#step three: remind yourself to smile

[tardis--dreams]

Yohan trying to learn how to talk with teenagers and subsequently trying to have a conversation with Elijah is probably one of my favorite scenes of all time. In like. Any kind of media

[snoopyracing]

wanna be yours // ln4

pairing: lando norris X american!reader / mclaren photographer!reader

word count: 18k (listen.... i couldn't stop so get a snack bc it's a long one)

warnings: cursing, alcohol use, smut (18+) (oral, p in v, no protection, praise kink, edging, and choking)

includes: heavy mutual pining and jealousy, asshole!lando, clueless lando and reader, a little lando X oscar X reader bff trio, friends to enemies to ???, and time manipulation ( idk wtf to call it i just changed the creation date of lando.jpg lmao)

summary: you're the mclaren f1 team photographer and lando can't help but get jealous at your friendship with logan sargeant.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Not many people in the world get to do what they love as a career. It was something you were grateful for everyday. If you were being honest, you never saw yourself being a sports photographer. After graduating high school you had your eyes set on more editorial work, but it didn't take long for you to figure out that it wasn't for you. Years had passed and then an opportunity arose for a job working with IndyCar. You sent in your portfolio and somehow you got the job. That one on a whim decision changed your life forever.

People were insanely impressed with your skills, considering you had never done sports photography before, let alone motorsports. You had made some connections with people while working the job and somehow got connected with someone on the McLaren Formula One team. McLaren liked what they saw, and after a handful of emails, some serious debating, and support from your family; you had made the leap. Now here you are in your second year as McLaren's F1 team photographer.

Oscar and you joined McLaren the same year and the two of you clicked instantly, bonding over being newcomers to the team. It took about a three months for Lando to warm up to you, but once he did, look out. The three of you were never far from each other during race week. Some of the older drivers liked to call you three 'the triplets' because you were always in tow of one another.

You had made another new friend recently, Logan Sargeant. He joined F1 the same year started with McLaren, but you hadn't really made that many friends outside Oscar and Lando besides a couple other drivers. That changed at the beginning of this season. The two of you had started to be more friendly, and it didn't take long for a connection to form. It was nice to have someone that reminded you of home around, even if you guys were from two completely different states.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Monza

The Italian Grand Prix had just ended and Lando had made podium, placing P2 to be exact. As you stood there waiting for him to get out of the car you snapped a couple pictures making sure your settings were correct. The buzz in the air after Lando or Oscar made podium was something you still hadn't gotten used to. It was electric; from the cheers and chants from the fans, to hollering from the team as he exited the vehicle. You snapped a few photos as he greeted the team, a small bounce in his step proved he was more than ecstatic about his placement. It was a tough race, everyone had brought their A game today, drivers and cars included. So it was fair to say P2 was an excellent spot to be in, even if you would have loved to see him on that top spot.

His helmet and balaclava were off and you knew he was coming your way, so you readied your camera in his direction. Looking through the viewfinder you saw the giant smile that erupted on his face when he saw you and you couldn't help but to reciprocate one as equally as big back to him as you snapped away. One last one was taken of him with two fingers up indicating the second place he had just achieved. As you lowered your camera his arms were already indicating your invitation into them. Your arms wrapped around his torso, something that was just muscle memory to you at this point.

"That was one hell of a race. Congrats Lan." He had you wrapped so tight in his embrace that your words were mumbled against his shoulder, but he understood you just fine.

"Hmm. Thank you love." The term of endearment raised goosebumps on your arms. And as you pulled away from the hug his touch lingered for longer than it should have, something you clocked immediately.

To say you and Lando had a different friendship was an understatement. In fact, you didn't know of any other driver and their team photographer to have a relationship like Lando and you. About six months into your first year with McLaren you had developed a tiny crush on Lando and for the longest time you thought he possibly may have liked you back.

The fact that he was always touching you was one of your first inklings. If it was possible, the Brit was always in close proximity to you. If you were sitting next to each other, your knees were touching or his arm was behind you. Not to mention his lingering touches, hugs lasting longer than they should, his hands lingering on your waist, his fingers grazing you as he passed by. The way he acted with you was far from professional, but you weren't complaining.

Your second inkling was the gift giving. How many people can say their co-worker got them a Cartier bracelet for Christmas? None that you could think of. It wasn't even just expensive things that he would get you. If you guys were at headquarters he would always bring you an iced coffee from the place down the road. You had mentioned once that you preferred their coffee to other places and to your surprise Lando showed up the next day with one in hand for you. Or just even the fact that when you're with Lando, doing anything, he pays. Doesn't matter what it is, he's there with his card in hand, ignoring your pleas to let you pay for once.

The terms of endearment Lando used towards you had also made you wonder if he felt more than friendly feelings. The term 'love' was used quite often, along with 'beautiful'. Both terms surely in violation of HR, but Lando didn't seem to care as he said both freely with no concern of who heard him. And each time he did you tried to hide the blush that would creep onto your cheeks or try not to let him detect how fast your heart was beating when he had you in his arms.

So, to say Lando Norris had you smitten over him was an understatement, but you never acted on that crush for two reasons. One; you didn't want to risk your job, you were sure HR would have a conniption fit if a relationship ever developed between the two of you. You were surprised you hadn't gotten a talking to by PR at least for how you guys acted sometimes during race weeks.

Second; you never truly knew how he felt. Lando Norris liked to mess with your head. In all honesty he probably didn't know that he was, you had never expressed how you felt about him, he had no obligations towards you. But to have him act like he does with you and then that same day see him on Twitter leaving a club with some girl was undoubtedly going to fuck with your head..

After the third or fourth time of waking up to news about who Lando was hooking up with, you knew it was time for your crush to go away. He clearly wasn't interested in you and you were never one to admit your feelings first. So, those feelings got tucked away into a little corner in your brain, locked away, to hopefully never be opened again. Not wanting to lose Lando entirely (and your job), you accepted that you guys were just friends. That he was just one of those people who were naturally flirty, and that maybe you shouldn't take his words and actions to heart. Telling yourself that he wouldn't even be interested in someone like you when he had so many ethereal breathtaking women at his fingertips. And it worked, until he would let his hands lingered after a hug or a term of endearment slipped past his lips. His mindless actions jiggling the door knob to those locked away feelings in your brain.

As he took the podium your cheesy grin had returned as you snapped some more pictures. He really did look amazing up there and no matter what you felt or still feel about him you were always going to be proud of him. He was one of your best friends and as long as you were concerned, nothing was going to change that. The champagne went flying minutes later and more pictures were taken. The celebration continued for a while and as the drivers did their press interviews you made your way back to the hotel to start editing and picking the final pictures to be used on social media.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Lando had made it back to the hotel after finally finishing all his post race duties. He was satisfied with his placing today, sure he would have loved to have won, but everyone was cutthroat today, he just felt lucky enough to have made podium at all. Of course his night was far from over though, the celebrations had just only begun when the champagne was popped at the podium. He planned on having one hell of a night, he deserved it. And it was a no brainer to him that you would be there with him, any chance he got to spend with you, he took. After taking a shower he grabbed his phone to call you, and to no surprise you answered on the second ring.

Your melodic voice filled his ears, a smile tugging at his lips as he heard you speak. "Hello?"

The phone was on speaker as he dug through his suitcase, trying to find a shirt to wear. "We are going out in about an hour. You coming?"

A sigh echoed through the speaker. "I've got a lot of work to still do. You know I don't just take all these pictures for my own person pleasure."

He finally found a shirt and as he buttoned it he couldn't help but laugh at your words. "Oh really? I thought you just took all those pictures because you were obsessed with me.

You scoffed at his cockiness. "You wish Norris. Someone has to fix that face."

"Ouch. Don't talk about Oscar like that." He joked.

He wasn't there but he was sure that you had rolled your eyes at him. "Whatever. I have work to do." You stated. But Lando knew that wasn't true and that you were coming out tonight, you could never tell him no. If Lando was being honest with himself, he couldn't really tell you no either. If anything the two of you just liked to play cat and mouse.

Cologne wafted through his room as the conversation continued. "You're telling me, you would rather sit in your room all night editing pictures than going out with your favorite person and some of your other friends?"

You laughed at his choice of words. "My favorite person? I didn't know Logan was going?"

Logan.

Just hearing his name roll off your tongue put a sour taste in Lando's mouth. The two American's friendship being a sore subject to Lando as of recently.

He ignored you comment, the lightheartedness of the conversation had dissipated at the mention of the other male driver. "Be ready in thirty minutes. I'll come get you." He left no time for you to respond, already hanging up and tossing his phone on the bed.

Thirty minutes later he closed his door behind him and walked down the hall to your room. The both of you were on the same floor, but about ten rooms apart. A gentle knock was placed on the door and seconds later it opened. Lando felt his heartbeat quicken at the sight of you standing in the doorway. The skirt you were wearing was very short and as you turned around to grab your phone, he saw that your top that already had him staring from the front, was completely open in the back. This was not an outfit that he was used to seeing you in. Outside the usual McLaren gear you donned, you had a casual style, and when you had went clubbing or out before you had never worn anything this scandalous. He wasn't hating it though, in fact he was far from hating it.

"Eyes up here Norris." You stated as you joined him in the hallway.

He hadn't even realized he was staring, but when your words broke him out of his trance a blush crept onto his cheeks. Lando linked his arm with yours, leading you both towards the elevator. "Sorry for staring. You look beautiful tonight." Lando stated as he pressed the lobby button on the elevator. As the doors closed the smell of your perfume swarmed around him, it was almost intoxicating, combine that with how you looked tonight and his head was spinning.

You replied with a simple 'thanks' as you leaned against the elevator wall. He realized he may have made things awkward with his ogling, but god he couldn't help himself. The ding indicated their ride was over and as the two of them entered the lobby they were met with some of the other drivers standing in a group, undoubtedly waiting for them.

"Finally!" The Monegasque driver hollered.

You approached the group, a smile tugging at your lips. "Sorry boys. You know how Lando has to make sure he looks perfect."

The laughs that came from the guys was the last thing on Lando's mind, he was more concerned over how some of his competitors were looking at you. It was the same way he was looking at you merely minutes ago. His jaw clenched as he watched Charles hand get dangerously close to your back as he walked beside you. And as you got into one of the taxis with Charles and Carlos, he thought he might break a tooth from how hard he was biting down. As the taxi that was occupied with you and the two Ferrari drivers pulled away, Lando begrudgingly got into the next one with Oscar and George, already feeling like tonight wasn't going to plan out like he had hoped.

The music was deafening as Lando entered the club. You were nowhere in sight when he had arrived, so here he was on the hunt. He stopped by the bar, grabbing a shot of tequila for him and your favorite drink to give you when he found you. When he saw Charles off to the side of the room he figured he'd find you with him, but to his surprise Charles was stood there talking to some random guy, with no you in sight.

"Have you seen Y/N?" Lando felt like he was screaming, clubs were loud, he knew that, but this one just felt like it was on another level.

Charles shook his head. "The American stole her away from me! It was a shame, we were having a good time!"

The American. No guessing as to who that was. He stopped by the bar again, this time it was two tequila shots, the burn felt good as it slid down his throat. His eyes scanned the room, it was hard to see. Between the flashing lights, loud music, and bodies in every direction, he figured he'd never find you. Then just when he was about to give up he spotted you. Your back was to him, but he could see the tall blonde driver that was with you, his hands roaming your body as the two of them danced.

Lando tightened his grip on the glass as he watched the two of them and he couldn't help but think 'who the hell invited Logan?' The same hands that were on your body seconds ago now pointed at him, motioning for you to look back at Lando. A smile spread across your face as you realized who was standing there and as you walked over he felt his demeanor soften.

"I've been looking for-" Logan had now come up behind you, his hand resting on you shoulder, causing you to pause for a moment.

Lando's eyes flickered to Logan's hand on your shoulder, then back to you. Fucking ridiculous. He wanted to take Logan's hand and break it, make him not be able to race ever again and then he wouldn't be an issue again. His softened demeanor now long gone. "Here. Your favorite." He stated as he shoved the now watered down drink toward you.

You accepted the drink, but your smile was now gone as Lando turned on his heel to leave. You weren't sure what his deal was, but he on the other hand knew exactly what he was about ready to do.

He wasn't sure how many shots he had consumed by now, but god dammit he was a multi-million dollar F1 driver, who just got podium at the hardest race of the season so far. He was going to drink however much he wanted and no one, not even you were going to ruin his fun.

Lando made his way out to the dance floor and his eye caught the attention of some random girl. Perfect. The music pounded in his chest as the mystery girl and him were less than cordial in the middle of the swarm of bodies. The alcohol coursing through his veins only added to how he was feeling right now. It didn't take long for the random girl to be in tow behind him as they leave the club, for their lips to be on one anothers in the backseat of the taxi, and for his wandering hands to explore her body in the elevator. But what does take long is for him to get into his damn hotel room. He keeps trying and trying and the keycard will not work. He was getting impatient, the last thing he wanted to do was go back down to the lobby, he wanted to get into his room. Then he heard you voice.

"Lando?"

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

There was a cool breeze that whipped through the night air as you walked the streets of Monza. The liquor in your veins was the only thing keeping you warm, considering your less than modest outfit choice for the night.

"I'd give you my jacket if I had one." Logan stated as he walked next to you.

You flashed him a smile. "I'm fine really. It's not that bad out."

The two of you had decided to walk back to the hotel, it really wasn't that far of a walk from the club. Plus, you had wanted to soak up as much time in Italy as you could. As you walked you were thankful you didn't go crazy with the drinking tonight, the idea of walking in heels on these streets while plastered sounded horrible. If anything at this point you only had a slight buzz. You couldn't say the same for some of the other drivers who were undoubtedly still living it up at the club.

Light conversation was made between the two of you as you walked.

"Did you have a good time tonight?" You asked.

"I did. I'm glad you decided to come out too." Silence filled the space between the two of you for a moment before the driver spoke again. "Can I ask a question?"

Your heart skipped a beat. You hated when people asked that, just ask the damn question instead of making your mind run worst case scenario, but you simply replied. "Sure."

Logan scratched the back of his neck, like he was unsure if he should even ask the question. But just before you were about the tell him to spit it out, he spoke. "What's up with you and Lando?"

Glancing over at Logan you gave him a confused look. "What do you mean what's up with me and Lando?"

Your question made Logan stop walking. "Oh come on you know what I mean. Are you guys a thing?"

A genuine laugh came barreling out of you. "Me and Lando? Oh yeah and I'm a F1 driver." You had continued to walk, but Logan grabbed your hand pulling you back towards him.

"I'm serious Y/N."

The joking manner of the conversation was now suddenly gone. "Nothing is going on between me and Lando. Believe me." You groaned, Lando was the last thing you wanted to talk about right now, especially after his weird behavior in the club.

Logan's grip on your hand still lingered. "Doesn't seem like it."

You rolled your eyes at him, why did he have a sudden interest in Lando and you? "Logan. There is nothing going on between us. I really like my job and would like to not be fired. You don't think HR has some rules set in place or something? Plus I'm not even his type. I'm not a model or some ethereal woman from some foreign country." His grip on your hand had loosened enough for you to turn and continue walking. He still stood frozen for a moment, processing your words and when he realized how far you had gotten ahead of him he had to jog to catch up to you.

"You like him don't you?" He asked as he finally caught up with you. The little locked door in the back of your brain labeled Lando was bursting at the seams, but you did not want to unlock it tonight, especially to Logan. Thankfully you could see the hotel in the distance and you felt no need to answer Logan's prying question. "I'll get it out of you eventually." Logan stated as the two of you entered the elevator.

You just shook your head at your friend as you leaned your head against the elevator walls. The adrenaline from the eventful day was starting to wear off and the tiredness had set in. As the elevator doors opened you looked back at the tall blonde, holding your hand out to him. "You gonna walk me to my room or did I let you dance with me for no reason earlier?"

Logan's eyes widened as he hurried to your side. "Coming!"

You rested your head against his shoulder as the two of you walked down the hall. "I did really have a good time tonight. Thanks for spending it with me. Even if you did steal me from Charles."

"I think me taking you from Charles was more of a favor or dare I say a good deed." Logan joked.

Rounding the corner to your room you heard giggles and shhs. Logan and you exchanged questioning looks, wondering who was being naughty in the hallway. But as you finally made it into eyeshot of your door you stopped dead in your tracks.

It was Lando and some girl you had never seen before, making out against your door. You felt Logan's grip on you tighten as he forced your feet to move with his towards your room. As you got closer the two of them still had not broken apart, only until you spoke up.

"Lando?"

Lando's eyes turned into saucers when he saw it was you standing there, but as they shifted to the right of you, they narrowed at the sight of Logan with his arm still around your shoulder.

"What are you doing?" It was a rhetorical question, anyone knew what they were doing. As you stood there waiting for a response your eyes glanced over to the girl, she was definitely his type, no doubt about it. The longer you looked the more you had wished you guys would have taken a taxi so maybe you wouldn't have had to witness this.

"Well. I can't seem to get into my room." He fumbled with the key card, still clearly drunk. "Stupid key card won't work."

Your eyes moved back to Lando, a small sigh escaping past your lips as you glanced up at the room number by the door. "That's because you have the wrong room. This is my room, 710. Yours-" you pointed down the hall "is down there, 701."

Lando's mouth formed an O shape after realizing what he had done and the random girl and him erupted into a fit of giggles. You tried to hold back the eye roll that was so badly wanting to let go. "Sorry. Let's go.." Lando paused looking at the girl he had pinned to your door seconds ago.

Jesus christ. He didn't even know her name.

"Bella." The girl answered, not even phased at him not knowing her name.

"Right Bella. Let's go." Lando dragged the girl behind him towards his room. He let the girl go in first and before he passed through the doorway, he gave one last look back at you before slamming the door shut behind him.

A loud sigh escaped past your lips as you stood there, staring at the now empty hallway. You had no reason to be jealous, you knew that. There truly was nothing between Lando and you and tonight was a prime example of him showing you he had no interest in you. But dammit, you couldn't lie and say it didn't sting when you saw him with someone else. Even when you try to push away your feelings, try and bury them so deep that you tell yourself you're fine being friends, being colleagues, but you know deep down that the want for something more will always be there. You dug in your clutch for your key card, finally finding it you scanned it. The little light turned green, but as you placed your hand on the handle you hesitated. Your forehead leaning against the previously occupied door.

"I used to like him."

Logan only gave a slight hum as a reply and when you turned your head to look at him, you knew he knew. He gave you a small smile and quick hug before bidding you goodnight.

"Talk to you tomorrow?" You questioned.

"Of course." He stated as he made his way down the hall.

As you entered your room you flung your heels off and grabbed some pajamas. Your open laptop on the desk caught your attention, you could have swore you saved everything and put it up before leaving earlier. Worst case scenario ran through your head as you turned it on, you prayed all your work wasn't gone. As the screen came to life a picture of Lando popped up. It was one of him you had taken before qualifying the day before. He had a cheesy grin on his face and he held up a number 4 on his fingers, one of his signature poses. You saved the picture and put your laptop up before climbing into bed.

Unfortunately for you, sleep did not come easy that night. You couldn't stop thinking about Lando and that girl. You knew you should just let it go, god knows you've seen him with multiple other women, but tonight was the first time you saw it with your own two eyes, in person. The feeling of seeing it actually happen versus seeing it on Twitter was like night and day. When you saw pictures being spread around, sure it was annoying, but you could just get off your phone and suddenly it was gone. Tonight though, was different, the image forever engraved into your mind. Thinking back to standing in the hallway made your stomach turn, it felt like it had officially confirmed that the idea of the two of you ever being a thing was officially dead.

Yet here you were, tossing and turning in bed. Because tonight you had officially let all those locked away feelings out for the first time in forever. You weren't sure if it was seeing him with that girl that did it or just the hinges finally breaking on that door. You just let yourself fully feel, feel every emotion your brain threw at you. Anger, jealousy, sadness, love? Even though you knew the two of you had no chance, you couldn't help but want. You wanted to be the girl he had pinned against your hotel room door. You wanted to be the girl he kissed before and after his races. Fuck you just wanted to be the girl he loved. More tossing and turning ensued and you just couldn't get your mind to shut off. As you glanced over at the alarm clock on the nightstand the time read 4:04. A dry laugh echoed through the room. 'Fucking number four' you whispered to yourself.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

As Lando awoke the next morning he knew he had made some bad decisions last night. The pounding headache was proof of bad decision number one and the phone number sloppily written on a tissue on his nightstand was proof of number two. He was thankful the girl had left before he woke up, mornings after one night stands were never his strong suit.

His mind wandered to last night as he laid in bed. Perhaps he may have been a little overzealous with his actions. He couldn't help it though, the idea of you not being his drove him crazy. The thought that you was more interested in other guys, especially Logan, always seemed to make him make some not so great decisions. Last night was a great example.

Lando wasn't entirely sure when his feelings for you turned into more than friends. In fact, when he heard they were getting a new photographer he wasn't even that keen on getting to know you. Photographers came and went in this business and a lot of the times he felt like they got in way. Sometimes he just didn't want to have a damn camera in his face, but then he met you.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

February 2023

It was a formal setting, a team meeting before the start of the season. Of course the big topic was his new teammate Oscar, who he had met a couple months beforehand, along with the usual beginning of season talks. Towards the end of the meeting he had noticed a girl sitting in the corner of the room, he could tell she felt like she was out of place. He remembers thinking about how beautiful she was, but as he sat there he couldn't remember her from anywhere. Zak had already talked about who was new this season and Lando prided himself on knowing everyone on the team. So who was this mystery girl?

The meeting had finally ended and people were getting up to leave when Zak spoke up. "Oh yes. Sorry I forgot." He pointed towards the mystery girl. "Everyone this is the new team photographer. Y/N. Please make her feel welcome." Lando remembers a blush forming on your cheeks as you gave the room full of people a smile and small wave. As people filed out of the room Lando hung around, wanting to properly introduce himself to you. He noticed you were gathering your things to leave and he knew now was his window of opportunity.

You had bent down to pick up your bag and by the time you stood back up, there Lando stood, a smile tugging at his lips. You jumped a little, startled at the closeness of him. His smile finally broke free as he stuck out his hand for you to shake. "Sorry! Didn't mean to scare you. I'm Lando." As their hands touched he could have swore he felt the "sparks" that they talk about in the movies, his heart beat racing a little as he really took in all your beauty. Not to mention your perfume (that you still used today) that was making his head spin. "Welcome to McLaren." He was finally able to spit out.

"Thank you! I'm glad to be here."

Your accent made his ears perk up. "An American huh? What made you come all the way over here?"

The blush from when Zak introduced you had never really faded and when Lando mentioned your accent it just deepend. "Well, long story short. I used to work for IndyCar, made some connections with McLaren and now here I am."

Lando heard Zak calling his name from the hallway, he didn't want to end the conversation, but duty called. "Boss is hollering for me. It was lovely to meet you though. I'll see you around yeah?" He was trying not to sound like a douche while also trying not to seem overly enthusiastic. A simple 'see ya' came from your mouth as Lando walked out the door.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

For a about a month after that Lando played it cool. He watched you from a distance, watched as your friendship with Oscar formed. Watched as you did you work, something that he realized very early on that you were amazing at.

Around the three month mark Lando had decided that playing it cool was not his forte. He somewhat felt jealous as he watched his teammate and you joke around or when they would go get lunch without him when they were back at headquarters. Lando wanted to be the one you went to lunch with and joked with. He remembers a conversation Oscar and him had about you once.

It was an off week for racing and that meant a couple days were spent at Headquarters running the sim and creating content for social media. Oscar and you had came back from grabbing lunch. He watched them part ways and as Oscar came towards him Lando raised his eyebrows at him, giving him a questioning look.

"Oh don't even start. You know you can come with us." Oscar stated as he sat down.

"Well someone has to stay here and hold down the fort."

Oscar shook his head as he rolled his eyes at his older teammate, sometimes Lando's dramatics made him seem like the younger one. "Yeah I'm sure the hundreds of other people who work here can manage if Lando Norris leaves the building for an hour to go get lunch." Lando stayed silent, only crossing his arms over his chest as he stared back at Oscar. "You gonna finally fess up to why you've been acting so pissy lately?"

Lando scoffed at Oscar's question. "I just thought I would have gotten a lunch invitation by now."

"Literally told you, you can come with us. Y/N has even asked why you don't come with us." Oscar didn't let Lando respond to his comment. "Although, it is weird to me how distant you are with her. You like everyone on the team and I know you would like her too if you got to know her."

Lando shrugged, not exactly sure what to say back to his teammate. He didn't want to say, yes he knows he would like you, in fact the giant crush he has on you right now is making his stupid play cool decision eat away at his brain. The fact that even from only talking to you when necessary for work he's become enamored with you and your work. How you have a knack for capturing him in a way that no other photographer has before. How he thinks that if he lets himself become close to you that it may be bad for the both of them, but he wants to so bad. But he doesn't say any of that. All he says is.

"Well then let's all do lunch tomorrow."

The rest was history. After having lunch with you and Oscar the next day it seemed like you and him were inseparable. Looking back now Lando could have punched himself for not getting to know you better sooner.

As time went on his feelings grew stronger, but he was too scared to say anything. Too afraid to ruin the amazing friendship you guys had. Too afraid that if he opened his big mouth that things may be too awkward and you would leave your job and him. He had grown to love having a camera in his face, but only if you were the one taking the picture. And to think he might get that taken away just because of a crush destroyed him, so he kept his mouth shut.

It was fine for awhile, he would distract himself with random girls (who always somewhat resembled you) any chance he got. Something perhaps he shouldn't be proud of, but people already expected it from him. So why not live up to the playboy expectations? But he soon realized maybe his actions were hurting him more than helping him. When you started to become closer with some of the other drivers he thought perhaps he was pushing you away from him.

That was the last thing he wanted to do, so he thought maybe the best way to reel you back in was through your one true love; photography. Thus, lando.jpg was born. He wasn't going to lie, you truly had gotten him more interested in photography, but the instagram was started under false pretenses. The way his heart skipped a beat when he got a text from you about it was a little embarrassing to say the least.

you: do i need to break the news to zak that you are quitting racing to pursue photography or are you?

lando: nope. was just inspired by one of the best photographers i know.

you: oh so you're coming for my job?

lando: might need to post some content first before i go applying for jobs.

you: well i better be apart of your first post. considering i was the inspiration.

lando: wouldn't have it any other way.

And to no surprise there you were front and center on lando.jpg. Lando even made sure to make the caption "coming for her job". His sudden interest in photography had you around him more often, something he was beyond happy about. It had even escalated to the two of you hanging out, outside of work hours. As time passed it seemed like you two were just getting closer, but yet neither of you would admit your feelings for eachother.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

In Lando's mind he was content with how you were in his life at the moment, that was until a certain American driver entered yours. To give himself some credit, Lando had been pretty good with his actions lately, he hadn't been messing around with anyone for a good while now, but last night was the straw that broke the camel's back. He wasn't really sure if it was just Logan's actions last night or the fact that the Ferrari drivers couldn't have been more friendly with you either.

To Lando you were his and he never was good at sharing his toys as a child, so why should he have to share the girl he was obsessed with? His only problem though (that he could never seem to internalize) was that you weren't his. You were only his in his mind. And that's why he's lying here in this hotel room, alone, with just a headache and a phone number that will be thrown in the trash later.

He recalled the scene in the hallway last night. Sure he was drunk, but unfortunately not drunk enough to forget the whole thing. In his drunken defense he really did get the rooms mixed up, and maybe he would have eventually realized it. It was just his shit luck that you showed up, with Logan in tow. He remembered his stomach turning at the sight of Logan's arm around you. And now come morning he'd made himself nearly sick at the idea of Logan and you sharing a bed together last night, he wouldn't be surprised if you did though, he figured his actions probably drove you right into his arms.

Lando hadn't even realized what time it was until texts come rolling in asking where he was and how the car was going to leave without him.

Shit.

He had never packed his stuff up so fast in his life and as he walked out the door he knew he had probably forgot something. Speed walking was putting it politely, he was more like running down the hallway. He looked down for a split second to grab his phone out of his pocket and then suddenly he's barreling into something. That something turned out be someone, you to be exact. He hated to say it, but you were the last person he wanted to face this morning, considering their encounter in the hallway last night. But his fuck ups were casted aside as he crouched down to look at you.

"Fuck. I'm sorry. Are you okay?" He looked you over, he knew he was like a brick wall, so it had to have hurt when he ran into you.

You rubbed your arm as you looked up at him, his blue green eyes staring back at you with a worried expression on his face. "Goddamn Lando. Watch where you're going." You huffed.

He extended his hands out to help you up and offer you quickly accepted. "I know I'm sorry." He stated sheepishly.

Instead of helping you pick up you bags, Lando took the time to sneak a peek into your room. He wasn't sure what he thought he was going to find. Maybe a naked Logan still under your sheets from last night? But to his relief your room was empty, but he wasn't as quick with it as he thought.

"What are you doing?" You inquired.

His head snapped back to you, your eyebrows raised in question of his actions, your free hand on your hip.

"Just making sure you didn't forget anything." He mumbled out quickly.

An eye roll was all he got back from you as you turned on your heel. Suitcase and bags wheeling behind you down the hall. Lando quickly followed behind you, resembling a lost puppy. As the pair entered the lobby a handful of the other drivers were down there chatting, surely waiting for their cars to arrive. Lando gave some 'heys' as he walked past, there was no time to stop and chat. There were two cars waiting outside the hotel and Lando could see Oscar in the first one. Of course he was already in the car and waiting thought Lando. It was rare for them to all be leaving together. Most of the time they just went their separate ways after a race weekend, but on the rare chances they do have flights together, you always rode in the same car as him and majority of the time they sat by each other on the plane. So he was confused to see you getting into the second car.

After quickly throwing his bags in the back of the first car he trapsed over to the second car, ignoring the shouts from Oscar about missing their flight. The door was still open and as he peered inside the vehicle he'd wished he hadn't. There sat Logan and you, already chatting away. You were practically on Logan's lap with how close you were to him.

Lando cleared his throat, causing the two Americans to look towards him. "Y/N are you riding with me?"

His grip on the door frame getting tighter as he noticed the quick glance Logan and you shared, silence lulling between the three. Your silence already answering his question.

"Actually I'm gonna ride with Logan. He has the same flight too, so it works out." Her words cutting through the silence in the air and he thought that if he gripped the door frame any tighter he was going to leave dents in it.

Perhaps he was pushing you away from him.

"Alright." Lando stated, before what some would say slamming the car door shut.

The look on Oscar's face was the last thing Lando wanted to see when he entered the car. "Shut up." Lando huffed.

Oscar shrugged in response, a small smirk playing at his lips. "I didn’t even say anything!”

Lando rolled his eyes at his teammate, choosing to look out the window as the car started to move. “You didn’t have to. Your face said it all.”

Oscar had been dealing with Lando's hissy fits about you ever since that day he confronted him about going to lunch together. To say Oscar was ready for Lando to either man up and admit to you how he felt about you or move on was an understatement.

He also knew how you felt about Lando. Oscar had a hunch about it just from the way you would look at Lando sometimes. Or the way you would always glance at him when someone had said something funny, guarenting the two of them to be a giggling mess as soon as they made eye contact. Or the way you captured him in photos. Granted you did an amazing job when it came to taking any photos, but you captured Lando in a different way. In a loving way almost, Oscar remembered his girlfriend saying you captured Lando through the female gaze. Something he didn't really get, but clearly it meant something. So when you drunkenly admitted one race weekend how you liked Lando and how conflicted you felt about it all, he wasn't the least bit surprised.

So needless to say Oscar had gotten the rundown on what had occured in the hotel hallway last night from you this morning, infact very early this morning. He was still in bed when your loud pounding on the door woke him up. When he let you in, you just started in and Oscar didn't even say anything, just climbed back into bed as you paced back and forth in front of him. In the same breath you said that Lando is a douchebag, but that you don't care that he was hooking up with random women. Oscar could only let you ramble as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

What Oscar did to get stuck in the middle of his two friends who both clearly wanted each other, but were too stubborn and backwards to just admit how they felt was beyond him. Not to mention one friends solution was to just act like said feelings don't exist. While the other friend can only seem to make things worse for himself, undoubtedly pushing the other person away.

Oscar knew your version of last night, and he knew Lando probably didn't want to relive it, but sometimes stirring the pot was Oscar's only form of entertainment.

“So I take it you don’t want to talk about the hallway incident last night then?”

Lando’s attention averted from the window back to Oscar. “How did you know about that?”

“You forget Y/N’s my friend too-" he debated whether or not to bring up Logan, but fuck it he thought "and so is Logan."

A forced laugh came from Lando. “Everyone just seems to love him don’t they?”

“Maybe Y/N likes him because he doesn’t turn into an ass when she’s around other guys and he doesn't hook up with random women in front of her hotel room.” Oscar knew he was pushing Lando's buttons, something he knew how to do quite well if he did say so himself.

Lando's jaw tensed, what was Oscar’s deal this morning? “Kindly shut the fuck up Oscar.”

Oscar put his hands up in defense. “Just saying. Your actions have consequences. Even if she doesn’t know you're being an ass because you're jealous. I would think, she thinks, you’re just being a shit friend in general. So maybe get yourself in check. Or admit how you feel. Either way something’s gotta give.”

Silence filled the air between the McLaren drivers. Lando knew deep down that Oscar was right, but he would never admit it. To Lando, his self destructive tendencies sometimes made more sense to him than the logical sane ones that Oscar presented him.

No words were exchanged for the rest of the car ride, the Italian pop song playing softly from the radio was the only thing heard. As they boarded the plane Lando still held out some hope that you would sit next to him, like you always did. But that hope was crushed as soon as you sat in the row behind him, with Logan right next to you. His headphones were immediately over his ears, not wanting to hear the two of them the whole plane ride.

The look his teammate gave him as he sat down beside him was one of pity. Maybe he really had fucked up, he had a feeling that things between you and him these past few weeks had been different. But after last night and this morning, there was no doubt their relationship had shifted.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The next two races were in Azerbaijan and Singapore and you were still a little on edge from how Lando acted in Monza. Him slamming the door on Logan and you was beyond ridiculous. His attitude that whole night was also beyond ridiculous, especially considering how well he had performed in the race that day. A far cry from how he performed in the most recent two. Your job had been fairly easy on the Lando content aspect. He hadn't even placed in the top ten in Azerbaijan or Singapore, so that meant no extra pictures of podiums or celebrations for him. Which honestly, was fine with you, considering you didn't know if you were going to get asshole Lando or sweet funny Lando. In Singapore you had gotten asshole Lando, which looking back was ten times worse than his attitude in Monza.

You had some free time before qualifying and so you had inconspicuously made your way over to the William's garage. Mostly everyone there knew you by now as Logan and you had become fairly close. Not to mention the bright papaya uniform didn't allow for any blending in to occur. Logan was talking with some of the mechanics by his car when he spotted you, he quickly excused himself and came over.

"What are you doing in enemy territory?" Logan joked.

"I had some free time, came to see if I could figure out some strategies to relay back."

Logan raised his eyebrows a playful smirk developing on his face. "Oh I see. This friendship has just been a ploy all along!"

You raised your hands in defense, laughs coming from the both of you. "You caught me."

The two of you chatted some more, particularly about how excited you were for the next race, which just so happened to be in Austin. Any chance to be back in the states was one you took full advantage of. It didn't even matter that it wasn't even close to home, it was still home enough to you and you figured Logan thought so too. As the two of you talked about making plans while in Austin you heard a certain British voice holler your name.

"Y/N!"

Both Logan and yours heads turned towards the voice, the voice that sounded more like a mother hollering at her disobedient child than anything.

There Lando stood, his papaya suit making him stick out just like you and by his tone you already knew which Lando you were going to get. He was stood outside the garage, probably not daring to enter. You mouthed a 'what' at him and he motioned for you to come to him. You shook your head at him, deciding to speak up this time.

"I'm talking to Logan. What do you want?"

He rolled his eyes as he begrudgingly made his way towards Logan and you. "Don't you have work to be doing back at our garage?"

What the fuck? What was he trying to be your boss now? You were sure the look on your face was nothing shy of displeasure.

"What are you talking about? I've done more than enough for today and it's still an hour before qualis." You glanced over at Logan and you could tell he was a little taken aback from how Lando had spoken to you.

Lando's eyes lingered on Logan as he spoke. "Well still don't think you should be hanging around in other teams garages while on the clock." His gaze moved over to you. "Don't you think?"

You so badly wanted to smart off to him, make a snide comment about how badly he had done in the last race in Azerbaijan and how maybe he needed to be the one working. But you didn't, you bit your tongue, figuring it would only make things worse. So you only stated the obvious.

"Did Zak send you to come get me or something? Because last time I checked you weren't my boss."

Before Lando could respond Logan spoke up. "I think I'm gonna leave you guys to-"

Your head snapped back to face Logan, grabbing his arm before he could move. "No. We were having a conversation." As you turned to look back at Lando you could have swore you saw him staring at your hand on Logan's arm, but his gaze flickered back towards you too quickly. "Lando I'll be back at the garage in a little bit. I was talking to Logan before you interrupted and I'd like to finish my conversation if you don't mind." Your tone nothing shy of shitty.

You just wanted him to leave, he was causing somewhat of a scene to the people close by. And thankfully for you he left without a word, only a disgruntled look and a huff as he walked back towards the McLaren garage.

"Sorry." You stated as you averted your attention back towards Logan "I don't know what his problem is anymore. Ever since Monza he's been so fucking bizarre. Always hot and cold, I never know what Lando I'm going to get. It's been making my life a little stressful if you couldn't tell."

Logan glanced at Lando walking away then back to you, a small smirk playing on his lips. "I think I might have a hunch."

Your eyebrows furrowed at his statement. What more could Logan know than you? Not to sound like one of those people, but you clearly knew Lando better than Logan. "What? What is it?"

Logan did the old sealing his lips and throwing away the key gesture. "That's for me to know and you to find out."

"Oh come on tell me!" You exclaimed, desperately wanting to know what Logan knew.

He quickly changed the subject. "So how about going to a rodeo in Austin?"

"Logan tell me!"

He only shook his head as you unsuccessfully tried to pry the information out of him.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Austin

A month had passed since Singapore and you had spent your break alone. It wasn't horrible, but it wasn't great. If anything it made you realize you really needed to make friends outside of people at work.

It didn't help when pictures from the Bali trip that a bunch of the drivers had went on, Lando included, started to be posted. Bali had treated him well and you wanted to kick yourself for ogling over the pictures of him. Especially after how moody he's been, but you couldn't help it. His sun kissed skin, his curls in full force from the Bali climate, and that stupid smile (that you loved so much) on his face had you smitten.

The break was over soon enough and you weren't that upset because the end of the break meant that you were coming home for a little bit. Something that you had been looking forward to again ever since Miami.

The warm sun hit your face as you walked around the paddock. Texas in October was still warm and you hoped it wouldn't get too hot today. You were giddy, mainly because of being back in the states, but you also just had a good feeling about the race today. Somehow you knew either Oscar or Lando were going to have a good day today, you had hoped both, but at least one would make you happy.

As you snapped some pictures of the crew around the garage you felt a presence behind you. Though you already knew who it was, that cologne had invaded your senses one too many times for you to forget who donned it. Deciding to let him be the one to say something, you pretended you didn't notice him behind you and took some more pictures.

"Think I might be a better photo subject, don't you think?" Of course the first thing out of his mouth was some cheeky comment.

You merely rolled your eyes, and as you turned to face him you quickly captured an off guard photo of him. Clicking the buttons to look back at the photo you grimaced, turning it around to show Lando. "I think this photo says different."

Lando moved in closer next to you to get a better look. "That's not fair! I wasn't ready!" He exclaimed, laughter laced in his words.

Shaking your head you couldn't help but let out a laugh. "Every good photo subject should be camera ready at all times. This right here proves your statement wrong."

"Yeah whatever."

You had suddenly become hyper aware at just how close the two of you were. Your arms pressed against each other as the two of you huddled around your camera. It had been awhile since you had been in this close proximity to him and you weren't sure if it was that or the cologne but your head was spinning. Your gaze wandered from his big hands that now held your camera, up his arms, then neck, and they finally landed on his face. The tan he had acquired in Bali still glowed in the Texas sun and his curls moved slightly in the breeze. God, you had missed him. You had not only missed him physically, you missed the Lando you were in the presence of right now. The funny and sweet Lando. Not the Lando you had in Singapore.

"Hey can we talk real quick?"

Hearing his voice had snapped you out of the trance you didn't even know you were in. A blush crept onto your cheeks, you only hoped he hadn't caught you staring. You only nodded your head at him, hoping you had heard him correctly.

"I wanted to apologize for how I was in Singapore. That wasn't me back there. I think I was still mentally struggling from doing poorly in Azerbaijan and knowing I would and did do poorly in Singapore just added onto it. So again I'm sorry."

Wow. Where did this Lando come from? You were grateful for him apologizing, but there were still plenty of other things he needed to apologize for.

"Oh. It's okay (even though it really wasn't). Thank you for apologizing though." You weren't going to ruin this now rare good moment with Lando, so you quickly changed the subject. "So how was Bali?"

His eyes lit up. "Oh it was amazing. Wish I could have just stayed there. You would have loved it too, you should have come!"

Well, there was never an invite sent your way, so how were you supposed to have come? Is what you wanted to say, but instead you just said. "Think that might be frowned upon in the workplace."

Lando shook his head. "I doubt it. How was your break though?"

You shrugged, it definitely was nothing like Bali. "Just spent some time at home."

A frown stretched across Lando's face. "Now see, now I really wish you would have came."

You just ignored him, the idea that he was stood here telling you he wanted you to come but couldn't even invite you stung a little bit. So you changed the subject again and the two of you chatted until race time, and for a moment it was just like old times. Lando soon left to prepare for the race and you finished up the crew pictures.

Later as you stood there while the national anthem played you had no idea just how crazy your night was about to be.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

If there was a race Lando was looking forward to the least, he would have to say Austin. The main reason being he knew Logan and you would be up eachothers asses.

But after some self reflection during the break he had promised himself he would be on his best behavior from now on. Personal life and racing included. He had trained extra hard this past week, running the sim like no other, and trying make up to the team for how badly he had performed in the previous two races. Everyone knew the car was more than capable of performing, it was the driver who was at fault for the poor position. The driver who after Singapore may have went into a spiral after realizing he may have fucked everything up more even more than what he thought after Monza.

Lando couldn't help it, it was like when he saw you with other guys, specifically Logan, his brain short circuited and every promise he had made to himself about behaving went out the window. But after having that moment with you in the garage moments ago he realized he had to keep his shit together. It was the first real carefree funny moment the two of them shared in months. He didn't want to go that long without it again, without you near him, without hearing your laugh that he had caused. So if all you were ever going to be in his life was a friend, Lando guessed he could live with it.

Him living with it lasted until the post race celebrations.

He had tried, really he had. In fact he held up the racing end of his promise by winning. His first Grand Prix win to be exact. In the post race interviews he credited his win to all the extra hard work he had been putting in and of course the team, but his big motivator may have been winning to impress you. Even if he had said he was fine with being friends, he still wanted to show to you that he wasn't the loser that you had seen in the last two races. Show you that in many ways he was better than Logan, and what better way than to win the race both of them were competing in. And the fact that it was an American race was just an added bonus to him. He was grasping at straws at this point, but the little sliver of hope kept him sane, until it didn't.

How a big group of drivers, significant others, and friends ended up at some club, karaoke bar, line dancing, and mechanical bull place all wrapped into one he will never know. But he was sure you had something to do with it. It was a far cry from the places he was used to overseas or hell even in Miami or Vegas, but he had just won the Grand Prix, he was going to have a good time no matter where he was at.

The drinks were going down smooth tonight, and at one point he had lost count of how many he had consumed. It seemed like they just magically kept appearing in front of him, he was constantly being brought drinks or shots from people wanting to congratulate him on his win. At this point he was starting to feel a little unsteady on his feet. Perhaps he may have gone too hard too fast with the alcohol tonight. He wasn't plastered yet, but he was getting there quick. He was about ready to down another shot when his teammate came up behind him. "Think you may need to slow down on the drinking for awhile."

Oscar walked alongside Lando, well more like guided him, towards the karaoke section of the place. Sitting him down at one of the booths as he slid in next to him. Lando slumped forward, his face resting wobbly in his hands. You were seated at the same booth but directly across from them.

"Jesus Lan, we've been here two hours. How much have you had to drink?" You asked.

Lando held up his pointer finger, indicating one.

Oscar and you shook your heads at the curly haired driver. "Very funny." You stated.

Lando now donned a sour look on his face, they had misunderstood his gesture. "No. I'm number 1!"

"Yes Lando you won today." Oscar reassured his teammate.

Oscar and you sipped your drinks while you prayed Lando would sober up enough that you didn't need to be worried about him. The pair was having to either decline the drinks that people were sending over for the winner or drink them themselves. They soon found themselves a little on the tipsy side from perhaps doing the same thing Lando was guilty of moments ago.

"You guys are freaking idiots." Lando mumbled. The once responsible friends that were looking after Lando were now in the same boat as him. Perhaps Lando was slightly more sober than them at this point.

After your second tequila sunrise the idea of karaoke sounded like the best thing ever. You knew Oscar wouldn't be up for it and Lando didn't look the happiest right now, so you searched the place for the one person who you knew would be up for it. You were able to spot him easily, his tall frame making him stand out in the crowd.

"Logan!"

You were tipsy enough to forget that yelling for a person in a loud club did absolutely nothing. And as you yelled again Lando tried to just tune you out, ignore the annoyance and jealousy arising in him over you hollering another man's name. He was supposed to be on his best behavior, but he should have known from before that alcohol and his good behavior don't mix.

You had finally gotten Logan's attention and as Lando saw the American driver walk towards their table he fiddled with his phone. Not even bothering to acknowledge him as he greeted him.

"Will you please do karaoke with me?" He heard you ask Logan and without even looking up he knew you were giving Logan those damn puppy dog eyes that you used to give him when you wanted him to do something for you.

He heard Logan laugh and from the corner of his eye he saw him reach out his hand for you to grab. "Yes, but only for my favorite girl."

Lando's blood ran cold at Logan's use of words. His favorite girl? His? The simple three letter word made his body tense and as the pair walked away Lando finally looked up. He had wished he hadn't as he saw Logan's arm around your shoulder as the two of them walked.

"Mate I thought you had gotten your shit together? I can feel how tense you are from over here." Oscar's speech was clear, he clearly hadn't drank as much as Lando thought.

"I'm perfectly fine." Lando stated as he looked back down at his phone.

"Yeah and my ears didn't pop from the pressure displacement in the air when you heard Logan call Y/N his favorite girl."

Lando did not like that fact that he was trapped in this booth with the one person who could read him like a book. "Can you let me out?"

Oscar scoffed at Lando's question. "You don't want to listen to Y/N and Logan sing? We have an excellent view of the stage." He took another swig of his drink as he eyed his teammate.

Not even twenty seconds later the two Americans took the stage and Lando suddenly found his phone to be more interesting. They had decided to sing some song about saving horses and riding cowboys, whatever it was Lando had tried to tune it out. But when he would hear you laugh in between parts of the song his eyes would venture from his phone up to the stage. He never looked for long, his jealousy getting the best of him when he would see how close Logan and you were. Not even physically, at this point they were clearly emotionally close, perhaps even closer than Lando and you ever were. At least that's what Lando's worst case scenario brain told him.

Lando managed to make it through their karaoke session without blowing a gasket. But as you returned to the table your smile faded as you looked at Lando, who looked less than thrilled as you approached him.

Sliding back into the booth you eyed him. Your mouth working faster than your brain. "Why are you always so unhappy when I'm around anymore? Or when we go out? If you don't want me to come out just tell me." The apology he had given you earlier didn't even exist at this point and the one good moment that you didn't want to ruin from earlier was gone too. You had enough liquid courage in you to finally say what had been eating away at you for months.

Lando was slightly taken aback by your sudden abruptness. He wasn't sure what to say at first. His teeth found the inside of his bottom lip as he tried to choose his words carefully. "I'm not unhappy when you're around, I love having you around. Also, I wouldn't invite you out if I didn't like having you around Y/N." He figured leaving out the mention of him hating when Logan is out with you was a good idea.

You huffed before grabbing one of the shots that had just been dropped off at the table. You downed it easily, slamming the shot glass back down on the table. "Really? Because you sure don't show it."

Oscar was still seated next to Lando, taking sips of his drinks as he watched the two of them go back and forth. He knew this was a long time coming, but he didn't expect to get a front row seat to it.

Lando sat up straight in the booth, suddenly getting defensive. "Why would I not want you around?"

You drummed you fingers against the table as you stared him down. "You always get so pissy when we are out. Like I'm not allowed to have fun or something. Or not allowed to have a little free time while I'm working."

"That's not true." Even though it was.

You rolled your eyes, you clearly were getting nowhere with this conversation and perhaps you should have waited until you both were sober. "You know what nevermind. I should have never brought it up."

Your sarcastic tone went straight through Lando, but he didn't even get a chance to respond back as you had already scooted out of the booth and was lost in the sea of bodies.

"That went well." Oscar stated, but when Lando didn't respond Oscar just kept going. "You remember what I said on the way to the airport in Monza? Either tell you how you feel or get your shit together? You know she's not a confrontational person, so she has clearly had enough of your shit to even bring it up." He took the last swig of his drink and as he got up from the booth he gave Lando one last final warning. "You're gonna lose her and this little conversation the two of you just had was proof enough."

Lando now sat alone in the booth, the only thing surrounding him was empty glasses. How did his nights that were supposed to be filled with celebration and good times always end up filled with drama and regrets? Oscar's words ate away at him as sat there twiddling his thumbs. How much more of this back and forth shit could he take? How much more could you take? Lando scanned the table and found one lonesome shot untouched. He wasn't even sure what it was until that familiar burn hit his throat.

Tequila.

Tequila always seemed to make him make bad decisions, so he knew tonight was either going to end badly or great. Either way he was finally going to man up and tell you how he felt.

It didn't take long to find you, considering you had made yourself the center of attention in the whole place. He heard your laughs before he saw you, but from the crowd of men gathered around the mechanical bull he knew exactly where you were.

He pushed his way to the front and sure enough there you were. When he saw you on that thing he couldn't help but stare. The operator of the machine clearly knew what he was doing, giving everyone a show. The way your thighs clenched onto the sides of the bull to help you stay on. Your ass and tits jiggling when the operator moved the bull a certain way. Not to mention just watching your body sway, you'd think you were a pro at this. Lando's mind started to wonder to how you'd look on top of him and that's when he realized it wasn't just him watching you look like that. You were surrounded by a big group of men, some of them his fellow competitors, that he was sure were also thinking the same impure thoughts as him.

He spotted the Ferrari drivers first, both of them leaning over the railing watching you intently. Then he spotted Logan, eyes wide as he watched your ass shake in the air.

This was the beginning of the end of Lando's good behavior promise. Lando could feel his blood starting to boil, knowing all these men were undoubtedly getting their dicks hard over you. He didn't mean to cause a scene, really he didn't. But before he even realized what he was doing he had jumped the railing and had his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you off the bull. Your legs kicking him and insults flew through the air as you protested his actions. He had carried you towards a relatively empty area and as he sat you down he prepared himself for the fallout of his actions.

"What the fuck is your problem?" You shouted, anger and liquor doing nothing to conceal how you felt.

Lando raised his hands in defense. "Y/N. I was just trying to protect you-"

"Why would I need protecting? Especially coming from you? The way you've acted towards me these past couple months I figured you'd rather me be dead!"

The handful of people who were around had started to stare, if Lando had thought he caused a scene moments ago, it was nothing compared to now.

Lando tried to explain himself. "You should have seen how those guys were looking at you."

You scoffed at his comment. "Well have you thought maybe I wanted them to look? I'm allowed to have a little fun Lando, maybe you should try it sometime. In fact I'm surprised you haven't found your random girl to hookup with on my hotel room door yet." Your words were laced with venom, he had finally pushed you hard enough.

His eyes narrowed at you. "Why are you bringing up what happened in Monza? All I was trying to do was save you from a night filled with fighting off all those sleazy guys. They only wanted one thing from you, especially the other drivers."

Shaking your head at Lando, a laugh escaped past you lips. "Yeah I guess you would know about using women wouldn't you?"

Lando ignored you dig at him, fully knowing what you had said was true.

"I just think you should be careful about who you are friends with. The way Logan was looking at you-" More often than not Lando was quite the hypocrite when it came to his issues with you.

Your jaw tightened at the mention of Logan, there was no reason to bring him into this.

Tonight was the final straw, you had truly had enough. This wasn't a healthy friendship and as much as it pained you, it was becoming more of a reality that this chapter of your life was needing to come to an end. As you cut the McLaren driver's sentence off you knew this may be the last time you spoke to him.

"You know what Lando, you are right. I do need to be more careful about who I'm friends with." You moved closer to him, the two of them merely inches apart, your finger poking at his chest as you spoke. "And he's standing right here."

Lando could have swore all the air left his body as you spoke those five words to him. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Surely he had heard you wrong. "You don't mean that." Lando stammered, his eyes never leaving yours, trying to search for a joking gleam in your eyes. But dark, cold, and empty eyes were all that stared back at him.

"I do." You whispered, you hand lingering on his chest, you could feel his heart racing, yours doing the same.

Lando stood there dumbfounded as you walked away. He didn't protest, purely from the fact that he was still processing what had just happened. Had he finally lost you? From the looks of it he had and he hadn't even told you how he felt. Why couldn't he be normal for once? He always had to make everything about him, about how he felt.

He figured at this point what else did he have to lose? He was still going to tell you how he felt about you. Maybe if he was lucky you would feel the same, but with Lando's track record he knew his chances were slim.

You had a good head start on him, but his legs carried him as fast as they could out of the building and down the street towards the hotel. He silently thanked god that there weren't any fans outside the hotel and by the time he reached you room he was out of breath as he knocked on you door.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. How could you have been so stupid? The tears thankfully hadn't started to fall until you had reached your hotel room, but now as you sat on your bed they wouldn't stop coming.

You knew what you did was the right thing, but you still felt stupid. Stupid for even developing feelings for Lando in the first place, stupid for allowing your relationship to turn into what it had. Why you ever let it get to this point was beyond you. It hurt, god did it hurt, but life teaches you lessons and this clearly was one. As you typed up a draft resignation letter on your phone you heard a rapid knock at your door. You had texted Oscar earlier letting him know you were coming back to the hotel, that things had gone sour between Lando and you. So, you figured that was him coming to check up on you.

But oh boy were you wrong. On the other side of the door stood an out of breath Brit, who was the cause of the tears you were now rapidly trying to wipe away. You had tried to slam the door in his face, but he quickly stuck his foot in the doorframe, a groan coming from him as the door hit his foot.

Good I hope it hurt you thought.

"Y/N please. I need to talk to you." His grip on the door was much stronger than yours and he easily was able to make his way into your room.

"Why so you can shame me or be rude to me or bad mouth one of my friends again? Think you did enough of that earlier." You stood your ground, arms crossed across your chest.

Lando closed the door behind him and as he eyed you he fully took you in. The red puffy eyes, tear stained cheeks. God he had fucked up. "What was said earlier got blown way out of proportion. That's not how I intended for you to take my words."

"It wasn't just what you said earlier Lando, it's been a combination of a lot of other things. I don't know what switched between us, but it's not the same as it used to be. You're an ass to me more than not anymore. I don't know what I did to make you act like that, but you won't have to deal with me much longer. I'm writing my resignation letter. It'll be sent in the morning and I'll be gone."

Lando had started to panic, the realness of the situation they had found themselves in had really started to set in. "No no no no! You don't have to quit your job. You love what you do."

A loud sigh passed your lips, clearly annoyed at him. "Well when the main person I work with can't ever seem to be happy with what I do or associate myself with, then perhaps quitting is what needs to be done." Maybe it was some of the alcohol still in your system or maybe you just wanted to be an ass back to him finally, but the tears had subsided and your mood had turned slightly petty. "Which now that I think about it, why do you care so much about who I hang out with? I mean it's ok for you to fuck any woman with pulse, but I suddenly become close with other drivers and now it's time to slut shame me? Wonder what the press would think about that?"

The smirk that was on you face made Lando irate, you were so fucking stubborn sometimes. All he had wanted to do was come up here and confess how he felt, fix his fuck up from earlier, but now he was riled up again.

"When in the fuck have I slut shamed you? I mean what do you want me to say? That you can go fuck my competitors? If thats all thats stopping you then please don't let me get in your way." Lando regretted his words as soon as they came out of his mouth. The last thing he wanted was for you to go fuck someone else.

That wasn't at all what you were trying to get at. In fact it was the opposite, but if he was going to bring it up, you were going to play along, anything to get under his skin. What better way to hurt a man's ego than to talk about how much you would want to get with his competitors. You grabbed your phone off the bed, unlocking it and scrolling through your contacts. "Maybe I will. I mean I have endless choices don't I? I know Charles would have loved to fuck me in Monza. Or perhaps Logan? You said yourself he was eyeing me tonight. Or maybe Charles and Carlos both? You should have seen how they were with me in the taxi when we were in Monza."

Lando thought he was going to lose his mind, he felt like he was going to break his jaw from how hard he had it clenched. Just hearing you say those things had him on the edge of snapping. "Hmm. I think I'll go with Logan. Think he would know how to please me." Before you could even pretend to start texting him Lando's hand was on your wrist, prying you phone from your hands. His breath labored as he pulled you close to him.

"You are not fucking any of them."

Your eyes widened at his actions, his hands around your wrists, his pupils blown as he stared you down, and the smell of tequila on his breath. The petty joking manner you had moments ago was now long gone.

The angry tension in the air had now transitioned into something foreign, something deeper. And unknown to you but you had been the one to change it.

"Well why not?" You had tried to bring back the previous atmosphere, but the Lando that stood inches away from you was one you had never seen before.

"Because the only driver you can fuck is me."

Your breath caught in your throat at his words. If there was a world record for how fast someone could blush you were sure you had just broken it, except your whole body felt like it was blushing. It radiated through your body directly to your core.

Your mind felt like tv static, you didn't know what to say or do. Lando was still inches away from you, your wrists still tightly in his grasp. "What?" Was all you could muster up and even that was barely coherent.

"Oh come on. You aren't gonna make me spell it out for you are you?" With just a wide eyed blank stare as your response he freed your wrists, but his hands now glided over your arms and shoulders and up to your neck. The feeling of his hands dancing over your skin made your eyes flutter shut. This was far more different than your knees touching or a lingering hug.

This wasn't how Lando had expected to be telling you how he felt, he hadn't even had anything like this one his mind, but you talking so freely about fucking his friends flipped a switch in him. "You gonna make me tell you how I've been obsessed with you since I saw you sitting in that meeting on your first day? How I drove myself crazy trying to distance myself from you, but you're so fucking intoxicating you just kept drawing me back in. How I basically ruined our friendship because I couldn't stand to see you with fucking Logan."

He paused, but still maintained eye contact as he pressed a chaste kiss on your hand. "Is it wrong of me to assume you've wanted me as bad as I've wanted you?" It was almost his way of asking permission to continue, and you granted it easily by letting out a faint 'no'. With that simple word his kisses moved from your hand up your arm and finally landing on your neck. It was somewhat embarrassing how hot and bothered his words and just some simple kisses were making you.

"Or how about how I could only think of you when I got with other women. Wishing it was you I had pressed up against your hotel room door in Monza. How the idea of any other man even looking at you in a sexual way made me want to break their jaw. You want me to tell you how fucking stupid I was for not telling you how I felt sooner. For basically putting us through hell and back because I couldn't keep my shit together when you talked to Logan."

His kisses had gotten sloppier, and he started to pay more attention to your neck. A small moan emitting from you when he found that sweet spot. You could feel his smirk against your neck as your moans filled his ears.

As your mind slowly processed all that he had just said, a lot more things started to click. First of all your inklings about him feeling the same were very much correct. But to think you hadn't put him being an ass because he was jealous of Logan together had you baffled. Usually you were very observant, but clearly not observant enough. You felt like your body was on autopilot as he still worked on your neck, you were supposed to be mad at him, supposed to be leaving him, leaving all the shitty moments behind. But as you stood here now you were glad he had come up to your room. Glad that you didn't fight that hard to not let him into your room. Because even if you had cut him out of your life and left, you knew deep down those feelings for him would never go away. No matter what had happened between the two of you.

Your hands pressed against his abdomen as he was surely giving you something on your neck that was going to need to be covered in the morning. "Wish I would have told you how I felt sooner." Your words were breathy as his hands now wandered up under your shirt. "You weren't the only one being driven crazy. You were-" It was hard for you to focus on your words, your brain only wanting to focus on how good Lando's hands and lips felt on you. "You were constantly fucking with my head, making me think you liked me and then getting with other women. Made me feel like shit when I saw you with them and then you made me feel like shit for months because you're an asshole."

His attack on your neck had halted, the two of you making eye contact once again. Your eyes glanced down at his lips, they were red and swollen, as much as you wanted to hate him, your desire to kiss him was much stronger.

"I know baby and I'm sorry for ever making you feel like that.'

Your eyebrow raised at the term of endearment. "Baby? Moving a little fast there aren't you Norris?"

A smirk had spread across his face. "You've been my baby in my mind for a long time. So forgive me for being eager."

Rolling your eyes at the brunette you linked your hands behind his neck, once again staring at his lips. "You gonna finally kiss me or do I need to go find Logan?"

The mere mention of the American had Lando pulling you into him, your lips meeting in an instant. It took a second for your brain to catch up, but once it did you practically melted into him. You had thought for a long time what it would feel like to kiss Lando, and you were happy to say it was better than you had imagined. His right hand was cupping your face while his left held onto your side. If you were weak in the knees before you surely were now as the two of you pulled away from each other, grinning like idiots. "Why did we deprive ourselves of this for so long?" You asked as your thumb caressed his cheek.

Lando leaned into your touch. "I don't know. I guess we both like to suffer." He gently removed your hand from his face placing an open mouth kiss to your palm. "I still need you to know how sorry I am for being such an ass. Let me show you how sorry I am you." He started to trail kisses back up your arm and you honestly didn't need any convincing. With a simple 'ok' from you Lando's lips were back on yours as he leaded you back towards your bed, your lips never separating.

The back of your knees hit the end of the bed causing you to fall back onto the bed. Using your forearms to prop yourself up you stared back at the driver who was stood at the end of the bed. He kicked off his shoes and his shirt was being pulled over his head in a matter of seconds. He didn't even give you time to gawk at his toned abdomen before he was climbing onto the bed, his chain dangling over you as your lips reconnected. Wrapping your fingers around the chain you pulled him closer, deepening the kiss. Your need for him growing more and more by the minute. The desire for his touch consumed you and as you started to squirm under him you heard a soft laugh come from him.

"That needy huh?" His teasing tone causing the aching throb between your legs to intensify. With only a whine coming from you as a response he looped his fingers through your belt loops, slightly tugging on them. "Which should come off first? Pants or shirt?"

You were in no mood for his teasing, the idea of having to wait any longer for his hands to be on you again sounded like torture. "Both."

"Both? That's my girl."

My girl repeated in your head as you struggled to get your shirt off. Those two simple words causing your arousal to grow even more and as he pulled off your pants you sure you had already soaked your panties. But Lando wasn't focused on that yet, to his surprise when he looked up to see you taking off your shirt, you hadn't worn a bra. Your breasts were already on full display. "Jesus." He groaned as he climbed his way back up to you. "Should have known you didn't wear a bra tonight the way your tits were bouncing on that bull." He wasted no time, immediately placing his large hands on them. As he pinched and tugged one nipple with one hand, his mouth had found its way onto the other. It was a sight you couldn't tear your eyes away from, something you only dreamed about. A whimper escaped past your lips and Lando could have died right there a happy man as your whimpers filled his ears.

As much as you were enjoying the pleasure he was giving you, it was creating a much bigger need someplace else. If your panties weren't soaked earlier, they definitely were now. The aching between your legs was becoming almost unbearable. Your hands found there way to his hair, fingers running through his messy curls. "Lan." You breathed out. His actions halted at the sound of you calling for him, blown pupils staring up at you.

"What baby?" No audible response came from you, but when he saw you clench your thighs he knew exactly what you wanted. "Oh, I think I know what you want." His fingers trailed from your breasts all the way down to the waistband of your panties, his fingers toying with it, gently snapping it against your skin.

"Thought you weren't gonna be an ass anymore?" His teasing making you crazy.

Even though he was looking down you could see the smirk on his face, the little shit was enjoying every minute of making you squirm. You watched as his hands landed on your thighs and in one swift motion they were hooked under your knees and he had pulled you even closer to him, causing your legs to be wide open for him.

Lando felt his dick twitch at the sight of your soaked panties, and once he pulled them off he thought he had died and gone to heaven at just how fucking wet you were, from him. He hadn't even properly touched you yet and you were already a mess. His hands masssaged you inner thighs and ghosted around the area you wanted him the most. "God, you're gonna be the death of me. You know how fucking soaked you are?" He took a single finger and quickly ran it up your slit, your wetness that lathered his finger quickly entered his mouth.

Your skin was on fire from just that his one little action, and as you watched him suck your wetness from his finger you thought your heart was gonna beat out of your chest. "Lan please."

"Please what?"

You threw your head back in frustration, he had to be getting off on this. "I want your mouth" you glanced down at his long thick fingers that had found a home on your thighs once more "and your fingers."

"Whatever my girl wants." He scooted down on the bed and as he lowered his head between your thighs the pit in your stomach grew. He wasted no time in getting to work, or in finding your clit. As he gently sucked on the sensitive bud you couldn't hold in your moans. The boy was a fucking expert with his tongue and from the way he was devouring you, you could tell he was enjoying it. Your fingers grabbed his curls as he fucked your hole with his tongue, his nose brushing against your clit. It was embarrassing how fast he had you close to coming undone. Your chest heaving as you felt your orgasm coming, and he hadn't even used his fingers yet, but almost like he knew what you wanted, you felt two fingers slide inside of you. Your moans getting louder as he still worked your clit and finger fucked you at the same time. When he added a third finger and curled his fingers, reaching that soft spongy spot, your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

He had raised his head to look up at you, a smirk splayed across his glistening face, covered in your slick. "That's my pretty girl. Come on, I know you're close. Gonna come all over my fingers and face aren't you."

His words of praise went straight to your core and as you clenched around his fingers a small laugh came from him. "Someone likes to be praised." You couldn't even be bothered to give him a witty comment back, you were on the edge of coming undone. His mouth went back to work and in a matter of seconds you were unraveling beneath him. Your legs shook as he still worked you through your orgasm. His name tumbling out of your mouth like a chant.

Your breathing was labored as you tried to come down from your high. Glancing down at Lando, he had never looked hotter to you than right now. His face and fingers covered in you, his hair a mess and lips swollen from him devouring your pussy. And the mess between your thighs that was caused by him, had you craving more.

Lando's erection was painfully throbbing at this point, still trapped behind his boxers and jeans. How he didn't just blow his load at the sight of you unraveling because of him, he wasn't sure. But one thing he did know was that he needed to be inside you, immediately. "I know you're still coming down but I need you so badly." His hands fumbling with the button on his jeans.

You simply shook your head at him, hands reaching out to help him get his pants off. "I don't care what you do as long as you can make me come like that again."

The words of praise went straight to Lando's cock, he truly didn't think he had ever been this hard in his life. The way you were looking up at him through your lashes as you toyed with the waistband of his boxers had him groaning. "Y/N stop."

A look of innocence spread across your face. "What? I was just giving you a taste of your own medicine." Your hand brushed past his still clothed erection and the whimper that came from him was like music to your ears. You soon granted him relief has you tugged his boxers down, his cock slapping against his stomach. Your eyes widened as you took all of him in. He was clearly blessed with not only good size, but girth. The mere thought of him stretching you out had you practically drooling.

You wanted to please him the same way he had you, but you had barely rubbed your thumb over his tip before his his large hand wrapped around your wrist, halting your actions. "I really just want to be inside of you."

Not one to oblige you scooted back on the bed, head resting on the pillows as you watched him come towards you. The anticipation was killing you and as he rubbed his tip between your folds it had only made it worse. "You know how beautiful you are? Think you might be even more beautiful when you take my cock won't you baby?"

Eagerly nodding at his words you couldn't take your eyes off his cock as his tip teased your entrance. You knew he was going to be a tease, so you rolled your hips towards him, patience not being your strong suit when it came to him. "That hungry for my cock huh?"

In one swift motion he had pushed himself in you, completely bottoming out. "Oh my god!" It had caught you off guard, even with how wet you were it still hurt a little as his cock stretched you out.

You hadn't even realized you had clenched around him until he spoke up. "Fuck. I'm not gonna last long if you keep doing that." His face scrunched up in pleasure.

"Sorry." You stated, pressing a kiss to his forearm.

Lando had started to move his hips and as the first waves of pleasure jolted through your body you couldn't help but think this is not how you saw your night going when you woke up this morning.

The room was filled with a mix of both yours and Lando's moans and the sound of slapping skin. You weren't trying to be dramatic, but you truly thought Lando's cock was made for you. The way he filled you up just right with each stroke was making your head spin.

Still sensitive from your first orgasm, you could feel yourself getting close again, the familiar pit in your stomach growing as he pounded into you relentlessly. The pleasure overwhelming you. But just at the brink of coming undone for the second time tonight he abruptly pulled out.

"You've got to be jok-"

He lightly slapped your thigh. "Ass up."

He didn't have to tell you twice as you quickly flipped over, face buried in the pillows, back arched with your ass in the air. The cool air on your now very exposed pussy sent a shiver down your spine.

Lando was enjoying the view as he lightly toyed with your clit earning a muffled moan from you. His hands gripped your waist to enter you once more when something in the corner of the room caught his eye. Gathering your hair into a makeshift ponytail with one hand and the other under your stomach he pulled you up and back towards him until your back was flush against his chest, practically sitting in his lap. His still very prominent erection rubbing between your folds. As he positioned the both of you to face the corner of the room that's when you saw it.

Your reflection staring back at you. The horny little shit wanted to fuck you in front of the mirror. You couldn't lie the thought of it was hot. So, you took the initiative, as you raised your hips you took his cock in your hand, lining him up with your entrance.

The both of you watching in the mirror as you sank down onto him. The image right up there with Lando eating you out as one of the hottest things you'd seen. A string of curse words was heard from Lando and all you could do was grip his legs as you felt him buck up inside you.

As you rolled your hips you couldn't tear your eyes away from the mirror and neither could Lando. The new position allowing for him to feel even deeper inside you, if that was possible. One of his hands reached around and started to rub your clit, the added pleasure causing your eyes to flutter shut.

"Nope. Open your eyes pretty girl. I want you to watch."

When you didn't open them he told you again, but when you didn't open them the third time, his other hand was now suddenly wrapped around your throat. His large hand easily covering the front of your throat. The slight pressure he applied to the sides of your throat caused your eyes to fly open, but combine that with you riding his cock and his other hand still working on your clit you were once again on the brink of an orgasm. The sight of you in the mirror was nothing less than pornogrpahic and if Lando could, he would have taken a picture.

The feeling though was gone again, in a matter of seconds. He had basically thrown you off his cock, then pulled you off the bed, the both of you now directly in front of the mirror. You were impressed with Lando's stamina and you knew from him practically edging you (and himself) twice now, when he finally did let you come it was going to be mind blowing.

He had you bent over, hands gripping the sides of the mirror, as he spread your legs. This time there was no teasing your clit, he wasted no time, his cock slamming into you as soon as your legs were spread. His thrusts were relentless, you weren't sure if you would even be able to walk tomorrow. But from the way his fingers were gripping your waist you for sure knew there would be bruises there tomorrow. Your moans only encouraging him more as he slapped your ass, the sting only adding to your pleasure.

"God, look at you. Taking my cock like that. Who else can fuck you like this huh? Make you an absolute mess?"

You were too fucked out to respond, your legs feeling weak as you watched him in the mirror. Lando's hand reached around towards you neck, finding its previous home from moments ago. "I said who else can fuck you like this?" He gave your throat a light squeeze.

"No one. Only you." You finally mustered up, brain too consumed by pleasure to actually form a sentence.

You watched as the smirk formed on his face at your words. "There's my good girl." Your pussy fluttering at the pet name, which in turn earned a 'fuck' from Lando.

His other hand reached down to your clit, once again giving it some attention. As your orgasm approached you prayed this would be the time he finally would let you come. Your whimpers a telltale sign to Lando you were ready. "Gonna be a good girl and come for me? Come on baby. Let everyone know who's making you feel this good. Want everyone to know your mine."

With his words of praise your orgasm washed over you, hard. The pleasure was so intense you couldn't even hold yourself up anymore. Your body convulsing as your ears started to ring. Lando's name echoing out of your mouth in a less than quiet volume. It didn't help that he was still fucking you through your orgasm, the overstimulation bringing you almost to tears at how good it felt. Lando came seconds later, hot sticky cum filling you up. Profanties mixed with your name bounced around the room as he milked every ounce out of his orgasm.

As he pulled out a whimper came from you at the sudden empty feeling, while a groan came from him at the sight of his cum leaking out of you.

Lando basically carried you back to the bed, afraid your legs would give out if you tried to walk. His arms immediately wrapping around you as you rested your head on his chest. "Think I accomplished your request didn't I?" Lando asked with a smirk on his face. His fingers rubbing gently circles on your back.

"You did more than accomplish it Norris. I think everyone in the hotel knows that." A blush creeping onto your cheeks at the fact that you were not so quiet moments ago.

"Poor Oscar." Lando laughed. Oh god, you had forgotten Oscar's room was right next to yours. "Actually don't worry about it. He should be happy we are finally together."

Raising your head to look at him you gave him a questioning look. "Together? I never remember getting asked anything. Only being told I could only fuck you."

Lando rolled his eyes at your dramatics. "Yes and that statement still stands." His free hand cupped your cheek, his thumb gently caressing your cheek. He hadn't planned for tonight to go the way it did, but as he laid here in bed with you in his arms he wouldn't have it any other way. He wanted this all the time. "In all seriousness. I do want you to be mine. My girlfriend."

You would have never thought you'd be in this position. It had been a tough couple months for the two of you and just hours ago you were ready to erase him from your life as best as your could. But you still loved him, even more now if that was possible.

"Well it's a good thing I want you to be mine too huh?" His eyes lit up at your words, smiling for ear to ear. His lips were on yours in an instant, something you don't think you'll ever get used to. "Even though you were an asshole." You said as you pulled away.

Lando let out a sigh. "Well I guess I'm still gonna have to show you how sorry I am aren't I?" His cheeky expression not matching his tone of voice.

"I think so." You stated as your lips met once again.

An ignored text alert sounded off from the bedside table of the two lovers. It wouldn't be read until morning, laughter coming from Lando as your cheeks turned red.

Oscar: well I'm glad I'm not in the middle of whatever the hell that friends to crushes to miserable fucks to enemies shit you two had going on anymore. but please for the love of god remind me to never take the room by either of you again!!!!!!

[caffeinewitchcraft]

Ghost Eater

Summary: You don't like exorcists. They don't much like you either.

-----

You’d always thought big restaurants like the Brownie Industry only did well in small, midwestern towns like the one you came from. A year working in LA has taught you that, no matter where you go, people will always love garlic bread and sugar.

It’s your day off which means you’re pulling a double shift. You haven’t had time to wash your hair for the past two weeks so it’s frizzing out of your claw clip and flying wild around your face. The lighting is so dim that you’ve tripped over two black purses already, luckily not while you’re running food. The big dining room sounds like an apiary with the tittering laughter of the later adult crowd that’s filtered in from the theater across the four lane road. The main difference between the Brownie Industry here and the one back home is size. The ceiling soars overhead, supported by a series of concrete pillars separating the dining area into three sections.

Normally it would be three servers per section. Today, it’s just you in yours.

One more hour. That’s what the manager promised you. It might even be true if the host stand quits seating you after the table you’re approaching.

There are three people at the table. A woman whose hair might be light blonde or gray in the light of day, her eyes light and piercing. Her face is soft from age, emphasized by the tight, lace collar of her off-season sweater. She reminds you strongly of your mom’s nemesis on the HOA board. The man couldn’t be more out of place next to her despite their equivalent age. He’s wearing a leather jacket – again, it’s not cold here – and a Norwegian metal shirt underneath. His hair is definitely white, so white it almost glows. He’s frowning at the teenager across the table as if she’s touched his motorcycle without permission.

The teenager might be the first you’ve seen all night who doesn’t have their phone out. She’s decked out in what you consider grandma florals – a t-shirt scattered with daisy chains, a bucket hat made out of nana’s carpet bag, and a hand-crocheted scarf in pastel.  You can’t really see her face under the shadow of her hat and there’s an odd, blurred quality to the way she fiddles with her napkin. You let your eyes skip past her and back to the two adults. Teenagers don’t pay the bill.

“Welcome to Brownie Industry!” you chirp. You’re sweaty and red but the faded yellow light hides that. You’re a service industry pro so none of your exhaustion shows on your face when you ask, “Is this your first-time dining with us?”

If you weren’t so burned out, you’d have noticed before you introduced yourself.

“Are you Grady?” the woman asks. Her voice is more posh than you expected even with her lace collar. “Grady Pace?”

Fuck. There’s a noticeable temperature differential now that you’re close to them. The restaurant is warm from the number of bodies, maybe even warmer than the summer air outside, but stepping up next to their table feels like walking into an ice rink.

“I’m your waitress,” you say. You don’t have time for this conversation. You’ve got five minutes in your cycle to take their order and then you’ve got food to run. “If you need any other services from me, I have a website.”

“We messaged you,” the man says. His lips thin to the point his thick mustache covers them entirely. “You never responded.”

Because you’ve been making more money at the Brownie Industry than your other job. “I’ll take a look at it tonight.”

“Wait,” the teenager says, sitting upright. She looks from you to the adults and back again. When she smiles, there’s no humor in it. “This is why we drove eight hours to have dinner at the Brownie Industry? For her?”

“Katie, be polite—”

“I’m sorry,” Katie says, “It’s just—I found a priest, you know? An actual exorcist priest and you guys want to trust a waitress over him?”

“Ugh exorcists,” you say. The memory of sour cabbage is so heavy on your tongue that you stick your tongue out in disgust. When you see Katie’s look, you backtrack. “Effective! Definitely effective.”

“Your mistakes have cost us too much already,” the man says, shaking a finger at her. “We are not converting just for an exorcism.”

“I normally don’t agree with your father,” the woman tells Katie, “but in this case I would like to leave conversion as a last resort.”

“We wouldn’t actually convert,” Katie says, rolling her eyes.

“Pretty sure exorcists can tell when you lie,” you tell Katie. When her scowl deepens, you clear your throat. “Did you all need another minute to think about the menu?”

“We need you to help us,” the dad says. He scrubs a hand over his face. “Look, I know you’re at work and I’m sorry we’re bothering you.”

“We’re desperate,” the mom says. She reaches for her purse. “We’ll pay you. Triple the rate on your website or even quadruple. We need that thing gone by tonight.”

Katie covers her face. “Mom. You’re embarrassing me. Terry isn’t that bad.”

“Oh, he’s bad, young lady,” the dad says sternly. “A bad influence.”

“We caught her trying to perform another séance yesterday,” the mom confesses to you. She leans forward with a pinched expression. “So Terry’s friend Larry could visit too.”

“Interesting,” you say. The food bell rings, but you think you can ignore it for another minute. You study Katie’s blush. “Why did you do that?”

If she was being compelled, she won’t have an answer to your question. You’ve dealt with a lot of ghosts in your time, but so few are sentient enough – or powerful enough – for compulsion.

“Go on,” the dad says, gesturing at you. “Tell her.”

“Leroy, she’s embarrassed enough,” the mom says.

“No, she’s not, Sarah.” The dad – Leroy – gestures to you again. “Tell her.”

Katie huffs, clearly resistant. But when her dad huffs back, she caves. “So,” she says, “I have this YouTube channel—”

“I’m off in an hour,” you interrupt. You don’t care that you’re being rude. Your patience ran out as soon as she said YouTube. “I’ll meet you in the parking lot.” You turn to go.

“A moment!” Sarah shakes out her menu. “How’s the nicoise salad?”

Of course they’re going to order. They’d better tip too if they want you to help them with their ghost problem.

----.

“You said an hour,” mom Sarah says when you leave out the employee entrance. She’s shivering next to her daughter. Leroy is off smoking behind his motorcycle, parked next to the Tesla Katie is leaning on, but he stubs out his cigarette on the asphalt when you walk up. “It’s been two.”

“I had side work,” you say instead of it would have been one if not for you. You rub your bare arms when the familiar ghost chill washes over you. You want nothing more than to go home and wash the scent of garlic and brownie batter out of your hair. “Was there something wrong with my service?”

“No?”

You try to make your voice light. “I see.”

Sarah frowns at your tone anyway. “Why?”

“You tipped five dollars.”

Katie jolts like a scalded cat. “Mom!”

Leroy scrubs a hand over his face. “Sarah…”

“What?” Sarah throws up her hands. The parking lot lights catch on her Swarovski charm bracelet. “I tipped!”

“Like ten percent,” Katie says. She pulls her bucket hat over her eyes for a beat and then peeks at you from under it. “I’m so sorry. It’s not you, she’s always like this.”

“It was actually a six percent tip,” you say. You’re getting a clearer picture of this little family now. It’s becoming more and more understandable why Katie might have started summoning ghosts. “If you want to be precise.”

Leroy reaches for his back pocket. “Let me.”

Sarah swats at his hand. “We’re about to pay her a lot more than that!”

“For a completely separate job,” Leroy says. He pulls a twenty from his wallet and hands it to you with a grimace. “Sorry, Grady, I should’ve checked.”

“You should’ve paid if you cared so much,” Sarah retorts. She folds her arms over her chest. She taps her cheek and widens her eyes. “Oh wait… you never pay.”

“Sure,” Leroy says. This time it’s his turn to throw his hands in the air. “Sure, Sarah. I don’t pay for anything to do with our daughter’s private school or her dance classes or her health insurance—”

“If the court hadn’t mandated—”

“You make twice as much as me—"

“Guys!” Katie says loudly. Her mouth is a thin line of upset when she says, “Argue about what an expensive burden I am later when we don’t have an audience, okay?”

Her parents speak at the same time.

“You’re twisting my words,” Sarah says. “I never said—"

“Sweetie, you’re not a burden—”

“Can you just get this ghost out of me?” Katie asks you. She goes for nonchalance and falls short. “My parents haven’t been in the same room for the last five years for a reason.” She fakes whispering. “They don’t play nicely with others.”

Sarah bristles. “Katie.”

“God, I know how that is,” you say. The whole interaction is giving you the worst case of sympathy for Katie. Before her parents can say anything else, you change the subject. “How long have you been haunted?”

“Six months,” Katie says. She fiddles with her bucket hat so that you can see her eyes for the first time. They’re brown, like her dad’s, and have heavy bruises underneath. She shrugs. “They only noticed a month ago though.”

“I noticed your behavior had changed,” Sarah defends. Like her daughter, she fidgets. She plays with her bracelet and clears her throat. “I thought it was a teenage thing.”

“What signs did you notice first?” you ask the parents. They glance at each other and then away.

“Let’s just say we noticed different things,” Leroy says dryly. He pulls out his phone.

“Moodiness,” Sarah says. She ticks them off on her fingers. “Laziness. Disrespect. Over-sleeping.”

“Those are just teenager things,” Katie says with an astounding level of self awareness. She shrugs. “I’m a senior now. They’re lucky it didn’t start sooner.”

“I,” Leroy says, “noticed this.” He turns his phone towards you.

“Ah,” Sarah says, “Yes. That.”

You examine the picture. It’s of Katie on a small dirt bike. She’s wearing a helmet in the picture, but you recognize the fashion sense in the floral boots she’s wearing. The scene behind her is of the hills, low scrub brush recognizable to someone who’s lived in LA for the past five years. On the bike behind her is a smudge. It could be a cloud of dirt blown into frame or maybe a camera glitch. It could be if it weren’t for the leering face emerging from the cloud right behind her head.

“I just want to say I did not agree to getting her a motorcycle,” Sarah says.

“Mom, not the point,” Katie says.

“Look how close that creep is to my daughter,” Leroy says. He jabs a finger at Katie’s waist in the photo where you can see a ghostly hand. “I want him gone.”

“Dad, he didn’t mean anything by it!” Katie turns to you earnestly. “Terry never rode a bike before and I thought, like, what if he moved on after he got a chance to? It was a philanthropic effort!”

“Plant a tree if you want to be a philanthropist,” Leroy growls. “I want this guy away from my daughter.”

“He doesn’t mean any harm really,” Katie says. “He would move on if he could! He says he’s stuck to me because of how I summoned him. He’s like, really sorry. He even spelled out Sorry in the bathroom mirror once.”

“What,” Sarah says in a dangerous voice, “was Terry doing in the bathroom with you, Katie?”

Katie splutters. “Mom, don’t be gross!”

The family descends into bickering. You have heard about ghosts being stuck to a person before, but usually that’s when the person has some sort of psychic powers. Katie’s wearing crystal in her ears, but they aren’t charged. She might develop some talent later in life, but right now she’s a normal girl.

The parking lost is nearly empty now. You recognize a few employee cars, but very few customers. The kitchen will be cleaning for another half hour before they’re ready to go home.  The reality is that, if Terry is stuck, you might not be the best way to handle the situation. If he’s not…

Well.

It’s time to talk to Terry.

Opening your ghost sense is hard to describe. Some psychics liken it to a third eye, right in the middle of their forehead. You’ve always thought that sounded really cool like maybe the world gets cast in a blue hue when they do it and the dead appear like they do in movies. You’ve met other psychics who say it’s like a sixth sense. They know where the ghost is and it’s like they download all that information until their minds can just sort of conjure their image.

For you, it’s like letting your body remember it has a second mouth. Cats have an extra sensory organ on the roof of their mouth that lets them detect scents better. Your second mouth is a bit like that. You can still smell brownies and garlic and the city air of LA, but you can also smell/taste something else.

Something like…pepper?

Your eyes water and you sneeze so viciously that your eyes close. When you open them again, four people are staring at you in surprise.

“Gesundheit,” Leroy says.

“You sneeze like Dad does,” Katie says.

“Did no one ever teach you to cover your mouth?” Sarah asks in disgust.

“I wish you would’ve sneezed on her,” Terry says, nodding to Sarah. “She’s such a bitch.”

“Thank you for the commentary, everyone,” you say. You wipe your nose with the collar of your shirt as you consider Terry. It’s dirty anyway. “Terry. Interesting name for a ghost.”

Terry hasn’t noticed that you can see him yet. He’s floating behind Katie, one arm casually flung over her shoulder. It’s hard to place when he died based on his appearance alone. His hair is chin length, emphasizing the width of his jaw. Squire cuts have been popular for several decades and the bowling shirt he’s wearing could either be a modern fashion statement or a dated uniform. He looks to be in his mid-twenties, sun-kissed and with the air of someone who tells a lot of jokes at the expense of others. His arm around Katie strikes you as possessive, the glare he gives her parents venomous.

“I didn’t name him,” Katie says. “He said it’s short of Torrance.”

You blink. “Wouldn’t he be Torri then?”

“That’s a girl’s name,” Katie and Terry say at the same time. Their cadence is so close that it actually sounds like Terry’s baritone comes out of Katie’s mouth. For a moment, his arm flickers, clipping into her shoulder like a bad animation. When it does, Terry’s form grows brighter, more solid. Then Katie shivers and he’s forced out of her.

You and Terry click your tongues at the same time.

You remember how Katie’s hands seemed to blur at the dinner table. Terry’s not just haunting Katie. He’s trying to possess her. You wonder if that’s why Katie looked up an exorcist rather than a simple spiritual cleansing. Did she know how much danger she was in?

“Okay,” you say. You tear your attention away from Katie and Terry for a moment. Business first. “Sarah. Leroy. Who was it that found my site?”

“I did,” Sarah says. She raises her chin when you can’t hide your surprise. “When Katie was looking up exorcists—”

“She didn’t mean it,” Terry says. He pats Katie’s hat. “Right?”

“—I looked up alternative solutions,” Sarah says, not having heard Terry. Her confidence falters for a moment and she rubs her arm. “I have had some… negative experiences with exorcisms. I don’t want my daughter to go through that.”

Katie’s head whips towards her mother. “What? I didn’t know that.”

“It was a long time ago,” Leroy says. For the first time, he reaches out and hugs Sarah with one arm. You don’t know what surprises you more; Leroy hugging Sarah or Sarah leaning into his side. “When Sarah told me, we decided to put our differences aside. I vetted you through some of my contacts and they all agreed you’d be a safe bet.”

“I am,” you say. You’re not bragging either. You’re probably the safest bet in half the western states besides your older sister. “There are some…peculiarities in my method.”

“Charlatan,” Terry whispers in Katie’s ear. He’s grinning now. “Only charlatans are that confident. Look! She can’t even see me!”

Katie looks doubtful.

Usually, you’d try to talk to Terry at this point. Sometimes spirits can be negotiated with. They can be encouraged to move on or to take on a less aggressive form of haunting. Those that are truly stuck can be helped with the right sort of ritual work. But the way Terry’s affecting Katie’s mood and that fucking arm around her shoulders…

You don’t really want to talk to Terry.

“We can ask Terry to move on,” you tell the family.

“Nooooooo,” Terry says and flips you off. “Pass!”

“Sometimes spirits don’t realize how deeply they’re affecting their hosts,” you say.

“You don’t even know how deep I’m about to be,” Terry jeers at you.

“Many ghosts are confused when they’re called to interact with the living,” you say. “It can blur their understanding of death and, as a result, they cling to life. If they stick around long enough, their presence will affect the living like what’s happening to Katie. It’s not always malicious. It can be a symptom of that confusion.”

“Katie, tell her to piss off,” Terry hisses in the teen’s ear. “I’m not confused, I’m bored.” His voice deepens. “Tell her we don’t need her help. Tell her we’re going home.”

Katie opens her mouth robotically. “That’s…” Her brow creases as she tries to figure out what she was going to say. “It seems like we don’t need help then. Terry will move on when he’s ready, like I thought.”

“We aren’t paying you for a ghost therapy session,” Sarah snaps. It’s only because you’re really focusing that you can see the unease under her anger. She’s noticed something wrong with Katie. “Katie, Terry is going away today.”

“Fuck you,” Terry says.

“Fuck you,” Katie says.

Leroy’s head rears back. “Katie, you don’t use that language with your mother!”

“Fuck you too,” Katie and Terry say. The parking lot lights flicker.

“No, fuck you, Terry,” you say, stepping between Katie and her parents. Leroy starts like he’s going to pull you out of the way, but he doesn’t.

“Terry?” Leroy asks. He looks scared. “Terry said that? Is Terry possessing my daughter?”

“Not yet.” You eye Terry’s arm and the way his fingers are sinking into Katie’s arm.

“Oh fuck,” Terry says. He doesn’t look scared. Not yet. Instead, he grins. “You can see me.”

“Not every ghost is malicious,” you tell the parents without taking your eyes off Terry. “But some are.”

“I’m not malicious.” Terry runs a hand through his hair, still grinning. The parking lot lights flicker overhead again. “I care about Katie a lot.”

“Terry’s never hurt me,” Katie says.

You ignore her. She’s not even shaking Terry off now. Her gaze is dull on your face when you say, “I don’t mean to sound like I’m some sort of ghost therapist. However, it’s important to differentiate between malicious and non-malicious hauntings in my practice. My methods are unconventional and, if used indiscriminately, I can get in a lot of trouble.”

“We won’t tell anyone,” Leroy says. He steps into your periphery. His gaze flicks from you to the spot you’re staring at over Katie’s shoulder. “We want Terry gone.”

“Not a soul,” Sarah promises. She comes up on your other side. “Please help our daughter.”

“Terry,” you say. Your second mouth is yawning wide somewhere in the back of your brain. The taste of pepper isn’t as overwhelming now. “Last chance. Renounce your claim on Katie’s soul and slither back into whatever hole you came out of.”

“We’re soulmates,” Terry says. He bares his teeth at you. “Go on, Charlatan. Call on your God to banish me. I’ve been around for decades and no exorcist has ever been able to put a scratch on me. And when they manage to push me out?” He laughs and the temperature drops another ten degrees. An unholy light flickers in his eyes. “I just come right back.”

“Then I guess I won’t feel guilty,” you say.

“Guilty?” Katie asks.

You walk forward two steps and grab Terry’s face. Terry’s skin is soft and jelly-like. His facial bones undulate like rubber under your grip. “Hi, Terry.”

Now Terry’s afraid. “What the fuck, you can touch—?”

“Bye, Terry.” You drag him towards you. His fingers pop out of Katie’s arm with a wet sucking sound, and he claws at your wrist.

“Wait! Waitwaitwaitwait--”

You eat Terry.

People come from all around to eat at the Brownie Industry. They love the density of the desserts and the heaps of garlic spread over home-baked (shipped frozen) rolls. It’s a treat to know you’re always going to enjoy the meal even if you’re far from home or eating at the same location a hundred times. It’s consistency, sugar and butter. An easy addiction to have.

Eating ghosts is like that for you. They fizz in your second mouth like champagne and melt like fudge. It’s hard to describe and the ephemeral quality of it sends shivers down your spine. Somewhere Terry is screaming in anguish, maybe crying. You think that the family you’re helping is screaming something too, but the sensation of eating is so consuming you can’t hear the words.

Terry is younger than other ghosts you’ve eaten. He doesn’t have the depth of flavor you’d once been addicted to back in Illinois. The best ghost you’ve ever eaten had been like a six-course meal with all the centuries she’d been carrying. In comparison, Terry is like a bag of pepper chips. Interesting, but gone in a moment. Still, he hits the spot.

When you’re done, you burp a purple cloud of ectoplasm into the still night air.

Leroy is the first to speak. His eyes are so wide you can see the whites all around them. “Pay her, Sarah,” he says breathlessly. His hands shake as he reaches for Katie, steadying her on her feet. “Now.”

You smack your lips and graciously accept the wad of cash Sarah hands you. You raise your eyebrows. “This is more than three times my rate.”

“Consider it a tip,” Sarah says. She’s more composed than Leroy, but still pale. She studies you. “That was…revolting.”

“You didn’t have to watch,” you say. You put your money away and then perk up at a sudden thought. “Hey, if you can, can you leave me a review on my site?”

“I thought you didn’t want us to tell anyone?”

You wave your hand. “Secrets are bad for business. Besides, Terry deserved it. I’m sure they’ll understand if you write that in your review.”

“They…?”

You smile and don’t answer.

The family don’t ask many more questions after that. The parents promise to leave a review and Katie just stares at you as if concussed. You assure the parents that she’ll be back to normal as soon as the soul-shock wears off. 

“And if it doesn’t?” Sarah asks.

“Message me,” you say.

“You don’t check your messages,” Leroy says.

“Oh,” you say, patting your stomach, “I’ll be checking them a lot more often now.”

You’re hungry again.

---

(Patreon)

[bratbby333]

choso kamo — the boy next door

synopsis you were completely oblivious to his inner turmoil. but choso liked it that way. cw nsfw, stalking, somnophilia, voyeurism, overstimulation, dirty talk, cream pie wc 4.1k

author note i received three separate requests for pervy!choso, dom!choso, and boynextdoor!choso so i decided to combine them into one story to celebrate hitting 250 followers! eeek i love y'all so much, i hope this scratches the right itch in y'alls brains ♡ proofread and edited up by my favorite person in the known cosmos: @remlionheart *+:｡.｡ thank you for pushing me to finish this

Choso was a constant fixture in your life. For as long as you could remember, it was always you and him. His house neighbored yours and your families had become close over the past fifteen years. Your childhoods were intertwined, filled with joint pool parties, barbecues, and movie nights. The two of you even shared a babysitter when your parents would go out on double dates. You carpooled to school, played in the cul-de-sac until the streetlamps came on, snuck through each other's windows when your parents thought you were sleeping; inseparable. You guys even ended up at the same university after graduating high school. You were finally home for the summer and you couldn’t wait to spend time with your best friend, uninterrupted by the hecticness of college.

A brisk knock resonated through your home, the door answered by your mother. 

“Hey! It’s so nice to see you again,” Choso grinned, nodding gently as he stepped into your foyer. You perked up at the sound of his voice echoing through your house. It was difficult to see one another as much as you had wanted this semester; you both explored different hobbies and found separate friend groups while in college, but you always made sure to find the time. You hadn’t seen him in a few weeks, though; the stress of final exams kept the two of you apart. It had been far too long.

“How have you been, honey? How was your semester?” your mother chirped as she engulfed him in a quick embrace. The two of them shared genial words as they caught up with one another. They continued to chat before being interrupted by the heavy sounds of your excited feet thumping down the staircase. He turned to greet you, only to be entrapped in a bearhug, the momentum pushed his body into the wall behind him.

“Choso! Missed you so much,” you squealed, voice muffled as you buried your face into his chest. You breathed him in, the familiar scent of his cologne dancing through your nose. His cheek found the top of your head as his warm hands rubbed gentle circles into your back, rocking you side to side. Your mother smiled with adoration at the two of you. He squeezed you tight before he pulled away, peering down at you. You noticed a light dusting of pink that surfaced on his skin as you looked up at him, but chalked it up to the sweltered heat of summertime.

“I missed you too, sweetheart,” he replied before returning his gaze to your mother while still holding on to you. ”Exams were tough but I’m happy that it’s finally over,” he added.

His attention fell back to you as his hands rubbed against your arms, “But, I’m all yours for the summer!”

*ੈ ✩‧₊˚

You sat next to him on the floor, backs pressed against the foot of your bed. The two of you shared a pizza as a silly rom-com played on your TV. You took turns catching up on each other’s lives while the film faded into background noise. You felt renewed in his presence, the youthful glow of his features reminded you of how he was when he was younger. But your chest began to ache as you thought about how the time you spent with one another would become harder and harder to come by. The conversation lulled a bit, and you willed yourself to voice your concerns to Choso.

“Sometimes I wish we could go back to how things were,” you blurted, hands fidgeting with the pizza box. Choso quirked his eyebrow at the statement. You met his gaze, smiling softly, bringing your knees to your chest. You sighed deeply. Being away from him hurt more than you thought it would, and you never recognized how much you needed him until you saw less of him.

“I miss being a kid…I miss the way we were,” you continued, “Not a single care in the world. I feel like the older we get, the less we’ll see each other. I don’t want that, Cho,” you mumbled, reextending your legs. His heart thrummed at your earnest confession as he leaned forward and captured your hand in his.

“I’m not goin’ anywhere…I can promise you that, sweetheart,” he reassured, his thumb rubbing the back of your hand. 

The conversation quieted, his words of consolation seemed to ease your mind enough for you to fixate on the screen. He watched you through his peripherals as you giggled at the corniness of the movie. Choso tried his hardest to follow along, but there you were, sat before him in a thin tank top and skimpy pajama shorts. He sent a silent “thank you” to the heavens; the record-high heatwave that plagued your city gifted him such a magnificent sight.

He side-eyed you, his vision tracing along your body. He took another bite of his pizza as he drank you in; dinner and a show. His vision followed every dip and curve of your almost fully exposed legs. He was thankful that you felt comfortable enough around him to dress how you pleased, but his dark heart wished you were sitting in just a thong, or better yet, fully nude. His eyes meandered north, hovering over the peaks of cleavage that your shirt didn’t cover. He swallowed thickly, nearly choking on his food when another giggle erupted from you, your breasts bouncing as you laughed.

He smiled inwardly, your fear of losing him warmed his heart. He wasn’t going anywhere. How else would he be able to see you like this; all nostalgic for him, the desperate expression on your face sent waves of arousal through his veins. His desire to know how you’d look splayed out underneath him rocketed through his body as he envisioned your fucked out face when he feathered hot, wet kisses along your neck and plunged two thick fingers deep inside you…how pretty you’d look just for him. What sounds would you make when his throbbing cock was fully enveloped in your gushy walls? Would you whimper and whine? Would you cry out for him? Rake your nails down his torso with your eyes blown wide? He so badly craved the answers to his searing questions.

Your laughter panged through his chest, snapping him out of his trance. You were completely oblivious to his inner turmoil. But he liked it that way. You continued to sit so good for him, eyes casted toward the TV. If only you knew the innocent relationship you had manifested in that sweet little mind of yours was one-sided. For him, it was dirty–downright filthy and sinful. But you would never know that.

Blood rushed between his legs as he shifted on the floor. The movie had about twenty minutes left; he was trying to hold out until then. He was desperate for release, anxiously anticipating the thick load he would shoot out at the thought of you, though he would pretend that it was going inside of you, instead. Oh, how he wanted to breed you. How soft you’d look carrying his spawn. He shook his head as he cleared his throat, single handedly fighting off every demon known to man that was telling him to pounce on you. He couldn’t. It would ruin the close friendship that took years to curate. It would kick him off the pedestal you placed him so highly on, tarnish the clean-cut version of him in your parent’s mind. He battled with his own thoughts as he mindlessly stared at the TV. 

The end credits rolled and Choso stood abruptly.

“I’ll catch you tomorrow, okay? Gotta get some sleep,” he said, readjusting his pants. You looked up at him, confusion evident on your pretty face.

“I thought you were spending the night,” you pouted, before pushing yourself off the ground.

“I know…I’m sorry, sweetheart. But knowing us, we’d stay up all night watching TV and talking instead of actually sleeping,” he played off. The ache between his legs intensified at the thought of sharing a bed with you like you usually did when he slept over. But he can’t. Not tonight…not like this. Normally he was good about keeping his composure, but tonight was different. Your puppy dog eyes didn’t help, either. He so badly wanted to see those same eyes gaze up at him while his cock was shoved down your throat. His dick pulsated against the soft fabric of his shorts as he shadowed you toward your bedroom door, taking an internal note of how good your ass looked as your shorts rode up between your plush cheeks. He nearly lost it as you skipped down the stairs, your precious mounds bouncing in all the right places. You opened the front door for him, spreading your arms to hug him goodbye. He opted for a side hug, knowing damn well you would have been able to feel his hard on from the full-frontal contact. 

*ੈ ✩‧₊˚

You closed the door, pressing your back against it as you wondered what had gotten into Choso this evening. He was always up for a sleepover. You shoved your hurt down, embarrassed by your apparent clinginess. A shudder ran down your spine at the thought of your neediness pushing him away. Your warm body glided toward the fridge, throwing it open and basking in the cool air as you grabbed yourself a drink. You shook the shame from your mind as you shuffled back up the stairs. You peered out your window and into Choso's room; it was dark. He must’ve gone straight to bed. You opened the bay windows to your bedroom. The cool air danced through the panes, swirling around the confines of your dwelling. You inhaled deeply before stripping down, settling peacefully atop your sheets; it was far too warm to be under the covers.  

Choso surveyed you from the comforting shadows of his room. He did this frequently before the two of you had moved away, watching you get ready for bed with a firm grip on his shaft. 

“That’s it, pretty…take it all off f’me,” he muttered. His strokes sped up as he watched you undress, the moonlight that seeped into your room illuminated your heavenly body so perfectly. He huffed as he watched you retreat to your bed, his hand stilling around his cock. The thought of you wasn’t enough for him tonight. He needed you.

An hour or so passed before he ascended the tree that stood tall next to your window. His clammy hands gripped the railings that lined your small terrace as he heaved his body over, careful not to make a sound. He had done this many times before, whether his presence was expected or unbeknownst to you. He crept through the open window and entered your room, settling himself in the chair next to your bed. Your nude frame emanated the most ethereal energy, your bare chest rose and fell rhythmically, the soft gasps that fluttered from your parted lips sent blood straight to Choso’s groin. He palmed himself through his pants, leaning back a bit to shove them down his legs. His hand paced up and down his length agonizingly slow, before he stopped dead in his tracks as soft groans emerged from your throat.

“-oso,” was all that was audible. His blood ran cold as he leaned closer to your slumbered body, ears ringing in hopes to hear more. Was that–No…it couldn’t have been. You shifted a bit, another moan breaking through the silence of your room.

“Mmm…Choso,” you whimpered dreamily, one hand moving to rest just under your navel. His heart rate spiked. He watched as your hand traced lower, snaking its way to your precious cunt. You rubbed sleepy circles in your clit as your head lulled to the side, soft, sweet whimpers dancing from your parted lips. It was now or never. He pulled his shorts back up as he situated himself on the edge of the bed, rubbing his hand against your shoulder. 

You stirred a bit after a few gentle shakes of your body, your eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness of the room. Your body went rigid as your eyes focused on the outline of a person sitting before you, but the familiar smell of Choso met your nose and kept you from jumping out of your skin. You closed your eyes again, the hand that was playing with your wet cunt moved over your body to grab his hand, squeezing gently. Choso nearly broke down at the contact, the stickiness that he so badly needed graced his skin, numbing his brain. 

“Hey, Cho…y’scared me. Thought you weren’t sleeping over,” you murmured. Choso’s conscious worked overtime to keep his composure leveled as he exhaled deeply. 

“Seems like you needed me, though,” he chuckled. You hummed in response, your sleep-ridden mind not registering his comment. You began to doze off once again before panic rumbled through your body as you finally recollected the dream you were just immersed in. Then the realization hit. You shot upright, tearing your hand away from Choso as you grabbed for the covers, attempting to shield your naked body from him. You clicked on your bedside lamp, turning to Choso with your brows furrowed deeply. Your best friend just caught you in the middle of a wet dream. A dream about him. Embarrassment coupled with shame as you held the sheets tight against your body. You were thoroughly confused–what was he even doing here? How much did he hear? You wanted to protest, to plead your case, to interrogate him. A million questions buzzed around your brain, but his hand was quick to cover your mouth. 

“S’okay, sweetheart. It’s just me,” he soothed. He kicked his shoes off and kneeled beside you, hand still firm against your face. Your shoulders were tense, but you relaxed a bit at the baritone voice that fell from his lips.

“Did you have a nice dream?” His question seemed rhetorical. He felt your face flush underneath his palm as you nodded slowly. He removed his hand and you spoke up immediately.

“How’d you know I–”

“Was watching you sleep,” he shrugged. “I’ve wanted you for so long…figured it was a lost cause. But it seems the feelings are mutual, huh, sweetheart?” he cooed, his body loomed over yours as his palm brushed your face, cradling your cheek.

“You were tryin’ so hard to fight it…to pretend those dirty feelings for me didn’t exist…isn’t that right?” He mused. You glanced down at his crotch, the heavy bulge pressed firm against his thin shorts. You audibly gulped, your breath caught in your throat before meeting his eyes. You nodded at him again.

“Bet you dressed like that on purpose…such a tease,” he chastised, thumbing your cheek.

“Gotta make up for lost time, yeah?” He ripped the duvet off of you and moved so he was hovering over you, your body laid out underneath him, his arms placed on either side of your head. 

“Cho…I—we shouldn’t,” your voice wavered, suddenly unsure if you were trying to convince him or yourself. Your hands rested on his broad shoulders. “I don’t wanna lose you…don’t wanna ruin what we have,” you added, worry painted across your face, eyes fluttering back and forth between his. You were splayed out beneath him, fully nude, every dark secret of yours laid out in front of Choso. The hungry look in his eyes caused your arousal to drip onto the sheets beneath you. 

“Wanted this for years, pretty girl. I already told you I’m not goin’ anywhere,'' his head dipped down to lick a thick stripe down your neck. “You gonna let me take care of you now?” he questioned, lips pressed against your flesh, nipping at the sensitive skin. Your back arched immediately at the sensation. You moaned softly in response as you ran your hands up and down his toned back. 

“Tell me, pretty girl,” his fingers danced down your body, teasing the skin around your core. “Tell me you want me as much as I’ve wanted you,” he whispered in your ear. 

“W-want you…Cho. So bad…needed you for s-so long,” you begged, your brain fogged and voice airy while your hands clawed desperately at his back. He smirked at you as he sat back on his heels, tearing his clothes from his body. Your eyes dragged up and down the man you had grown up with. A part of you knew how you felt about him, knew how much you needed him. But you didn’t understand the full depth of that need until he was kneeled before you, perspiration glistening along his toned body as he repositioned, laying himself along the bed, his face settled right above your dripping cunt. The way he looked at you through his luscious, jet-black lashes set your pounding heart ablaze. 

You couldn’t fully comprehend what was happening. All you could feel were the sharp aches in your core as he teasingly ran his fingers through your slit. He smiled against your thigh as he plunged his fingers in immediately. You gasped at the intrusion before succumbing to the pleasure as the pads of his fingers massaged your sweet spot.

There was a sense of urgency behind his movements; the lack of time he gave you to adjust to the stretch, the way he was thrusting so fervently into you and how hungrily he bit at your flesh–it was overwhelming. He pumped into you, tirelessly working to coax an orgasm out of you. The first of many. He tilted his head down to watch his fingers disappear inside of you. He used his other hand to rub your sensitive clit, before quickly replacing it with his tongue. He wanted to drink you in for as long as he could, your juices satiating the hungriest part of him.  

His eyes blew wide, “Fuck–you’re so sweet, pretty girl,” he breathed, lapping at your core. He needed more, needed you to fall apart on all of him–his fingers, his mouth, his cock. You were going to take everything he gave you. You cried out for him, your hips spasming against the bed. He grinned before latching back on to your clit, sucking harshly, working into you like it was his life’s mission to please you. And in his mind, it was. He was set on releasing a decade’s worth of pent-up frustration on your pretty little body.

“F-fuck Cho–ah!–I’m gonna…” your voice trailed off as your pussy clenched down on his fingers. He groaned at the tightness, tongue still swirling around your sensitive bud. A shudder ran down your spine as your orgasm ripped through your body. He continued to pump into you, suckling harshly against your clit before swirling around your entrance to ensure he drank up every drop. 

He knew he should wait and give you time to recover. But the way your body twitched and writhed for him ripped away the sense of gentleness and morality that he usually had. It was all too much. He wanted to ruin you, to punish you for holding out on him for so long. He needed to be balls deep, needed to mold you around his cock–he had waited years for this. He sat up abruptly, wrapping your shaking legs around his waist as he lined himself up with your soaked entrance. Your chest heaved and your eyelids grew heavy while your body worked through the comedown. He pushed into you, fully sheathing himself inside your pulsating walls. Your eyes widened while your hands pushed against his abdomen. 

“Wait, Cho–”

“S’okay, sweet girl. I got you…focus on me,” he soothed, his pelvis flush against you as he took a hold of your wrists, pushing them over your head and pressing them against the headboard. He found an unrelenting tempo in you. You body spasmed and squirmed at his pace, jolting each time his thick cock brushed against your still sensitive g-spot. He was stuffed so deep inside of you, savoring the way your messy pussy sucked him in. He released your hands and leaned back, finding his bearings on your hip bones, pulling you toward him to meet his thrusts. Grunts rumbled from deep in his chest as he felt you clench around him. He looked down to watch himself disappear inside you, the squelching sounds and labored moans that filled the room made him choke.

“Nasty fuckin’ girl…you’re lovin’ this aren’t ya?” he teased. You couldn’t fathom a response. Your body had passed the point of overstimulation as his brutal pace pulled another earth-shattering orgasm from your wrecked body, painting his abdomen with your squirt. He dropped his head back, animalistic sounds flying past his lips as the warm spray splattered onto his skin. He pulled out of you before shoving right back in. You cried out, body trying to squirm out of grasp.

“C-can’t…s’too much,” you sobbed out. You meant it, it was too much. But the pleasure that clawed its way through your trembling frame was unreal; addictive, even. He simultaneously numbed your body and made you feel every sensation in the known universe. 

“Uh uh…almost done, pretty–stay right there,” he growled, “Just give me one more.” He wanted to live in this moment forever. Every stolen glance, dirty thought, and shameful ejaculation to the thought of you was nothing compared to the way your pretty little pussy clenched around him. He had ached over the mere thought of you for years and his body brimmed with arousal at his darkest dreams coming to fruition. And though he wanted to paint your sloppy walls with his thick seed, the wanton desire for you overpowered his need for release.

Your eyes rolled back in your skull as your shaking hands searched for any part of him to hold on to. You were a panting mess, fat tears running down your face. And it was all for him. He was drunk on the way your fucked out face lazily looked up at him as you fell apart on his cock. He made quick work of burning that image on the inside of his eyelids.

“Doin’ so good. Stay with me, sweetheart,” he grunted, his hips slamming into you. It was so sloppy now…so nasty. He fucked into you with feverish passion, and your body shook as the coils in your tummy crept up once again. 

“C’mon…just one more. Know you can do it,” he urged, his aching cock absolutely obliterating you. His fingertips gripped your flesh so tightly, he prayed it would bruise. He hoped his mark would be left on you, an aching reminder that you belonged to him. You always had. He fucked into you, his tip kissing your cervix so perfectly. You cried out, clenching down on him again, your third orgasm crashing through you in a blinding haze. 

“S-shit…so good. God–you’re fuckin’ milking me,” he growled out as he twitched inside, swears and praises cascaded from his parted lips as he chased his own release. It only took a few more thrusts before his hips stuttered against you and he finished deep inside, pumping you full of his cum. He remained sheathed within your walls, his palms running up and down your dazed out frame.

He leaned down, catching your lips in a needy, wet kiss. You were stunned into silence, your body cemented to the bed, convinced that you had lucidly dreamed this entire ordeal. You winced at the ache of Choso finally pulling out, missing the deep stretch of his cock as he leaned over to scour your drawers for a rag to clean you up. He feathered gentle kisses after each pass of the cloth. He laid by your side and you curled into him immediately, his arms snaking around your fragile body. 

“I can’t believe that just happened,” you whispered, breath shaking. He smiled before kissing the top of your head. “But I’m so happy it did,” you added, pressing yourself deeper into his side as his fingers brushed along your skin, soothing you toward a deep, satisfying slumber. Choso reveled in the dream-like trance he found himself in. His heart soared at his achievement that was years in the making, his body crossing the line that divided reality with heaven. He finally got you, and he was never, ever letting you go.

*ੈ ✩‧₊˚

author notes: thank you so so so much for 250 followers...i literally cannot believe it. if i could remove a piece of my heart and send it to y'all i would

my inbox is open and i'm always working thru my requests, feel free to send your suggestions here ☾

every like, comment, and reblog makes me sob uncontrollably...your support means the world to me xx

© bratbby333 on tumblr. all rights reserved. please do not distribute. 2024.

[shaguro]

⤿ synposis: you can't ever leave the house without giving toji a kiss good-bye.

ੈ✩‧₊˚ tags: fluff fluff fluff. (toji x fem!reader, established relationship, pet names used ( girl, baby, doll) toji's just in love idk. i wrote the majority of this at like 1 am nd barely proofread!!) wc ⇀ around 0.7k!

"girl", toji drawls, cerulean orbs trained on your figure by the front door. he’s manspread on your living room sofa, sitcom on the tv screen long forgotten as he turns his body around, all his attention on you and only you. “aren’t you forgettin’ somethin’?”

“hmm? what are you talking about, baby?” you keep your head low while you fumble with your stilettos, a hand on the wall for balance as you finally slip it onto your stocking-clad foot, the last step before you head out for your shift, the sun just peeking over the horizon.

of course, you know exactly what toji’s talking about. it doesn’t matter where you’re going or whether you’ll be back in ten minutes or a few hours, whether he’s in deep sleep or in the middle of an intense workout session — toji expects a kiss good-bye before you leave the apartment you share. he’s real strict about it too, he doesn’t accept any excuses, no if’s, an’s or buts.

does knowing all this stop you from testing the dark-haired man? absolutely not.

“i packed my work-bag last night and i have the car keys right here, looks like i’ve got-“

“now you know that’s not what i’m talkin’ about,” toji deadpans, completely unamused. barely keeping up the act, you had to bite your lip to stop yourself from giggling. “don’t play dumb with me, baby.”

you do just that — tilt your head all cute and innocent as you furrow your brows, crossing your arms against your blouse. “i’m being serious though! i dont know what you’re talking about, i swear.”

“girl, please.” toji scoffs, scarred lip almost turned in a scowl. he’s always so sassy when you start to annoy him. “ya really stress me out, y’know that?” in a quick motion, he stands up, stretching out his long arms before he turns to face you. “you don’t know, huh? c’mere and let me remind you, then.”

toji’s tilts his head down. with low eyes and a coy smirk on his handsome face, he beckons you close with a single finger.

you can’t hide your smile now, it spreads ear to ear as you bounce over to him, the click clacking of your heels resounding on the hardwood floor until you reach the plush carpet where toji stood. he wastes no time, cupping his hands on the globes of your ass and tugs your body flush against his. toji’s so warm — he’s shirtless and all his sculpted muscles are on display, flexing when your cold hands glide across his pecs to snake around his neck.

toji leans down and his plump pink lips meet your glossed ones, the strawberry-flavored gloss sat sweet on his tastebuds but he prefers your taste instead, sliding his tongue through your slightly-parted lips with hopes to satisfy his glutinous craving and he’s not disappointed when your tongues mingle. “mm.” never tired of that saccharine taste, toji grunts into your mouth, taking his time kissing you — oddly soft and gentle.

toji pulls away and your lips part, only separated by a string of sticky saliva before he goes back in, giving you one, two, three quick pecks before he’s had his fill.

soft pants fill the air as toji holds you close, foreheads touching. “that jog your memory?”

toji rolls his eyes when you hum happy ‘mmhm!’ in response, hands rubbing on his broad shoulders, your fingertips ghosting the sharp line of his jaw. “you’re a pain in my ass…” he huffs, and you burst into a fit of giggles at his annoyed expression, unable to contain it anymore. it’s just so adorable — an infectious melody that toji prays he’ll continue to hear, for many years to come.

“lucky y’er so fuckin’ pretty . . next time i won’t go so easy on ya.” as if to seal the promise, he lands a heavy smack! on your ass. “toji!” you squeal out, the force of it propels you forward, temple thumping on his toned chest.

it was his turn to chuckle now, soothing the blow with a gentle rub of his palm prior to kissing the crown of your head. “now that i got my kisses . . s’time for you to head out, doll. don’t wanna be late again, hm?”

i'm finally back after disappearing for like a thousand years yayyy (don't beat me up yall pls)

[seraphdreams]

SMILE, YOU'RE ON CAMERA. | YUUTA OKKOTSU.

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — synopsis. when taking care of your university finances proves troublesome, the universe grants you your very own savior. but it’s gonna cost you.

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — cw. smut, college au!yuuta / bimbo reader (obvi), filming, lots of porn references… a lot, virginity loss, praise, oral n fingering, slight obsession, pussydrunk yuuta, unprotected love making, yuuta’s rich and unsettling. mdni <3

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — word count. 5.3k

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — dolled up! omg, yuuta? i meant to have this out a few weeks ago but got caught in a little writing slump :( nevertheless, here’s to a new year and a new fic! yuuta’s been slowly creeping his way up my favs list , tehe !! as always, please reblog / comment if you enjoyed this , it’ll fill me with joy. thank u ♡

you’re a pornstar.

albeit, an amateur one with heaps to learn regarding the ruthless industry, but the weight still stands.

the details in which you came to the jarring conclusion were muddled with the convoluted steps that it took for you to get there, murky in your bubblegum-filled mind. all you knew was that yuuta okkotsu was a force, a gentle one, to be reckoned with.

it must’ve played out once you returned to your campus dorm beyond the dusk of midnight, under an unmitigating fatigue from the twelve hour waitressing shift just prior. through abhorrent patrons and the lack of a spendable paycheck, the excruciatingly long night barely made you enough money to even think about buying those dollish pumps you’ve been yearning for. how cruel.

in between working and haphazardly handing your earnings over to university fees and textbooks, you just couldn’t seem to make ends meet.

you would curse the day you took it upon yourself to branch away financially from your parents under the guise of growing up, since now it’d be a blessing to have even a cellphone bill paid off. whatever the issue seemed to be, lady luck was truly never bothered enough to be on your side.

fortunately for you, though, it was that same arduous night, you had been huddled against your stuffed animals in bed, mindlessly scrolling through the various social media apps on your phone; switching from sites like instagram and twitter to youtube then right back to instagram all over again, only to be met with an offer dusted in pink glitter that caught your eye as if it were made for you.

“stars needed — will pay upfront.”

it was a shoddy story post, one that could be clicked past and forgotten forever — yet, a brisk reminder of your situation in the form of borrowed, used textbooks with pages missing or vandalized, and today’s horoscope that said to take risks; you did exactly that, aiming a swipe up that would ultimately rid you of the worries of yesterday.

there were no reasons as to why you couldn’t be a star. certainly, you had the face for it, and you were told by multiple charmers that you were beyond beguiling to get anything you could ever ask for. what dismay could possibly unfold from contacting .. yuuta okkotsu .. about his offer?

hm, that’s funny. the name rang familiarity as it seeded in your mind.

must be one of yuuji’s friends.

itadori yuuji, your best friend of three years now. out of all the time you’d spent together, you came to realize that he could get along with anyone, despite their true intentions. he spoke highly of his friends as well, which earned him a sacred spot in your heart that couldn’t be replaced by anyone.

itadori had briefly mentioned in a ramen-fueled frenzy that one of his peers were “so insanely talented” and that you’d definitely get on with him. but when you asked for validity on that vague claim, all yuuji seemed to respond with was a mere “just meet him, you’ll see.”

from your recollection, the acquaintance he was boasting about, as if it was his own personal victory, was none other than your yuuta okkotsu. he was meek, stuck to a close-knit friend group consisting of maki and toge from your physics class, and the one time you ever spoke to him was to ask about yuuji’s whereabouts, to which he responded that he went back to his dorm after gojo-sensei’s lecture.

he seemed, normal. average, even. that surely had to be the case since your memory was hazy on his being otherwise.

it was true, though, yuuta was gifted. in a way that transcended words, skillful towards visual aesthetics, and careful with the craft. he would spend most of his freetime fumbling with a camera or recording the works of the mundane. overtly, he’d grown such a strong passion in the field of videography in hopes to capture the reality of humanity, the authenticity within intimacy — what could he possibly need a “star” for?

shadiness aside, you were in a tough spot, willing to do whatever to free yourself from the financial burden that was jujutsu technical university. with a swift swipe in tandem with the soft tapping of the pads of your thumbs on the keyboard, you were taking yuuta up on his offer.

within seconds, he responded back with his address and an appropriate meet-up date to start the project.

if only you were aware of how drastically your life would change from here on out.

a cluster of days had passed since you last got into contact with yuuta. he had told you to meet him at his place, claiming it would be more efficient than traveling to an unnamed destination with pounds of heavy photography equipment.

where you stood currently, was in front of the bare oak of his front door, hand wrapped in a loose fist as you knocked gently on the wood. a quick moment had passed by before you took initiative to raise your fist and knock once more. before your touch could meet the wood, a muffled “coming!” chimed beyond the door. from what you had heard on the other side; the scuttling behind the door and jingle of the lock, yuuta had opened the door soon after.

with his hand rubbing away the goosebumps that stood at the back of his neck, he beamed. cordially, warmly.

“you’re actually here. hi,”

upon first glance, yuuta had a distinct look. he stood tall, not tall enough to matter or incite intimidation, and although he wore a black button-up (a bit formal for an occasion as casual as today), his lean build shone through under the thin fabric, ripples of veins dancing up his forearms. what you couldn’t miss, however, were the grey eyebags under his emotionless navy orbs, as if he’d forgone weeks of sleep.

yuuta okkotsu was unsettling.

“hi,” your voice sounded as a sweet croon, dulcet enough that you could barely hear it yourself as it escaped in a breathy breeze. his smile grew softer in response, that monotonous gaze in his eyes fizzling away into something of serenity. “come in, please,” yuuta held the door open wider for you to tread past, caught up in observing the bunch of fabric that hugged tightly around your ass, then closed it gently behind you once you stepped completely inside. he silently cursed at himself for ogling — he truly didn’t mean to stare. you’re just a lot prettier up close. “i was just getting set up. you can have a seat if you’d like.”

as you’d expect from any guy your age, his place wasn’t much to gaze at, nor did it have much personality. in a corner to your right was a houseplant, that of the fern variety, and a few steps deeper into the abode was the living room, where yuuta resumed his fumbling with the transfiguration of his tripod.

you decided to sit on the couch across from him, taking in the bleak sight of his home. you would have almost believed it was unlived in had it not been for the scattered midterm review papers decorating his coffee table. it was obvious he had money from the endless rows of space that surrounded the two of you, although a candle or something would be nice.

he peered away from his tripod to look through the viewfinder of his camera, ensuring that the lens was functioning properly. he grew pleased to see the image of you distracted in fiddling with your thumbs reflected back at him. “are you nervous?” his gaze fell upon you through his own eyes, a concerned expression harboring his features.

you were pulled out of your muse of unfamiliarity to direct your attention to the sound of his mild voice, returning a smile to his that eased the worriment trapped behind dull, blue eyes. “n-not really, i don’t think.”

his lips curled up once more at that, in fact there wasn’t a time so far that you hadn’t noticed him without his signature smile. “here, let me help with that,” reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his phone, tapping away at the screen before ultimately turning it back off and settling it back into its place in his pocket.

your phone vibrated beside you, screen lighting up with a bold alert.

[YUUTA OKKOTSU SENT $1000]

before you had a chance to even process the significance of the notification, he started back up,

“i hope i got the right information, wouldn’t want your hard work to get in the wrong hands.” the tilt of his head in tandem with a chuckle resonated sheepishly, and he returned to watch you through his camera lens.

he was right. the money did soothe your nerves.

“i’ve barely done anything yet.” a ditzy giggle followed soon after your sentence, a sound that yuuta couldn’t possibly ignore. you were already starting to pull at his heartstrings.

“and you’ve done it so perfectly,” his praise left you flustered in that moment and you bit down softly on your lower lip to keep your smile at bay. “thank you, yuuta.”

you would’ve never guessed that your introverted classmate had enough experience in him to be such a flirt, or have your cheeks heating up with fervid affection, no less. but maybe yuuta was just like that; maybe this had been natural.

“no, thank you.” his thumb hovered over the record button just as his eyes met your gaze over the brim of the camera. “would you like to start now?”

he took the nod of your head as confirmation to press the record button, finally getting started with the project.

you blinked blankly at him as he tilted his head and flashed a warmhearted grin. “how old are you?” was his first question. he had asked while rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. as he did so, you took notice of the silver ring donned around his finger.

he couldn’t have been married, no?

keeping your answer as vague as possible for the sake of matching his comforting warmth, you responded, “twenty-something.” he let out a satisfied huff of air as he nodded and moved onto his next query.

“and what’s your major?”

with the question barely having enough time to linger in the suggestively tense air, he added, “you’re very beautiful, by the way. do you mind taking your dress off for me?”

as much as it should’ve alarmed you, you were swayed by his toothachingly inviting timbre, its gentleness pulling compliancy from you in a matter of a few mere words. you only shook your head, forgoing the short piece of fabric that clung to each curve and dip of your body while your nipples hardened under the glacial, artificial breeze of his home. once the silk pooled at your hips, that, along with your panties were dropped onto the floor, leaving you bare and vulnerable under the camera — and yuuta’s watchful eye.

he swallowed thickly at the sight, remaining as respectful as he could despite the monster growing in his pants; his eyes locked right back onto yours as if he’d get striked down for moving them even a millimeter south. “are you a virgin?” he queried, opting to move his hand from awkwardly at his side to fidgeting with the button at his shirt, ultimately undoing it and revealing another inch of skin at his heated chest.

from the nature of what you had signed yourself up for, you were hesitant to answer his question. of course you needed experience to be a star, and with you lacking the preconceived ability, you could kiss your $1000 goodbye..

yet he looked at you with an expectant gaze. no traces of malice in his eyes or frustration from your quick witted silence, but merely, with patience. and in that moment you couldn’t find it within yourself to lie.

“i am,” out of shame, you curled in on yourself, hoping that the sofa would engulf you, and your feelings, crossing your arms over your bare chest as if it’d create a wall of privacy behind your own humiliation. “is that okay?”

yuuta’s being only grew warmer at the response, you figured he’d be hot to the touch by now, from searing pleasure or unshakeable cordiality, you wouldn’t know. “yeah, that’s okay,” it came out breathier than he would’ve liked, a telltale sign of his aching desire. “that’s more than okay.”

truth be told, he had never met anyone as enchanting as you. you looked up at him with such trust in your eyes that it daunted him — fear that the assurance he wielded from you would shatter beneath him, and he’d be drowning. in a sea of his own wistfulness. now that he had you, he couldn’t let you go.

you were on to make a breathtaking star.

now feeling less coy than before, you relaxed your head into the palm of yuuta’s hand. you hadn’t noticed how long he’d been stroking at your cheek, or when he closed the vexing proximity between the two of you, all that mattered in that moment was the roll of his gentle vocables flowing through your ears and the thumb of his that graciously caressed your cheek.

you came to realize that he was much more handsome this way as your eyes toured his own, then down to the sliver of sweat-sheened skin peeking from underneath the black veil of his shirt, then down to his…

he’s so fucking hard.

confined against his slacks was his cock that leaked an ample amount even while it was untouched. you could make out its silhouette, something girthy, perhaps heavy, but nothing like you’d expect from yuuta. uncharacteristically huge.

“yuuta.” you whispered, mainly to yourself, as your mouth began to water at the sight, and his cheeks dusted pink once he realized what you were fixated upon.

“do you wanna,” he started up but faltered soon after when your lidded gaze flitted back up towards his. never had he felt so weak before, it was as if you’d casted a spell on him. “do you maybe want to—” he paused to avert his own gaze and embarrassment. “—put it in your mouth?”

he could’ve sworn he heard the increase of his heartbeat in his ears when you crinkled your brows, pretty face forming into an even prettier pout.

“but i’ve never—”

he stopped you before you could start, interjecting his own voice of reassurance.

“it’s okay. i’ll guide you,” taking his camera off its stand and moving the rest of the configuration elsewhere, he held it in one hand to better capture the scene unfolding before him. “just try your best for me, okay?”

“okay.” when he returned your concern with a small smile, you took it upon yourself to undo the arrangement of his pants, carefully hooking your finger into the elastic waistband of his briefs and pulling down just enough for his length to spring free.

for what felt like minutes, you marveled at his sheer size, wondering how anyone of his nature could possibly be hiding something like that. it curved upwards with a prominent vein or two running up the underside while it continued to leak, so much so, that you had to collect it all at the tip with your finger.

the tip? flushed the prettiest pink you’d ever witnessed and was as bulbous as it was mushroomed, you knew you’d have a bit of difficulty trying to fit into your mouth. it seemed to twitch under the fanning of your breath to which yuuta let out a whine of pure impatience.

“can i..?” your words trailed off when you involuntarily found yourself pressing chaste kisses along the length of his cock until they met with his sticky tip; a recreated scene from the various porn videos you’d seen. the sensation sent a jolt of palpable pleasure through his being, yuuta’s dark hair curtaining over his eyes while he made a damn good attempt at silencing his moans, with his teeth sunken into his bottom lip.

your eyes kept watch at his wavering expression while you wrapped your hand at the base of his length and began to pump slowly, yet another thing you had learned through the fascinating world of porn.

“suck it,” it was clear to you that yuuta had grown desirously impatient from your teasing, looking down at you with a hint of hunger in his beautiful orbs. “please?”

you took his words as an incentive to finally give him what he’s been leaking for, wrapping gloss-sheened lips around the thick inches of his tip, accommodating for the stretch with a dulcet whine that reverberated deeply within him. had you not been caught up in building the gradual bob of your head, he would’ve kissed you, left you with smeared lips and a tongue that ached for only him upon seeing the sinful sight of innocent eyes fixated on his own. you’re beautiful. truly, to die for.

caught all on tape to be watched over and over again.

at the bliss, yuuta’s lip parted open, alotting for a slur of groans turned whimpers to tumble past. “you- you’re already doing, so good.” he praises, the words floating on his breath. his free hand finds itself back at your face, thumbing the warmth of your hallowed cheek while he captured the moment behind his lens. once you came to a comfortable rhythm, you couldn’t stop yourself from dipping your fingers between your thighs to ease the evergrowing ache in your core. in fact, you’d been like this since the moment yuuta spoke a word to you, lightheaded and malleable — what he’s beginning to love most about you.

your digits collected slick at your entrance, the immeasurable amount of essence that you’d pool providing ample leeway for you to sink three fingers inside, pumping at the same rhythm in which you’re sucking yuuta. soft fingertips curling against your gummy walls weren’t enough, though, and when he had caught notice of your weakening resolve, his hips involuntarily bucked into your mouth.

“sorry, ‘m sorry,” he began, with a choked moan. “just- so close, so fucking close. c-can you take me in deeper?”

the hum of assurance that sounded from you sent vibrations coursing through his cock, from tip to base. had you not been preoccupied with chasing your own high, you would’ve missed the pitchy moan he let out just after. with your palm now pressed up against your clit while you worked in tandem to pleasure the nub and your greedy hole, you attempted to swallow another stubborn inch of him.

simultaneous with the bobbing of your head, he matched your pace, abdomen flexing when the white-hot pleasure became too much and he could feel it in his ears. he wanted so badly to throw his head back, completely lose himself in bliss, but he had a job to do. he wouldn’t dare let the sight of your glassy lidded eyes and glossy lips struggling to wrap themselves around the stretch of his dick go unfilmed, unseen.

as his tip continued to prod the back of your throat and your fingers aided you in relieving the discomfort from your cunt, you found yourself just dangling off the dangerous edge of your release, strokes away from making a mess — and yuuta did too.

it wasn’t long until his head started spinning, legs got weaker, and his core coiled tighter; all the signs of a mindblowing orgasm, and blew his mind, you did. “baby- y/n, if you keep doing that- i might cum.” what he was referring to was the way you fondled his balls in the warmth of your soft hands, yet another trick you had learned from porn. “i don’t wanna cum in your mouth but if you—,”

a jumbled slew of curses flowed from his lips as he did the inevitable, shot his load deep down your throat, gently thrusting his cock in shallow strokes to jettison every last remaining drop. the taste on your tongue was nothing like you’d be warned of before. yuuta wasn’t bitter, he went down easy.

hell, you’d use his cum as a condiment for desserts if you could.

in a matter of moments, your own high had washed over you like cold water over a heated body, much needed and refreshing. once he hesitantly pulled out from the heat of your mouth, cock still hard and twitching for more, he gently pushed back strands of loose hair behind your ear.

“can i see?”

you held out your cream-slickened fingers, sopping with your juices as yuuta proceeded to catch how they dripped on camera. he then took your palm, with the cadence of a knight kissing the back of a princess’s hand, and slipped the soiled digits into his mouth. his tongue lavved around your index and middle fingers while he hummed satisfactorily at your taste. “you’re just as sweet as i imagined.” he smiled, finding amusement in your post-orgasmic, dazed state.

“do you do this with a lot of other girls, yuuta?” you queried, taking the time to scan your eyes over his face. it was as if he seemed to get more attractive as your time with him went on. he tilted his head slightly, finding your question endearing. “you’re my first, actually.” yuuta responded softly, as if his normal speaking voice would be too heavy on your delicate ears.

you jumped at the chance to tease him as he did you, placing your thumb back over the slit of his hard-on and lightly rubbing; which resonated within yuuta as a tonal mewl. a little smile pulled at your lips when you got your perfect reaction. “can you be my first?”

“i’d love to be,” he took your request with unadulterated honor as if he’d been tasked by the deities above to serve you. “just- just lay back for me. i promise i’ll take good care of you.”

and that you did; conforming to his call of request with such compliance it made his heart swell. you had positioned your body to rest languidly against the seat of the sofa, shaky legs hesitant to spread fully while your hand roamed up your sternum to find solace in kneading your tits.

he couldn’t deny how beautiful you looked, laid out for him as such. how had he been so lucky to be the only one to have the opportunity to marvel at the scene? with a steady hand, he faintly trails his hand up the expanse of your inner thigh, a silent beckon for you to open your legs wider. involuntarily so, your body had accepted his presence and allowed for the spreading of your thighs.

what you’d come to notice with yuuta was that he was watchful, observant. he seemed to pick up on every detail, even the minuscule bits that were most likely to fly over anyone else’s head, had been taken into account. it’s probably why he’s immensely proficient at what he does. not once had he allowed himself to miss the labored heaving of your chest, or the sheen of sweat thinly coating your body — the twitching of your clit when he stroked featherlight touches at the nub. he couldn’t call himself a true cameraman then.

his fingers had collected remnants of your previous orgasm before they worked in tandem, both middle and ring, to prod at your sensitive hole, slowly sinking themselves in. it was almost embarrassing how quickly your greedy cunt swallowed him in, as if it’d been waiting for his touch for years now. “y-yuuta, ‘m still sensitive.” you crooned in response to his digits exploring your cavern, plush walls gripping him with such tautness that he’d found it difficult to even curl his fingers.

his own mind spun (and cock leaked) at the thought of that same warmth around his length, and when you called his name, all he could think about was how pretty you’d sound moaning it. he wouldn’t mind if you were sonorous, if the neighbors would hear, if inumaki who lived downstairs would come knocking with a mouthful of complaints, if the whole world knew his name; because in that moment, yuuta okkotsu was yours.

yuuta okkotsu was in love.

after some shallow pumping, enough to have your legs attempting to enclose around his arm, yuuta had pulled his digits out and replaced the lost sensation with the fat tip of his cock stroking your slit up and down.

“i’m gonna put it in, okay? if you want me to stop, tell me. if i'm going too fast or slow, let me know.”

he perused your face for a hint of an answer, seemingly nothing going on behind your vacant, large eyes. your initial response was curt, an ode to the simplistic nature of your mind. “mhm.”

how endearing you were to him, just a unadorned reaction weakening his being, causing his heart to figuratively crumble within its confines against his ribcage. he had searched for a heartier answer, something tangible to hold on to, because, lord knows how terrible he’d feel if he took your indication the wrong way. “can you be vocal for me, please?”

you nodded your head. “i’ll let you know, yuuta.”

with a carefulness that only came from the most benign of beings, he had sunken the first inch of himself into your awaiting heat.

he was paused when your hand dashed to his lower abdomen, futilely pressing against the skin.

“wait—” you huffed wantonly. “—‘s too big.”

his eyes wavered with concern, hidden under the veil of pure arousal. in yuuta’s case he had dreamed of a compliment as self fulfilling as yours, for his thoughts of being average were shattered upon first inch. “should i stop?”

you shook your head, reveling in the light of his attentivity towards you and your body. “no,” you moved your hand from his abdomen. “don’t stop.”

one of his arms rested beside your head, helping to prop him up over your body while he dropped his head down to watch the way your bodies connected. gradually, the sight of his length slowly sinking inside, stretching you out further and further until he was in to the hilt flooded his vision. yuuta had caught on to your labored gasps, merely growing harder from your honeyed voice like music to his ears.

he then lifted his head, strands of inky, out-of-place tresses falling over his face and partially covering the depth of lingering eyes, that lingered for a second too long, causing that shuddering sensation you had once felt when you first met him to reappear. he held his camcorder beside his face, an all too cheerful grin masked over his features. “i’m all in!”

creepy.

there was no doubt that you hadn’t felt full. he practically spilled over with how much girth he possessed and throbbed innately within your walls. the swell of your tummy from just how deep he was, was enough to tear away at his composure and drag his length back before driving his hips in at a force unrecognizable to him. the yelp you had let out from his eager thrust dwindled into a blissful moan. “sorry, so sorry.” he whispered, unable to take his eyes off the faultless assortment of breathtaking features that was your face, eyebrows creased together, parted lips and eyes squeezed closed as if you’d been focused solely on the pleasure he was giving you.

his next thrust stroked softer than its predecessor, having no remnants of eagerness but instead, the nuance of a man that’d been simply smitten.

the meticulousness of his ministrations coursed through your body wondrously, each push and pull lathered in lust, savored to be remembered for the rest of his time on earth. it was as if he’d known your body for years, knew every dip and fold, every swell and mast, aware of what exactly it took to leave your body hungry for his touches.

you’d grown comfortable in the pace at which he set, your mind hazing over each time the blunt tip grazed along your gspot. he peppered kisses along your jaw and down your sternum, the fanning of his warm breath against your chest doing the minimum in stiffening the peaks of your breasts. shootable footage forgotten, yuuta took your mound into his mouth, teeth gently rolling against your nipple which caused you to tighten around his cock in response, the sweetest mewl he’s ever heard from you tumbling from your throat.

“at least take me on a date first, yuuta..” the wittiness of your voice had earned a stifled smile from him, finding utmost admiration in the suggestion. he’ll be sure to take you up on your offer, just as you had done for him.

when you felt the familiar coil within you starting to build up once more, you dipped your hand down to rub at your clit in tandem with the increasing vigor of his strokes. the sensation was all too foreign to you, too pleasurable that you couldn’t keep your sounds at bay. “‘m so close, g-gonna cum!” you had warned, yuuta pulled away from your tit with a soft pop. he chose to rest his head at the juncture of your neck and shoulder, mindlessly chanting the words like a mantra.

“i love you, i love you,” his pace faltered, growing sloppier by the second. “love you, love you so much.”

intoxicated by your heat, your scent, just you being you, and being so perfect — yuuta was pussydrunk. incredibly so. never in his life had he ever felt as high as you made him. you were an angel, sent to him from heaven, to defile and mark.

quickly, your release surged through you in torrents of ecstasy, nothing that you’ve experienced before, coating yuuta’s cock in the glorious essence of you. “cumming!” you cry, to no avail particularly since yuuta wasn’t wholeheartedly aware of the situation at hand. his mind was clouded with you, just as you were full of him, wincing in the aftershocks of your fervent orgasm and convulsing around his length with need.

it wasn’t long before his own ununified thrusts came to a sudden close, signifying the warm spurts of cum painting your insides, filling you entirely to the brim and leaking down your ass from riding out his high.

“god, i love you.” he whined, pressing faint kisses to your neck, unable to peel himself away from your fervid body. coming to your senses, his words finally resonated for you. “we only just met.”

he pulled himself up, opting to look down at your flushed face with a vague hint of confusion on his face as he tilted his head. “have we?”

“we have.” you nodded.

to yuuta, he’s known you his whole life. you were the light of his existence, the fire in his heart. had he managed to confuse you with someone else? surely, that wasn’t the case.

once he pulled out of you, he made sure to capture the moment that you leaked his seed on film, but in that time, borrowed jealousy had filled his soul. he couldn’t share the tape as he had planned, no one else deserved to see you in the same way he did. no one.

he tucked himself back into his pants, leaving you bare and oozing for just one second to fetch a warm wet rag to clean you up with. when he came back, you noticed just how chipper he’d gotten, if that were even possible. “you were amazing,” he smiled, gently wiping your folds pristine. “i’m so grateful you came to me.” the smile you returned matched his own, “thank you, you were- really good too.”

he perked up, eyes moving from between your thighs to your face. “really?” and when you nodded to him, you could see the apparent relief flow within his being. “you know,” he started. “i’m very interested in you.”

you tilt your head, jutting your lips in a cute pout. “interested, how?”

the camcorder that now resided on his coffee table, unpresumebly documenting the scene on display was picked up by yuuta, and turned off. he grinned softly, eyes shutting from his ear to ear smile.

“may i take you on a date?”

[lqvesoph]

Puppy Love || LN4

lando norris x fem!reader

summary: Lando came home from his ‘best day at work’ and you take matters into your own hands to reunite the little puppy and your boyfriend

a/n: I couldn’t resist writing something about this bc that video has me in a chokehold

masterlist | taglist

"Baby, you won’t believe what just happened!!", your boyfriend exclaimed as he opened the door to your shared apartment.

You chuckled, moving out of the kitchen where you were making dinner to greet him in the hallway.

"Look! Oh my god!", he called, pulling out his phone and showing you a picture of him sitting on a chair, with an adorable little puppy in his arms. Your eyes widened. "Oh, Lan, that’s so cute!", you said, putting your hand in front of your mouth.

"I know right??", he spoke excitedly, swiping through his gallery to show you the other pictures. "Look! It just said down in my lap", he said, pressing play on a video.

"Lando, she’s adorable!", you muttered. "Yeah", he smiled. "Shame I can’t keep her." "She really did look incredibly comfortable on you", you agreed and looked up to find a sad smile on Lando’s face and put your hand on his cheek.

"Hey, cheer up", you whispered, pulling him in for a kiss.

"Soo, what’s for dinner?", Lando asked after pulling away, a slightly happier smile gracing his face now.

*~*~*

Later that night, you couldn’t stop thinking about that video Lando showed you. So, as quietly as you could you sat up in your shared bed and pulled out your laptop, searching for the shelter that he’d told you about.

You looked through the website and found the small dog. "Lia, three months old", you read as you clicked through the pictures.

Your fingered hovered over the blue button, hesitating for a second but one look at the sleeping boy beside you, gave you the reassurance you needed. As quietly as you could you closed the laptop and went back to sleep.

The next morning Lando was up before you, as usual. You found him in his sweaty training clothes in the kitchen, drinking a glass of water.

"Good morning", you greeted him, standing in the door and leaned against it. "Oh hey", he called, walking over and pressing a quick kiss to your lips. You scrunched your nose.

Lando rolled his eyes before giving you another peck. "I know, I’ll shower", he chuckled, walking past you towards the bathroom.

"Lan, I wanted to tell you that I’m flying to the UK for today", you called, making the boy stop in his tracks. "Why?", he questioned, turning around. You panicked for a second, not knowing what to tell him without revealing your surprise.

"Uhm, Mum wanted to go shopping together", you lied, slapping yourself internally. Lando frowned. "Uh, okay? I’m coming with you, when are we leaving?", he wanted to know.

"No no, you have your dinner with Zak and that businessman tonight and I’ll probably will sleep at my parents’", you quickly waved it off. Lando nodded, still eying you strangely. "Well, okay then. Let me shower and then I can drive you to the airport", he muttered, before turning around to enter the bathroom.

You let out a sigh, hating yourself for not telling Lando the whole truth but reminding yourself that his face tonight will he the greatest reward.

*~*~*

You touched down in Heathrow around 1pm, quickly texting Lando that you had arrived before rushing out of the airport to find a taxi that would take you to Battersea.

In front of the Dog’s and Cat’s home you stepped out, thanking and paying the driver before making your way to the door.

"Hi, I’m Y/n Y/l/n", you told the woman at the reception. "I made an online appointment yesterday to meet with a little puppy." The brunette smiled and nodded. "Let me check for a second. Ah, yes, just down the corridor and the second door to your left. Mia should be waiting for you there", she said, whereupon you thanked her and walked down to where she had described.

You knocked on the door and waited for Mia to call, but instead she opened the door, the same warm smile on her lips as the receptionist.

"Hi, you must be Miss Y/l/n, nice to meet you!", she greeted you, reaching a hand out for you to shake. "Nice to meet you too, and please call me Y/n", you replied, following her into the room.

"So, you are here for Lia, right?", she smiled as you walked closer to the play area of about five puppies. She then took one puppy with white and brown fur out of the area.

"Oh my god, she’s even more adorable in person", you muttered as the woman placed the puppy in your arms. "Heyy, little one", you whispered, softly petting her back.

"She really seems to like you", Mia noted and nodded towards the puppy who had closed her eyes and snuggled into your arms. "Can I keep her?", you asked softly. "We gotta go over some documents first but then, sure", Mia smiled and showed you to her office.

"Okay, first of all, do you live with anyone because if you do we need their permission as well", she stated and you looked up. "Yes, I do, I live with my boyfriend in Monaco. Actually, he met the little one yesterday at work", you chuckled.

Mia stopped writing and looked at her questioningly. "Excuse me?"

"Lando Norris, you recently signed a cooperation with McLaren and he came home yesterday telling me all about that little surprise you did for him and even showed me a few videos of Lia and I wanted to surprise him with this", you explained. First Mia looked at you rather skeptical, then she started typing on her computer.

"Okay, I guess you are telling the truth", she mumbled, turning around to show you pictures of Lando and you in the paddock, the search being ‘Lando Norris Girlfriend’. You tried to hide your chuckle but failed.

"I’m sorry but the possibility of you being a crazy fan is pretty high, I didn’t mean to insult you", she immediately apologized but you waved her off. "No, it’s fine. I understand", you chuckled as she blinked a few times.

"Okay, back to the questions. I guess you have the permission of your partner. Then Monaco you said?", she moved on. You nodded. "She’d have a little play buddy in Leo, a friend’s dog, and I’m sure Alex and Charles would be happy to help us with everything in the beginning", you explained.

You went over a few more details such as allergies and vet check ups. "Okay, last one is financial security but I guess that won’t be a problem", she chuckled and if you weren’t so focused on Lia you’d have been slightly offended at her judgmental tone.

She pushed the documents over the table for you to sign and watched as you scribble your name on the line.

"Then I am happy to tell you, you have just adopted a dog", she smiled and handed you her hand to shake.

You said goodbye to her, quickly asking where the next pet shop was to get the necessary things.

Then you made your way outside again, the small puppy in your arms. "Okay, little one, let’s go shopping and then we can go home and surprise your new daddy", you whispered, gently petting her head.

Your flight back home was scheduled to arrive at 8pm, from where you then took a taxi back to Monaco.

"Welcome home, Lia", you muttered, letting her down as you closed the front door. You could tell she was curious but careful at the same time, always keeping close to you.

You placed your bag with dog food, some bowls and toys on the kitchen counter and then went to sit down on the couch and Lia immediately jumped up to cuddle into your arms again, which made you chuckle.

About two hours later you heard a key in the door and Lando entering the apartment. You decided not to say anything and simply wait until he would come into the living room, although the lights of the TV still filled the room.

"Hello?", Lando asked. "Is anyone there?" Cautiously he entered the living room, placing a hand on his heart when he saw it was only you sitting there.

"Jesus, baby, I thought there was someone in our home!", he called. "I thought you said you’re only coming back tomorrow"

"Well…", you giggled and then lifted your arm to reveal the sleeping puppy on your arm. Lando’s eyes widened, scanning the little dog.

"Wha-", he muttered perplexed. "Meet little Lia. Again", you added giggling. "You- is- is that the puppy from Battersea?", he stuttered, sitting down next to you. You nodded with a smile.

"Wha- How- Did you fly to England just to-", he continued stammering, making you reach for his hand. "She loved you and you can’t fool me and tell me you didn’t feel the same. And about all the traveling, I can take care of her when I’m not coming to race weekends, Alex does the same. And she even has a little play buddy in Leo", you told him, interwinding your fingers.

"I love you so much, baby", he whispered and pulled you into a kiss. A small high pitched bark interrupted you and you pulled apart.

"Heyy, princess", Lando whispered, laying down so his head was level with the puppy in your arms. Lia got up and carefully sniffed Lando, probably recognizing his scent from just two days ago as she then cuddled up next to him.

You two laughed and petted her small body.

"She’s the cutest", you noted with a smile. "And you’re the best", Lando smirked up at you. "My two girls!"

yourinstagram

tagged: landonorris

liked by: landonorris, alexandrasaintmleux, oscarpiastri and 1.526.182 others

yourinstagram: Welcome home little Lia💞

comments:

landonorris: my girlssss

alexandrasaintmleux: Omg I can’t wait for playdates!!

yourinstagram: Yessss omggg, lets leave the boys at home then

landonorris: Hey!

alexandrasaintmleux: Ofc

charlesleclerc: Hey!

lilyzneimer: The cutest omg!!

mclaren: So excited to meet the little girl

fan: Omg how cute is that!!

fan: The dog on the wheel lmaooo

fan: Already coming for Lando’s seat

> liked by: yourinstagram

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landonorris

tagged: yourinstagram

liked by: yourinstagram, mclaren, oscarpiastri and 2.628.529 others

landonorris: Newest member of the fam

comments:

yourinstagram: girl dad🩷

landonorris: Yessss

charlesleclerc: Lets go play paddle when the girls leave us…

landonorris: GREAT idea

carlossainz: I wanna meet her asap!!

oscarpiastri: Why couldn’t you get a cat…

landonorris: bc dogs are superior, duh

mclaren: Newest member of Mclaren🧡

> liked by landonorris

fan: OMG is that the dog from that video??

fan: WAIT YOU ARE ONTO SOMETHING

fan: I think so, yes

> liked by yourinstagram

fan: GIRL DAD LANDO NORRIS

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[peachesofteal]

Through Me (The Flood) - secret baby fic Simon Riley / female reader - warnings: discussion of past abuse, Simon’s trauma Request: take your baby to work day

You're wide eyed at the front door.

"You sure you guys will be alright?" Your voice is clear, but your hand trembles on the door handle, bottom lip tugged across your teeth.

"We'll be okay sweetheart. But if you're uncomfortable, or it's too much, you should take him-"

"No, no. I'm fine. You're not supposed to bring the baby to OB appointments anyway. It's frowned upon." You roll your eyes, tipping up to kiss Ry on the cheek. "Just... don't let anyone breathe on him, or kiss him, okay? His immune system is still fragile compared to ours. I packed you like, three bottles so hopefully he'll take them if he gets hungry. Text me if-"

"Mama." He holds Orion in one arm, and grabs your hand with the other. You're frightened, and stressed, and he's driven to comfort you, the need to soothe you throbbing across his skull. "I've got this. We'll be just fine. Text me when you're done. Get yourself a tea or something afterwards, alright? Everything is going to be okay." You nod.

"Right, of course. You're... you're right. And you're going to a military base, I doubt there's a safer place around."

"C'mere." He tugs you into his side, and you wrap your arms around his stomach, nestling in opposite Orion. "I need you to do something f'me."

"What?"

"I need you to swear to me you'll tell your doctor about the dizzy spells." There's been a reminder card about your twelve week postpartum appointment on the fridge for two weeks now, and after you finally confessed you have been getting dizzy since Orion was born, and one time had even fallen, he decided to skip several steps by making the appointment for you. You were... not pleased, but he made it very clear, he's not playing a game with your health. He's planning his battles strategically now, putting pieces in play slowly, working towards his larger goal, but this was something he refused to compromise on.

"Okay." You whisper, burying your face in his chest. "I will." He lands a kiss to the top of your head.

"We'll see you soon. It'll be over before you know it, and maybe we can get a takeaway for dinner?" Your lips crack into a toothy smile.

"Sounds good to me."

"Alright, lad. Let's go see daddy's team." Orion stares at him, brown eyes curious, and watchful. He’s still not used to it, this feeling. This life, with you and his baby. Everyday, he has to stop to ground himself, anchor himself. Break from the cycle of a downward spiral, obsessive thoughts playing with his mind, counting down the million and one ways he could lose you, or fail you, or both. He’s careful, he’s diligent, he’s in control. He’d never make a mistake like he did before, the error of judgement that cost him his mother, his brother and his family-

But the incessant fear never ceases.

Fortunately, his anchor now is you. You, when you let him carry you to bed, when you watch him rock Orion to sleep as you stand in the doorway, you who curls up next to him on the couch now, fingers curled into his shirt like you’re afraid he might disappear. Your touch heals. Your words comfort. He can't fathom a future without you, or Ry, now.

If he thinks back on it, he wonders if he knew all along. If all the things he felt the night he met really meant forever, just like he had wished. A fantasy turned reality-

to have and to hold.

His stomach turns, wondering if his father ever felt this, if he ever loved, or if he was always just a monster, the ouroboros of victim turned abuser, the man who terrorized his mother, his brother and himself, long past the time Simon finally tore him to pieces, cracked his ribs, beat him into the ground.

Tommy broke the cycle, and from the moment he laid eyes on his son he knew.... he would too.

Price's secretary looks like she's seen an actual ghost. "Hey, Lindsey. Is he in?" She's staring, flicking back and forth to Orion and then up to his face, mouth slightly agape.

"Y-yeah he's..." she points over her shoulder at his closed door. "Lieutenant, did you... is that... is that your baby?" He nods, mouth curving into a proud smile, stepping close enough so she can get a good look at him. She almost jerks back, clearly not used to being so close to him. He's been here and there, off and on base all week catching up on a backlog of reports, but hasn't said a word to anyone, and he keeps everyone on base at arm's length except the 141.

"It is." Her shocked expression melts, hesitantly reaching her pointer finger towards Ry, allowing him to wrap it up in his chubby little fist. "This is Orion." She smiles at him, and then the baby, kindly.

"He's beautiful." She excuses herself when the phone rings, and he settles the tension burning between his shoulder blades. He didn't mentally prepare for this moment, didn't believe he had to. The expectation of Price's acceptance was assumed but now, his trepidation is a surprise.

He told his captain he needed to take leave for something really important, but never said for what. All he told him is that he'd loop him in soon, and that he was sorry he wouldn't be available for the next op. If John was curious, he didn't let him know, didn't push him for more info, didn't pester him. He just sent the forms to Simon's email to be filled out with a postscript:

Looking forward to hearing what this is all about.

And when Simon crosses the threshold of his office, baby in one arm, backpack stuffed with nappies and bottles in the other-

John Price laughs.

It's not the huff of a chuckle that Kate usually gets out of him, or the rolling guffaw that he gives the guys sometimes when he's particularly amused.

No, this is different. It starts in his belly and then rolls upwards, all the way until his shoulders are shaking and he's wiping his eyes.

Simon scowls, and John holds both his hands up, palms out. Surrender. "This is a good enough reason as any to take a chunk of all that leave saved up." He stands, stepping around to get a closer look. "What's his name then?"

"Orion." John nods thoughtfully. The backs of his fingers brush along the baby's arm, gently, slowly, a flicker of longing, of sadness, arcing across his face before it dissipates.

"The giant hunter Zeus banished to the skies." Organized stacks of paper sit in neat little piles on top of John's desk, authorizations he'd know anywhere. They're moving out. "Where's his mum?"

"At a doctor's appointment." Orion gurgles, and Simon pats his back, bouncing him slowly from side to side.

"You with her?" The answer is immediate.

"Gonna marry her." John's eyes fill with mirth.

"But she doesn't know that yet, does she."

"No," Simon sighs, "but she will. 'ts why I needed the leave. Besides," he motions to the infant tucked in his arm, "this, helping take care of him, taking care of her, I need to get them moved to a secure location. She's in a second level flat right now, with street facing windows. It's makin' my skin itch." Price will get it, Simon knows he will understand. He has his own secret at home, tucked away in a house only Simon and Laswell know about, just in case.

"Take it slow, don't want to spook her. Although I can't imagine she's too skittish if she took you to bed." He smirks. "You've got the time you requested. Had to call in a substitute for this one, but we'll need you on the next."

"How long?"

"Five weeks, maybe more. I'll ring when we're back on base." Five weeks. The clock is ticking, a bomb waiting to detonate, a guillotine waiting to sever his time with his family, his duty dragging him away.

"Alright." He concedes. Cross that bridge when he comes to it.

If Price sees his reluctance, he doesn't comment on it. "Bird'll be here in six hours. Boys are in the rec room, if you want to see 'em." Simon nods, shifting the baby in his arms as he heads towards the door. "And Simon," he turns, locking eyes with his captain, raw emotion plain on both their faces. Price gives him a genuine smile. "Congratulations. You're going to be a great father."

There's a lump in his throat as he crosses the campus to the rec room, his nose dipping across Ry's head, breathing him in as deep as he can behind the black cloth mask. "He's gonna be your godfather, little man. We just have to get Mama to agree, don't we?" He tugs the building's door open, ignoring the streams of chatter suddenly grinding to a halt in the hallway. Once he makes it to the rec room and sees that no one else is inside, just Johnny and Gaz battling it out in an intense game of pool, he slips the mask off his face and locks the door.

Soap is the first one to see him. "Steeeamin' jesus, LT is that a bairn!?" Kyle chokes on his water.

"Is that your baby, Riley?" They both scramble forward, Johnny whistling in disbelief.

"Aye, he's got to be. Look at the size of 'im."

"Johnny." Simon gives him the 'settle down' look, but the Sergeant only grins impishly.

"He's hers, innit he?" Gaz reaches, and Orion watches him with interest. "The girl from the bar. The one who lives close to me." Johnny's eyes go wider than globes.

"Ach Ghost, ye been busy wit' that boa-"

"Johnny." He hisses, and Kyle barks a laugh, reaching. Simon doesn't balk about handing Orion over, even though you were cautious about letting other people be around him. This is his team. He trusts them implicitly.

"He's a heavy lad, isn't he?" Kyle bounces him back and forth, all the while Ry stares at him with his head tipped back, mesmerized. "Looks jus' like you."

"Maybe a wee bit more handsome." Johnny's leaning around Kyle, his hand on Ry's back. They're mooning over him, two decorated, strategically brilliant sergeants, cooing at a baby like a bunch of sooks, as Johnny would say.

His phone vibrates in his pocket, a text from you letting him know you're finished, and heading home.

>Has he eaten?

>No, hasn't seem interested.

>Thank god.

Knowing you're probably in pain makes him antsy to get back, and he glances at the guys. "You movin' out in a few hours?"

"Aye, lookin' for some sort of stolen intelligence. Shouldnae be too long. Got a rent-a-Lieutenant and everythin'. Ye'll be back for the next?"

"I will. Stay frosty out there. I expect you all back in one piece."

He triple checks the carseat, testing the straps and the strength of the seatbelt before finally deciding it's secure enough, for the hundredth time today. He takes one last look, and presses a kiss to Orion's head. "Ready, bub? Let's go home and see mama."

[pucksandpower]

Hip Thrusts

Oscar Piastri x Reader

Summary: watching your boyfriend train gives you ideas about other things (or people) his hips could be doing … like you

Warnings: 18+ content

You take a deep breath as you push open the door to the gym. The smell of rubber mats and metal weights fills your nose.

It’s early — the sun is just starting to peek through the windows — and the gym is mostly empty, except for a few dedicated early morning regulars on the cardio machines.

Across the room, you spot Oscar on the weight floor. He’s doing barbell hip thrusts, clanging the weights up and down with each rep. His trainer Kim stands over him, stopwatch in hand, counting out the seconds between sets.

You take a moment just to watch Oscar train. His brow is furrowed in concentration, his muscles flexing and contracting with each thrust. He’s wearing those tiny Nike running shorts you bought him last month, the ones that show off his sculpted quads and glutes.

You can’t help but stare a little bit. Okay, a lot. Your boyfriend’s butt looks amazing.

“57… 58 … 59 ...” Kim counts. “Good, take 30 seconds.”

Oscar racks the barbell and sits up, grabbing his water bottle. His eyes catch yours across the room and his face lights up in a smile.

“Hey babe!” He calls out, waving you over.

You weave your way past the ellipticals and weight machines until you’re standing next to him.

“Hey yourself,” you lean down to give him a quick peck. “You’re looking strong this morning.”

“Just trying to get some strength training in before Kim puts me through the ringer later,” Oscar says. “We’ve got the season starting up so I really need to be on my game.”

He takes a long swig from his water bottle as Kim jots down notes on his clipboard.

“So what brings you to the gym so early?” Oscar asks. “I didn’t think 6 am workouts were your thing.”

You shrug. “I was up early and thought maybe we could do breakfast after you’re done?”

“Sounds good to me,” Oscar nods.

Kim clears his throat. "30 seconds are up, time to go again.”

“Duty calls,” Oscar says, getting back into position on the bench.

You step back to give him space, but stay close to chat. Oscar grips the barbell and hoists it up into position over his hips. You glance at the plates stacked on either end, doing some quick math in your head.

“Seems like that’s heavier than last time I dropped by,” you can’t help but comment.

“Sure is,” Kim says proudly before Oscar can respond. “We increased the weight since last week. Gotta keep increasing the load to build muscle.”

You stare at the barbell plates again. Exactly your body weight. Which means ...

Oscar is doing hip thrusts with the equivalent of you lying on top of him.

A little flutter goes through your stomach at the thought. You try to push it aside though. Obviously he isn’t thinking of it that way, it’s just part of his training regimen that Kim has him on. Still, you can’t help but visualize it for a moment.

“Alright, here we go,” Kim says. “Three sets of twenty reps, and … go!”

Oscar begins thrusting the barbell up in controlled motions, breathing out with each lift. You try not to stare, but your eyes keep flicking back to the movement of his hips. There’s something about watching your boyfriend’s pelvis go up and down right in front of you that’s making it hard to look away.

After twenty reps Oscar racks the barbell again. His chest is heaving a little from the exertion.

“Nice work,” Kim says. “How’d that feel?”

“Good,” Oscar says between breaths. “Definitely feeling the burn.”

He catches your eye and must notice you blushing because he adds with a wink, “Enjoying the show, babe?”

You feel your cheeks flush even more. “What? No! I mean, yes? I just … never mind ...” you stammer.

Oscar grins knowingly and takes another sip of water.

Over the next two sets, you try your best not to gawk. You remind yourself that this is serious training. Oscar is an athlete and you need to be respectful.

But still … when he’s finished his final set and Kim tells him to take a longer rest, you can’t help yourself.

“So, the weight you’re thrusting, huh?” You say, trying to sound casual. “That’s kind of a coincidence ...”

“What do you mean?” Oscar asks.

You glance at Kim, who is occupied on his phone. In a lower voice you say, “Well, it’s exactly what I weigh.”

Oscar’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Oh! I didn’t even realize.” A sly grin crosses his face. “Hey, you’re totally right.”

You take a step closer to him, emboldened. “So basically you’re doing hip thrusts with me on top of you.”

Oscar lets out a startled laugh. “When you put it that way ...”

“I have to admit the thought crossed my mind while I was watching you,” you say. You run a hand slowly up his arm. “I think you’re the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Oscar swallows hard, his eyes darkening. “Yeah?” He asks quietly.

You nod, feeling suddenly shy under his intense gaze.

He reaches out and takes your hand, rubbing his thumb in circles over your skin. “Well I can promise you, the real thing is a hundred times better than any training exercise.”

You lace your fingers through his, reveling in his touch. “Why don’t you remind me later?” You ask boldly.

Oscar leans in, his breath hot on your ear. “It would be my pleasure.”

A little shiver runs down your spine at the promise in his words. You want to kiss him right here in the middle of the gym, but Kim finally looks up from his phone.

“Alright, time’s up! Let’s keep moving.”

Oscar gives you a sheepish look as he releases your hand. “Duty calls once again. But rain check for later?”

“Absolutely.” You wink and take a step back so he can get into position for his next set.

You try to pay more attention to his form as he does the next round of hip thrusts. But this time, your mind keeps wandering to what those hips could do under different circumstances. Judging by the smoldering looks Oscar keeps shooting your way between sets, you’re pretty sure he’s thinking the same thing.

By the last set, there’s an obvious tension and heat between you. Oscar holds your gaze as he finishes the final reps, his hips rising and falling rhythmically. You bite your lip, no longer even trying to hide your desire. You want him, and you want him now.

Finally Kim calls time and tells Oscar to start his cool down stretches. As he reaches for his toes, back arched, you sidle up behind him.

“I think you need to stretch out some other muscles too,” you murmur in his ear. “I’d be happy to assist with that later.”

Oscar straightens up with a groan. “You’re killing me here, babe. As soon as we get home ...”

You grin up at him innocently. “Yes?”

He kisses you heatedly, not caring that Kim is still packing up his things nearby. “Why don’t you head out and get breakfast started for us?” He suggests. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

You bite your lip as you back away slowly. “Don’t keep me waiting too long.”

You toss one last flirty wave over your shoulder as you leave the gym, heart racing. You have a feeling breakfast might be the last thing on both of your minds when Oscar gets home. But you love teasing each other like this — it always makes your time together even hotter.

As you drive home, you can’t stop replaying those images of Oscar doing hip thrusts in your mind. Maybe you should start joining those early morning workouts more often …

***

You can barely concentrate as you drive back home. You and Oscar have always had an adventurous and flirtatious relationship, but that encounter at the gym took things to a whole new level.

When you get home, you quickly tidy up the bedroom and kitchen to get things ready for when Oscar arrives. You take a fast shower, letting the hot water relax your excited nerves.

Slipping into a silky robe, you head to the kitchen to start preparing breakfast. You chop fruit, arrange multigrain toast and toppings on a platter, and squeeze fresh orange juice, trying to make everything look as appetizing as possible. Not that food is really on your mind right now, but you want to set the scene perfectly.

Just as you’re pouring two cups of coffee, you hear the front door open. Oscar calls out your name, his voice sending a thrill through your whole body.

“In here!” You call back, straining to keep your tone neutral even as your pulse quickens.

Oscar strides into the kitchen and pauses, eyes sweeping over you hungrily as he takes in the robe and the breakfast you’ve laid out.

“This looks amazing, babe,” he says appreciatively. He comes over and kisses you tenderly. “Thank you for doing all this.”

You smile up at him, arms encircling his neck. “Least I could do after that little show you put on for me. Now come sit down and eat before it gets cold.”

You both take a seat at the kitchen island, filling your plates with fruit, pastries and eggs. The domesticity of sharing a meal together contrasts wildly with the tension still charging the air between you.

Oscar asks about your morning as you eat, keeping the conversation light. But his foot slowly trails up your calf under the table, making your breath hitch. You tell him about your plans to meet up with some friends later in the week. His hand finds your knee, fingers lightly grazing your bare skin. You ask him how training is going, trying to keep your voice even as your whole body tingles.

By the time you’ve both cleaned your plates, you’re squirming in your seat, heart pounding with anticipation. The second Oscar pushes his plate away, you surge forward to kiss him hungrily. All pretense of small talk is dropped — you want him now.

Oscar responds immediately, his strong arms pulling you tight against him as he kisses you deeply. You run your hands over the hard muscles of his chest and arms, feeling them flex and relax under your touch.

“Take me to bed,” you whisper in his ear.

In one smooth motion, Oscar stands and lifts you up into his arms. You wrap your legs around his waist as he carries you effortlessly to the bedroom and lays you down on the bed, his athletic body hovering tantalizingly over yours.

You run your hands up under his shirt, feeling the ripple of abs and obliques. Oscar lets you pull it up over his head before capturing your mouth again, kissing you ravenously.

“Need to feel you,” he groans, hands fumbling to untie your robe. He pushes the silk aside reverently, eyes roaming over your exposed body with undisguised longing.

You arch up into him, gasping as your overheated skin meets his. Oscar kisses down your neck to your collarbone, hands gliding up your ribcage to caress your breasts. You moan his name, back bowing off the bed at the sensation.

“You’re so beautiful,” Oscar murmurs, lips continuing their descent. “I’ve been thinking about this all morning.”

You smile, combing your fingers through his hair. “Well then stop thinking and start doing.”

Oscar laughs, his warm breath fanning over your stomach. “Yes ma’am.”

He kisses lower, fingers trailing down your thighs to nudge them apart. You let your legs fall open with a pleasured sigh, back arching in anticipation.

Oscar starts slow, kissing and licking with delicate flicks of his tongue that have you squirming for more. He grips your hips, holding you still as he finally puts his mouth on you fully.

You cry out as he brings you right to the edge, only to pause and ease up again, keeping you balancing at the precipice.

“Oscar,” you moan urgently.

He smiles against you, knowing exactly what he’s doing to your body. When he finally takes pity on you, the climax rockets through you powerfully, leaving you trembling and breathless.

You pull Oscar up to meet your lips again, tasting yourself on him. “Your turn,” you whisper.

He groans as you quickly flip him onto his back and kiss your way down his taut body. You pull off his shorts torturously slowly, trailing your tongue along his hip crease in a way you know drives him wild.

Finally you take him into your mouth, noting how he’s already hard and straining for you. You smile around him, working him with your lips and tongue until his hips are bucking uncontrollably.

“I need you. I need to be inside you,” Oscar gasps, stilling you.

You release him reluctantly and crawl back up his muscular frame to kiss him hungrily. Oscar grips your hips and then you’re sinking down onto him, crying out at the delicious fullness.

You move together urgently, the restrained desire from earlier in the gym bubbling over as your bodies join again and again. Oscar’s fingers dig into the curves of your hips as he guides you up and down. You brace your hands on his sculpted chest, grinding your hips in little circles that make you both moan.

The pleasure builds rapidly, urged on by the intoxicating intimacy of your entwined bodies. Oscar’s thumb finds your most sensitive spot and starts stroking in time with your movements. The dual sensations send you hurtling over the edge again. Your climax seems to trigger Oscar’s own release. He throws his head back with a ragged groan as he finds his peak deep inside you.

You stay wrapped together as you both catch your breath, hearts pounding against each other’s chests. Oscar strokes your hair back from your face and pulls you in for a lazy kiss, full of satiation.

“Wow,” you sigh, still trembling with aftershocks. “This morning just keeps getting better and better.”

Oscar grins and rolls you both onto your sides, keeping you tucked close. “I guess we have hip thrusts to thank for this extra workout.”

You laugh and kiss his cheek. “Remind me to join your gym sessions more often.”

You lay entwined, trading soft kisses and simply enjoying the intimacy. The frantic passion from moments before simmers down into contented warmth.

Eventually Oscar nuzzles your hair. “As much as I want to stay like this all day, I should probably shower before practice.”

You pout playfully but let him slide out of your arms. He heads to the bathroom and you hear the water turn on a minute later.

Biting your lip, you get an idea. Oscar did say all day ...

You sneak into the steamy bathroom behind him. Through the frosted glass door you can see the outline of his muscular frame under the cascade of water.

Silently, you drop your robe and step into the shower behind him. Oscar turns under the stream, eyes lighting up as he sees you.

“Well hello there,” he grins. “Come here often?”

You press your naked body against his slick skin. “I missed you already.”

Oscar’s arms wrap around you as his lips find yours. “I think we have time for round two before I have to get ready for the afternoon,” he murmurs suggestively.

You smile and reach for the body wash, lathering up your hands. “Better get started then.”

Oscar groans appreciatively as your soapy hands glide over his shoulders and down his chest. You take your time relearning every hard ridge and valley of his athletic physique, paying special attention to the areas still sensitive from your earlier activities.

The combination of cascading water and roaming hands quickly has Oscar hard again. This time he lifts you, pressing your back against the cool tile wall as your legs lock around his hips.

You cry out in bliss at the new angle as he enters you. Oscar braces one hand on the wall and slips the other between you, resuming his earlier attentions. The dual sensation makes your eyes roll back in ecstasy.

“Yes, yes, don’t stop,” you gasp, raking your nails down his back.

Oscar increases his pace, thumb working you relentlessly as he snaps his hips. You feel the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter until it crests explosively, just as Oscar tenses and finds his own peak.

You cling together, slick and sated under the warm spray. Eventually Oscar carefully lowers your weakened legs back to the shower floor, keeping an arm around your waist to support you.

“Okay, now I really need to get ready to head out,” he chuckles.

You sigh contentedly. “Fine, but only if you promise more later.”

Oscar drops a kiss to your shoulder. “Oh I’ll definitely take you up on that.”

As you exit the shower on shaky legs, you exchange a grin. Looks like early morning workouts are going to become a permanent part of your routine from now on.

[oreo-creampie]

𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐝𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬! fluff, suggestiveness - talking about/hinting towards satoru fingering/eating you out but nothing happens, kissing, satoru fondly makes fun of you a lil, he also carries you around, collage au, collage student!reader, collage student!gojo

fey: I’m still gonna be on hiatus for a little longer but in the mean time have this fluff nugget inspired by my hubby

Satoru huffs and pokes your cheek till you swat his hand away. He flops on the bed next to you, the soft breeze and movement disturbing your carefully placed papers.

You whine “Satoru!”

“Sweet pie! You’ve been studying and working in that essay all day for the past three days please!” He throws his hand across his forehead, clutching his chest. “I beg of you feed me attention before I starve. I’m wilting away before you! How cold hearted can you be.” His eyes are with tears.

Tossing your throw blanket over him, “This should keep you warm.” You take you eyes off the screen to read the open text book next to you. Before referring to your notes then glancing back up at your computer screen.

He pops his head out from underneath the blanket with gasp. “No I’m not cold! You’re cold hearted!” He sits up and wraps his arms around you. “Please just an hour, we can order some food, take a shower get you out of your funky funk.” Pinching his nose and waving his hand in front of his face.

“You’re foul.”

You can hear the smile in his voice. “Like your armpits! Study starting break now! I your wonderful boyfriend refuse to let you be stinky.” He slowly closes the lid on the rough draft of your paper.“I’ll help you write some more after, if you don’t give your mind a break you’ll fry it and make it useless.” He kisses the top of your head.

“Let’s go lil’ stink!” He drags you off the bed, your feet dangle in the air as he holds you to his chest.

Squeezing you whilst you protest, “Hey you can’t steal that! I don’t wanna hear it from the one with the stanky attitude making me take a break for my health how dare you.” He carefully sets you down in the bathroom.

He waves a hand in your direction, “Yes yes, how dare I care for my beautiful girlfriend and rub her naked body down with my large soapy hands in a warm shower, that I as her perfect boyfriend know the temperature of.”

He lights some of the candles arranged around the bathroom. And starts the heater that he insists your bathroom needs. After not stepping into another cold bathroom after a hot shower you can understand why.

You rid yourself of your clothes, throwing them into the hamper. “Do you need to toot you own horn?” Relieving yourself then washing your hands.

Turning around and watching him strip. His arms flex as he pulls his black shirt off. His v line peeks out of his sweatpants, which he pushes down. Your gaze lingers on his soft cock and large balls before you glance up into his sparkling blue eyes.

He corners you against the counter, booping the tip of your nose with his long finger. “You’ve been neglecting me for days I might need to remind you what a awesome boyfriend I am! What if you’ve forgotten!” He pouts.

You slide your fingers through his soft silver white hair. Pulling him in, your lips close to his, “I could never forget, you won’t let me, but I suppose it’s part of your charm. I guess it’s kind of cute when you’re cocky.”

Satoru smirks into the slow passionate kiss he gives you. Lifting you up, reflexively you wrap your legs around his waist. It’s easy to forget everything when you’re kissing him. There is the safety of his arms, the sweet passion of his soft lips on yours.

When he breaks away Satoru suggests, “After our shower would it be too cruel of me to give my girl a happy ending? As some stress relief and reward for all her studying of course.” He massages your cheek. His large warm hand feels wonderful targeting your sore spots.

You softly groan, “Please! I don't know if I wanna ride your face, fingers or cock.”

“Why not all three one after another? I can suck on your pretty clit and let you cum on my fingers then I can fill you up.” He carries you into the warm shower, supporting you with one hand. Closing the curtain behind himself.

He stands underneath the warm water, steam billowing off it. “‘M sorry for not texting for three days, you know I’ve missed my amazing boyfriend, you’re just so talented at so many things like distracting me when I need to study.” He helps you onto your feet, placing your backside facing towards the rushing water.

He protests, “I can behave and help you study.” Pouring some of his favorite strawberry and sugar scented body wash onto his hand.

You close your eyes tilting your head back. Soaking your curls and letting the water wash over your face. The water melts away some of the tension building in your neck and shoulders.

You rub your right shoulder and winch whilst insisting, “You tell me that every time.” Turning around and stepping out of the water, closing your eyes. It’s relaxing knowing he’ll take care of you, from washing your body, to treating your curls to applying your face care.

Rubbing soap over your back and ass, leaving soapy white bubbles. He massages your shoulders whilst pleading his case, “Please lemme help you study! We have the same essay due and test to take. Our study sessions is how we got together I miss them.”

You softly sigh and cave in, “I miss them too, ok you win can stay, you’re too charming.”

He playful croons “I always win.” Kissing the top of your wet head. “You won't regret it I'll be the best study buddy!” You widely smile, the delight in Satoru’s voice is heartwarming.

[seospicybin]

TWO TRUTHS AND A LIE

ROUND 1

Lee Know x reader. (s)

Related chapters: Round 2.

Synopsis: Let's play two truths and a lie, and here goes the first thing about you: You want to fuck your roommate's boyfriend, Minho. (9k words)

Author's note: It's a quick one-shot I made like a year ago but pls enjoy it nonetheless 😊

Content warning: Infidelity.

This is how you play two truths and a lie. You share three statements about you, two being true and one false, and people must determine which is which.

-

So here goes the first statement: You want to fuck your roommate's boyfriend.

A few months ago, you came to the city for your new job and were placed in a housing with a group of unbearable people. Since you've just started working, you tried looking at another option to get a temporary place to stay until you're financially stable enough to rent an apartment.

Long story short, a friend of a friend introduced you to Kim who happened to have an extra room you can rent. She owns the apartment and does not necessarily need the money, she offered her room for the sole reason which is to help you. You're aware that you don't meet this kind of that is to help you. You're aware that you don't meet this kind of person every day and for that, you're grateful for her.

After a week of living as roommates, you learn that Kim is just as graceful as her occupation, a ballet dancer. She's beautiful, kind-hearted, amicable, and ultimately, a very attentive roommate.

The room you're staying in was supposedly her private dance studio but she uses the living room to practice now and you have to adjust yourself to the huge mirror covering one side of the wall in your room.

Not long after that, Minho comes into the picture. A sharp nose, sharp jaws, and feline eyes, a beautiful face that only reminds you that the world is unfair to some people, including you.

"This is Minho," Kim introduces him with a smile

The second your eyes lock in a gaze with him, you feel an instant attraction and it intensifies as he stares back into your eyes.

"My boyfriend," Kim adds a little too late.

It's funny that the word boyfriend doesn't stop you from being attracted to him, if anything, you want him more than before.

Kim and Minho have been together for two years now and they met at the dance academy which explains a lot of things, including Minho's lean and toned body.

How do you know? Because sometimes he stays over and on more than one occasion, you found him walking out of the bathroom with nothing but a white towel hanging lowly around his waist.

That's also when you learn that this attraction is strictly physical, your uterus is acting up when you see him, and lewd thoughts rush through your head. It's all biological. There's no way you want to pursue him romantically, you couldn't even think of a person more deserving to be with him than Kim. They're both beautiful and talented dancers, oftentimes, you get so envious because they have such a lovely relationship.

Like tonight, you hear their laughter the second you step into the apartment, finding Kim and Minho in the kitchen just casually talking to each other while sharing a bowl of fruits. You love how simple yet endearing their interaction is.

"Hey, you're home!" Kim says with a sweet, welcoming smile.

You wave your hand at her and briefly at Minho, "Hi, everyone!" You awkwardly say, feeling like you're interrupting them.

"Have you had dinner?" Kim asks, attentive as always.

"Yeah, I grabbed dinner after work," you lie, but you can always creep your way to the fridge late at night for dinner.

"There's a pie in the fridge. Help yourself to some dessert," she sweetly offers then shoves a piece of blueberry into her mouth.

Without having to look, you can see how Minho looks at you, he has this deep, intense gaze that makes you the slightest bit intimidated.

"I will, thanks," you hurriedly respond, wanting the interaction to end as soon as possible, "I'll just... get into my room."

"Yeah, you should rest," Kim softly mutters.

You hoist your bag higher on your shoulder and head to your room, before you get in, you mutter to them, "Night, guys."

"Night," Kim cheerily says.

You hurriedly get in and catch a glimpse of Minho with his intense stare a second before the door completely closes and clicks in place.

The trick to surviving the night is to wait until they get into the bedroom and put headphones on as you come out of yours, not only to avoid hearing unwanted noises, but you reckon it's only right to take the extra measure to respect their privacy.

As you're listening and catching glimpses of the movie playing on your phone, you walk around the kitchen to prepare your simple, unhealthy dinner: a cup of noodles and a can of soda.

You're quietly eating your dinner by the kitchen counter with the headphones still on and once you finished, you treat yourself to a slice of pie, then put the rest of the pie back into the fridge.

It gets messy as you're munching on the pie while watching the movie on your phone. The cherry filling gets all over your fingers and you hurriedly lick it off before it gets—

"Oh, my God!" You shriek in surprise, seeing someone standing by the fridge. Once you realize it's Minho, you break into laughter.

"I'm just getting a bottle of water," he says, his face illuminated by the glow of the fridge lights.

"I'm sorry," you say while clutching your chest, and a second later, regret for saying it when he should be the one apologizing.

There's something different in the way Minho looks at you, he has one corner of his mouth raised higher than the other, giving you the impression that he's thinking of filthy things when he looks at you like that. He's giving you that look now and it does certain things to you.

He then stops leaning against the fridge, taking the bottle of water as he walks back to the bedroom, leaving his signature faint smirk on the back of your head.

The signals are there, they're subtle yet constantly pinging, asking you to respond. For now, you're going to ignore it like you always do and continue existing like you're not sharing the same space with him.

-

Statement number two: You believe Minho wants to fuck you too.

At first, you thought you imagined it, you want to fuck him so you started being delusional and thinking that he wants to fuck you too. Once you started paying attention though, you realized that what he's been doing to you meant something or some sort of message he tried to deliver.

The first occurrence that came to your realization is when the two of you were in the kitchen, you were enjoying your yoghurt and he suddenly came behind you to get something from the drawer that happened to be blocked by your body. Instead of telling you to step aside, he made you stand there as his hand curved around your waist to get something out of a drawer.

From there, you noticed a lot of things he did, the way he briefly rested his hand on the small of your back as he walked past behind you, his hand that would often brush a part of your body when the two of you are next to each other or the way he would speak close to your ear as if he's seeking to be close to you. Simply put, he always tries to make physical contact with you.

The scariest part of it is not the possibility that the two of you will eventually get caught, but how unfazed he is even when his girlfriend is there. Like that night where the three of you shared the sofa and somehow, his hand found your shoulder and instead of retreating, he continued to caress the nape of your neck with his knuckle.

However, what happens tonight is what makes you believe that he wants the same thing.

After making sure that you're the only one still awake in the vicinity, you make your way to the bathroom to take a nice, hot shower to help you relax and sleep faster. You skip on using the hairdryer since it'll make too much noise and tiptoe your way back to your bedroom.

In the middle of putting on your clothes, you realize that you left the door ajar and you notice Minho is watching through the reflection in the mirror.

Instead of stopping or rushing to close the door, you pretend to not see him there and continue, turning your body to the side, showcasing every curve of your body through the reflection in the mirror.

You arch your back as you put on the night dress over your head and slowly slip yourself in it, shimmying your body as you pull the dress down with your hands. Then you look at him through the reflection in the mirror and make it known that you're aware of his presence.

From the crooked grin on his face, you can tell that Minho is pleased to be caught watching you and you received his signal loud and clear: He wants to fuck you too.

But sadly, tonight's show is over so you walk to the door and close it.

-

Friday afternoon, Kim barges into your room and she rarely comes into your room without knocking on your door. Seeing that she's carrying a dress in her hand, you guess she needs your opinions on her clothing choices.

You sit on the bed and take your headphones off, "What's up, Kim?"

She stands at the end of the bed and lifts the dress with both hands, "What do you think?" She asks.

It's a mini dress with spaghetti straps in a deep purple color and it's a nice dress, you're just not sure if it fits Kim's style that well, she usually opts for dresses with flaring hem and floral prints.

"It's nice, Kim," you say but skip on giving her the detailed explanation.

She puts the dress close to her body and hugs it, "Do you like it?"

"Yeah," you shortly reply, even though it doesn't fit her style well, it certainly will look good on her.

"Good!" She shortly says, handing the dress to you, "Cause you'll be wearing it.

Somehow, you reach for it and awkwardly hold it in front of you, "W-why? Why me?"

Kim goes to your vanity table and flips open your jewelry box, she holds your earrings one by one to find ones that would match the dress.

"You're coming with me to this party," she says, leaving a lot of details in her answer.

"What party?"

"Party at my friend's," she simply answers, deciding on the gold small hoop earrings.

But that's against your plan, you want to steer clear of Minho and party at Kim's friend means that he'd likely be there too.

"Kim, I don't think that's a good idea," you tell her.

She then leans against the desk in your room and crosses her arm together in front of her, "These past few days you refused to hang out with me so you have to hang out with me tonight."

So Kim knows that you've been purposely avoiding her but you need to explain that it's not because of her, "But that's not—"

"Nuh-uh!" She quickly cuts you off again, "Tonight you're going to the party with me," she decides on her own, not accepting any more excuses from you.

"Is it okay though? I mean... it's your friend's party. I don't want to intrude," you meekly say while playing with the strap of the dress.

"Why would it not be okay?" She says, coming to sit on the edge of the bed, "Besides I want to introduce you to Gaspard."

Maybe you owe this one to Kim and hearing a guy's name piques your interest, "And who is Gaspard?"

"A cute guy," she shortly answers with a sly grin on her heart-shaped face, "And you'll like him."

It's not like Minho's presence would bother you that much and Kim needs you, she wants you there, therefore, as a good roommate, you should be there.

"Yeah, okay, I'm in the mood to meet a cute guy tonight," you tell her, not forgetting to show enthusiasm as well.

"That's the spirit!" Kim says with a wide grin dancing on her face.

Well, since you'll be there and possibly meet Minho, Gaspard better be a cute distraction for real.

-

The taxi pulls up in front of a house and you reckon it's where the party at from how many cars are parked outside and the faint thumping of the music playing inside.

The fact that you get here by taxi only means that there's no Minho so you can relax, for now.

Kim excitedly links her arm with you as you both walk into the house and you expect a party with laid-back music and endless glasses of wine but the second you step inside, upbeat music is blasting from around the house and everyone is having beers from red plastic cups.

The party is not what you imagined it would be, but it's what you need.

Kim cranes her neck to find her friends and once she finds them, she raises her hand to signal her arrival to them.

"Come on! Let's meet my friends!" She says.

Please, God, let him be a cute distraction! You repeatedly mutter in your heart as she drags you with her to meet her friends who are gathered in what you guess is a rec room in the house.

When Kim's friends finally come to sight, you put on a smile as you quietly guess which one of them is Gaspard. Kim goes to hug them one by one before introducing you to them.

"This is Ellie, Jena, Paul..." she introduces her friends back to you one by as the mentioned person warmly greets you.

"And Minho," someone adds from behind you.

You immediately look over your shoulder to see Minho standing there, Kim gently slaps his shoulder in response and laughs.

"This is not a roll call, honey," Kim says with a smile and then leans in to give Minho a quick peck on the lips.

Minho is already here and there's no Gaspard yet. No Gaspard means there'll be no distraction. You keep your smile on even though you're slowly descending into distress.

"There he is!" Kim exclaims, pointing at something behind you.

You reflexively turn on your heels and see a tall man with brown hair, striking green eyes, and a scintillating smile. This man will make the perfect distraction.

Please let this man be Gaspard, you deeply wish inside your heart.

Kim comes to your side and puts her arm around you, "This is the man I told you about," she says.

"I hope you only told her nice things about me," Gaspard says with a sly grin that makes his whole face light up.

The universe heard your plea and decided to make it true for you, this is Gaspard, the perfect distraction you want and need.

"Holyfuck..." you lowly mutter in disbelief.

"What's that?" Kim asks, hearing you saying something but doesn't quite catch it.

You've already forgotten where you are and what you're doing. And Minho? Who is Minho? You let out a chuckle and shake these silly thoughts away.

"So this is Gaspard, huh?" You say in all confidence.

"That is me," he answers, returning the confidence with a wide smile, "I'm better than you expected, I guess?"

Gaspard is confident and then gets shy in the next minute which you find charming, you smile at him and say, "I need more time to decide on that."

"That's fair," Gaspard says, offering his hand at you.

You think he's just going to shake your hand but he takes you into the crowd gathered in the middle of the room, dancing.

"A fair warning, I'm a bad dancer," you warn him as he takes your hands in his and makes you stand facing him.

"We still have time to decide on that," he pokes fun at you, taking you by the waist and pulling you close to his front.

Kim is right, Gaspard is cute and you like him already. He has just the right amount of facial hair and it grazes your cheek whenever he leans in to whisper into your ear, giving you a tingling feeling inside and outside.

After a few moments though, you find yourself panting from dancing with him. You should've known this would happen when you're dancing with a real dancer.

Since Gaspard is way taller than you, you have to put your arm around his shoulder and stand on your tiptoe to whisper to his ear, "Hey, how about we get drinks?"

"Drinks?" He asks you in confirmation since the mix of loud music and chatter is filling the room.

"Yeah," you answer while repeatedly nodding your head.

He doesn't say anything but takes your hand and leads the way through the crowd to the kitchen where bottles of liquor are strewn around on the kitchen island.

You intently watch as Gaspard is excitingly making you his special concoction. He finishes it off with a spritz of lemon before handing it to you.

"Thank you," you mutter in gratitude.

"Come on. Taste it!" He encourages you, curious of what you think of his drink-mixing skill.

Well, you've been staring at it long enough to give him the impression that you hesitate to drink it. You hurriedly take a small sip and you don't even have to lie, it's good.

"Wow!" You gasp, impressed with the drink he made.

"I know," he confidently says with a smirk and drinks his drink.

It's so refreshing and sweet like it has no alcohol at all, you hurriedly take another sip.

"It's really good," you tell him.

"Thank you," he says with a grin.

He then offers his hand at you, "Let's find somewhere to talk?"

You take his hand without question, letting him take you wherever he wants because it seems like he knows where he's going. He leads you to the backyard where everyone is hanging out by the pool.

"Hey, you!"

Recognizing the voice, your head snaps toward the source, and see Kim waving her hand at you from the long sofa that curved around a fancy fireplace.

You stop walking on your track and end up leading Gaspard there. You unconsciously let out a sigh of relief after seeing that there's no Minho there.

"Oh, hey," you greet back.

Kim scoots to the side to make space for you on the sofa, "Where have you guys been?"

"Oh, we were just dancing and he made me a drink," you honestly answer, not forgetting to show her the drink in your hand.

"And where were you going to take her, Gaspard?" Kim asks with eyes squinted at him.

"Anywhere but here," he jokingly answers.

"Well, since you guys just got here, it's your turn to play!" Someone says, you can't remember what her name is but she's one of the friends Kim introduced earlier.

"Turn to play? What?" You ask in confusion.

"Two truths and a lie," someone says.

You feel bad for not being able to remember their names, Gaspard's influence is that powerful on you.

"You know how to play, right?" Kim asks.

It's not about whether you know how to play or not, it's just so unexpected that these talented, gorgeous dancers like to play this kind of game at parties.

"Yes, I do," you answer.

Kim turns on the sofa to face you and looks at you in anticipation, "Okay then. Shoot!"

"Right now?"

"Yes," Kim shortly answers with a chuckle.

You admire their eagerness whether for the game or to know something about you, you rake your brain to think of three things about you and one of them should be a lie that would likely fool them good.

"Okay first is uhm... I'm allergic to cats," you share.

There's no response from them but you can see how they're looking at you and probably every detailed facial expression you make that will give away hints about whether you're lying or not.

"Second thing is my mom has a twin," you confidently share with a faint smile.

"Ah," Kim lowly gasps and you guess because you've shared this information with her before.

"Last thing is..." you look around as you think of the last thing to share with them.

You eventually turn to the side and see Gaspard smiling at you, "I think Gaspard is cute," you share the third thing about you.

"That's the one! That's the lie!" Someone excitedly guesses, and you suddenly remember his name as Paul.

You laugh because Gaspard looks so offended by his friend, "No, it's not a lie," you quickly defend him.

Gaspard shoots him a glare and triumphantly laughs, "Just drink, man!"

Paul drinks his beer in defeat.

"I must say the second one is the lie," the girl says again, still can't remember her name though.

"No. Her mom has a fraternal twin," Kim says, learning that information from you on the first day you moved into her apartment.

"Drink up, Jena!" Kim tells her that she guessed wrong and not wasting time but drinks her beer as a punishment.

"Oh, so you're not allergic to cats?" Gaspard asks.

"No, I'm not. I like cats," you answer.

He then sighs in relief, "That's great because I have a cat."

"Oh, wow?!" You utter in disbelief.

Other than being a great distraction, you share a lot in common with Gaspard and that says something.

"I also have cats," someone adds, joining in on the circle.

You can tell by the voice that it's the man you've been trying to avoid seeing tonight. You remain calm and have a sip of your drink.

"Yes, Minho, we all know you're a cat daddy," Jena says, finally knowing her name from Kim.

Kim groans and tosses a cushion at Jena, "Don't say that!"

Minho takes a gulp of Kim's drink and sits with his back reclined and his legs spread open, even his sitting position oozing with confidence and you eat that shit up.

You feel like slapping your face at that thought and have another sip to swallow that thought down.

"Is it my turn to play?" Minho asks around.

Jena shrugs since no one is taking the turn to play, "Yeah, sure, go ahead."

Minho softly scratches his chin before speaking, "I want to kiss someone tonight."

He starts easy but from the faint smirk on his face, you can tell he's brewing something in his mind.

"That someone is not my girlfriend," he calmly says.

Welp, there you go! Minho acts like he didn't just drop a shocking statement while his girlfriend is sitting prettily next to him.

You glance at Kim and she looks calm, but you can see that her jaws are slightly clenched. She's not happy so Minho should stop it.

But instead of calming his girlfriend, Minho looks at you and continues to share the third statement, "The person I want to kiss is one of you."

Your heart skips a beat because he keeps looking right at you and making it obvious for everyone to see who it is. All of a sudden, you feel the urge to exit this scene but walking out only makes it even more obvious.

Minho is sick of doing this to you and Kim, it's like he doesn't even care what it can do to either you or Kim.

"Oh, Minho, that's..." Paul hisses, not able to finish his sentence.

"Why, Paul?" Minho daringly asks him.

"Nothing," Paul says while scratching his head.

Minho leans forward and says, "It's you, Paul. It's you who I want to kiss."

Paul's tense face melts in a second and everyone bursts out laughing, "Fuck you, man!"

"It's you. I want to kiss you," Minho taunts him more, throwing himself at him and jokingly tries to kiss him.

Paul keeps pushing him away, sloshing his drink as he tries to dodge Minho's kiss while everyone else is laughing at them.

Even though it turns out to be a joke, you feel sick in the stomach and feel the need to get out of here.

"I need to go to the restroom," you mutter, getting up from the sofa.

Gaspard puts down his drink, "I can show you—"

"It's okay. I can go by myself," you tell him off, you regret being so crass but you're sure he'll understand.

"Okay," he says, sitting back down on the sofa.

While clutching the hem of your dress, you head back inside the house and find the bathroom to only queue to get inside, you decide to try on the second floor. You can easily find the bathroom as it's wedged between two bedrooms.

It's a party, you're sure the host would be okay with you using their bathroom, you don't even need to pee or something, you just need a space to vent.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you keep muttering to the reflection in the mirror.

When you touch your neck, you can feel a sheen of sweat there so you run your hands under the cold water and tap it to your neck.

This is the first time you realize what it'll do to you when it comes to following your desire. You'll ruin not only their relationship but also your friendship with Kim and she's been nothing but good to you.

"Fuck!" You mutter once again as you splash cold water on your face like it would help to put some sense into you.

Coming here was a bad idea!

But you're already here so you only need to stick to your plan, staying away from Minho and sticking with Gaspard. You allow yourself to spend a few more minutes just to compose yourself before coming out of the bathroom.

As you're about to climb down the stairs, the plan comes to a failure.

You see Minho is coming up the stairs and he seems to be looking for you as well from the way he stops once he finds you.

Instead of avoiding him as you planned, you feel the need to confront him about what happened a while ago. You grab the front of his shirt and take him into one of the bedrooms. The first one is locked so you try the other one and it's empty.

Once both of you are inside, you slam the door shut and push him against it.

"What the hell are you doing?" You aggressively ask, pushing his chest until his back hits the door.

"What? What am I doing?" He plays innocent but that smirk knows it all.

You slap his chest with both of your hands now but all you can feel is how firm his pecs are.

"You just don't care, do you?"

He puts his hands on each side of your waist and draws you closer, not hesitating to plant his mouth on your jaw.

"Minho!" You whine, ending up getting trapped in his hold with his arms wrapped tightly around you.

He glides his lips up and presses a kiss there on the skin under your ear, sending a tingling down your spine as his warm breath brushes your skin.

You helplessly dodge away from his lips yet somehow, he manages to capture your lips in a kiss and oh, you hate it so much! You hate how you like the way he kisses you, so passionately and hungrily, he makes it known that he wants it so much.

Okay, maybe the kiss is a slip-up and you hurriedly pull yourself out of it. You push him and pull away from the kiss.

"You know we can't do this," you mutter but you're looking at his lips, tempted to kiss him again.

He ignores your words and kisses you again, and you fall into it again. You try harder this time and break the kiss.

"Minho!" You whine, looking away to not let the temptation win again.

Using it as an opportunity, Minho plants his mouth on your ear and nibbles on it, peeling a layer off of your sanity which brings you to slip down the slope again.

Your lips are colliding again, harder and deeper, causing even more damage than the previous one as his hands go all over you and pull the straps of your dress down your shoulders.

The two logics in your head are clashing against each other, the one wants to satisfy this desire and the other wants to get out of this situation altogether. If you follow the former then at least, your curiosity will be fulfilled and if you follow the latter, then you get to keep the peace.

As you are caught in that inner battle, you blank out and stiffen against him.

"We have to stop," you mutter to him.

But is that what you want? To stop when you already have your toes dipped in the water?

Minho also takes a moment to assess the situation, he looks at you with his lips red and wet, "it has to stop," he says in agreement.

You take a step back and feel the sudden detachment as he lets go of you and you can't believe that he agrees right away that this is the better decision. You can't help but think that he doesn't want you enough.

He stays standing there, leaning against the door and looking at you with his eyes dark and wide with lust.

"So what do we do now?"

That's such a wrong thing to ask you because what you want to do now is be selfish for the night, for one fucking night, and if you're going to do it, you may as well go all in, right?

Take the chance or pass? Right or wrong? Continue or stop? Now or never?

"Fuck!" you heavily sigh and take down the straps of your dress, sending your breasts spilling out of the front.

"Suck my tits," you order.

It takes Minho a moment to process it and when he finally catches on that you've made up your mind, he goes for it. He comes at you full speed, hands off the brake and head first.

His mouth lathers at your breasts before sucking at them like you asked, taking them in turns, and leaving them wet with his saliva.

"Nibble on my nipples," you command.

You look down to watch him obeying you, using his tongue to nibble on your blossoming buds and alternating it with his teeth next.

"Oh, fuck," you breathlessly mutter as he sucks hard on your nipple.

While his mouth is busy latching on your breasts, his hands are snaking to the back and kneading at your asscheeks, caressing them with his fingers, and teasing your underwear.

This feels so wrong yet so good, you have your inner battle still but your logic is being defeated by your body's needs. You pull him by the shoulder and make him kiss you again so you'll stop thinking.

The rattles on the door startle you both and Minho immediately pushes the door with his back, then holds the knob to not let anyone in. Whoever tries to get it seems to figure out that the room is occupied.

"Sorry," someone says from behind the door.

Minho immediately locks the door while you take a step back from him, he gives you that look again, the kind of look that sees right through you and knows that you feel conflicted inside.

"Kim is my good friend," you tell him, feeling a pang of sadness in your chest that it aches.

He comes at you again and kisses you in which you're returning with the same eagerness. He seems to know that it's the only way to make you stop talking and thinking altogether. He pulls you closer than before his hands snaking to your rear, cupping the ample flesh in his hand.

"This is terrible," you mutter as you break the kiss so you can take your underwear off.

"This is terrible..." you mutter again, pulling him close by the waistband of his jeans and proceeding to unzip his fly open, "Betraying her like this."

It's like your body has a mind of its own, it's doing the opposite of what you're saying.

You impatiently take his semi-hard out of its confine and stroke it in your hand, "terrible," you emphasize the word and nail it deep into your head.

Minho doesn't say anything but follows what your body wants, he kisses you again, sloppily with his hands mindlessly roaming around your body.

"Touch me there," you whisper into him.

Without looking, his hand knows where to go. It goes to where you want him to be, going to the front to that wetness between your legs.

"Put your fingers in."

Minho runs his fingers down your slit repeatedly before inserting his finger into you. One digit is enough to make you moan in pleasure as he pumps it in and out of you.

"Add one more."

He draws his finger out and brings his index and middle fingers, shoving them into your mouth to wet them with your saliva. He brings them back to your entrance and slowly pushes them inside.

"Fuck, oh..." you moan, burying your head in his neck.

Two fingers are going in and out of you and you're already losing it. You start to think of what his cock would be like inside you as it feels hot and hard in your hand, pulsating with so much desire.

His lips nestle in your neck, kissing and lightly sucking on the skin as your body clings to him for support.

"Curl them— Oh!"

Minho knows what to do, he curls his fingers and carefully finds that spot that makes you whine and moan at the same time, and the lewd noise echoes in the dimly lit room.

You look over your shoulder to locate the bed and start steering his body there, walking backward without having to take hands off of each other.

He slowly pulls out and breaks the kiss only to pull your dress up, making the dress hunched around your waist. You plop down onto the bed and get on, you take a moment to continue undoing his jeans and pull it down enough to let his erection free.

Without thinking, you put his cock into your mouth, take him as much as you can and compensate for the rest you can't take with your hand. You lick and suck, alternating those two as you enjoy every inch of his delicious length with your mouth.

Minho tangles his hand in your hair and gently tugs at it, "I feel so guilty," he says.

Oh, so he's not that selfish after all but the thought of him thinking of his girlfriend with his cock deep in your mouth doesn't make you jealous at all, it makes you feel more aroused than before.

"Oh, so guilty," he says between his hoarse, low moans as he stares back into your eyes.

You slowly pull away and replace your mouth with your hand, restlessly pumping his swollen cock.

"You should be," you tell him, sticking your tongue out of your mouth and swirling it around the pink tip of his cock.

All of a sudden, he grabs your hand and takes it away from his length, he then takes your other hand to pin it against the bed. He hovers above you as he kisses you again, his tongue prying open your mouth to taste more of you.

You can feel him rubbing his length between your folds and you spread your legs open so he can do it more, making you drenched than you already are.

It's obvious to you now that you want him, you want him so bad and what you want is only inches away from you, and you can feel how much he wants you.

"Put it in," you breathlessly say against his lips.

Minho wastes no time to position himself between your legs. He then holds his cock, lubricating it with your essence and giving it a few pumps to finally aims it toward your entrance.

The more time he takes to be inside you, the more impatient you get.

"Put it deep inside me," you demand, opening your legs wider for him.

Yet Minho keeps teasing your entrance, heightening your anticipation and the tension in the room, making you arching your back at him.

When he finally pushes in, he only inserts the tip. It's just the tip but Gosh! It feels good already when he starts thrusting at a slow, steady pace.

"That's it," you say, keeping your waist afloat to take more of him, "all the way in."

Minho is just as impatient. He takes your wish as his command and pushes the rest of his length into you, hitting you deep inside that you blank out and you can't hear your own scream of pleasure.

It only registered to you now that it's all real once you take a look at how his cock is fully buried deep inside you and there's nothing like the feeling of finally having your desire fulfilled. Minho feels so good inside you, every inch of his length fills you perfectly like he was made just for you.

"Oh..." you loudly moan as he starts moving.

You're in and out of you at how hard he's thrusting into you that it reverberates throughout your body and in the middle of it, you manage to look at him, his face is masked with pleasure from the way his eyes are half shut and his lips pressed together.

Maybe the two of you want it so much that the sex feels rushed and a little rough, almost animalistic even. You can feel you're about to cum and so is he.

"Don't cum inside," you warn him before bringing his head close for a sloppy kiss on his lips.

In return, Minho goes sloppy with his thrusts that the bed quakes along with his movements and you're gripping the sheet to hold on to. He's twitching inside you and your legs are shaking. The knot in your stomach keeps tightening and you feel like exploding at any minute now.

He incessantly thrusts into you while you keep gripping the sheet, he probably senses that you're on the brink of climaxing and takes you there, sending you into your release with your eyes screwed shut, seeing white. He cums not long after you and keeps himself deep into you, completely forgetting your warning.

When it occurs to you that he completely forgot about your warning, you slowly push him away and force him to pull out of you.

"I told you not to cum inside," you whine.

Minho's eyes fixated on the way his cum drips out of you, pearly white and glistening wet, inviting him to taste. He finds a way to solve it by settling his head between your legs and licking your mixed juices off of your cunt and not hesitating to swallow it. He sucks on your gushing hole before using his tongue to insert it, he makes sure to not leave any drop of his cum in you.

Watching him eating you and swallowing his own cum is getting you off in the best way, you suddenly don't mind it that much that he cum inside you. If anything, you want him to fill you so you get to watch him do it all over again.

"Stop, Minho! Stop!" You tell him, tugging at his hair to stop him from diving further into your wetness.

He abruptly stops and lifts his head with his mouth and chin glistening wet with your essence. You grab him by the front of his shirt and make him hover above you again. You know you already got what you want and it's time to stop.

What are you going to do now? You ask yourself.

Seize the chance. This is probably the last time you ever had this chance and this could be the one and only chance. You roll him over and straddle him, thinking of having him again for the last time, selfishly.

Taking a moment for this could be the only chance you get to do it, you look at him and his beautiful face, and you allow yourself to kiss his lips. You're running your hands down his clothed chest and patiently unbuttoning his shirt, then part it open to reveal his toned upper half body.

It's only fair if you get to touch him all over too so you do it, using your hands and your lips next, it's just you and miles and miles of his warm, honey skin.

Minho lets you do everything as he lays on his back, watches you kissing every inch of his abdomen, and eventually has him in your mouth again. He props his hands against the bed to see how your lips wrapped around his cock.

After a while, you suddenly pull out and gasp for air, "We have to stop."

He sits up on the bed and puts your hair away from your face, "But I don't want to stop," he says, then continues putting your hair away to the back so he can kiss your neck, chest, and breasts.

They're just words, they've been just words that you say in vain and have no effect to make you stop whatsoever. You only say that just to remind you that this feels so wrong but it feels good to do it.

You sit on his lap and position his cock at your entrance again, slowly, you lower yourself on him. You let out a mewl as you take him in little by little, feeling his girth stretching you out.

"Do you want to stop?" He asks you with his hands cradling your head in between.

"We have to," you sigh with your eyes closed, overwhelmed by his cock that buries deep inside you.

"I don't want to," he breathlessly says, holding you by the waist, guiding you to start moving.

Putting your arms around his shoulders for support, you're switching between pulsating and rolling your hips around him as he latches his lips on your neck and chest.

Somehow, he feels bigger and harder inside you, and he fills you better, therefore, you just want to keep feeling his length around you. However, in the middle of it, your logic fights to come out of you.

"This is wrong," you breathlessly mutter.

"Mmh-hmm," he hums against your lips, mindlessly answering to you.

"This is so wrong, Minho," you say again as you keep moving to chase your high.

If this is wrong then why it feels so good? If this is wrong then you never want to be right. If this is wrong then you want to be a sinner, forever.

"Oh, I can't do this anymore," you cry, it's unclear whether it's the body or your conscience speaking.

"Keep going, keep going," he repeatedly mutters through his gritted teeth, watching you bouncing on his cock.

The sex is more intense and harder than the previous one, you keep holding your breath even though you're running out of air. Your nails dug into his skin, your mouth locked with his lips, and you feel a sheen of sweat forming on your skin.

It all comes down to the one moment when everything hits you all at once. Other than the wave of dopamine and oxytocin that surge through your body, you feel good, you feel light and happy, but underneath that, you feel that bitter feeling, guilt that is gnawing and eating you alive from the inside.

You open your eyes and find Minho looking at you with a soft gaze and it feels tender that you feel like crying, or you're about to as you feel tears forming in the corners of your eyes.

"Oh, God! What have I done?" You roughly brush the hair stuck to your moist forehead.

"It's okay," Minho says, trying to justify this act of betrayal.

"Oh, my God!" You press the heels of your palms to your eyes to stop you from crying.

Minho gently holds your chin and softly presses a kiss on your lips as if he's trying to take the pain away but that's useless because you caused this yourself and he's a part of the problem.

But his kiss no longer holds the same effect, you feel restless the more he kisses you so you slowly pull away and keep a safe space between you and him.

"Let's just stop," you say with a sigh and then rush to get off his lap. You lowly gasp from the sudden emptiness and once your feet touch the floor, you're staggering backward.

Then, you feel it, his hot cum that drips out of you and down your inner thigh.

"I can help you with that," Minho offers.

You immediately hold your hand up at him and firmly say, "Just stop!"

You start fixing your dress, putting your arm in the straps, and pulling them to your shoulders. You look around for your underwear and once you find it, you put it on.

"Kim can't know about this," you meekly say as you pull the hem of your dress and smooth them down.

There's no looking back at it now. You've got what you wanted and now it's time to move on. You turn the door knob and head out without saying anything else.

Rejoining the party downstairs, you immediately head to the kitchen to get a drink but on the way there, someone catches you by the hand.

"Come, dance with me!" Kim says with a grin, pulling you with her to the middle of the room.

"Kim, I–" you can't find anything to say to her without the guilt clogging your throat, "I need a drink."

"Here. Have mine!" She hands you her cup.

"I'll get us drinks and get back to you, okay?" You kindly refuse her but she won't let go of your hand.

"Oh, come on, it's my favorite song!" She pleads with her puppy eyes, making you feel worse than you already are.

Seeing her and how oblivious she is to what you and Minho have done is breaking your heart.

That brings you to the third and last statement: That will be the first and the last time you've had sex with Minho.

-

Things are going back to normal. Or that's what it seems to you.

You're still roommates with Kim and she's still oblivious about what you and Minho did behind her back which means he keeps true to his promise.

And yes, he still comes to the apartment but it doesn't bother you as it used to. You learn that your friendship with Kim is far more valuable than his boyfriend's cock, in fact, you've been taking her kindness for granted.

So for these past few days, you've been trying to avoid them as much as possible. You purposely come home late from work and if you do find them together in the apartment, you make excuses to stay in your bedroom.

Fewer interactions means fewer chances of this guilt from bringing you down further.

The new plan is to get your own place as soon as possible and for that to happen, you have to start looking for it.

Today, Gaspard offers to help you check a few places and it's also the perfect getaway than staying in the apartment. You quietly get dressed and slip out of your bedroom to find Kim catches you while dunking her teabag into her cup.

"Where are you going?" She asks.

You don't want to tell her about it yet that you plan on moving out soon so you make up an excuse on the spot, "Just getting a few things for work, yeah," you lie.

She tosses the teabag into the trash and uses a spoon to stir it, "Just getting a few things for work, huh?"

"Yeah, I need new work shoes," you lie again, seamlessly this time.

"And you think you don't need my help?"

"No, no," you hastily reply, "I just know how much you like staying in on the weekends."

"I would to go out on the weekend too."

Kim keeps misunderstanding you so you decide to tell her, "I'm going out with Gaspard," you admit, but keep the details from her.

Kim lets out a laugh and puts down her cup of tea, "Oh, my God! Why did you lie about it?"

"I don't know. It feels weird," you awkwardly answer.

"Why would it be weird? Cause he's my friend?"

"Yeah..." you meekly say.

She laughs again and comes up to you, "Why would it be weird that my roommate is going out with my good friend?"

That's true, this is nothing compared to fucking your roommate's boyfriend. You swallow the guilt that crawls out of your throat.

"I can lend you my shoes to match it with that cute dress?" She offers, kind as always.

"No, it's fine. It's comfortable this way," you say, opting for the sneakers you're wearing since you're going to do a lot of walking today.

"As long as you're comfortable," she says, fixing your hair as she speaks.

The front door opens and the two of you are turning your heads to see who's coming, it's none other than Minho. You hurriedly sling your purse around your shoulder and ready to leave.

"I'd better get going," you tell Kim, giving her a quick hug.

"You can come home as late as you want," she jokingly says as she hugs you back, "Actually, don't bother coming home tonight."

You laugh it off and pull away while ignoring Minho who walks to the kitchen to get something out of the fridge. You head for the door and wave bye at Kim before getting out.

-

The search for a new place comes to fruition, you have two potential living spaces but the only problem is you can't afford the rent, yet.

You end the day with a hearty dinner also as a treat for Gaspard for being so helpful and patient with you. He's simply a great guy to be with and you wonder why didn't you want to fuck him instead of Minho.

Oh fuck, you think about Minho again and it reminds you that he's in the apartment now so you stay out as late as you can. You consider Gaspard's offer to come and visit his place but you don't want to give him the impression that this is a date.

It's too casual to be counted as a date in the first place but you make sure to promise him a proper one next time.

"Maybe next time when I'm not sweaty and the day is not as humid as today," you kindly refuse the offer.

"I agree," he says as his hair turns a lot curler in this humidity and shyly brushes it to the back.

He walks you to the entrance of your apartment building and you turn on your feet to face him, "Thank you for today," you sincerely say.

"No worries. I had fun today," he coyly says with a smile.

You know he wants to kiss you and you want to kiss him too because he's just so attractive and fun to be with, he's a great guy... you can list so many reasons why you should kiss him so you muster up the courage to do it.

You stand on your tiptoe and press a kiss on his lips, putting your hand on his shoulder for support and Gaspard returns the kiss with so much gentleness with his hand cupping your jaw.

In the middle of it, you come to a realization that you kiss him for so many reasons but not because you like him. You slowly pull away from the kiss and quickly put on a smile for him.

"Goodnight, Gaspard," you mutter.

He allows himself to place a gentle caress on your cheek and smiles back at you as he says back, "Goodnight!"

The walk back to the apartment feels like a punishment. At least, it's late enough that you're sure Kim is already asleep by now so you quietly unlock the door, pushing it open without making any noise, and walk through the living room until you get to the safety of your room.

You kick your shoes off, throw your purse onto the bed, and take off your jacket, just standing there in your dress facing the huge mirror with your reflection staring back at you.

"Do you need help with that?" Minho asks through the cracks of your door.

You hate it that he's still here and you're happy to see him, you're not answering but he comes to your aid anyway. He stands right behind you and slowly unzips your dress for you.

It must be intentional the way his knuckles graze your skin as he pulls the zipper down your back.

The memories from that night come back to you and unlock all the feelings that you try to keep at the bottom of your heart.

Minho then places his hand on your shoulder and looks at you through the mirror, "Do you need help with anything else?" He asks with a voice so low it's almost like a whisper.

You turn your head to the side and meet his gaze, "No."

All sorts of thoughts come rushing through your head but it's the same contradicting questions: Take the chance or pass? Right or wrong? Continue or stop? Now or never?

Those questions going around your head and won't stop bothering you until you make up your mind.

You turn around to face him and notice how close he's standing in front of you, so close that you can feel the heat his body is emitting.

"But I'll help myself," you say and then kiss him.

Well, you guess people can tell which one is the lie now.

-

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[quizzicalwriter]

Cola

Pairing: Ellie Williams x Fem!Reader

Summary: You were off for spring break, why not introduce yourself to your parent’s new next door neighbor?

Warnings: SMUT. MDNI. Infidelity, older Ellie, touching, kissing, fingering, squirting, strap usage (r!receiving)

Word Count: 4k

A/N: Part two / Part three

“Those two always argue.” Your mom huffed out, eyes flickering over to the open kitchen window, the sounds of a shouted confrontation pouring in through the screen. You turned your head away from your mom, squinting to see through the mess of trees and bushes that separated your parent’s house from their neighbors.

Whoever they were, they didn’t sound happy. Some of the words exchanged made you wince, eyes widening as you looked back to your mom with a faint and semi-embarrassed laugh, as though you’d heard too much from someone you didn’t even know the face of.

“Sounds like it.” You replied, hopping down from the kitchen counter to pad over to the island, leaning down on your elbows as your mom kneaded out the dough for her bread. The house smelled lovely, reminding you of your childhood when you’d bother your mom to bits because you wanted to ‘help,’ not realizing your help usually meant tripping your mom up or making her forget important steps in her cooking.

So for now you just watched, committing it all to memory in hopes you’d be able to accomplish something even the slightest bit similar once your break was over and you were forced back onto campus. As your mom placed the bread into the oven you padded upstairs, deciding on changing out of your pajamas, after all, it was nearly one in the afternoon and you had plans to go out not too much later.

You sorted through your dresser, humming to yourself as you stripped yourself of your clothing. You’d never given much thought to your bedroom windows, one faced the backyard and one faced your neighbor's house. You’d never worried about your neighbor before, or now, given the argument you just overheard not too long ago. As you pulled your sundress over your head you turned to your window, consequently locking eyes with your parent’s neighbor who stood dumbstruck in her backyard.

“Fuck-“ You cursed, immediately moving from the window's line of sight as you pulled your dress on. “Great, haven’t even been home for a day and I’ve already flashed the neighbor.”

The embarrassment was still ripe in your mind as you made your way back downstairs, hopeful that some homemade bread would soothe your mind. As you walked into the kitchen you noticed your mom wrapping the bread, her eyes casting over to you.

“There you are!” She stated, smiling brightly. “Can you take this over to the neighbors? Figured that poor girl can use some homemade bread with her wife yelling like that all the time.”

You feigned a smile, not one to turn your mom down for something so simple. So you took the bread, holding it close to your chest as you slipped your sandals on, padding down the front porch steps and over onto their lawn.

It was beautifully manicured, the nearby garden buzzing with birds and bees. You’d only ever seen such manicured lawns on the nicer side of town, where dads took utmost pride in ensuring their lawns looked picture-perfect. Maybe the neighbor was one of those people? You mulled the thought over as you walked up their front porch steps, ringing the doorbell with your elbow after.

You could hear the sound of sports blaring from inside the house, the sound suddenly muted, followed by the subtle sound of footsteps approaching the door. What you hadn’t expected, or at least hoped wouldn’t happen, was that the same woman who’d just seen you naked would be on the other side of the door.

You paled, as did she, her eyes flickering between yours and the bread you now appeared to be crushing in your grasp, the crackling of the crust sounding in the awkward silence shared between you two.

“You’re going to kill it.” She muttered, pointing down to the bread. You jumped, looking down at it, silently cursing at yourself as you loosened your grip.

“My mom-“ You started, clearing your throat as you shook your head. “She made you bread, wanted me to deliver it.”

You handed the bread over, feigning a smile as she took it from your hands, smiling down at it as she flipped it over in her grasp. For some godforsaken reason, you blurted out the one thing lingering on your mind, instead of being a normal human being and brushing past it.

“I’m sorry you saw my tits.”

The words hung heavy in the air, causing her to stiffen as she looked up at you, her face soon twisting into a smile as she broke out into laughter. She laughed for a bit, enough for you to calm yourself and laugh a fair bit yourself.

“Blunt, aren’t you?” She laughed out, wiping beneath her eyes as she caught her breath. “Jesus, kid. It’s not your fault, I shouldn’t have been looking. I’m- I’m Ellie.”

You smiled, extending out your hand which Ellie quickly took, giving it a slight shake, although you could tell she was holding herself back as she did. It made you wonder just how strong her hands were, especially since her arm muscles seemed to be made ever more apparent in the midday sun.

“Nice name.” You stated, dropping your hand back down to your side. “My parents are your neighbors, I’m just visiting because I’m on break.”

Ellie nodded, pursing her lips as her gaze flickered over to your parent’s house. “High school?” She asked, looking back at you.

“College.” You replied, rocking back onto your heels. “First year.”

Ellie’s fingers smoothed over the cellophane, the wrinkling of the plastic underneath her hands filling the silence once again. She exhaled then, turning halfway toward her front door before smiling back at you.

“Tell your mom I said thanks.”

You gave her a brief thumbs-up, walking back down the porch steps into your parent's yard, completely oblivious to the fact that Ellie watched you walk back the whole way, eyes fixated on your hips and ass.

Much to your chagrin, your parents were pinnacles of their neighborhood, knowing everyone and everything that went on within the little suburb. It was nice, in a way, the little neighborhood block parties and the way they always had friends to talk to. It certainly took the pressure off of you in some aspects, but what you hadn’t figured was that they’d throw a party during your break.

They swore it was for you and for you to catch up with everyone, you had been gone for a while at college, so in a way, you were thankful and found it cute. What you didn’t factor in was Ellie attending, her hair tied back in a half-bun, white shirt sleeves rolled up halfway, practically sex on legs. You’d hardly heard your mom asking you to cart out some drinks to the table in the middle of the cul-de-sac until she nudged you with your foot, to which you profusely apologized and made your way outside.

Ellie was conversing with your dad, a bright smile on her face, a drink in one hand as the other rested in her front pocket. Your dad noticed you approaching, smiling at you as he waved you over, you put on a brave face and placed the drinks down on the nearby table before making your way over to them.

“Ellie, this is my daughter.” He stated, pulling you close as he smiled over at Ellie. Ellie only nodded, taking a sip of her drink before replying.

“Met her yesterday, she dropped off some bread. Really good bread, by the way. I’ll have to thank your mom in person.”

Your dad laughed and nodded, about to say something further until a few of his friends from around the neighborhood called him over. He gave Ellie a brief apology, walking over in their direction after, leaving you and her alone.

“Nice dress.” She murmured, eyes flickering over the fabric, how it hugged your hips, the way your breasts strained against the top, it made her have to clear her throat.

“Thanks.” You replied, smiling up at her. You took a moment to look around the party, wondering where her wife was amongst all the other partygoers. “Where’s your wife? You have one, right?”

Ellie snickered at your question, nodding in response as she took another drink from her cup. “I do have a wife.” She stated, tone hinting toward a fair bit of irritation on the subject. “She’s with her parents for a while.”

Sensing the irritation on the subject, your eyes widened, looking to the table between you as you pursed your lips. You’d never been one for awkward situations, they always made your nervous laugh flare up. As if on cue, your lips quirked into a smile, one Ellie noticed right away.

“Am I missing out on a joke?” She asked, words sarcastic as she placed her now empty cup down on the table. Your smirk turned into laughter, your hand shooting up to cover your mouth as you shook your head.

“No, fuck-“ You started, laughter continuing as you squeezed your eyes shut. “I have a nervous laugh, your response made me laugh.”

Ellie’s shoulders seemed to drop then, a smile of her own making an appearance as she chuckled, breathing out a lungful of air as she looked over to you. “You’re weird.” She noted, although a hint of something warm lingered in her words.

“I’ve been told.” You replied, tilting your head as your laughter died down. “I’m sorry for asking about your wife, by the way. You seemed pissed at the mere mention of her.”

Ellie shrugged then, sighing quietly as she itched the back of her neck. “It’s no problem, I guess it’s a sore subject. She’s- well, I’m sure you’ve heard.”

You nodded, not wanting to pry on the subject. After all, you were fairly certain everyone in the neighborhood had heard Ellie and her wife arguing at the asscrack of dawn. You’d never been close enough to overhear specifically what it was about, but it was loud enough to startle you on more than one occasion.

“Why don’t you leave?” You asked, knowing the question was a bit loaded. “I mean, you guys argue a lot. I was just wondering.”

She waved off your concern. “I get it, I’ve heard my fair share of it. I’ve thought about it.”

A sigh passed her lips then, one she shook off as she reached for another drink, popping the top off with her thumb before drinking some. As she swallowed she looked back to you, faint worry lines evident against her skin. You wondered how much older than you she was, she had to be at least ten to fifteen years older. The thought aroused you, making you pull your gaze from hers as you tried to focus on the table.

“How old are you?” She asked, seemingly reading your mind. You looked back up at her, smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “Nearly twenty.”

She laughed then, eyes widening as she looked away from you. “Would not have guessed that.”

You laughed in response, moving over to her side of the table, propping yourself up on it as you met her gaze. “Why?”

“Well, I’m twice your age, that’s why.” She responded, words soft as she looked down at you.

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, trying to ignore the ever-present ache in your lower stomach at the near condescending tone she used with you. Her age shouldn’t have made her hotter, but it did, it really did.

“You look good for your age.” You replied. “Really good.”

Ellie chuckled in her throat, eyebrows lifting for a moment as she shook her head, eyes fixated on the rim of her cup. “You’re bold.” She stated, words spoken with a sigh as she turned her head to look out at the amassed crowd. After a moment she turned back to you, a coy grin on her face. “You haven’t seen my house, have you?”

There was a hidden insinuation in her words, in the way her eyes hovered over your chest before flickering back up to your eyes. You’d be a fool to say anything other than ‘no.’ So you shook your head, the motion causing her smile to widen as she nodded to her house, inviting you to follow her. Part of you pulled, begged for you to go in the opposite direction, knowing exactly what’d happen once you were inside her house - she was married, for Christ’s sake, but you couldn’t. The way her hand flexed around her drink made your stomach twist, panties coated in your wetness already.

You felt thankful that everyone seemed too preoccupied with the huge pile of fireworks to notice you and Ellie ducking off, even more so once you were inside her house, wordlessly following her through the halls. There were pictures of who you could only assume were Ellie’s family, photos with her smiling brightly, in the middle of fits of laughter, it was precious. You couldn’t help but smile at them as she moved into her kitchen, placing the cup down on the island counter.

“I like your photos.” You stated, moving into the kitchen after her, your breath catching in your throat at the sight of her leaned back against the counter, muscles in her forearms evident.

“Take off your clothes.” She responded, tone nonchalant as though she were asking you to hand her a plate. You didn’t hesitate, eyes locked with hers as you reached behind yourself, unzipping your dress. The fabric slipped down your form, exposing your bare breasts to her eyes. She smiled, moving toward you, raising a hand to hold your hip as the other moved to your breasts, kneading the flesh in her palm as she took in your body. “No bra?”

You shook your head, breaths coming out shallow as her finger brushed over your hardening nipple. “Don’t like them.” You whispered, eyes flickering up to meet hers. “They wouldn’t go with the dress.”

Ellie nodded, smiling to herself as her other hand looped around the hem of your panties, bending down slightly to help you step out of them. You’d half expected her to toss them to the floor, but she balled them up, shoving them into her back pocket. The act was perverse, leaving you clenching around nothing as you watched her stand back up straight.

She traced the back of her hand along your curves, touch so gentle it almost didn’t register in your mind. It almost seemed as though she meant to commit every facet of your being to memory, the thought alone making your thighs clench together, an action that didn’t go unnoticed by her. Her green eyes flitted up to your face, brows quirking up in amusement as she trailed the back of her fingers along your inner thighs, fingertips barely brushing the outside of your cunt.

“Are you aching?” She asked, already knowing the answer, but needing to hear you admit to it. You nodded, wetting your lips. She tutted, turning her hand over to press her middle and ring finger to your folds, applying just enough pressure to gather your wetness on the pads of her fingers. Your legs practically buckled beneath you, a whine dying in the back of your throat as you held onto the counter behind you.

She pulled her hand away then, examining her fingertips under the warm hue of the kitchen lights, a smug smile on her face as her eyes flitted back up to meet yours. She held up her fingers then, pressing them to your lips, to which you eagerly opened your mouth. Her fingers pressed down on your tongue, the taste of your arousal coating your tastebuds as you sucked her fingers clean.

A soft moan passed her lips at the feeling of your tongue laving at her fingers, causing her to ache as well. You could see her pupils dilate, her breath coming out haggard as she removed her fingers from your mouth, brushing her thumb against your bottom lip after. You kept your gaze steady with hers, having to remind yourself to breathe every few seconds.

“Want me to fuck you?” She asked, the question so bold that you nearly forgot to respond until her eyes flicked up from your breasts to your eyes, her brow quirking in question. You nodded.

“Please.”

She bit back a smile, grabbing your wrist before leading you back through the house toward the staircase. The walls and furniture passed by your mind in a blur, only finding yourself able to focus on Ellie’s back and the occasional glance toward you she’d toss over her shoulder. Her being fully clothed while you’d been stripped of everything you’d worn was not lost on you, if anything it seemed to heighten your arousal.

Her bedroom was modest, with a nice king-sized mattress in the middle of the room and two big windows overlooking the backyard and the side of your parent's house - the view was partially skewed by some trees, but you could see your bedroom window. Ellie led you over to the bed, letting you sit down as she moved over to her bedside table. You watched in silent amazement as she removed her clothes, each layer removed exposing more and more of her toned skin to your eyes.

You’d hardly been paying attention to anything else besides her abdomen and arms, finding yourself surprised when she moved back in front of you, hand languidly pumping her strap. She looked at you expectantly, to which you moved from the bed and onto your knees, opening your mouth obediently. She hummed out a laugh, fingers brushing your hair back from your face as she used her other hand to slap the tip of her strap against your tongue.

You wrapped your lips around the silicone tip, relaxing your throat as you began bobbing your head, earning you an affectionate coo as she cradled your cheek, thumb brushing along your cheekbone. Her hips moved forward, pushing her strap farther down your throat, causing your eyes to water as you held back an involuntary gag. You could hear her holding back a grunt at the sight of you struggling to take her strap down your throat, spit coating your chin and dripping down to the top of your breasts.

“You look so good choking on my cock.” She whispered, tone full of pride as she smiled down at you. Her fingers grasped your hair, sharply pulling you back, a string of drool connecting you to the tip of her strap. You licked your lips clean, taking in several deep breaths as you looked up at her. She nodded her head toward the bed, helping you to your feet before guiding you onto the plush mattress, positioning you on your hands and knees.

You rested down on your elbows, arching your back, feeling the cold air against your bare cunt. Her hands smoothed up the back of your thighs, harshly grabbing at your ass, giving the skin there a sharp slap. You whined, leaning forward, only for her to grab your hips and pull you back. You bit into your bottom lip, feeling her drag the tip of her strap up and down along your folds, finally pushing in after you let out a particularly needy whine.

“Fuck-“ You cried out, resting your head on your forearms as you let her hoist your body up, fucking you hard enough for the bed frame to clatter against the wall. You could feel your cum dripping down your inner thighs, each push forward of her hips creating a sheen of your juices around the silicone.

She was hitting so deep within you, surely bruising your cervix, each thrust leaving you gasping into her bedsheets, fingers twisted into the maroon fabric. Her hands grasped harshly at your hips, nails digging into the plush flesh as she fucked her strap into you.

“Take it so good.” She murmured through grunts, voice breathless and strained. Her praise went straight to your cunt, causing you to squeeze around her strap. Her hands moved to your lower back, pushing down until your chest and stomach were flush with the bedding. “Arch that back, baby. Fuck-“

You could hear the lewd noise pooling from between your legs, cum slowly dripping down your skin. You were putty in her hands, wanting her to do everything she wanted with you - and she would.

Her right arm hooked around your waist, hand immediately moving to your cunt where she circled her fingers around your clit, slick noises emanating in the air between your near pathetic whines for her to fuck you harder, deeper - you couldn’t get enough of her. She pressed kisses down the back of your neck to the top of your spine, gently nipping at the skin as she continued rutting into you.

“Gonna cum on my cock, baby?” She all but purred into your shoulder, placing an open-mouthed kiss on your skin in between her words. “Go on, cum for me.”

You could hardly formulate words to reply, all you managed was a strangled cry of her name into the bedsheets, hips jerking in her hold. She didn’t slow down, still fucking her strap into you as she circled her fingers around your clit. Your hands pushed at hers, wordlessly telling her it was too much, all for her to use the hand she’d been using to circle your clit to hold your hands together by your wrists.

“Just stay like that, baby.” She grunted out, cursing under her breath as the base of the strap bumped into her clit over, and over again, bringing her to the cusp of her orgasm. You’d never been one for overstimulation, but the way she had you pinned to the mattress paired with the way her strap rutted against your g-spot left you teetering on the edge of another orgasm.

You were cumming around her strap before you’d even registered it, hips pathetically pushing back to meet her thrusts as you cried out her name into the bedsheets. Everything in your mind seemed to be muddled, finding yourself only able to focus on the sheer pleasure coursing through your veins paired with Ellie’s moans as she fucked you through her orgasm. It wasn't until after you were able to finally fill your lungs full of air that you realized your inner thighs were soaked.

“Holy fuck.” Ellie laughed out, eyes widened with amusement as she pulled out of you, strap dripping with your cum. “You soaked the sheets.”

You felt your face alight, nervous and breathless laughter leaving you as you brushed your hair from your face. “‘M sorry.”

She shook her head, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your shoulder, undoing the harness before tossing it to the other side of the room, her breaths coming out in shallow pants. “Fuck, don’t apologize for that. Here- wait here, okay?”

You gave her a weak nod, collapsing down onto the comfortable mattress, feeling your thigh muscles twitching beneath your skin. She returned moments later, your dress in one hand and a wet washcloth in the other. She placed your dress beside you, seeming to hesitate in her movements before wiping down the inside of your thighs, the feeling pulling a tired whine from your chest.

After that was a bit of a blur, you’d managed to get yourself dressed and presentable. Ellie put on a different outfit, grumbling something about how her clothes had gotten soaked during the whole ordeal. She was far more gentle than she had been beforehand, seeming to not meet your gaze without a faint blush painted across her cheeks. As she moved with you down the staircase and toward the front door, you turned to her, a naive hopefulness in your eyes.

“Can I see you again?” You asked, giving her a small smile. She looked down at you, lips quirking at the sides. Although you could tell she was struggling with her moral quandary centered around her infidelity. You didn’t know if you’d get the truth from her, but you’d let yourself believe whatever she responded with.

“Sure.”

A/N: This one is so long, I’m so sorry. I have a thing for older Ellie. I ain’t apologizing for that. Anyway!!! If y’all have any requests for Ellie or Abby or anyone from TLOU2 let me know! I hope you guys enjoy this, and thank you for reading or skimming or whatever you do - I appreciate the interactions nonetheless. And you can find all my works over on my AO3 under the user, “Unscriptural.”

[rememberwren]

Complicated Pleasures

OR: Home Videos. You (fem!reader) and Ghost have been married for years when your prodigal friend Johnny finds out that you make and post porn together. Feelings happen. 13k

About this: m/m, f/m, oral f and m receiving, anal sex, PIV, kink, pornography, sir kink, slight objectification, objectionable writing, soft!simon, very soft fic altogether, cum sharing.

-

((A video begins.

 A bed in a tidy room. Identifying features have been hidden: pictures placed face down on the nightstands, blinds drawn tight until the room is cast in a cool glow. A woman sits amongst the nondescript bedspread and sheets, her legs tucked up against her chest and arms wrapped around her thighs, naked except for the mask that does little to truly obscure her face. 

Once she knows the video has begun, it is like she blooms, arms and legs falling away to reveal the soft petals of her nakedness: the  plains of her body, the angles and curves. She’s near perfect, Soap thinks, already fisting his hard cock. 

She looks almost exactly like you. 

Then a man walks around from the other side of the camera, and Soap’s heart leaves his body.))

-

“Johnny!” you say brightly, throwing open the front door. In streams the cold air and bright sunshine reflecting off the snow, and in steps Johnny with snowflakes in his hair and on the shoulders of his coat, gifts wrapped in bright shades of gold and silver tucked beneath one of his arms. 

He stomps his feet, boots shedding packed snow on the doormat, and leans in to deposit the gifts a safe distance away so that he can open his arms and gather you up in them. Your fingers tangle in his jacket, holding him close. He is warm even after coming in from the snow, his scent like Christmas itself: woodsy pine and crackling fires. You feel Simon’s presence appear in the living room doorway and begin to pull away, trying not to hog his friend, even if you desperately want to. 

“Lookit you, bonnie as ever,” Johnny says against your ear. He lets you go, bending down to unlace his boots and call a greeting to Simon: “I see you brooding over there, LT. Happy Christmas to yeh.” 

“No titles at Christmas, Johnny.” 

“Yessir.” 

“You didn’t need to bring gifts,” you scold him.

“Of course I did—it’s fucking Christmas,” says Johnny with a grin as he straightens. He passes you the gifts, a small package and a larger one, each wrapped by a practiced hand that you sense must not have been Johnny’s own. You wonder if there isn’t a girl in his life now—except you and Simon had extended the invitation to one, if so. Why he wouldn’t have brought her, you couldn’t understand. 

Maybe his mum wrapped the gifts. 

Simon and Johnny clasp hands which turns into a hug. Watching them together makes the dust settle in some riotous part of your heart. The two of them—their friendship—just makes perfect sense in its improbability. 

Simon mutters something under his breath and Johnny nods, burying his face deeper into Simon’s broad shoulder. You have the perfect vantage point of Johnny’s face: his eyes squeezed shut, long lashes resting on his cheeks.

A timer in the kitchen goes off—the roast you’ve been cooking since the early morning hours. Excusing yourself, you disappear into the kitchen, pausing just beyond the doorway to press your chilly hands to your flushed cheeks. 

Wine. You needed wine. 

-

“So,” you begin once the three of you have sat down for dinner. “Fill us in, Johnny. What have you been up to?”

The unsaid words linger between you all, What have you been up to during the three years you left? Johnny gives a wane smile, and you think that maybe the time spent apart didn’t serve him nearly as well as he’d hoped it would—however he’d hoped it would. Simon sits at the head of the table, his ankle tangled against your own beneath the oak. It’s a comforting reminder of his presence, considering he lets you and Johnny do most of the talking for now. 

“Whole lot o’ nothing,” Johnny says, sipping at the wine in his glass between sentences. “Traveled abroad fer a while. Spent some time in America, some time in South Korea.” 

“Sounds like a nice place to meet people,” you say, aiming for subtlety the way a sledgehammer might. “I notice you didn’t take us up on our invitation and bring a lass with you.” 

“No lass to bring, hen,” he says smoothly. 

Simon’s ankle stirs against your own, some silent attempt at communication. When you glance over toward him, his eyes are on his plate, face stoic, revealing nothing. 

“Any lads?” you guess. 

Simon’s fork squeaks against his plate. Johnny stops eating. For a moment they both stare at you in shocked silence. Then a grin spreads over Johnny’s handsome face, blooming straight into laughter. He shakes his head, like you have said something very silly. 

“No, no lads,” he says.

Simon’s ankle shifts again. 

You reach for your glass of wine, face hot—

-

—and you don’t stop drinking. 

Afternoon turns into evening, and by the time night falls, the three of you have drunk your way through three bottles of wine and successfully caught each other up on your lives to date. Simon and Johnny have slipped out onto the porch twice to smoke, bringing back in the scent of tobacco and snow, one you don’t mind at all. The fire in the fireplace burns low, crackling and spitting as the log splits. The room is strewn with torn gift wrapping. Simon has already unboxed the knife Johnny had made for him, testing its weight in his palm, testing the sharpness of the blade against the pad of his thumb. (Add that to the list of things which shouldn’t arouse you about Simon but do.)

It reminds you of the idyllic Christmases that you had reached for all your life and only ever skimmed with your fingers. You should have known that the missing piece was Johnny all along. 

Wine drunk, you have kicked your feet up on Johnny’s lap at one end of the couch and curled your upper half on Simon’s lap at the other end. It is easy to fall asleep to the warm lull of their voices, swapping stories from their time in the military together. 

But all at once, the subject matter changes, and it drags you from the threshold of sleep into some misty gray area in between a dream and wakefulness. Eyes still closed, you listen. 

“I found you both, you know.” Johnny’s voice is barely more than a whisper, difficult to hear over the crackling fire. 

“Don’t know what you mean, Johnny. We’re right here.” 

“I found your videos.” 

Your hands tighten into fists where you are clutching Simon’s shirt, eyes cracking open as you put the pieces together in your mind. But he’s smoother than you are, always able to keep a cool head. He sounds a little bored, a little confused as he asks: “What videos?” 

“Never known you to play dumb LT. You know the ones I mean. The porn.” 

A lengthy silence as Simon weighs his options and likely decides that there’s no use in lying. “You did, did you?” 

“Aye.” 

A pause.

“So that’s why you finally came back. Three fucking years she begs you to at least come for Christmas—who knew all it would take was a little pornography to put a fire under your arse.”

“That’s not—didn’t even find it until a few days ago, after I’d already said yes—“ Johnny says, voice rising in his defense. 

“Careful. We don’t want to wake her up, do we?” Simon’s hand pets against your hair, softer than a kiss from the wind. Though he must know you’re awake, you’re grateful that he lets you pretend, lets you hide away while he handles this. “If she knew that you’d seen those videos, she’d be embarrassed. That would make me upset. You understand?” 

“Aye,” he says, lowering his voice a little. He rests his hand against your ankle in his lap and then decides it’s not appropriate, shifts his hand back to his own thigh. You miss his touch. You’ve always missed Johnny’s touch more than you should miss the touch of your husband’s best friend. “But if you didn’t want people to see them, I don’t understand what you were thinkin’ posting them online.” 

“Three guesses. No, go on. Never known you to be shy. Guess.”

Johnny wets his lips. “You didn’t think you’d be recognized.” 

“There’s one.” 

“You…you like it.” 

“There’s two. Give us a third.” 

“She likes it.” 

You groan a little in embarrassment, turning your face away from where Johnny can see its profile, burying it in Simon’s lap. He’s hard, a fact you only realize when his jean-clad cock rubs against your cheek. You go still, eyes widening as this knowledge goes straight to the warmth that’s been stoked between your legs more often than the fireplace has tonight.

Simon’s hand finds the nape of your neck and rests there, keeping you still and quiet. It reminds you of your last video, when he had taken you from behind and put his hand on the nape of your neck to urge your face into the bed, his hips snapping against your ass. Where had the camera been, then? You couldn’t remember. That was Simon’s one rule, besides the masks and never saying each other’s names: don’t look into the camera. 

“So what do you plan to do with this knowledge, Johnny?” Simon asks. You hold your breath, still feigning sleep. “Who do you plan to tell? You know I don’t have anyone left who would give a fuck, but I’m sure you could find someone for her—someone who could shame her and make her feel bad for trying to feel good. Is that what you want?”

“Fuck no. I’d not tell a soul,” says Johnny fiercely. His hand comes to rest on your ankle again. This time he leaves it, thumb brushing the bone. “I swear it.”

“Then why bring it up at all?” 

“I…I don’t know,” Johnny admits, head ducking. “I just had to. Spending time with yeh both, knowing what I knew—it felt dishonest.” 

Simon hums. “You know what I’d like to know?” 

“What’s that?” 

“What our single friend was doing looking at couples porn.” 

-

The night ends quickly after that. Simon carries you to bed—the bed where you film so much of the porn that Johnny has apparently seen—and helps you begin undressing while Johnny gets his boots on in the other room. 

“I’m so embarrassed,” you breathe, quiet so that Johnny could not overhear if he happened to be standing right outside the door. Your head is spinning, and only partly from all the wine. Your face burns. Your heart is beating as fast as a hummingbird’s wings. Johnny has seen the videos, the ones you and Simon cheekily dub ‘home movies’! God, how you will ever face him again is beyond you. 

“Give me the word and I’ll throw him out,” says Simon. “We’ll never see him again.” 

That makes a sick feeling rise up in the back of your throat. You look up at Simon and take in the somber, angry-adjacent expression on his face, and you know that he is serious. Simon never says a word that he doesn’t mean. But you can hear what he didn’t say, the words unspoken: it would kill him to do it. All their years spent watching each other’s backs, it would be hard to stab Johnny’s and leave him in the cold. Especially after the bliss of just getting him back.

You don’t want that. Not for Simon, not for Johnny. Not even for you. 

“I like Johnny,” you affirm. “I just don’t know how I’ll face him.” 

“You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of. He’s the pervert looking in through our window.” 

“We’re the perverts fucking with the blinds wide open,” you remind him. 

“I’ll see him out. Finish getting undressed,” he says, disappearing through the doorway. You hear the warm timber of his voice matched by Johnny’s and the sound of the front door opening. Two sets of boots crunch through snow, and now the voices are so far away that you can’t even make out their tone, much less their words.

Stripping the last of your clothes off, you roll onto your belly and bury your face in your pillow. Tonight had been going so well. It was hard to believe how far off course things had become. What was Johnny doing looking for couples porn anyhow? 

You roll back over, staring into the darkness of the ceiling. The answer was simple: because it would get him off. It didn’t matter if it was tentacles to titjobs. He’d more than likely been looking up porn while he jerked off. 

Had he realized right away that it was you and Simon and turned the video off in disgust? Or had it taken a moment for it to sink in? Had he cared at all? 

Or had he jerked off instead? You realize you are rubbing your thighs together belatedly and force yourself into stillness. 

The front door opens, Simon stomping inside and taking off his boots. When he joins you in bed, his cheeks are still cold, mouth minty from hastily brushing his teeth of tobacco and wine. You lean in and kiss him, looking for comfort. He kisses back, sweeping his tongue through your mouth, sucking on your lower lip. 

“I’m not in the mood tonight,” you whisper when you both part, not necessarily out of truthfulness, but because you feel like you shouldn’t be in the mood. 

“Wasn’t expecting anything.” 

You lay your head on his chest, listening to the steady sound of his heart. Your embarrassment is a little lessened now, abated by the calm that Simon exudes from his pores. It’s hard to believe that anything in the world could go wrong that Simon couldn’t handle with a twist of his hand or a few choice words. After a while, you glance up to find him still awake, staring into the darkness of the room. He meets your eyes and gives you one of his rare, wane smiles. 

“What are you thinking about?” you ask him. 

After a moment of silence, he says: “Our next video.” 

- 

((AMATEUR COUPLE: WAKING UP MY WIFE WITH MORNING SEX. Soap knows that he shouldn’t click on the link. The first time was an honest mistake, but anything afterwards is intentional—and unforgivable. If Ghost were to find out…Soap doesn’t even want to think about it. 

Except why would it be wrong for Soap to do it but right for a bunch of strangers? 

He doesn’t need to look down to know his cock is hard. Against his better judgement—or any judgement at all, really—he clicks the link. The video starts with Ghost in the frame, completely naked. He’s seen LT naked often enough (it’s unavoidable in such close quarters as they have shared) but he’s never looked, not like this. 

Time has barely changed him. He is still fitter than any man has the right to be, thick with muscles that are for functionality and not just for show—though the show is still impressive. 

While he’d always known that Ghost would be a sight to behold, seeing it in this context cements a fact in his brain, one that had sent him running years prior: he’s attracted to his closest friend. All the bad flirting disguised as taking the piss back when they were in the 141—it wasn’t just taking the piss. Not for Soap, at least.

In the video, Ghost exits the frame and crosses to the other side of the bed. He’s not wearing a mask this time but the upper half of his face remains solidly out of frame until it is offscreen again. You are positioned closest to the camera, laying on your side facing the audience. Your face isn’t visible, but your breasts are once Ghost draws the blankets down, down, and then down far enough to reveal your closed thighs. 

Fuck, Soap wants to see your cunt. He grips his cock tightly and squeezes, watching raptly as Ghost loops an arm over you and begins to softly tease your nipples. Soap slips a hand up his shirt and thumbs at a nipple of his own, wishing it was the other man’s touch. His cock leaks where it lies thickly against his belly as he watches his former lieutenant tease you, trace figures over your naked body, and at last slip a hand between your thighs, working one of your legs over back of his own. Now Soap can see just a trace of your slit, so soft. It makes his jaws ache, makes him want Ghost to hold your thighs apart so that he can lick and suck you into a frenzy.

He can tell the exact moment you wake. Your body stiffens, mouth falling open as Ghost sinks two of his fingers inside you. One of your hands reaches down to grip at your husband’s forearm as you scramble into wakefulness.

“Good morning,” Ghost says.))

-

The doorbell sounds, telling Simon that Johnny has arrived, but he lets his Sergeant wait out in the cold while the kettle finishes filling. A not-small part of him is still holding a grudge against Johnny for making you so embarrassed. It had taken time for you to come into your own. Courage. The videos had been your idea, whispered in the heat of the moment beneath the cover of darkness—but with time you’d been bold enough to talk about them over dinner. To read the comments with him and laugh. To watch the videos and end up in bed all over again. 

Now he could see the hesitation in your eyes whenever he pulled out his phone. 

Johnny’s expression is its typical one, open, friendly, when Simon opens the door. When he sees Simon, those blue eyes grow wide before he can curb the reaction. Johnny swallows, throat bobbing. 

“Hey LT. Lookit you. Laswell really has yeh behind a desk now doesn’t she?” Johnny’s hand reached out like he’s going to touch the tie that still dangles from around Simon’s neck, but he thinks better of it. 

Just another hunch of Simon’s proven right.

“What part of no field work confused you?” Simon asks, stepping aside to let Johnny in. 

“No confusion. Just didn’t expect yeh to look so…” He trails off, eyes flittering over Simon from his combed hair to his dress shirt stretched tight across his chest to the dress slacks that cling to his thighs. “…fancy.”

“I don’t wear the tie for Laswell’s benefit. But you already knew that.”

Johnny flushes, as good an admission as any. Wisely, he says nothing, following Simon into the kitchen and taking an offered seat at the kitchen island. His eyes flicker around the room, similar to how they had on Christmas. Then, Simon had mistaken it for Johnny taking in the way things had changed—the wallpaper is new, as is the backsplash behind the oven and stove, there are new pictures on the refrigerator—but now Simon suspects that Johnny is remembering. Piecing together backdrops he has seen in their videos. 

“The missus home?” Johnny asks, drumming his fingers on the granite. 

“No. Work.”

Simon pours tea for two, even though Johnny hates tea, and slides it across the countertop to him. To his benefit, Johnny accepts it without complaint, warming his hands around the mug.

“I told her.” 

Johnny doesn’t need to ask what or who—they’ve both been thinking about it since the moment he walked in. Simon watches as his face twists with naked regret. It tells Simon that Johnny really didn’t know that you were only feigning sleep on Christmas. 

“Is she angry with me?” 

“Embarrassed.” 

Johnny looks outraged on your behalf. “She has no reason t’ be!” 

Simon shrugs as if to say, This is what your curiosity bought her, Johnny. This is the price she’s paying. Johnny’s shoulders sag under the weight of his own guilt, elbows bracing themselves on the countertop so that he can put his face in his hands.

“Maybe,” says Simon, “it would make more of a difference if she heard it from you.” 

Johnny looks up, brow furrowed. “Heard what from me? That I’ve seen her—like that?” 

Simon’s eyes roll to the ceiling. “No. That she doesn’t have anything to be ashamed of.” 

Johnny turns the idea over in his head. He’s clever, but too blinded by his own desire to see the manipulation for what it is. What does it matter if it’s Simon’s idea or his own? Johnny is dying to talk to you. 

“You’d give me her number?”

Simon shrugs.

“Alright,” says Johnny at length, drawing the word out. “I can do that. If you think it will help.” 

Simon says nothing, sipping at his tea to hide any smugness behind his cup.

-

((The video begins in a kitchen, one Johnny has been in many times. You are there, back mostly to the camera, pressed against the granite island countertop. Simon is on the other side of you, consuming all your attention. Steaming Jesus, he’s huge compared to you, huge compared to everyone. He’s dressed in his work attire: dress clothes, dark tie in place. The effect is jarring in contrast with the mask. 

Simon reaches up and works his tie loose and off over his head. You tilt your head down a little and on it goes, easy as anything. When Simon turns you to face the camera, the tie dangles between your bare breasts. One hand on the nape of your neck, Simon bends you forward towards the granite and Soap can tell the exact moment his cock slips inside you based on the way your mouth falls open, your eyes squeezing shut behind your own mask. 

Soap isn’t sure who he’s jealous of more—you or Simon.))

-

Simon told me that he told you what I found. I just wanted to message you myself and say how sorry I am if I embarrassed you. 

You sigh reading over the text message. Flexing your fingers, you give a quick glance toward where Simon lays dozing with his head against the back of the couch, feet up on the coffee table (the knife he got for Christmas rests on his chest; he’d been toying with it absently for the last half hour) and answer: There’s no reason to apologize. It’s not your fault I’m embarrassed. 

It is though, isn’t it? You don’t care that other people see. You just care that I did. 

You pause and bite at your nails, thinking over his words and how to respond. He’s mostly right. There had been an aspect of embarrassment at first when you and Simon began posting the videos (and that embarrassment had gotten you off to a certain extent, though it didn’t usually). But eventually that heated shame had melted away into eagerness for the camera. You’d read the comments on the videos, countless human beings talking about the various ways they masturbate to your sex with Simon, talking about the things they wish they could do to you, with you, with Simon. 

So why was it so much more embarrassing knowing that Johnny had seen? Because he knew you. Because he’d seen the parts of you that you had purposefully covered up for the camera. No one was meant to see both sides—no one was meant to have all of you. Except for Simon. 

But if somebody was going to do it, a small part of you is glad it was Johnny. 

You’re Simon’s friend, you message back, curious. Didn’t it feel strange to see us like that? 

Honestly? He doesn’t wait for you to respond. Not as strange as I might have thought. 

-

((AMATEUR COUPLE: WIFE PRACTICES HER BLOWJOB SKILLS, the video is aptly titled. You are on your knees, hands tied neatly at the base of your spine. Simon sits at the edge of the bed, camera positioned perpendicular to you both, with a downward angle.

You lean forward and let his hard, flushed cock disappear past your lips deeper, deeper, until you reach the limits of what you can take without preparation or practice. His hand comes down to rest softly against the back of your head as you make yourself gag and choke around the thickest part of his cock. There’s no need to hold you down; Simon doesn’t even bother.

Soap’s jaw aches, desperate for a chance to be on his knees for Ghost like that. He could take more than you—he knows he could. Not that it had to be a competition, not when you both could share a cock that size and barely notice the other was there. He strips his own cock thinking about it, eyes falling shut as he lets the background noise of the video—Simon’s gentle praises, your whines and chokes, the wet gurgles of a throat being fucked—carry him over the edge.))

-

New Year’s Eve. 

The house is full of bodies and laughter. You feel near-delirious with your own joy, never made happier than by the happiness of the people around you. Alejandro and Rodolfo had flown in and were staying in the guest house through the New Year, arriving only yesterday with enough luggage for four between the two of them; Kyle and his girlfriend; John and his wife; Kate and her partner; even Farah and her brother had made a pit stop to spend the evening with you on their way back to Urzikstan from the Americas. 

The party had been BYOB, and everyone had taken to the sentiment and more. Farrah is mixing drinks in the kitchen, strong concoctions that even John struggles to keep down. Gaz and Alejandro keep insisting on shots (which you politely decline just as often as you agree. Simon drinks nothing, his tumultuous past putting him off of hard alcohol for good).

People are well and truly drunk by the time Johnny arrives. The whoops and hollers that fill the house have you thinking that midnight has come early. A swarm of bodies surround him, and he is forced to make the rounds hugging each person and being taken to task by them for being gone for so goddamn long. 

He arrives at you before Simon, and his face softens, smile going a little unsure around the edges as he opens his arms for you, the first time he’s seen you in person since Christmas. You could rebuff him, but you also can’t. It’s Johnny. Nearly tripping to toss yourself into his arms, he lifts you a few inches off the floor, nose buried in your hair. 

“Bonnie as always,” he whispers into your ear after putting you back down. His hand tugs teasingly on the short hem of your dress, like he is trying to lengthen it, knuckles brushing your thighs. You swat his hand away, face flushing with warmth. It wasn’t that short. 

“Johnny,” Simon calls. The two men embrace, hug lasting longer than any other. In the distance, you see Gaz elbow Price, jerking his head toward the two men. 

You put a hand on Simon’s shoulder, anxious suddenly. Simon draws back, clapping Johnny on the shoulder. He orders: “Get yourself a drink.” 

“Yessir.” 

“None of that.”

“Games? I was told there would be games,” Gaz says, situating himself between you and Simon. He’s dressed smartly in a dress-shirt with the collar undone. Someone has put a party hat on him, cone-shaped, to celebrate the New Year. You had managed to wrestle Simon into one for thirty seconds before the first of the company arrived; the memory makes you smile. 

“I have Cards Against Humanity,” you offer. 

“Oh, I love that game,” Kyle’s girlfriend says to your delight. 

“No—no—we aren’t in middle school here,” Johnny says. “And if we are, then I want to play truth or dare so my chances of getting kissed tonight rises exponentially.” 

“Come over here and they will,” Gaz offers. 

“Don’t make promises you’re not ready to keep, Garrick,” Johnny warns, grinning. 

“Sounds like something a coward would say, all due respect—” 

Then Johnny has a fistful of Kyle’s shirt, hauling him in for a bold though chaste kiss on the mouth. You are suddenly hyper aware of Simon beside you, standing tall and very still while everyone laughs and cheers at the men’s antics. You can’t deny it’s a pleasing sight, but a part of you feels irritated with the whole display. 

“Jesus Christ,” John sighs, tipping his hat back on his head. “Soap’s right—if you’ve got a normal deck of cards, love, I know  plenty of games for adults to play.” 

“Not sure I want to play those kinds of games with you, John,” Kate says somberly to the laughs of everyone around her. 

“We’ve got cards,” Simon mutters. 

Farah calls to you from the kitchen, asking you to try her latest conglomeration of alcohol. Eager to be anywhere but there, you escape to the kitchen. You lift yourself up onto one of the stools at the island, taking the red plastic cup from her hand and sniffing it. Just the smell burns the hairs of your nose. 

“Jesus, Farah, this could kill me,” you laugh. 

“Pathetic,” she says with a grin to lighten her words. “I think I saw some apple juice in the refrigerator, would you like that instead?” 

“Alright.” 

“A warm glass of milk, perhaps?”

“You’ve made your point,” you say, eyes narrowing in good humor. Taking a deep breath to steel your nerves (and stomach), you take a generous swig of the cup. Fuck, it burns going down and it burns in your belly, like swallowing a lit flame. You cough a little, trying not to gag, and hold up your thumb to her. “It’s great—so good—“

Simon comes to sit beside you at the island. He takes the cup, smells it, and raises both brows. 

“Can I tempt you, Lieutenant?” Farah asks.

“No.” 

“Then I won’t try. Where’s John, he’s never afraid of a challenge.”

Unseen to her beneath the island, fingertips brush your stocking-covered thighs. Your knees clamp together on instinct as you fight not to look over at Simon. What is he doing? 

He strikes up a conversation with Farah about her time spent in the Americas. When his hand doesn’t move, your thighs relax a little. He was just being intimate; often he liked to have a hand on your back or his foot resting against your own beneath the table. It wasn’t his fault you were on edge. Your head spins a little, thanks to the shots and Farah’s drink. Planting one elbow on the countertop, you try to focus on her stories when Simon’s hand moves again, slipping further between your legs. The hem of your dress has ridden up so high in your seated position that it doesn’t take much for his fingertips to graze against the heated seam between your legs. 

You clamp your knees shut again. He pinches your thigh softly, just enough to get the message through to you. Staring at Farah, hearing nothing, you spread your shaking knees again and let him cup you between your legs. Fuck. You tilt your hips, making as if to adjust your position on the chair. It only serves to bring you in closer contact with Simon’s hand. A groan is born and dies in the back of your throat. 

He keeps you there, holding your cunt, having a fluent conversation with Farah while your brain melts out your ears. At length, he stands. Leaning down, he says in your ear: “Outside, two minutes. Go out the back.” 

Then he disappears amongst the sea of people 

-

Three minutes later you are shivering out in the snow. Your coat only helps so much with your legs bare save for your stockings. You hadn’t even had time to lace up your boots. Shifting from one foot to the other in the spotlight of the floodlights to keep warm, you cast glances left and right wondering from which direction Simon will come, wondering what he wants that couldn’t have taken place in doors. 

At last he appears, looking far warmer than you in his olive green jacket and jeans, hands stuffed deep into his pockets. You smile at the sight of him. He doesn’t smile back. 

“Put your hands against the wall.” 

“Simon?” 

He sighs, running a hand over the curve of your waist, testing its fit in his palm. “Now I’ll have to edit that part out. Let’s try again. Put your hands on the wall.” 

You see then the phone placed just-so in the breast pocket of his coat. The glossy camera lens stares back at you, no flashing red light, nothing nearly so 1999. But you knew it was filming. What was it seeing now? The house in the background, the cool blue siding and brick. You, face surprised, lips chapped from the cold weather lately, your sexy little golden dress nearly obscured beneath your coat. 

“The time to back out is now,” Simon prods you. 

But there’s no way you’re backing out, not after the kitchen. Not after the hazy arousal you’ve been walking around in all night just at the thought of seeing Johnny again. Turning around, you reach out with shaking hands and place them against the freezing cold siding. You can see your breath like a smoky plume with each of your frantic exhales as Simon’s hands grip your ass, slipping beneath the hem of your dress and finding your stockings to tug them down around your knees. 

“Got to keep quiet for me,” he says. “Can you do that?” 

“Yessir,” you whisper, wishing you were close enough to the house to rest your heated cheek against it. 

Simon gives a heavy exhale at your words and you grin, unseen. 

Your panties join your stockings stuck around your knees. It doesn’t give you much space to spread your legs, but Simon is so lengthy that he doesn’t need the extra room. He doesn’t press against your back, ever-conscious of the camera and its angles, but you hear the sound of his belt being undone and like a Pavlovian response, it has you drooling between the legs. His cock is burning warm when it brushes against your ass, and you find yourself arching your back, seeking to put that heat inside you. 

He hums, hands spreading you wide as he can for the benefit of the camera, even if the lighting isn’t the best to see your entrance. 

“Pretty fucking girl,” he mutters. The position can’t be comfortable for him, but he’s never seemed to care about that. He reaches down to grip the base of his cock and guides the head inside you. It is a tight fit without any preparation, but he keeps the penetration shallow, rocking you back and forth on just the head, sometimes letting his cock slip free to brush against your aching clit. Your teeth clamp together, desperate to keep your sounds in—usually during home videos, Simon encouraged you to be noisy (“for the audience”). Now you found yourself struggling not to give in to the old habit. 

All of the sudden, his hand is in your hair, turning your head, guiding it to change directions until you are looking at your footsteps in the snow leading back the way you came—

Until you are looking squarely at Johnny, standing nearly frozen in the snow at the edge of the house. He’s wearing his coat and boots, hands jammed deep into his coat pockets. The darkness makes it hard to make out the subtlety of his features, but you can tell that his mouth is dropped open in an expression of near comical disbelief. 

You barely manage to keep from choking out Simon’s name, your entire body going stiff—your cunt rippling around his cock. He laughs, a low rumbling chuckle that has you squeezing your eyes shut. A whine slips free from your throat and the wind must carry it straight to Johnny, because you hear his quiet, Steamin’ Jesus. 

“He’s been waiting for this all night, I bet,” Simon mutters, his hips snapping against yours. Your hands scramble to find purchase against the siding, slip down a little to grip the bricks which offer you more resistance. “Watching you flit back and forth in this dress, knowing what you look like underneath it. He wishes it was him fucking you right now.” 

“No,” you gasp, scandalized. 

Simon just laughs again. The sound doesn’t embarrass you, just ratchets your own dizzying arousal higher. You can’t take your eyes off of Johnny, who has stumbled two or three steps closer in the snow and now has his hand against the house very similarly to you. His other hand is in a fist at his side. Closer like this, there’s no mistaking the heated expression in his eyes. Nor the bulge in his pants. 

“Oh God,” you groan, squeezing your eyes shut again and turning away. 

“Look at him—look at him. He wants to touch himself,” Simon says, borderline conversational as his dick makes the most heinous squelching noises inside your body. “But I don’t think he’s got the balls.”

One of your hands comes off the bricks and reaches down between your thighs—but Simon grabs it at the last moment and pins it back in its place, sending you nearly to tears. 

“Cum on my cock or don’t cum at all,” he says, feeling cruel.

The both of you know that that likely means you won’t cum at all, not like this, and the knowledge threatens to undo you. He’s going to get you three-fourths of the way there and then leave you like this, edge you in front of all of your closest friends and not satisfy you until the very last one has left. Tears well in your eyes, beading up at the corners. 

Behind you, his thrusts grow sloppy. You dare another glance towards Johnny and see his turned back, both his hands in his mohawk gripping at his hair like he is fighting with himself. Your eyes fall shut; you’re fighting a battle of your own, you can’t be concerned about his. Simon groans lowly, filling you with his seed. He pulls out in a wet rush of fluids, reaching down to stave off his dripping seed and save your leggings from destruction. 

Gently, he fucks his cum back into you with his fingers. He wipes it across your swollen folds and in the soaked crotch of your panties before pulling them back up to rest safely on your hips. Bending down, he wipes his hands clean in the snow and then on his jacket before helping you pull your stockings up into place. The tears in your eyes have overflowed by now, dripping down your cheeks and off your chin. When you glance over, Johnny is gone. 

“Okay?” Simon murmurs, fiddling with his phone. He stops the video. 

“Yeah,” you sigh shakily. “Yeah, I’m okay.” 

-

Moments to midnight and you are searching for Simon. His figure should be easy to spot, but his head isn’t visible above the sea of people, nor is his baritone voice audible amongst the cacophony of others. 

Someone else is notably missing as well. An itch in the back of your brain swells, one you have to follow to scratch. 

Countdowns begin. You peek out the window nearest to you but see no sign of either man outside in the snow smoking. Watching couples pair off, you pad on bare feet (having kicked off your heels ages ago) toward the master bedroom, slipping into the dim hallway that forks off to the bedroom, the guest bath, and the office. That hallway is where you find them, standing in the dark toe to toe. Simon has Johnny up against the wall, clutching fistfuls of Johnny’s shirt, nearly tearing it. In the dim lighting, you can barely make out their features. 

For a moment, you think they are about to come to blows. You are ready to step between them, to take either of them by the ear like an old school matriarch and remind them that they are friends and they love each other and this is no way to act amongst family—but then the others cry out for midnight and they kiss. 

Oh God, do they kiss. Johnny’s shirt strains in Simon’s hands as he lifts the other man the last few inches needed to slot their mouths together comfortably. There is no chaste peck, no soft exploration of tongues, it is a frenzied open-mouthed devouring of each other, jaws flexing as if to open up and swallow the other whole. 

Claps and cheers ring out in the living room, jolting Simon and Johnny apart. Before you can even string together a sentence, Johnny has brushed by you, one hand pressing at his mouth. He grabs his coat and leaves out the front door without so much as a goodbye to anyone. 

-

The party is over. The sun is rising. Alejandro and Rodolfo have retired out to the guest house leaving you and Simon behind to clean up the mess in more ways than one. Eyes tired but brain buzzing, you come into the living room with a half-filled trash bag in your arms to find Simon sitting on the sofa by the fireplace, his head in his hands. 

You drop the trash bag and go to him, climbing into his lap. He sighs and lets his head rest against your breasts, breaths slow and deep, not betraying any of the turmoil that might be going on in his mind.

“He’ll be back,” you promise, stroking your fingers through his cropped hair. “He’ll come back, baby.” 

You don’t know what you’ll do if he doesn’t.

“Have you two done that before?” you ask.

Simon shifts. He turns until his ear presses against your sternum, like he is listening to your heart for the answer. He says: “No. Once—almost, I think. But you know what he’s like. So fucking persistent. And bright. Like he’s got the bloody sun inside him.”

“You never told me.” 

“Wasn’t anything to tell.” He looks up at you with dark eyes, decidedly grim despite his words: “We doing this?”

“Seems so,” you say, scratching his scalp lightly with your nails just to watch how his eyes get heavy. Simon so often denies himself simple pleasures, but he deserves them. The simple ones and the complicated ones. 

“He belongs to me,” Simon says at length, slow, like he is working it out for himself. “Just like you do.”

“No baby,” you remind him, leaning down to press a kiss to his mouth. “He belongs to us.”

-

((It becomes a degenerate ritual. 

Soap gets home from work and showers. As soon as the steam hits the bathroom mirror, he’s hard, but he doesn’t touch himself; refuses to. He showers and cleans himself perfunctorily, cock aching. It is just as familiar with this ritual as he is, just as hungry for it. It knows what is coming. 

After he is clean and dry, he’ll go naked into his room and bring out his laptop. He always sits at his desk—hates having the laptop on his lap, wants it somewhere stable and safe so he can have both hands free to touch himself—and then he brings up your porn page with Simon. There are more than fifty videos he can choose from. Some he has only seen once, especially those early videos when you both were still getting a feel for the process and working out your nerves. There are others that are old favorites, ones that he knows every word to, one where he could mimic your every sigh and whine if he wanted to. 

And sometimes, like on nights such as this, there’s a new video. His heart jumps to his throat. 

AMATEUR COUPLE: ARGUMENT TURNS INTO SEX (NO AUDIO). Fuck, just the title has mind whirling. It was just for show, surely—he couldn’t imagine you both filming one of your actual arguments for the sake of good pornography—but he was intrigued nonetheless. Some of his favorite videos featured Ghost getting a little rougher with you, and you giving back as good as you got. 

He clicks the link. The video begins in the bedroom, recognizable to him now as your own. The camera is in the corner facing the bed at an angle giving a wide vantage point, like a voyeur standing at attention. Like Soap himself has snuck in and is watching. Just the thought has him gripping the base of his cock, a soft groan passing his lips. 

You’re sitting on the bed, mask in place. Your arms are crossed, mouth downturned into a frown as Simon enters the screen. The first minute or so truly looks like an argument, the occasional jerky hand gesture from you coupled with Simon’s clipped responses. Soap tries to read your lips, but he’s never been very good at it; he can’t make out a single word of what the two of you might be saying. Then the aura changes, the tense energy from the argument turning into something slicker, something sexual as Simon comes around the bed and puts his hand on the center of your naked chest, pressing you back, back until you are laying down. 

You fight against him, batting his hand out of the way. He pins you down easily, so much larger and stronger than you. Soap grips his cock at the thought of being in your place, being pinned to the bed with Ghost’s massive figure over him. Ghost wouldn’t need to be gentle with him either, not the way he was with you. Soap wouldn’t mind. Soap would like it, the same way he liked it in the hallway at your house when Simon gripped him by the shirt and nearly jerked him right out of his boots. 

Your head comes off the bed, mouth chasing Ghost’s—but he draws away. Soap can almost hear the laugh he clearly gives, the rumbling chuckle that would be tangible in his chest. You grit your teeth together, jaw tight. Now when Simon bends down to kiss you, you turn your head away, a childish game of cat and mouse. He grips your chin and turns it back toward him, heavy on the eye contact. When you two finally kiss, it is rough, two hungry people searching for dirty secrets behind each other's teeth. 

Ghost kisses his way down your body, sucking bruises wherever he can. By the time he’s in between your legs, you are writhing, hands gripping his hair and trying to guide his mouth to the place that needs it most. He tugs your thighs over his shoulders, pins you to the bed with one massive forearm, and eats you out like a starving man. The angle for the camera isn’t the best here, but Soap can’t take his eyes off of you anyway: your body tight as a bowstring, breasts pressed together from the position of your arms, tendons of your neck straining as your head tilts backwards. 

Soap begins to work his cock over faster, watching your pleasure. When Ghost stops, he leaves you on the edge if your tortured expression is anything to go by, but you let him maneuver you into the position he wants—hands and knees, an old favorite for LT it seems—but this time is special, because this time you are forced to face the camera dead on. 

It’s like you’re looking Soap in the eye. The brief flash of guilt this gives him only serves to ratchet his desire higher, his cock dripping precum over his knuckles as he fists it. Ghost slips his cock inside you and sets a brutal pace that you are eager to meet, your hands twisting in the bedspread as you press yourself further back against his cock. 

Ghost leans down and mutters something in your ear. More than ever, Soap misses the audio. Whatever he says has your eyes flashing to meet the camera lens, and you do so with near girlish shyness, like you are seeing it for the first time, like you have only just noticed it’s been there all these months. Your eyes can’t catch on it at first, flittering away every chance you get. Ghost’s thrusts slow to deep grinds. He wraps a hand around your throat and says more, lips moving against the nape of your neck. Fuck, what Johnny wouldn’t give to be able to read lips. 

This time you look back at the camera and keep your eyes there. Ghost resumes his thrusts, each one making your breasts bounce softly, but your eyes never leave the lens, always quick to return even when they briefly fall shut. 

Your pleasure waxes when you slip a hand between your thighs, and you begin murmuring something repeatedly, just a discrete little movement of your lips. But at Ghost’s prodding, you begin to cry it out louder and louder until Soap is damn near sure that you are screaming, your lips forming the same syllables over and over again if only Soap were able to make them out. Your eyes roll back as you cum, arms growing weak until you dip and rest your upper body against the bed giving the camera an excellent view of Simon fucking into you from behind, the arch of your body, the curve of your waist to the width of your hips. 

Soap cums when Ghost does, Ghost’s head lolling to the side as his thrusts grow sloppy and forceful, making a mess of you no doubt. 

It isn’t until later when he’s in bed that he recognizes the word you were chanting for what it is. 

How it took him so long to recognize his own name he’ll never know.))

-

He comes back. 

Simon has just returned from taking Alejandro and Rodolfo to the airport. Ever since New Year’s Eve, there has been a quietness about him which breaks prior records. Neither of you say it, but if Johnny leaves this time, it will take more out of him than it had before. It will take something out of you, too. You spend the days trying to keep busy, checking your phone too often for texts that don’t come. 

You’ve just taken the kettle off the stove when the doorbell rings, and both of you know. Your eyes meet across the kitchen. Simon nods his head toward the door, and you rush to answer it, feeling your heart in your throat. Johnny stands there on the step looking sheepish and cold, his boots and the bottom quarter of his jeans wet, like he has walked here from a great distance. 

“May I come in?” he asks. 

Simon appears behind you. Johnny gives him a wavering smile. Without a word, you hold the door open, stepping aside to let him in. 

“Didn’t think you’d be back,” Simon says coolly.

“Didn’t think I’d be back either,” Johnny admits. He wets his lips. “I…I need to come clean. It’s eatin’ me up inside. Can’t sleep, can’t eat, can’t fucking think without it being about the two of you. I don’t know what to do with myself except put myself at your feet and ask fer your forgiveness.” 

“Johnny, that’s not—”

“No,” says Simon, stilling the words on your tongue. “I think that’s a good place to start. Get on your knees, Johnny.” 

Johnny blinks once, face the picture of innocent ignorance—but then he is dropping to his knees hard enough for you to hear them crack against the hardwood underneath. He obeys without thinking, because that is something that has always been easy for him to do: obey Simon. Think later. 

Simon’s hand reaches out, slow enough to give Johnny a chance to flinch away, but he doesn’t. Instead Simon threads his fingers through Johnny’s mohawk, the sides which are growing out just a little too long. Johnny’s eyes fall shut at the touch, and the whole thing goes straight to your belly, arousal making your head light. 

“You liked watching so much,” Simon says, voice low and quiet. “I think it’s time we put you to good use.”

-

“We have rules. Don’t look at the camera, don’t say each other’s names, and do as I say. Can you handle that?” Simon asks. 

“Rules of engagement. Yessir.” 

Simon snorts softly at Johnny’s eagerness. “Glad to see you still know to follow directions. But let’s see how well. Strip. Everything off. You won’t need it.” 

Johnny’s hands find the neckline of his shirt and tug it off over his head, revealing a body that is all smooth muscle and tan skin. The dark hair on his chest thickens just below his navel, trailing down into his jeans which he unbuttons without ceremony, feet working to step out of his shoes at the same time. He keeps his balance well, already slipping into a focused, strangely familiar headspace. You make yourself as small as possible on the bed, arms looped around your legs, eyes watching him hungrily. It’s been so long that you’ve wanted to see Johnny like this; now that it’s on the verge of becoming true, you feel shy and unsure. 

Johnny keeps his eyes on yours while he pushes his pants down his thighs and steps out of them. He smiles at you, soft and understanding, and only then do you let your eyes flicker down to take in his cock: he is hard, uncut, thick as Simon even if he can’t have him beaten in length. His dexterous fingers wrap around the shaft, stroking himself, the flushed head disappearing and reappearing in his fist. 

“What do you think?” Simon asks you, voice a low rumble at your side. His eyes are watching you, concerned with you first and foremost. “Is he pretty enough?”

Johnny makes an offended sound. 

“I’d say so,” you answer, aiming for unaffected and landing somewhere amongst breathless. Already you can feel the tension between your legs, a deep seated ache as your pussy drools onto the sheets below you. 

“You want to suck his cock,” says Simon. It’s not a question, but your head bobs anyway. “Go on, then. Crawl to him.” 

Shifting onto your hands and knees, you crawl to him, focusing on the mechanics of it instead of trying to feign sexiness. At the edge of the bed, you slip off and down to the floor amongst the pile of his clothes, laying your hands on his thighs and looking up at him from beneath his cock. 

He lets out a shaky breath. “You’re gonna suck my dick?”

You nod. 

Johnny looks to Simon with a helpless expression as if to ask, What do I do? When you glance back over your shoulder, you see that Simon is giving him nothing to work with, face a blank slate except for his raised brows. Phone in hand, aimed at the two of you. The sight of it seems to steel Johnny’s nerves. He’s never been one to be shy.

“Go at yer own pace, lass,” he says.

Leaning in, you trace your lips against the side of his shaft, feeling the velvety softness against your mouth. He smells like he showered before he came over, though you wouldn’t have minded if he hadn’t. Johnny always smells good—even on those days before he went away when he and Simon would go running together, pushing each other to their limits, returning sweaty and exhausted. Now after all this time you get to see if he tastes as good as he smells. You part your lips and leave open mouthed kisses along his length, looking up at him through your lashes when you feel his fingers sink into your hair. His mouth is parted as he watches you raptly, pupils blown wide. 

Confidence mounting, you take the head past your lips and suckle, treating him just as soft and sweetly as you know Simon won’t. Above you, he groans, hips jerking until you take another inch or two past your lips. You let him, rising up on your knees to adjust the angle, sinking your way down until his head brushes the softness at the back of your throat. Taking a calming inhale, you swallow and press forward, letting him sink into your throat until your gag reflex can take no more and forces him out. 

Johnny moans like he’s dying, his hands shaking as he fights not to thrust into your throat. Words stream from his mouth, filthy Scottish-tinted praises that have you wriggling in your place, desperate for a hand between your thighs. 

“Beautiful, isn’t she?” Simon asks. 

“Never seen no one like her,” Johnny gasps, one hand letting go of your hair so that he can wipe the drool from the side of your mouth. He gives a weak laugh. “And I—fuuck, fuck—I’ve looked.”

“She’ll suck you off until you tell her to stop. Doesn’t matter how long you leave her at it,” Simon says. Fabric rustles behind you, and you ache to be able to turn and see what he is doing. But you are more determined to prove your goodness to Johnny. “Sometimes when I work from home she keeps my cock warm at my desk.”

“Dunno how you get a goddamn thing done with her mouth around yeh.”

“Discipline.” 

“I left mine in my other pants—fuck, I’m gonna cum. Are you one of those dirty girls that swallows?” he asks. 

You nod. Simon is there suddenly, a warm presence at your shoulder as he passes Johnny the camera. Nearly wrecked, Johnny’s hands shake as he aims it down at you, looking at you through the lens. His balls draw up, cock lengthening that last little bit as he spills into your mouth. 

“Don’t swallow,” Simon says at the last moment. You whine but obey. Simon pulls you up and nearly makes you dizzy with the way he kisses you, licks into your open mouth lapping Johnny’s seed from your tongue. 

“Jesus, Mary, ‘n Joseph,” Johnny breathes, belatedly remembering to turn the camera onto you both. This will likely be the messiest video you’ve ever made transition wise, but you have a feeling that it will be your favorite. 

When the kiss ends, you swallow and pull off to open your mouth, showing Johnny—and the audience—what they want: that you’ve swallowed your portion like a good girl. 

“Fuck, I shouldn’t have cum,” Johnny laughs weakly. “We’ve barely started. I don’t want this to be over.”

“You’ll cum again,” Simon says. “But it’s time to give someone else a turn. Sitrep?”

Johnny is all grins. “All good here, sir.” 

It makes you shiver to hear Johnny call him that. You’ve heard it countless times before, but never like this. The context turns the word into something foreign, something sexy. Not to mention, you know exactly what it does to Simon. Not for the first time, you wonder if his wires didn’t get a little crossed during his time enlisted, if he didn’t learn that particular kink from hearing Johnny chirp it at him every day. 

“Good boy,” says Simon softly, reaching out to ruffle Johnny’s mohawk. Johnny bats his hand away, but it’s impossible to miss the way he flushes from the cheeks down his chest at those words. Simon sets the phone on the tripod in the corner, making minor adjustments, and then turns his eyes to you. “C’mere.”

He sets you up against the headboard, your back against his chest. He parts your thighs, reaching down to use his thumbs to spread your sex open for Johnny’s hungry gaze, for the camera’s lens. You hide your masked-face behind your hands, hips rising toward his touch, desperate for the stimulation. 

“Pent up?” Simon asks, voice rough.

A sound slips past your lips, low and needy.. 

“This what you want?” His calloused fingers ghost over your swollen clit. 

“Yes,” you mumble, voice muffled by your hands. 

“Be a good girl and you’ll get it. You know how to be a good girl?” 

“How?”

“Stay relaxed. Keep your thighs open. And don’t lie to me. Can you do that?”

You nod. Yes. Easy things. You fight to relax your body, loosening your muscles. Your hands fall to rest against Simon’s thighs, eyes cracking open to watch Johnny who has seated himself at the end of the bed out of the way of the camera’s view. When he sees you looking, he smiles, reassuring and warm. His cock, which had been soft moments ago, already looks noticeably more interested in the events taking place. 

Simon drags his fingers over your clit. You tense all over, sucking in a breath before you remember his first rule and relax, going loose and soft again. He waits, patient. The next time he strokes you, you stay malleable, and he hums deep in his chest, pleased with the progress. His hand cups your whole sex, palm huge compared to you. 

“When was the first time you ever wanted to fuck our boy over here?” Simon asks. 

You know that he can’t use Johnny’s name, not on film, but neither you nor Johnny had expected the flashbang of this term of endearment. Johnny seems to melt, his eyes going heavy-lidded at the thought of being ‘your boy’. You can’t help but feel the incredible rightness of his words. They resonate deep in your chest like the ringing of a bell, tangible down to your fingertips and toes. Johnny is yours, and he is Simon’s. 

“How long?” Simon asks again, more firmly. 

“Since—since you brought him home.”

Simon slips two fingers past your entrance as a reward for your honesty. Their thickness has you gasping, fingers scrambling for purchase against his thighs. He hums something in your ear—probably a reminder about trying to relax—and you do try, but it is hard when you ache as badly as you do. You find yourself digging your heels into the bedspread, lifting your hips to try and work his fingers deeper inside of you. He feeds them to your cunt all the way to the last knuckle. 

“How’s she feel, sir?” Johnny asks. 

“Like the only heaven the likes of us will ever know.” 

“I believe it,” Johnny sighs. “Give us a taste.” 

Simon extends his fingers and Johnny takes them onto his tongue, licking and sucking the digits clean. You’re close enough to Simon to feel his inhale, to feel the way his cock jumps where it’s pressed against your lower back. He plays at being unaffected, but Simon isn’t immune to the powers of finger-sucking. He isn’t immune to Johnny. 

Then he says: “Put that mouth to work, Johnny.” 

Johnny drops to his belly between your thighs, breath fanning across your folds. Simon has to pin your legs apart, humming when your nails dig into the skin of his forearms. They are teaming up on you, against you, and you feel so small pinned between them. 

“Dreamed of this,” Johnny sighs into your pussy. He nuzzles against you, nose brushing your slit before licking a thick stripe up your folds. He laps at the honey leaking from your entrance, broad strokes of his tongue as Simon’s fingers keep you spread open for his hungry mouth. 

Sometimes Johnny’s tongue laps over Simon’s fingers, and when it does, you feel his cock twitch against your back. It only serves to remind you how empty you feel. Your hands grip Johnny’s hair, guiding his soft mouth to your clit where he sucks and laps contentedly, and you beg for his fingers. 

He moans against you, voice vibrating through your pussy. His hips have started a slow grind against the bedspread, desperate for friction as his blue eyes find Simon’s dark ones, silently asking for permission. 

Simon nods. Johnny slips his middle-most two fingers into you, hooking them softly, searching for that spongy, textured place just inside you. It’s everything you needed, the pleasure in your belly rising to a near painful crest. Your hand scrambles to find one of Simon’s, lacing your fingers together as you burst against Johnny’s tongue, squeezing his fingers, barely remembering to keep from calling his name. 

Johnny lays his head against your inner thigh, panting. His eyes are foggy, pussy-drunk as he struggles to focus on you both, his fingers still tucked softly inside you. 

“Break,” Simon whispers, kissing your neck. He shifts out from behind you, the only one of you still fully dressed. Going to the tripod in the corner, he pauses the camera and then leaves the room.

“Great abrupt bastard, isn’t he?” Johnny asks, slipping his fingers out from inside you. He goes to lick them clean, but you stop him, bringing his hand to your own mouth and cleaning your slick from his fingers, tongue searching for your taste all the way to the webbing between his knuckles. His laugh is breathy. “You like that? Like the taste of pussy?” 

You nod, slipping your mask off briefly. 

“Need a pretty girl to play with then, not the likes of me.” 

Your hand latches around his wrist as he goes to pull away, lips turning down into a frown. “That’s not what we want. We don’t play with people. People aren’t toys to us. And we’ve never had sex with anyone else like this. You should know that from the videos.” 

“Aye,” he says softly. “I didn’t mean to offend yeh, lass. I was only teasing.”

“Johnny…” 

“Yes?”

“Why’d you go away?” you ask. You know it might ruin the moment, but the curiosity is too much, an old wound with the scab picked clean off until it aches all over again. “Things seemed so good when Simon and I first got together. You were coming around all the time. Then you just…left.” 

Johnny can’t meet your eyes as he thinks back, as he remembers those days in the year after Simon first met you. When he speaks, his voice is steady. “I told yeh earlier. Couldn’t stop thinking about the two of you. Didn’t feel right to feel that way ‘bout my best mate and his best girl. And when he told me that he was gonna propose to yeh—I had two choices. Stay and watch, or run away. Maybe Simon’s right. Maybe I am a coward.”

“He told me that the two of you almost kissed once. Back during your SAS days.” 

A ghost of a smile appears on Johnny’s mouth. “Outside the Barranquilla, Columbia safehouse. I remember. I thought he would break my teeth if I tried, but Jesus, how I wanted to.”

“I think your odds were 50/50,” you say, scooting back until you are seated in Simon’s old spot, reclining against the headboard. “It started back then for you, didn’t it?” 

“Aye. I was a goner.” 

“You love him.” 

Johnny gives you a secretive smile. He presses his finger to his lips. Shh.

Simon enters the room with three water bottles and pauses, eyes flickering between you both. “The fuck were you two talking about?” 

“Nothing,” you say. “Is that water? I’m so thirsty, thank you baby.” 

“Her subtlety could use some work, LT,” Johnny says, watching as Simon goes and turns the camera back on. You hastily put your mask back in place. 

“Not her forte,” Simon admits dryly. He cracks open one of the bottles of water after tossing the last one to Johnny and drinks half of it in just a few gulps, despite having done very little so far in the scheme of things. You figured that was about to change, watching him shrug out of his shirt. 

Simon didn’t undress the way Johnny did. There wasn’t any fanfare or confidence; it was simple and efficient. You knew that Simon’s relationship with his body was a complex one. It had served him well, and he did his best to keep it healthy, but contemplating the aesthetics of it was too offensive to his palate. The scars were intense: thick punctures along his sides, the depressed, pale pucker of bullet wounds, the hard clean lines of a knife here and there. You had never minded, and judging by the way Johnny’s throat clicks when he swallows, Johnny didn’t mind either. 

“I want to fuck you,” he says. 

“Yes,” you agree. Fingers had been excellent, but nothing could compare to Simon’s cock. 

He shakes his head. “Not you. Him.” 

You turn your gaze on Johnny whose eyes are avidly watching Simon unfasten his jeans. He pushes them down over his thick thighs and reveals he’s not wearing any underwear beneath, his cock half-hard and rosy. He wraps his fist around it, jerking himself to full stiffness with a perfunctory touch, not at all interested in the show he is putting on for you both. 

“Can you take him, Johnny?” you tease. 

“I’ll die trying, thanks very much.” 

“I hope not,” is all Simon says, going to the bench at the end of the bed and retrieving the lube. He asks: “Condom?”

“Not necessary,” Johnny says, breaths coming faster now. You put your hand on his ankle, remembering the way he had touched you there on Christmas, stroking the bone softly. He glances to you and grins, and you see that what you mistook for nerves is actually excitement. He puts his hand over your own, squeezing. “Are you going to feel left out, lass?” 

“Terribly.” 

“If you last the whole time,” says Simon, holding the lube up to the light to see how empty it is. “I’ll let you fuck her when I’m finished with you.” 

“Jesus,” Johnny laughs weakly. “Can’t argue with that. Throw me that and I’ll get myself ready.” 

“I can do it,” says Simon, seating himself on the edge of the bed. Johnny shifts into a better position, feet flat on the bed, knees toward the ceiling. For a long time, Simon just looks at him: his silly hair, the odd scar here and there, his half hard cock. Deftly, he opens the cap on the lube and slicks two fingers while you come to kneel on the other side of Johnny, eager for a show. 

“Camera, love,” Simon reminds you, fingers searching between Johnny’s legs. Judging by the way Johnny’s jaw goes tight, he’s found what he’s looking for. You shift, glancing over your shoulder to make sure you are out of the camera’s point of view. Reaching down, you trail your fingertips gently over Johnny’s cock. Simon says: “Been a while?” 

“You could say that,” Johnny says, mouth falling open in a silent moan as Simon works him open. You’ve been on the receiving end of Simon’s ministrations; you know his patience can be near painful. Johnny learns it the hard way when Simon pauses twice to lube his fingers, until even the soft thrusts he gives into Johnny’s ass fill the room with the sound of sex. 

You play with his cock absently, enjoying being the tormentor instead of the tormented for once. Johnny’s silent breaths turn to heavy pants and then needy groans, foreskin pulling back to reveal the sensitive head as he grows in your palm thanks to Simon’s fingers playing inside him. His heels slip against the bedspread as he searches for the angles that suit him best, and he chokes when he finds them.

“Please, I’m ready,” Johnny says, fingers wrapping around Simon’s wrist. Simon lets him pull his fingers free and reaches for the lube again, this time to slick his cock. 

“Any preference for how I take you?” he asks mildly, like one might ask, How do you take your tea? One sugar please and thank you. 

“None, so long as your cock’s inside me,” Johnny grits out. 

“This’ll do,” says Simon, bullying his way between Johnny’s spread thighs. It takes a few pillows beneath his hips before he’s at the right height for Simon’s cock to notch against his entrance, and then you watch with rapt attention as Johnny’s body seems to blossom to welcome in Simon’s cock, a surplus of lubricant easing the way. 

Johnny flinches. 

“Easy,” says Simon, stilling. “Relax.” 

You curl up at Johnny’s side, slipping beneath one of his arms and cuddling against him. Your nervous fingers find one of his nipples and toy with it softly, kissing at his shoulder while you murmur words of encouragement to him. 

Johnny laughs weakly. “Don’t need all that, lass, but thank yeh.” 

“Wish I had someone cheering me on the first time I took Simon’s cock,” you admit. 

Simon frowns. “I was cheering you on.” 

“Less talking please, more fucking,” Johnny says, lips upturned. His body relaxes and Simon sinks the rest of the way inside him, all the way to the fucking hilt, deeper than you can ever take him in your cunt. It thrills you and makes you envious all at once. You pinch Johnny’s nipple, forcing a quiet gasp out of his throat. 

Simon looks good—strong. Unaffected. But you know him better. His brow is lower than ever, eyes closed as he centers himself. His breaths come so evenly that you know he must be counting them—four seconds in, four seconds out. His fingertips have sunk into the meat of Johnny’s thighs, gripping him tightly, as if to keep him from squirming away, or to keep him from squirming at all. 

“You solid?” Simon asks him. 

“Affirm,” Johnny breathes. “Go slow.” 

Famous last words—Simon withdraws with painstaking care, until just his head lingers inside Johnny’s body. He sinks back in at the most leisurely pace you’ve ever seen, thrusts smooth and deep as his thighs brush against Johnny’s ass. It takes no time at all for Johnny to regret those words, one of his hands laced with yours and the other twisting in the bedsheets as he begs Simon to move faster. 

And Simon can only take so much teasing himself, really. He’s human too. 

His hips snap into the open cradle of Johnny’s thighs. Johnny cries out, cock jerking where it lays hard and leaking against his belly. You lean up onto one elbow so that you can watch his pretty face contort: brow furrowing, mouth falling open. 

��Not going to cum, right?” you ask him slyly. 

He shakes his head. 

You glance down at his cock doubtfully. Simon, overhearing your words, takes that as a personal challenge, drilling into Johnny with a single-mindedness that is admirable to see and terrible to be on the receiving end of all in one. 

Suddenly tears overflow from Johnny’s eyes, dripping down toward his temples. You sit up in alarm as he lifts his hands but he just palms at his eyes, laughing. Simon slows, stops. He reaches down to pry Johnny’s hands away and then kisses him, something soft and sweet. Johnny’s hands shake as he reaches up to thread his fingers through Simon’s hair, tugging him closer.

Your heart feels liable to burst. You remember Johnny’s finger pressed to his lips, that universal sign. Shh. 

“He’s alright,” Simon says, not unkindly. “Aren’t you?”

Johnny croaks an affirmative.

After that, it is less fucking and more making love; there’s nothing else to call in. Simon pins Johnny’s wrists to the bed just to feel like he’s still in control, but his thrusts are syrupy slow, not fully withdrawing, seeking to remain as close to Johnny as he can for as long as possible. You stroke one of Johnny’s palms and Simon lets it free so that you can hold it, your fingers lacing together in a way that is foreign yes, but comfortable. 

“You’ve been a good boy for me, Johnny,” Simon says. 

“Don’t say that,” Johnny groans, turning his head away, flushed pink. 

“It’s true. Know how to be an even better boy?” 

Johnny is intrigued. Being a good boy is suddenly beneath him; now he wants to be the best boy. Looking at Simon through his lashes, he asks: “How’s that?” 

“Cum on my cock.” 

“Don’t do it Johnny,” you whine. “It’s a trap.” 

Simon laughs. He kneels back onto his haunches, dragging Johnny’s body along with him, and reaches for the other man’s cock, working it over in his fist. Johnny nearly howls, kept on the edge so long that to see the bottom of the cliffside is to know the promise of pain. He doesn’t know whether to grind his hips deeper against Simon’s cock or to chase the heat of his hand. 

“Close,” he groans. 

“Go on. Pretty abs like this—make a mess on ‘em.” 

Johnny does, pearlescent seed dripping from between Simon’s fingers as he milks Johnny for every last drop. Only then does he begin thrusting again, fast and hard, searching for his own end. Not a handful of thrusts later and he goes sloppy, breath punched from his lungs as he spills inside Johnny. 

“You promised me a cock to ride,” you say. 

“Couldn’t be helped, lass,” Johnny says with a dopey, lovesick smile. You hum. 

“We’ll just have to get you hard again, won’t we?” you ask, wrapping your fingers around his softening cock. 

-

That night, the bed is full. Johnny and you are entwined, legs and arms wrapped around each other creating an endless feedback of heat that Simon was careful not to be swept away in, too focused on his mission to allow for any mistakes. He makes no sound as he slips out of bed. He stops by the tripod in the corner and takes his phone out into the living room, turning the sound down so low that he has to hold the speaker close to his ear to hear it, lest he wake Johnny. 

He listens to you and Johnny talk while he was gone, when you believed the camera to be off. He plays it again, watching just the video. By the time he’s returned in the video, Simon’s chest feels full of pressure, like something is inside him trying to crawl its way out. Love. What does Simon Riley know about love? 

Well, he knows one thing. 

Except maybe now he knows two.

He deletes the video and goes back to bed. 

[latenightdaydreams]

Please write about curvy reader with her 3 inches dick husband, Konig is reader's neighbor then helps her what's real sex feel like with his 10 inches cock😩

Can you imagine to difference😮‍💨 I'd want to cuck my husband🤭🤭🩷🩷

Let Me Love You Right (fem)

MDNI🔞

Master List

>cw: fem/afab, oral, p in v, cheating

2.9k word count

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You’ve been married to Chris for eight years now, you both got married young and he’s your first and only. To say sex has been lack-luster… would be kind. You both waited for marriage, Chris’s idea. That meant you fell in love with him FOR him. You try to remind yourself that every day since finding out Chris only has a 3-inch cock.

Every time you have sex, you lie there looking at the ceiling while Chris moans loudly and gets off in six minutes. He doesn’t know where the clit is either and his finger game is weak. He just isn’t good in bed. The fact you catch him staring at a very slender woman online adds to it all, you’re a thick and curvy woman. He makes you feel rejected so it’s hard to enjoy anything with him. At some point you began to question if maybe you’re truly asexual because you became so turned off to sex and to him.

Then one day, your new neighbor moved in. You were sitting on your couch sipping coffee as you watched a moving truck pull in. You thought nothing of it and went on with your day. Your husband left for work so you decided to go outside and water your garden. You haven’t worked the last three years; you both have been trying for a baby, but nothing has happened yet. You’ve learned how to fill your time with small hobbies.

You got dressed in comfortable clothes and went outside. You turned the water on and began to pull the hose. As you pulled, it got stuck. Assuming you were outside alone, you began to curse the water hose, bending over to fix it and struggling. Just then you heard the sexiest Austrian accent from behind you.

König was about to go on a walk when he saw you leave your house, wearing tight black biker shorts and a tight white t-shirt. Your body was…perfection. He stood watching your breast bounce slightly with every step you take. Your hips sway so gracefully side to side. He picked the right house to move into. Hearing your struggle snapped him out of his lustful day dreams and began to approach you.

“Do you need help? Miss?”

He looked down at you, his eyes traveling over the curve of your plump ass. Imagining how soft it would feel to squeeze. When you turned to face him, his eyes dropped to your breast. Again, his mind went to imagining his hands squeezing them. He’s a man with big hands, and your breasts look like the perfect size to fill them.

As you turn your eyes meet the most beautiful sleepy pale blue eyes you’ve ever seen. The man towered over you as if you were a tiny ant. His body is massive and solid looking. His blonde hair was shining in the bright morning sun. His face is handsome, rugged, with some scarring. You felt yourself get turned on for the first time in years.

“N- no, I’ve got it. Thank you.” You caught his eyes wandering over your body.

“I’m König, I just moved in next door.” He held his hand out for you to shake.

“I’m y/n.” You put your hand in his, it looked so small. “The accent, are you German?”

“Austrian.” His thin lips pulled into a small smirk.

“Oh, sorry.” You chuckled from embracement.

“It’s okay, the accents sound similar.” He chuckled as well.

You both stood there for a while just letting your eyes drink the other in. You could cut the tension with a knife. His blue eyes returned to yours and he gave you a small smile. The rest was history. Everyday after your husband leaves for work, you’d see each other. Drink coffee together, he’d help you garden, just talking about your personal lives. Nothing sexual. That was until today.

Sitting at his kitchen table with him as you sip your coffee and chat just like you both always seemed to do. Today was different though, you both being more outwardly flirty with one another.

“Your husband is a lucky man Maus, I’d love a curvy housewife.” His eyes travel down to your cleavage before back up to your eyes.

His comment makes you blush, you playfully nudge his arm. “Yeah right.”

“No really, I bet he is all over you.”

“Not really,” you tap your nails on the mug in your hands.

“No?” König tilts his head, he’s aware that he’s prying but he can’t fathom a man having you and not being obsessed.

“Nope…” You look into his eyes. You debate on whether or not you want to disclose all of your marital issues to him or keep it light.

“May I ask why?” His eyes drop to your fingers tapping. He reaches his hand out and grabs your off the mug, caressing your soft skin with his thumb. “You can talk to me.”

“Promise you won’t judge or laugh?”

“Promise, Maus. You have my word.”

“So, when we dated, we never did anything sexual past kissing. Like traditional and all.”

König nods his head along, listening to your words as he sips on his own mug of coffee. His eyes follow your lips as you speak.

“When we actually… you know…fucked,” You and König chuckle, “He pulled it out and was incredibly small.”

König raises his eyebrow with curiosity, “Small?”

“Small,” you nod, “like three inches small.”

König sat with his jaw dropped looking at you in disbelief. Three inches? He’s bigger than that when soft. No way three inches can get past how thick you are…

“And how was that?” His hand squeezes yours slightly.

“Terrible. I didn’t feel anything. I’m pretty sure I’m still a virgin because it barely went in…” You chuckle slightly at how embarrassing this is. “We’ve been trying for a baby for YEARS now and nothing because I just have no sex drive. On top of all of this, I catch him gawking at skinny women constantly. Women that look nothing like me.”

You take a deep breath, feeling like you’ve been ranting. König still caresses your hand with his thumb.

“I think you’re beautiful. Perfect just the way you are.” He says in a soft and tender voice. “I also think it’s a shame he doesn’t please you sexually.”

You give him a warm smile before your eyes move to your hand in his. You look at the drastic size difference between both of your hands before looking back up to him.

“Why don’t you leave? Find someone new? Someone compatible?” König means himself.

“He’s all I’ve ever known.”

“Don’t you think you deserve romance? Passion?”

You can feel your face getting hot as he asks you this. You do want it. He is the reason the spark of desire was reignited in your life to begin with, but you can’t just tell him this. You can’t just have sex with your neighbor.

All the while you are inside your head, König looks at you. He takes in your features, the way you rest your head in your palm, how soft your lips look.

“Maus?”

“Hm?” You look up after being lost in thought. “Oh, I guess. I actually had a period of thinking I was asexual because I just didn’t have that desire or drive.”

“Do you still feel this way?”

“No,” you look back down at your hand in his.

A short period of time passes before König speaks up, “Do you find me attractive?”

Your eyes shot up to his shocked he was so forward. You hesitate for a while because you’re still married. Saying the truth might open up pandora's box, but you feel stuck, stagnant.

“I do…” you respond meekly.

“I think you’re attractive too.” König lets that linger in the air before continuing. “I desire you, and I think you feel the same.”

König tightened his hand around yours. He reached out with his other hand and caressed your face. You both look at each other for a while before you speak up.

“I do.” You lean into his hand that caresses your face.

“I don’t mean to cross lines, but I think I could love you better than your husband. I could appreciate your body better. I could fuck you better.”

His hand moves from your face to the back of your head, his fingers combing through your hair and grasp firmly. He tilts your head back slightly as his eyes roam down the curves of your jawline and neck. You felt a heat rush over your body.

König stands and walks closer to you, leaning in and kissing your neck tenderly. The warm sensation of his lips sends a chill down your spine. You don’t stop him even though you know you should. This would break your husband, but you don’t care.

Kissing up your neck to your ear he whispers, “Let me worship you, bitte.”

“What if I don’t like it?”

You’re still worried that it’s a you problem. What if you just don’t like sexual encounters?

König chuckled, “I can make you cum. Don’t worry.”

Your cheeks go hot as you laugh nervously. He pulls away and gently pulls you by your hand, “Komm mit mir”

You stand and follow him through his house to his bedroom, his bed a massive king size bed. The bedsheets are a dark gray color with a black comforter. He gently guides you to the room and lays you on the bed. Leaning over you, his lips find yours as you share a deep passionate kiss. His lips made yours actually tingle; you’ve never felt that before. His hands begin to trace the curve of your waist to your hip before moving up to your breast and squeezing.

König breaks the kiss and moves off of the bed. He gently takes your shoes off your feet and places them neatly by the bed. His eyes traveled over your body before pulling his shirt off to expose his physique to you. He can see the desire in your eyes, causing him to smile.

As he went to reach for the waistband of your leggings, you stopped him.

“What if you don’t like how I look?”

“I’ll love it, trust me.” He reassures you in a low soft tone.

Nodding your head, you let go of his hands and let him take them off. His eyes glide over your juicy thighs and the light blue cotton panties you’re wearing. Your legs are a little stubbly, you weren’t expecting to do this. You feel slightly embarrassed by the hair, but König doesn’t seem to mind as he glides his hands up your legs once they’re bare. His lips kissing from your calf up to your soft thighs; once there he begins to nibble on the soft flesh.

“Mien Gott, you’re so soft.” He whispers as he rests his kisses on your thighs more.

“I’m sorry I didn’t shave-”

“It’s natural. I don’t mind hair Maus.” He smirks.

You relax back on the bed as his hands go up to the elastic band of your underwear and pull it off. His eyes falling on the small bush between your legs as he smiles. He can’t wait to bury his face in it.

“Are you okay?” König asks as his eyes meet yours.

“Yeah,” You look down at him as he begins to spread your legs apart. Your heart beat is pounding and, in this moment, you begin to think about the life you wanted to build with Chris but then, oh god. You drop your head back on the bed.

König sticks his tongue out and begins to lightly flick over your clit. Instantly your legs begin to tremble and you moan loudly. Your hands find his hair and comb your fingers through it. You can’t believe oral sex can be this good. König stops licking your clit to suck it.

“No, no, please lick it.” You look down again, begging in a pathetic voice.

König nods and goes back to flicking his tongue rapidly over your clit. You had a long morning of sweating so your natural musk is strong and König is savoring the smell. Listening to your loud moans he slowly moves his finger to your pussy and teases the entrance. Slowly slipping his finger in your gasp. He loves the reactions you’re giving. It’s insane to think you’ve gone your whole life without feeling this pleasure.

“König,” you moan out loudly as he begins to pump his finger in and out of you quickly, your back arching. A new sensation consumes you as you scream out, your body trembling. König closed his eyes, smirking, and enjoying hearing you orgasm.

He pulls back and moves his finger once you relax. You prop yourself on your elbows and look at him, wondering why he stopped.

“Take your shirt off, Liebling.” König’s voice dripping with lust.

You sit up and pull your shirt over your head before reaching behind you to take your bra off. König watches eagerly to see your breast for the first time. Watching them full and heavy, come out from your bra makes his mouth water even more. He can’t believe how perfect you are.

König begins to pull down his jeans and you watch, jaw dropping once you see the outline of his erection. He pulles his boxer briefs down completely and you see his hard cock full for the first time. Not only is it thick but it's long. You can’t help but to stare and König notices.

“Don’t be scared, I’ll make sure it doesn’t hurt.”

“How…how big are you?”

“Uh, ten inches, I think. A little over. But don’t worry, I won’t push you.”

“Ten?”

König laughs and walks to the bed and lays beside you. He moves his body so that you’re resting close to him while he is on his side. He leans down and kisses your breast, slowly making his way to your nipple to suck on it while he is lifting your leg up with one hand, and moving his cock to rub your pussy with the other.

“Are you ready?”

“I am.” Your voice is weak with pleasure of him touching you.

Moving his mouth from your nipple he begins to kiss your lips. He rests your leg over his body to keep your legs spread as he wraps that arm underneath the back of your head. He breaks the kiss to look at you as the other hand still on his cock slowly pushes into your slick tight cunt. König’s breath goes shaky from the pleasure it’s giving him. He slides his hand up your leg and holds it up for a better angle.

You look back at him and your hands grasp whatever they can find, his pillow and his forearm. Your eyebrows knit together as you moan out his name. His cock pushing deep inside of you like you’ve never felt before. Your walls clench tightly around his fat cock as you feel stuffed for the first time ever.

König begins to thrust into you quickly, his eyes traveling to watch your breast bounce with the motion. Panting hard as his body begins to glisten with sweat. Your sweet moans and sopping wet cunt driving him to his breaking point.

“Y/n,” König moans as he leans down to kiss your lips.

You move your hand from his forearm to his jaw eagerly pressing his lips into yours harder. Moaning into his mouth as his tongue pushes past your lips and begins to circle around every corner of your mouth.

You feel the same overwhelming feeling of pleasure, you know you’re about to cum. You try to turn your head to let out moans but König moves his hand from your leg to your face to keep you kissing him, his tongue dancing with yours as you begin to orgasm.

Without warning König pulls out and steps off the bed. Your body is still trying to calm down. You look at him as he grabs your legs and drags you to the edge of the bed. He rests your legs over his shoulders as his hands grasp your hips. He slips his cock back into your needy pussy and begins to thrust as hard as he can.

Your back arches and you reach out grabbing the bed sheets as you loudly moan König’s name. König has sweat dripping from his forehead as he looks down at you not being able to handle his cock.

“You can take it, Maus, I’m going to cum.”

“Please, cum. Please fuck your cock is so- big.” You moan now looking up at him. Your face contorted from the pleasure.

“Beg for it more.”

“Please cum, please cum in my tight little pussy.”

“Oh, fuck ja, mehr!”

“Please cum in me.” You whimper out as his thrust picks up even more, the sound of his hips slamming into your ass fills the room.

König listens to you beg, watching your eyes glaze over with a lustful look. He nods his head as you beg him to fill your precious little pussy full of his cum. He does.

“Y/n! Fuck!” König moans out, dropping his head back as his cock throbs deep inside of you.

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“Hey sweetie, did you have a good day today?” Chris asks as he walks to you and kisses your cheek.

“Yeah, I did.” You sit still thinking about König, excited for tomorrow.

“Did you do something different with your skincare routine? You look like you’re glowing.”

“Yeah, I did.”

“Well, whatever it is, you should keep doing it.”

“Oh, I will.” You smile, holding your secret.

[harrysfolklore]

not a prize to win - cl16

summary: seeing charles with other admirers makes you upset, even though you know he loves you

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

If looks could kill, you swear that the one you were giving Charles right now would have him buried.

Being with Charles for over three years now, you were used to girls coming over to him all the time. Whether they were fans, reporters or just random women, you had seen it all. Usually, you handled it with grace, trusting in the bond you and Charles had built over the years. But today was different.

The scene replays in your mind, the influencer's high-pitched laughter ringing in your ears. She had sauntered into the Ferrari garage, her confidence palpable as she made a beeline for Charles, draped herself over him, her hands lingering a little too long on his arm, her body a little too close to his.

And what upset you the most, was the fact that Charles didn't stop her.

"Charles, darling, you're going to be amazing out there," she had gushed, batting her eyelashes.

"Thank you," Charles had smiled politely, "I have a good feeling about this race."

You had stood a few feet away, feeling an irrational surge of possessiveness. You wanted to march over, to insert yourself between them, to remind her that Charles was yours. But instead, you had stayed put, your feet rooted to the spot.

Rebecca had noticed your discomfort and had gently steered you away. "Let's go take a walk," she had suggested, leading you out of the garage.

"Do you think I overreacted?" you asked Rebecca as she gave your phone back.

"Not at all, love," she assured, "I mean, If she had been throwing herself at Carlos like that, I would be just as angry."

"I just," you said as you walked back to Ferrari hospitality, "I know he's loyal to me and he wouldn't do anything to hurt me like that, but it's not the first time he's oblivious of people shamelessly flirting with him right in front of me, and that's what upsets me."

"I get it. It's not about trust, it's about respect," Rebecca nodded sympathetically, her arm around your shoulder, "And sometimes, these girls just have no boundaries."

You sighed, feeling a little better having voiced your frustrations. "I just wish he would see it from my perspective."

As you approached the hospitality suite, you made your way towards Charles' room, after saying goodbye to Rebecca and thanking her for listening to you.

You knocked softly on the door, your heart pounding with a mix of anger and apprehension.

"Come in," Charles's voice called from inside.

You pushed the door open and stepped in. Charles looked up from his phone and sighed at the upset look still on your face.

"Amour, are you really mad at me right now?"

"I told you I was," you said, "I and thought you wanted me to come here to talk, not to keep dismissing my feelings."

Charles put his phone down and stood up, walking over to you with a concerned look in his eyes. "I do want to talk, chérie. I'm sorry if I made you feel like I was ignoring your feelings. Please, tell me what's on your mind."

"She was all over you, battling her fake eyelashes and invading your personal space and you didn't mind at all."

"She was just being friendly, that's all," Charles said, trying to keep his patience.

"Just being friendly?" you gave a laugh in disbelief and raised your eyebrows at him, “Charles, that was not just friendly. That was flirtatious and disrespectful,” you said firmly, crossing your arms over your chest, “And you didn't even try to set boundaries.”

Charles sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I didn't want to be rude. She's an influencer and you know the team wants us to interact with them when they visit the garage. It's part of my job.”

"Part of your job? Are you listening to yourself?" your eyes narrowed, "So letting her drape herself all over you is part of your job now?"

"I didn't mean it like that," Charles winced, "I just meant that sometimes, I have to be polite, even if it makes me uncomfortable."

“But at the expense of my feelings?” you shot back, “I stood there feeling like a third wheel while she fawned over you," he reached out to take your hands, but you pulled away, stepping back, "I hate seeing them treat you like some prize they can win. And I hate even more that you don't seem to care."

"I'm sorry amour, I really am," he searched for your eyes but you looked away, "What happened today hurt you and I'm sorry for that. I don't want you to feel this way."

"It's not just about today, Charles," you took a deep breath, trying to collect your thoughts, "It's about how often this happens. Girls come up to you, they flirt, they touch you, and you don't seem to notice or care. And not it turns out it's part of your job to flirt with them."

Charles let out a deep sigh again, putting his hands on his hips and looking away from you. You could tell that he was getting frustrated, but you were upset and you needed to get this out.

"I don't flirt with them," Charles said firmly, turning back to face you. His face now showing a mixture of frustration and a bit of hurt"I might be polite, I might be friendly, but I don't flirt, I never have. The fact that you accuse me of flirting with other girls when you know how much I love you is hurting me."

"Maybe not intentionally, but that's how it feels to me," you replied, your voice softening a bit. "And it hurts me too. I know you love me, but sometimes it feels like you don't see how these interactions affect me."

"Then meet me halfway," he raised his voice a bit, not quite yelling but loud enough to make you flinch a bit, "What should I do? Ignore them or be mean to them so PR can give me shit for that later? Walk around with a 'don't speak to me because my girlfriend gets jealous' sign?"

"Don't yell at me, Charles," your voice came out as barely a whisper.

"I'm not yelling at you," Charles rubbed his face with his hands before looking at you, "I'm not, baby. I'm just trying to understand where you're coming from and why you're so upset about this. I have to get ready for the race shortly and this argument doesn't look like it's ending soon."

"You know what," you threw your hands up in surrender, "Forget I said anything, okay? I'm just a jealous freak who's in the wrong here."

You walked towards the door and grabbed the handle ready to head out, but Charles pulled you by your free hand, "Amour, come on," you turned to look at him, "I'm not getting into the car while we're like this."

"Charles, I don't want to keep arguing either," you said softly, feeling the tension in the air, "I just want you to understand why I feel this way."

Charles sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. "I do understand, amour. I do. And I'm sorry if I made you feel like your feelings don't matter. They do. You matter more to me than anything else," he said sincerely, stepping closer to you.

You looked up at him, seeing the genuine regret in his eyes. Despite your frustration, you knew that Charles didn't mean to hurt you. He was just caught up in the demands of his career, trying to balance his personal life with his public image.

"Go get ready for the race," you said, aware that his team would come get him any minute now, "We'll talk later, but we're okay."

You let Charles pull you closer this time, wrapping your arms around his wait and leaning forward to wrap his around your shoulders as he brought you in for a hug and pecked your head a couple of times, "I love you, okay? Don't you ever doubt that, it hurts me when you do."

"I love you too," you pulled away and pecked his lips softly, "Be safe out there, I'll see you right after."

Charles watched you leave the room, feeling a pang of regret for letting the argument escalate. He knew you were sensitive about these situations, and he hated seeing you upset. But he also felt frustrated by the accusation of flirting, especially when he believed he was just being polite.

As he got ready for the race, his mind kept drifting back to your conversation. He tried to push it aside and focus on the race ahead, but the tension lingered, affecting his concentration.

Despite the distraction, Charles managed to put in a solid performance, crossing the finish line and securing a spot on the podium. The crowd cheered as he stepped out of his car, but his mind was elsewhere. He couldn't shake off the argument with you, the hurt in your eyes haunting him.

After the podium celebrations and the interviews, Charles made his way back to the Ferrari hospitality suite. He hoped you would still be there, that you would be willing to talk and resolve things.

You were waiting for him, perched on one of the couches in the hospitality suite, your arms wrapped around yourself as you watched the post-race interviews on the screen. When Charles walked in, still in his racing suit, your eyes met and he walked towards you.

"Hey," he said softly, approaching you cautiously.

"Hey," you replied, standing up and taking a step towards him. "Congratulations on the podium."

"Thank you," he said, but there was a hesitance in his voice.

The soft look on his face was too much for you to handle, so you threw your arms around his broad shoulders and buried your face on his neck. You felt a sigh of relief leave his body and his arms come around your back.

"I hate fighting with you," you said against his neck, "Sorry for being such a brat today and almost ruining your race."

"You're not a brat, amour," Charles held you tighter, his voice gentle as he spoke, "And you didn't ruin anything. I'm sorry too for not understanding sooner."

You pulled back slightly to look at him, your fingers tracing the lines of his racing suit. "I just get so scared sometimes, seeing all those girls trying to get your attention. I know you love me, but it's hard to watch."

"I understand, and I'll try to be more mindful," Charles cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears that had started to fall, "I don't want you to feel like you're not my priority because you are, always."

You leaned into him again, resting your head on his chest and feeling his hand draw circles around your back, feeling the familiar comfort of his embrace.

He leaned forward, pressing a kiss on your forehead, both cheeks, and eventually your lips.

"I love you, Charlie. And I know I can be a bit jealous sometimes, but it's just because I care so much about you."

"I love you too, more than anything," he replied, his voice warm and soothing, "It's kind of hot when you get all jealous and possessive, I have to admit."

You pinched his side playfully, making him squirm, "Not when it makes us fight though, I hate when we do that."

You smiled up at Charles, feeling the tension finally dissapear, "Promise me you'll try to be more aware of those situations? And if a girl gets too handsy, you'll shut it down?"

"I promise, amour. No more obliviousness on my part," Charles said, pressing a kiss to your forehead, "And I'll make sure to maintain appropriate boundaries."

"Good," you said, snuggling closer to him. "Because you're all mine, Leclerc."

"Like I said, possessive. It turns me on," Charles teased, placing his hand above your bum.

"Charles, stop!" you moved his hand away, "We're still at your workplace with all of teammates around."

"Let's get out of here, then."

[st4rbwrry]

𝒞𝑅𝒜𝒵𝒴 𝐼𝒩 𝐿𝒪𝒱𝐸.

⸝⸝ ౨ৎ :: sukuna can’t accept that you’ve moved on. thinks you just need some dick to remind you where home is. ;)

warnings 𑄽𑄺 2.3k. fem reader, lowercase intended, she/her pronouns, black coded. dilf!sukuna, fluff + smut duh, jealousy, sukuna's a cheater n we're dumb, daddy kink, body worship, choking, body worship, dry humping if you squint, consensual coercion, cum play, toxic relationship, sneaky sex, minors aren't welcomed!

꒰ 𝑚𝑜𝑐ℎ𝑎'𝑠 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑠 .ᐟ ꒱; this is very old, originally a self ship but i just wanted to post it bc i have a lot of old fics sitting in the drafts etc.

sukuna clenches his jaw whenever he notices the new love interest in your life, nearly causing a fight one day you threw a cookout for your family and the man you're currently 'dating' is playing football with your daughter, seeing the stranger pick her up and spin her around when she scores a touchdown. it boils his blood to see your daughter smile at someone who isn't her father. sukuna awaits at the doorstep of his home, or 'ours' as he likes to call it, still delusional about your separation, claiming it's a break when it wasn't . . hands tucked into his dark gray sweatpants pockets with a smile on his usually stern face as he watches your tiny daughter run to him with giggles and bratz dolls in her hands. sukuna crouches low to grab her with a purposely exaggerated grunt, commenting on how big she's getting with a laugh.

you slam the door to your car, retrieving your daughter's duffel bag filled with things she needed for the weekend at daddy's. sukuna holds his child at his hip. you smile at her as she constantly pokes at his cheek to grab his lost attention. he couldn't keep his eyes off you. looking you up down with that all too familiar glint in his eyes. you raise your brow, glaring down at yourself dressed in a black maxi skirt that touches your ankles and a white lace top, feet in black sandals.

"what?"

"going somewhere?" he questions with authority.

"my house and back. i can't look nice?"

"you look good," you ignore the way he licks his pink lips, your daughter tapping his shoulder for the millionth time, the four-year-old always wanting to be the star of the show.

"daddy, can we watch bratz fashion ‘ixies with mommy?!" the little girl screeches excitedly.

"mommy has to go, baby," you drain the light from her face, the child frowning. sukuna eyes you.

"why?" they say periodically. you stare him down with annoyance. now she's gonna question me. before you can even speak, she's at it again.

"but we haven't watched it in months," she whines. "we watch it every day with all three of us."

sukuna sighs, rubbing her back. "it's okay, honey. me and you can just—"

"i'll stay," you cut him off immediately, not fond of seeing your daughter cry. his puppy dog act was irritating. he grins mischievously.

your daughter cheers and you lean forward to pinch her chubby cheeks, speed walking to your car to pull into the driveway before entering the familiar home, feeling somewhat vacant. the vibe is off, but a little nostalgic. you haven't stepped foot into this place in months, unable to, the idea bringing back too many unwanted memories. your divorce wasn't pretty; finding sukuna messing with another woman when you searched through his phone one day to find the messages, his excuses replaying in your head, all bullshit.

she was just one night. one night over six years? they were high-school sweethearts, and he tore that apart for a one-time fling. didn't make sense, never will. it's awkward when you stand in the kitchen you used to cook your happy family meals every day to see him make your daughter lunch for her movie, combing at her curly hair with your fingers as she went on about how she ate dyed eggs for green eggs and ham day at school. the movie was the same as usual, both of you sitting adjacent to her as she ate her lunch and enjoyed the film, falling asleep on sukuna's shoulder thirty minutes in.

school must've taken it out of her. sukuna stretches his arms, breathing out a 'finally' which makes you laugh, standing along with him as he carries her and you shut off the tv, checking a text from the man you're currently fooling around with, nothing serious. just experimenting the dating life again.

you home today? i wanna see you.

you sigh, dropping your shoulders tiredly. you weren't in the mood to see him. he was a funny guy, enjoyable to be around, and made your daughter laugh . . .but he's obscenely clingy. you liked your space, and he didn't know the meaning of it. on top of that, the sex was mediocre. nothing compared to how sukuna fucked me. you dissociated with the world momentarily, chewing on your lip as flashbacks hit, zoning out the sound of sukuna's heavy steps approaching.

"she's tucked in."

your eyes lock onto the veins bulging out of his arms, the white tee he wore hugging his muscles, and the platinum chain swinging around his neck making your face hot. dammit, stop. your stare lingers longer than you expect, sukuna lowering his face to catch your attention with a smirk.

"hello? you good?"

"yeah, sorry," you clear your throat.

"check me out all you want baby, it's still yours."

"sukuna," you roll your eyes, locking your phone and finding your car keys, needing to be as far away from him as possible before you do something you regret.

"what? i'm joking," he furrows his brows when you begin strutting towards the front door, mumbling about how your daughter's ballet recitals on sunday and not to forget to monitor her junk food intake. his hand clasps around your wrist to stop you.

"stay. i wanna talk to you."

"there's nothing to talk about."

"are you dating him?" he's straightforward, watching the muscle in his jaw clench.

"that's none of your business."

"i have a right to know who's around my daughter. yes or no? or are you just fuckin' him?"

"why?" you yank your arm away, getting in his face, barely with your height. "does it hurt your feelings? well, guess karmas a bitch."

sukuna chuckles darkly, raising his arm to tug at his bi-colored hair with frustration. "man, you're still on that shit."

you raise your brow with fury. he's shitting me. "on that . . . are you fucking serious? you tellin' me i don't have a reason to say fuck you for cheating on me?"

"all she did was suck my dick, you're acting like i was in her shit," he rolls his eyes, shrugging his shoulder with zero care in the world. "i've apologized a million times. it was one stupid night where we were at each other's throats and she just so happened to be around . . so."

"you know what." you scoff, not having time for this stupid shit. men always have bullshit excuses when trying to justify cheating. you didn't care if he kissed the bitch, cheating is cheating. you managed to bypass him, walking around the couch until he was back in your face fast once again.

you clenched your keys in your fists, ready to claw at his face with them. "what do you want?"

it's silent for a moment, the hard stare he has on you makes you feel small, folding your arms over your midsection, waiting for his response.

"i need some pussy," he whispers gravelly, slowly licking his lips and grabbing at your waist. you swallow, trying to ignore the sudden throbbing at your clit. chill out.

"text your other bitch. i'm sure she'll give it to you."

"only your sweet fuckin' pussy," now his hands are smoothing to your backside, smacking his heavy, veiny palm on your ass to draw you closer, squeezing the flesh between his long fingers. you gasp, eyes wide as you feel the outline of his dick against your stomach. his fingers are dangerously close to your pussy. "daddy misses it so much."

you inhale, shifting to try your best and break from his barricade, shoving him away which barely makes him stumble. "i'm leaving."

thinking this is your final attempt at actually leaving, that relief gets knocked down the instant his hand grabs the back of your neck and brings you back to him, his mouth pressed to the side of your neck where he breathes and kisses wetly. you freeze, the ache below never subsiding in his hold. sukuna's lifting your skirt before another word falls from your pretty little mouth, shoving his hand into your matching white lace, smirking from the ocean flowing on his thick fingers.

"you need some dick, don't you?" he whispers hotly behind your earlobe, rushing his tongue there at the same time he circles your clit, falling back into his warm chest, dropping your keys altogether. "he not hitting it right? doesn't do it like me, does he?"

shamelessly, you nod your head in agreement, giving up because you know he's right and this is what you need. you know he can give you things no other man could. it hasn't been the same ever since. any man you've been with aside from him hasn't met up to those standards. sukuna raised your pussy to only come back to him. trained to accommodate him. cum from him. fuck him. for any other man to take possession of what he crafted would be fucking fowl.

"you miss me?" sukuna hums, walking you both towards the black couch in the living room you moved too far away from your previous escape. your knees are dented into the seat, arms thrown over the back as sukuna groans low in his throat, pupils blown with lust as he tugs your panties to sit at the middle of your thighs. he presses his clothed cock to you, grinding slowly to make you feel it, let you know how much he misses you more. "you miss daddy, baby?"

you keen, face buried into your forearms shyly, rocking back onto him, feeling yourself soak his pants. sukuna hisses and smacks your ass again, pussy clenching from the attack. you whine. "yes. miss you."

"daddy misses you too," he's swift with his actions, already tugging at his dick leaking absurd amounts of precum, circling the angry red tip on your entrance before sinking in only halfway, wanting you to remember how to take him. you moan quietly, biting at your arm and taking lead by pushing back onto him, only to have sukuna retract his hips.

"don't be greedy, you'll hurt yourself." it echoes in your head when he says this, smiling cutely, loving that he cared, unlike other men. and he's kind of right. he's perfectly thick, long to the point where it surpasses his belly button. it was always hard for you to fully wrap your hand around it, towering your face whenever he stood over you, veins decorating up the underside. he draws his hips back, carefully driving into you, rolling his waist effortlessly to make you savor every ridge of his cock.

"doesn't it feel so fuckin' good?" he asks with his lip tucked between his teeth, rolling his eyes back once he starts it up, hooking you by your handles and yanking you back as he fucks you, fascinated by the jelly-like bounce your ass makes as you throw it back.

his wife was always one to never hold back her sounds, whimpering and moaning to your hearts delight. sukuna has your back arched with his other palm, reaching behind yourself to clutch at his veiny forearm, the two of you locking eyes as you glare up at him to see him slowly losing it. so much pent-up sexual frustration from not having you for months. not being able to touch another woman since so it pisses him off to know you could easily fuck another man without feeling the same. he's getting mad just thinking about it, clenching his jaw tight as he fucked you harder, deeper. you're clawing at his arm and crying his name, sukuna coming to his senses momentarily, forgetting they had a daughter who's asleep upstairs.

he moves your hand away, entwining both his large palms over your mouth and pulling you back to his chest where your head rests, sukuna standing straight as your back dips even more, cursing as your eyes switch white and you sing into his hands shielding the sweet symphonic tones.

"you forgive me?" he breathes shakily on your forehead, ruts becoming sloppy when that familiar heat twitches in his gut. this he could excuse; cumming too fast just to brush off the burning arousal for you. he'd savor you later on when it truly mattered. he'd make love to you to prove that he still loves you, that he's different now, that he'd never fuck up a good thing again. right now, he just wanted to fuck you so you know he's not letting you leave anytime soon.

your brown eyes are slanted softly, whines and delicate nods of your head are what takes him there, dropping his hands from your mouth, choking you lightly as he mashed his mouth onto yours, moaning with you as you tremble and orgasm. he stays inside you a little longer, fearing that warmth would dissipate if he stayed out too long. sukuna swallows, catching his breath and darting his attention to the way his cum flows out of you after you fall forward, taking his index and middle finger to collect it and shove it back inside. you laugh at him with a silent 'fuck off' and smack his hand away. he grins happily, massaging your backside adoringly. this isn't a pass that you're going back to him. but having you in his presence as of now was a start he could be satisfied with.

© 𝒮𝒯𝟦𝑅𝐵𝒲𝑅𝑅𝒴! all rights reserved. please do not repost, steal, or modify my work simply because it is mine. stealing isn't cute. i'll ruin your life ♡