with benefits but it was incredibly obvious you wanted more. And this had been going on for a year now.

Sometimes he texted you to come to events he was at, just so he could see you, ruin you and then leave you again. Tonight though, it had been his best friend Miles who had extended the invite, after the two of you had hit it off when you starred in a music video for their band.

So far, Alex hadn't even spared you a fucking glance and to say you were livid was an understatement. Maybe if he pulled his gaze from the tall blonde with the flat chest and puffy lips for one minute, he'd see you hovering nearby him with your snarled lips.

Your friend sighed as she saw you, eyes driven to him as always and she moved in front to block your vision, a sympathetic look clouding her eyes as her hand laid upon your hot arm.

"Y/N, he's an arse, we know this. Why are you putting yourself through it?" She said to you, there was sternness laced in her tone and you felt guilt bloom in your chest as you imagined how sick she was of seeing you lovestruck over someone who clearly couldn't care less in return.

But you weren't delusional. Alex didn't just fuck you. He'd wined and dined you, bought you gifts, messaged you on your birthday, cuddled you in bed in the mornings with pastries and coffee staining your lips. He invited you to practises, birthday parties, events. You were so sure what all of that meant and yet he still never wanted it to advance, and your friend was right. You were being ridiculous watching his every move, he wasn't yours.

"You're right. I need a distraction," you hummed and she grinned, nodding her head towards a guy who was with a group of people and yet his gaze was searing into you. You smiled shyly when you caught him, and the cute, boyish dimples that popped out in return made you flush.

"Go on, talk to him," your friend winked at you and you took your lip between your teeth as you approached upon his beckon, glancing back at her only to let out a little dignified silent scream.

She grinned, shaking her head laughing before she ordered another drink and tried not to watch you. Luckily, a distraction came along in the form of Miles, who sidled up next to her and glanced to where her eyes were aimed - at you.

"Oooo Alex won't like that," Miles sparks the conversation up, to which your friend looks round disgruntled and a little confused by his statement.

"Alex isn't going to care," she spits, eyes averting to the man who is still in deep conversation with the blonde, "he's occupied."

"Still," Miles shrugs, smirking a little as he waves down the bartender. Your friend hasn't been around much to know the dynamic, having only heard it all through you before you'd pleaded she come to the event for this very reason, "he won't like it."

"They're casual, she's not committing a crime," your friend rolls her eyes to which Miles chuckles.

"There's nowt casual about those two, believe me," Miles muses, "they'll be all over each other by the end of the night. Wait and see."

Meanwhile, Alex was getting bored of the conversation with the blonde. Stacey? Sasha? Sarah? Something like that, but he certainly couldn't remember. And upon the bore, he let his eyes wander the bar in hope of you. When they laid on you though, they blazed with fury. There you were, head thrown back, sparkling white teeth glistening under the light and your eyes eventually matched once your head fell. They were fixed on a bloke, Alex couldn't see his face from here but he already knew he wanted to punch it in.

"Excuse me," Alex seethed, practically shoving the blonde out of the way. He was stalking before he knew it, eyes laid on the prize, jaw clenched, eyes wide with annoyance. Who did this fucker think he was? You were his. He was yours too, but you didn't recognise that. You thought the worst and he lets you, knowing that if you think that he could never let you down. But he certainly won't be sharing you with anyone.

"There he goes. Knew it," Miles grins triumphantly as both him and your friend watch Alex stalk towards you, people parting for him like he's Moses and they're the Red Sea. Your friend is in disbelief at his audacity but watches on helplessly as he reaches you.

"There you are darling," Alex's smile is stiff as he reaches you and the boy you've come to know as Scott, quite the cute charmer with decidedly good intentions. You had momentarily pulled your gaze from Alex while talking to him but that didn't mean the fact he'd stalked over here pissed off didn't enthral you. For if you were being honest, it was him you really wanted.

"Alex," you nodded curtly, and his eyes blazed with annoyance which made you bite back a girlish giggle in response, the smirk growing strong on your lips.

"I need to steal her mate," Alex shoved past Scott before he could even process the ordeal, pulling you by your hand and you were off in a flash. You weren't exactly going to protest, it was his attention you craved after all and here he was asking for you. You knew some girls would aim to give him a hard time but that's not your game plan.

Alex's grip is tight as he drags you behind him to the corridor that leads to the toilets, the people passing a mere blur against his chaste pace.

Unknowingly to you both, your friends watched on, Miles bubbling with laughter and your friend seething internally.

"I'm not having this!" She insists, slamming her glass down hard enough for it to shatter, luckily it doesn't, "he can't just ignore her all night and then claim her when she finds someone better!"

"Hey," Miles put a hand on her shoulder and held her back from the rampage she was sure to go on, she looked round in distaste, "Alex cares about Y/N. Trust me. He's all hers."

"Yeah well I find that hard to believe. If he doesn't stop hurting her...."

"Stop worrying," Miles chuckles, "he adores her. You'll see."

Meanwhile, Alex had dragged you into the toilet. It was an accessible one, private to the two of you and you could only pray that no one would need to use it while you were in here.

As you met his gaze, you knew you were in trouble and probably due a good punishment. Your cheeks heated at even the thought. Alex locked the door behind you both and then spun to meet your eyes, his filled with annoyance.

Suddenly he'd grabbed you, spun you around and had your back against the door before you even had time to process it. Your mouth fell open in a gasp, his eyes bored into you as you gazed up at him in surprise.

"What are you playing at?" Alex hissed, trapping you between his body and the wall and his fist landed in a thump against the rustic wooden door behind you.

You stared up at him, a mixed expression of brattiness and excitement that he was acting like this. If you were being completely honest, talking to that lad has aided you more so in your mission to get his attention. But you won't say that, you'll act innocent as ever.

"What? I was just talking to someone Alex," you roll your eyes, playing the part perfectly. You push his body slightly so he stumbles back, standing straighter against the door as you glare into his fuming figure, "'s not like I'm your girlfriend."

Alex tuts, practically steaming at the ears as he slams both of his palms down on the door again. You could flinch, perhaps you would if it were anyone else. With Alex though, you know it's all an act. He might be genuinely annoyed but he'd never hurt you, you know that. If anything, this will feed into his air of dominance and you'll get a really good shag out of it.

"You think you can stand there flirting with some dickhead right in front of me?" Alex scoffs, his dark eyes grow black with annoyance. Your defiance raises his heart rate, the blood souring around his body. You watch as colour pours into his cheeks, turning them ruby red with anger.

"You were flirting with that girl-"

"I was talking to her," he cuts you off, rolling his eyes like you're an idiot for your assumptions. The double standard makes you shake your head, you push past him to look at yourself in the mirror, afraid that if you watch his lips curve to create one more syllable, you'll kiss him.

"Don't walk away from me," he grabbed your arm, spinning you back around and your resolve crumbled. You met his eyes, they pierced through you with an intensity you'd never seen. His jawbone stretched tight over his skin, his teeth barred. The sight was oddly attractive, combined with the roughness of his grip and the overwhelming scent of his spicy aftershave - your knees started to quiver.

He looked satisfied at your response to him, gazing up at him with widened eyes, excitement and fear mingling in them. You knew he'd look after you, so why were you looking elsewhere?

"You're being a fucking brat," he hissed, his voice low and deep, reverberating through your sensitive body as you shook in his hands.

He pushed you back until your arse cheeks crashed against the countertops. Trapped inside his arms, the most you could do was hold your palms to his chest. The tension between the two of you was electric, intimacy lingering in the air but the anger palpable. In your line of vision (though you never dared look away from his eyes), you could see your chest heaving, bumping his equally stressed chest as it does.

"Look at how badly you want me," he chuckled, smoothing a thumb over your jaw, pressing the pad of it under your chin, grinning madly when you swallow and your skin shakes under his touch, "do you want me?"

You nod, but he looks dissatisfied. He grips you tighter, his hips pressing against yours. You can feel the unmistakable poke of his cock against your thigh, before even doing anything. A small spark of satisfaction echoes through you, but you don't dare tease.

"Use your tongue, used it enough for that other bloke and you can't even be arsed to form a sentence for me?" He tuts, his palm moving to the curve of your arse, lifting your dress up until it settles around your waist so he has the freedom to grip the supple flesh in his palms.

"I want you," you confirm, watching that sadistic smirk grow, "more than you give me of you."

"I'm yours," Alex groans, frustrated by your insecurities. He presses his hips into you once again, then he kisses you. Alex's kisses are never sensual. They're hot, heavy, desperate off the bat and that's how they've been since the first time he'd kissed you.

You love the taste of him, his whiskey laced breath, the taste of cigarettes lingering on his tongue but you always, always taste mint too - like he preps himself before kissing you every time.

His palm comes up around your neck, squeezing at the sides until he coaxes a moan from you. He smiles against your lips, his tongue invading your mouth, rendering you senseless as your eyes roll back and you collapse into his arms.

Alex holds you tight, growing harder by the second. His touch grows desperate, his free hand on your arse trailing down between your legs, finding your damp panties, your cunt swollen beneath the thin fabric. His mouth falls open in a groan, teeth clashing with yours as his fingertips dance across the lace.

"You're a fucking dirty girl, aren't you darling?" He growls against your lips. You yelp when you feel his hand collide with your arse, the sharp sting heightening your arousal, flooding the panties that his other fingers are still pressed against. His eyes glint with satisfaction as you gush for him, a teasing chuckle escaping his lips.

"Only for me though," he growls, "you're only supposed to be a slut for me. But here you are, performing to the whole fucking bar."

He slaps your arse again, harder this time. You whimper, barely overcoming the sensation before he dips his head in the curve of your sweat slick neck, his tongue licking a stripe up the flesh until it reaches the spot that makes you shiver. His assault doesn't come subtly, he's sucking and biting the flesh, making you mewl against his shoulder, your feet barely holding you up. Your hands fly to his shoulders, gripping them tight as you attempt to compose yourself. But when he bites down on your flesh, his fingers swiftly moving your panties to the side and rubbing through your wet cunt, you stumble.

"Look at you," he says against your neck, his voice seeping through your skin, making you tremble, "legs spreading so fucking easily."

His fingers teased your clit, pinching the swollen nub before suddenly they've moved down to your hole, plunging deep without any preparation. You're so wet that it doesn't even hurt, your tight walls drink him in, his fingers getting lost in the slick heat.

"Fuck, Alex...." You whine, a desperate plea for more, more, more. You're pathetic, but you can't help it. No one does it for you like he does.

"That's right darling, you say my name," he curves his fingers upwards, hitting your sweet spot and your eyes roll back as a long moan falls from your lips, "it's the only four letters I want falling from that dirty tongue."

His fingers move quickly inside of you, giving you no time to process the pleasure. Your stomach coils with your impending release, far too quick for you to even realise it's coming. His thumb moves up to your clit, matching the fast pace of his fingers inside. Even you're taken by surprise when your resolve snaps and your cunt tightens, cumming all over his fingers as you groan, mumbling his name over and over again.

Alex chuckles as you tremble from your high, steadying yourself by plastering your palms on the sink behind you. He leans back to let his eyes travel the length of your body, his desire becoming more evident.

You glance down to his trousers, the tight jeans barely holding his cock. You can see the full outline of it pressing against the fabric, your mouth salivating at the thought of having him inside of you.

"You want my cock?" He teases, starting his rhythm back up with his fingers. You mewl, overwhelmed by the sensitivity but you don't stop him. His pace is slower now, drawn out and torturous. You revel in the dirtiness of it all even if it pains you to the core, quite literally.

"I want you to cum again first."

He suddenly drops to his knees, pulling your panties down on the way. They land on the floor, a dark spot on the devil red fabric from your arousal. Alex grins at the sight, slowly moving his palms up your sides, scraping his primed nails along you. Goosebumps raise in his wake, the satisfaction gleaming in his eyes from how clearly affected you are. All he wants is to be craved by you. All you want is him.

Your hands find his hair, softly stroking through the strands. He hums, eyes fluttering closed as he momentarily loses himself in the sensation. The moment of weakness warms your heart, you have the urge to pull him up and hug him but you know he'd just push you away. So you'll take what you can.

When he reopens his eyes, all the softness has dissipated. His pupils nearly swallow his irises, the usual chocolate brown consumed by darkness. They move to your core, he licks his lips in preparation to taste you as the sight of your wet pussy faces him.

He moves one of his hands to your hole, his fingers delicately rubbing around, spreading the wetness, before he slowly eases them inside of you and your head falls back. He squeezes your arse tight with his other hand.

"Look at me."

You comply immediately, trying to ignore the urge to get lost in the pleasure as your eyes meet his.

"Good girl."

With that, he delves into your cunt. His tongue darts out to lick a stripe before he goes all in, his mouth engulfing your centre as his fingers work magic inside of you. He finds your spot immediately, fingertips nudging at the spongey flesh over and over again. Meanwhile, his hungry tongue swirls repeatedly over your clit, the pace fast and intended to make your legs shake. You grip his hair tight, painfully tight and yet he never seems to care to stop you. It even drives him further, until his entire face is buried into you, mouth opening to eat and lick and suck you, nose nudging your clit as his tongue swerves down.

His fingers spread to make a V shape, allowing enough room for his tongue to squeeze into you and you crumble. Your legs shake, your heart stops and you groan his name pornographically as your second orgasm washes over you. Alex laps at your pussy, your juices dropping into his mouth as his four fingers spin your clit to make it perfect for you.

Once you're over it, you pull him away by his hair. He looks drunk, completely intoxicated by your taste like it's the finest, oldest glass of whiskey on planet earth.

"Fucking hell baby," he's breathless, the lights casting him yellow showing your wetness glistening on his chin, nose, swollen lips. You blush at the sight of him, he looks a mess, a gorgeous mess and you love him. Fuck, you love him so much.

"Please," your voice is husky, your groans making your throat sore as you gaze down at him, "please Alex I need you."

"Thought you needed that bloke out there hm? Thought he could make you feel better than I do?" He stands up, pinning you against the counter again. Despite his words, his attempt to tease and undermine you, he can't help but kiss you. Your wet tongues move together, the sweet tang of you lingering on his makes you whine into the kiss, gyrating yourself against him.

"Don't you dare," he holds your hips steady, stepping back from you, "don't fucking tease me."

"I'm not, I just-"

"Shut up," he hisses, his eyes squeezing shut, his body trembling. You can see he's trying to hold back, clearly he's closer than he wants to admit. You don't let the smugness you feel inside portray on the outside - he'd surely slap your arse red raw if he thought you were making fun of him.

He released a few shaky breaths before opening his eyes again, his gaze wavering from his arousal.

"Bend over," he looked as serious as he sounded, and while you searched his gaze for any softness, he quickly moved his hand to the back of your head, strands of your hair caught between his fingers and he pushed you slightly over the sink, your eyes doeing at him as you looked upwards in the reflection of the mirror.

He looked feral. Widened eyes, messy hair from your restless hands, not to mention the pink tinge of his cheeks from both his anger and arousal.

"If you know what's good for you, fucking bend over Y/N. Seems like you need a reminder of what we are," he hissed and with that he pressed you harder and of course you complied. In fact, you were throbbing, rather embarrassed by the sudden rush of wetness between your thighs even though you've already orgasmed twice.

"Eyes on me," he practically barked at you, making you jump slightly, your back arching as his rough palm settled against it, curving into you. He dug his fingertips into your back, stroking down slowly all while keeping those chocolate brown eyes on your own thrilled ones.

The pressure of his fingers made you squirm, the shivers crawling down your spine enough to make your eyes nearly flutter closed but you knew he'd be annoyed so you pried them open with the promise of him being there, looking right back at you.

"So beautiful," he hummed generously, flattening his palm again, he let it trail the length of your back, his other one holding you steady by your hips. Eventually his palm reached your arse, covered from the thin dress you had on but Alex merely lifted it up, exposing your pink cunt and goosebump decorated skin, "this body hm? Fucking beautiful."

You whimpered, feeling his palm begin to caress and massage the soft cheek of your arse, his hand incredibly warm against your cooled skin. But then, just as quick as his softness came, it went. Suddenly he slapped your arse again, smoothing his palm over the red mark before he did it again, and again, and again. Until you were completely bent over, legs spread wide and moaning incessantly against the sink, hands pressed to the mirror.

"You're so fucking sexy," he curses, looking pretty pissed off about it if you might add. You could feel him fumbling with his belt, the cool metal of the buckle briefly brushed your arse, cooling the burning skin.

"You ready for me hm?" He leant down, his voice like honey trickling down your ear. You hummed in response and he left a kiss to your cheek, his breath heavy in your ear.

You felt the poke of him against your core, nudging right at your entrance and your fingers curved into your knuckles against the mirror as you prepared yourself.

He entered you swiftly, his cock dragging against your wet walls and yet the stretch was prominent, making you both gasp. He left it a beat before he started to thrust into you, dragging himself back and forth like a mantra he was conditioned into repeating.

"Fuck you're tight," he breathes out, grasping your hair in his hand, he pushes your head against the counter, you face nuzzled against it, all squished up. It didn't matter, Alex's eyes were on your colliding hips, watching your arse jiggle every time he thrust back into you.

His pace increased, the warmth and wet of you making him hiss and groan repeatedly, always so loud even as a bloke, he always makes sure you can hear he's enjoying it.

His cock stretches you and your walls flutter around him repeatedly, the sensation so blissful that you couldn't help but nudge back into him, trying to meet his hips again and again, the tip of him hitting a spot in you catered for him.

"Fuck this pussy...." He groaned out, "so fucking amazing."

"Alex...." You whined, clasping a hand behind you, trying to grab his leg as your body started to jolt forward from the sharpness of his actions. His pace increased each time, the collision of his hips against your arse enough to bruise you now. You know your fingertips would trace those marks tomorrow with a satisfied smile, thinking of him. Always him.

It got so hard that it was starting to hurt but the pain felt so good, your eyes rolled back, vision turning blurry as you felt yourself building up, your weak stomach coiling.

"No, one, else," Alex was grunting between each word, emphasising them by the sharp thrust he would make at the end of every syllable, "can, have, you."

"N-no-no-n-n," you were babbling, your mouth filled with drool, cheek pressed against the ceramic sink, cool against your boiling hot face streaked with black tears. Alex chuckled at the state of you, even though your core was squeezing him tight like a vice as you naturally got closer to your release.

"You are not to cum until I have, you understand?" Alex growls, his voice coming out whinier than he'd like but you're just so tight and wet around his incredibly stiff cock, squeezing him so tightly and he has to slow down himself, driving into you slowly now, the head of his cock torturing you with the tiniest of thrusts into your g spot.

When you whine in response, unable to form words with your agape, swollen mouth, Alex's palm lands harshly against your red raw arse cheek, a hand print forming before the sting has even eased and you cry out.

"Answer me!"

"Y-yes, yes I understand," you stutter, so overwhelmed with pleasure that the tears just fall. Alex grabs your hair, pulling your head up carefully so your eyes meet his in the mirror again and upon seeing his gorgeous face you clench around him, coaxing a deep groan from his chest.

"Gorgeous girl," he breathes close to your ear, his feral eyes wide and desperate. His thrusts never slow and he keeps his eyes driven on yours, the moment so intense that you just keep crying through it.

You're not upset, you're not unhappy or in pain - you're just overwhelmed and you just love him and you just need him.

"Please," you whimper, "fill me up Alex. Please."

He groans, his face barely moving, the sound just dropping out. The tension in the room clouds the both of you, the mirror fogging up, the scent of sex lingering around you both. It's dirty, so so dirty. But you'd expect nothing less from him.

"You want me to fill you?" His voice was a mixture of shock and desire, coming out half as a moan. You whined and nodded, your cheeks stained crimson, your eyes glazed with lust. Looking at yourself like this, ruined, bent over and taking him like a whore - it made your skin crawl with shame and yet, you loved it. Revelled in it.

Alex usually pulls out, even though you're on the pill, he never risks you getting pregnant considering the state of your situationship. But in this moment, all he wants is to feel your insides warm with his release, and so he doesn't.

Groaning as you milk his cock, his cum shoots into you as his widened eyes flutter closed and he moans rather girlishly, unable to contain himself. You feel it shooting into you, warm and thick, coating his cock and your walls and the warmth is enough to make you spasm and tighten around him again, squirting around the sides of him as you collapse against the sink hard and he falls on top of you, breathless and blissed out against your back. Your pussy convulses, the liquid squirting all over his jeans (luckily black jeans), your backside and the floor. Alex feels you gushing and moans against your skin, consumed by his desire for you, even after he's released. Just feeling you is enough. You eventually calm, your moans subsided as your pussy clenches one more time before your muscles relax.

"Fuck," he breathes out, "fucking hell baby, God you're just," his speech stops as he thrusts into you one last time, making you whimper, sore and full of his cum, "made for me."

"So good. So so good," you mumble, your voice hoarse. Now that you're coming down from your high, the concern about whoever's outside this door starts to rise. The music was loud out there anyway, you doubt anyone would hear you but if they happened to be waiting....God, even the thought made you grimace.

Alex was tenderly touching your body, he pulled out of you slowly, plugging your hole with his thumb so that none of his cum could seep out of you. He leant down to pull your panties up and you looked up in confusion as he kissed your shoulder, his lips warm and juicy from how much they had swelled.

"Listen to me," Alex raises your head by your hair again, spent and hazy eyed as you gaze at him, "you aren't to clean yourself up. I want you to pull those panties up full of my cum, understand?"

You nodded feebly, you didn't have the energy to argue, not in this state. Quite frankly you were more concerned with how you might fix your face. A sinister smile lifted on the corners of his lips, subtle and matching his dark eyes as he tenderly kissed your cheek, eyes never straying from yours. His mouth moved to your ear, breath hot against your sensitive skin.

"That way, no one can ever touch you. Only me. You're mine. Aren't you darling?"

"Does the same go for you?" You couldn't help but let it slip. Even though you were hazy, near enough passed out. The act was over and with it his dominance diminished. He looked at you with a thoughtful expression, standing straight to smooth down your hair.

"Of course."

He pulled away, clearly afraid of the feelings you were on the verge of discussing. Though something told you they were there. Alex had shown signs of jealousy before and sure, he was always dominant. But you'd never seen him lose it over you like he did tonight.

You stood and smoothed down your dress, fumbling in your bag for your makeup so you could fix the state of it on your face. Alex busied himself zipping up his trousers, fumbling with the buttons. The silence was comfortable, you felt content with his answer.

"I'll go first," he said, "you fix yourself up and meet me out there. I'll be with Miles."

You nodded, he leaned in to kiss you, getting a little lost in it. Your lips danced together in a melody of wetness and warmth, sliding over each other messily. Alex's hand got lost in the strands of your hair, tugging your head back by the roots, he gazed over you with adoration.

"Don't get lost on the way back. I see you talking to another man again, you'll be getting round two. Hear me?"

You nodded, biting your lip to contain a pathetic whine at his words. Before him, you'd never realised how enthralled you'd be by dominance. But you adored him, everything he gave you. And no matter how wrong it was, you adored his jealousy, his possessiveness.

With one more squeeze of your waist, Alex left the bathroom, leaving you with the buzz of the yellow light and the scary reflection of yourself and your raccoon like eyes. A big purple bruise taints the skin of your neck, you groan as you try to cover it but the makeup just spreads around your sweaty skin, giving you no leeway. You decide to just leave it, what's the point in hiding that you're with him?

You tried your best to clean up but when you leave the bathroom, you bow your head nonetheless, knowing full well your activity will be written all over your ruined face. Alex is stood with Miles, who is stood with your friend and they all look up upon your arrival.

"You okay Y/N?" Your friends expression is a mixture of concern and annoyance. Of course, she wouldn't take it out on you personally - she knew how it was with boys and girls, and falling head over heels. She just wished for your own sake that you could be stronger.

"All good," you smile, your lips trembling at the sides. Truthfully you're exhausted. If it wasn't for Alex's arm curving around your back, you'd probably crumble to the floor. He holds you tight, leaving a chaste kiss on your temple.

As the chatter continued, you grew more and more tired. Your head eventually leant on Alex's shoulder, your eyelids fluttering with their insistent desire to close so you can drift off into sleep. Alex hasn't left your side all night long, his grip constantly on you, eyes following your every move.

You felt his gaze on you now as your eyes fluttered again, his filled with a warmth that was rare from him. It was short lived when the bloke you'd been talking to earlier passed, noticing your position with Alex, weariness filled his gaze.

Alex glared at him, sitting up straighter like he was ready for a fight if it came to it. But Scott continued walking, and Alex turned his head towards yours.

"Come on, let's go to mine," Alex wrapped an arm around your waist, glaring at Scott who cocked his head in confusion. Guilt bloomed in your chest for him but equally you were relieved to finally have Alex's attention on you. You nuzzled into his side and he let you, not caring about possible sightings for once.

You climbed into the taxi behind him, his palm splayed on your thigh, his gaze thoughtful for a while. He remained silent for most of the journey, looking out of the window, the only indication that he noticed your presence being the soft stroke of his thumb against your skin.

"You know I care about you right?" He turns around, a frown on his brow like you'd shatter his heart if you told him no.

"Yeah, I know," you barely suppressed your smile and Alex soon relaxed, returning it and then leaning out to cup your face with his palm.

"You're my girl," he hummed. This time it wasn't a threat. It was a fact.

🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩

A/N: to the anon who asked for a jealous alex….here he is. Not sure if it’s what you wanted but unspoken feelings are another trope I’m in love with. Anyways, enjoy 😗🙂‍↕️

(under edited. as always).