pol

then it’s the bomb that will bring us together

[alicehighflyingbirds]

🇧🇷 | 19 | law student | 🇵🇸🇲🇲🇨🇩

[highflyingcami]

KISSING LESSONS

cw: pre-fame!noel; innocent!reader; mentions of weed use; corruption kink; pervy and slightly manipulative noel; first kiss; fingering; m. masturbation; voyeurism (?); oral f. receiving; loss of virginity; noel is big <3

𑣲 word count: 10,3k. ˊˎ-

wn: yeah okay this might be a liiiiittle unrealistic for virginity loss. but u guys. let's just vibe okay. i had a blassst writing this #ilovepervymen <3 based on this BRILLIANT ask !!!! ily anon

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★ 1994.

you had been sitting in front of the mirror for what feels like an eternity. you know that’s normal when nerves are creeping in, but right now, after fantasizing – or dreading – this date for a whole week, it feels like something is off.

it happened at the pub, noel and liam had just finished performing when tom approached.

he was sweet. he was in the same class as one of your friends and he kept his hands where you could see them. he didn’t let liam’s loudness startle him – maybe noel’s stare a little. but oh well.

at the end of the evening, just as you were saying goodbye far too early and he had just come back from a smoke outside, he asked you out. he did it casually, mentioned a nicer pub down his street that had incredible fish and chips.

you said yes, part because you wanted to and part because you never really knew how to say no – your cheeks get warmer just at the thought of coming up with an excuse that sounds silly.

but right now, you were fidgety. your lipstick didn’t quite look right, the mascara looked clumpy and you think you might’ve overdone it with the blush. christ almighty.

and of course, noel wasn’t helping.

he stayed sat down – nearly laying – on your bed from the moment he walked inside your room, back rested on your headboard and some pillows, arm absentmindedly resting over some plushie toy he had mocked you for several times already, legs sprawled over the mattress.

he quickly realized that watching you fret over your reflection was quite amusing.

it’s a contrast no one really knew how to explain why the fuck it would work, you two. but it did.

noel had this annoying calmness over him. smugness, even – the kind that made him walk through the door of your house at the same time your mum was leaving for her night shift and not even tremble in his trainers with fear that she might realize he was off his tits.

eh. i chewed a piece of gum. put some cologne on to disguise the smell. the red eyes are just tiredness, miss. band’s beggining to take off right now, do you know what i mean? writing too many songs. oh yes, of course i can give your nephew a few guitar lessons, and don’t even fret, i wouldn’t dream of charging him.

at her playful words “take care of my girl” he gave her a charming smile alongside a polite nod that said when don’t i?

have a lovely shift!

while you were a pile of nerves, constantly. always worried of saying the wrong thing at the wrong time, always overthinking and shaking like a scared little puppy just for correcting a wrong order at a new restaurant.

now wouldn’t be any different.

you were nervous for this date – terrified, really. your hands kept fumbling and knocking over little bits of makeup that clattered softly against the floor. you didn’t notice how many times you bent down to grab them, muttering “fuck sake” to yourself, cheeks already warm with frustration.

noel had to fight back a smirk every time you did, because what you hadn’t noticed either is that every time you’d bend down, the clumsy action would give noel first class seats to look at your new pair of lacy blue underwear.

yeah, yeah. he’s a prick. but you see, it seems like the weed he has smoked went straight to his cock rather than to his head. so much that, for the first time ever, he’s deeply considering actually making a move on his cute little girl mate.

you’ve done it five times by now. from the second one foward he’s been hard underneath his jeans. having to adjust himself every single time, even tilting his head to follow the way your skirt flaps up… and down.

he has noticed you’ve got a nice arse before. but christ… this is new.

he could tell you bought the pair just for tonight. he knows you won’t do anything, but still. it was there – that silent desire of finally understanding what all the fuss was about.

the thought made his cock stir inside his trousers once more. god, you’re so cute. so sweet. but at the same time, it made his jaw tighten. the thought of some boring prick getting to see that blue lace hugging that perfect ass? fucking unacceptable.

you’re not gonna do it with the lad, that’s for fucking sure. so… what kind of friend will noel be if he lets your precious money on these pretty pair of underwear go to waste? it would be a tragedy to let those knickers stay dry all night.

“what’s the lad’s name again?” he asked, tone unbothered.

you sighed shakily, shaking your head at your reflection and muttering out quietly, whispering exasperated. “doesn’t… fucking look right…” you talked about the eyeliner, completely ignoring noel’s question.

“oi. ‘m talking to ya,” noel called out. not rude, a little amused to be honest. he raised his brows and smirked faintly as you turned your head towards him, finally paying attention. “the lad’s name, love. what is it?”

you inhaled, already turning back to your reflection. “tom.”

noel scoffed. and before he could say anything, you cut in. “i know. but he’s… nice. he’s sweet, noel.” you said softly, tone dripping with sweetness despite the nerves.

he snorts at that, laying further back on the pillows with his neck slightly propped up so he could keep looking at you. he puts his arms behind his head as he winds you up. “he the king of england or summat?” he mutters. “know it’s your first date and all but, fuckin’ hell.”

you frown a little at his tone, glancing at him through the mirror. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“means you’re actin’ like it’s life or death. it’s a pint and some chips, not a bloody wedding.”

you huff softly, turning back to your reflection and immediately looking down at the table, makeup products scattered everywhere.

“it’s…” you cut yourself off with a soft sigh, putting the cap back onto your lipstick as an attempt to make this less embarrassing, “it’s not just that, noel...”

“what is it, then?” he presses in a little further, not mean. not curious, either, because he knows. of course he does. he just wants to hear you say it, he just wants you to give him his perfect cue.

you hesitate. and then, “i’ve never… never kissed anyone before.” quieter now, like you’re admitting something embarrassing.

he stays quiet for a second. like something’s just clicked into place, something he had already figured out was now being handed to him properly. his tongue presses into his cheek, tilting his head as his eyes drag over you in the mirror again.“that so, love?” he says, lowly.

you nod a little, already embarrassed, already looking down again, watching your fingers fiddle with the edge of your skirt. “yeah. it’s— i mean. it’s not a big deal.”

he doesn’t say anything else, he just keeps watching the back of your head. until your turn, eyebrows slightly scrunched together, hands on your lap picking at your rings.

“right?” you ask, quieter, needing him to confirm it, to tell you it’s not as nervewrecking as it suddenly feels.

his tongue darts out to lick his lips, a small effort to hold himself from smirking at the sight of you. your pretty face, your lips tinted with lipstick, the way you’re sitting there all unsure and soft and a little too trusting for your own good.

then he exhales lightly through his nose and tilts his head, patting the mattress – your mattress – beside him. “c’mere.”

your heart skips a beat. “what?”

“c’mere, love” he repeats, nodding once toward himself, like it’s obvious.

you hesitate, but not for long. because it’s noel, isn’t it? your noel. so you step forward, slow, until you’re standing right beside the bed, knees nearly brushing the mattress.

he reaches out, taking your hand like it’s the most natural thing in the world, his thumb warm and grounding as it glides over your knuckles. “well… that can’t happen, can it?” he says softly, a touch of thoughtfulness.

you furrow your brows softly, looking at his face while he gently holds your hand. “what can’t?”

“you goin’ out there like that, love” he says, like it’s a fact, giving your hand a small squeeze. “never been kissed, don’t know what you’re doin’… you’ll just embarrass yourself.”

you swallowed gruffly, because he’s just putting into words what you’ve been worried all along. “i— no-“

“you will,” he cuts in, even softer this time. “gonna freeze up. overthink it. lad’ll think you don’t fancy him.”

you falter. then you sigh, slowly plopping down and sitting right on the edge of the bed, the mattress sinking softly right beside him as he watches you.

his hand that’s holding yours drops until it’s resting on your lap, “s’okay. birdie…” he coos, letting go of your hand and caressing your thigh – reassuring, but he takes the opportunity to slip a finger under the hem of your skirt, like it’s accidental.

you’re so in your head you don’t even think too much about it. and it feels nice too…

“just… thought… about just— just going with it, you know?… see what happens…” you said quietly. you shifted your head so you could look at his eyes, but you didn’t quite meet his blue gaze back – too entranced by the sight of his hand sliding over your thighs, caressing it.

he gave your leg a soft squeeze, shaking his head. “nah, that’s rubbish, love…” he said lowly, still gliding his hand over your thigh, finally looking back at you like he was deeply concerned. “can’t have you goin’ out there clueless. not with a lad who doesn’t know you…” – he then did a little tsc with his tongue like he couldn’t stand at the thought – “that’s just not right. what if he tells his friends?”

your hands were shaking now, and he could tell if he pressed in a little further he could make you fucking cry. he won’t. not like this, at least. so he took your shaking hands into his, holding them gently.

“tell you what, though.” he says softly, like he’s offering you something harmless. “i’ll help you, yeah?”

you blinked at him, eyebrows furrowing softly as you watched him shift. he sat straighter up, his broad back properly resting against your headboard now, legs slightly spread in the way men’s always are.

before you could even process what he was implying, even before heat could flush up to your cheeks at the mere thought, noel’s hands slowly moved.

his grip on your hands tightens just slightly, guiding you forward until your knees pressed into the mattress and then – just as easily – he’s pulling you onto his lap, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“there we go…” he murmurs, voice low, pleased with himself in a way that makes your lower belly tighten.

your body stiffens over his lap. because you’re wearing a skirt, and you know your body, don’t you? you know that this, just this, will already get you wound up. right over his lap, with too little pieces of fabric to disguise.

“noel…” you start quietly, even try to shift away so it doesn’t get that embarrassing.

but his hands find your hips, over the fabric of your skirt. they’re big, so the smallest amount of steadiness from his palms keeps you right where you are, in the gentlest, warmest way. “shhh… hey, s’alright. just easier to snog like this, innit?” he says easily, thumbs brushing small patterns on your hips.

you swallow, hands going to his shoulders to steady yourself. your heart is racing now. too fast, too loud. you nod anyway, because he’s right. he always sounds right.

he nods softly. a small smirk tugs at the corners of his lips as his hand moves to your back, rubbing it in gentle wide circles, while the other one approaches your face. “relax, yeah?” he says, brushing your hair back from your face before settling back on your thigh.

you nod again, nervously looking down at yourself straddling his lap. your skirt has ridden up a little with the movement, and his hands are resting warm against your thighs, now knuckles underneath the hem as he brushes slow, absentminded patterns that don’t feel absentminded at all.

he smirks as he follows your gaze. his hands slide a little higher, just under the hem of your skirt, fingertips grazing skin that feels too sensitive all of a sudden. “cute skirt, y’know,” he adds casually, like that’s all.

“we’ll just… practice a bit. then you’ll know what you’re doin’, yeah?” he shifts under you as he says it, casually. the movement makes you inhale shakily, anyway. your hands tighten on his shoulders without thinking.

maybe it’s the thickness of his jeans.

you don’t really know what an erection feels like. not properly, so definitely not when it’s pressed right up against you with barely anything in between. but there’s something there. something firm, warm, twitching slightly every time either of you move, and it makes you swallow harshly.

your hips shifting just slightly, involuntarily, like you’re trying to adjust, or maybe trying to understand the feeling better.

noel nearly smirks at the sight, because he knows what’s going on down there. and of course you’d react like that, wouldn’t you?

he doesn’t adress it, though. not yet.

his hands slowly slide from the front of your thighs to the side of your hips, his fingertips brushing the soft skin of the ass he’s unapologetically been staring at for the last hour or so.

he leans in, slowly.

then, he whispers, “no rush, yeah? just… follow my lead.”

his breath brushes your lips as he says it. the delicious mixture of mint gum and weed and cigarettes makes you dumbly nod, involuntarily leaning in as an attempt to meet him halfway.

the kiss starts slow.

at first, it’s a press of lips followed by a soft breath leaving your nostrils. you’re not quite sure what to do next, thankfully, noel’s hand goes to the side of your face, gently resting over your cheek and his thumb lightly pressing down on your chin so you can open your mouth for his tongue.

when it does, you can’t really stifle a tiny moan in. because his tongue feels so soft against yours, slow and perfectly warm. it only makes him hum, pleased, like he’s just proven a point. his hand slides down to the side of your neck while the other stays over the soft skin of your hip, feeling your muscles tense underneath his touch – he can even feel the way you’re throbbing right over his clothed, warm erection.

the kiss turns a little wetter, messier despite still slow. quiet little sounds – of your tongues moving, of the tiny and wet sounds of your lips smooching, of your breath catching – fill the room in between your shaky inhales.

the soft sounds could be passed as something sweet and tender if your knickers hadn’t been ruined already. it would be romantic if noel didn’t really know what he was doing to you. if it wasn’t on purpose, but all of it is. every soft squeeze he gives your thighs are filled with intention, every accidental shift of his hips is purposely to add the tiny pressure that makes you clench around nothing.

your hands don’t really know where to go at first, hovering awkwardly before finally settling on him, gripping at his shoulders, then sliding up. the soft absence of his hair slips right between your digits.

he moans at the feeling of your hands sliding over his neck, his shoulders, his jaw…

you feel it like a fucking lightning. because your body reacts to everything, to every slow drag of his tongue and every heavy breath he lets out. it doesn’t take much before your hips twitch over his lap, a small, involuntary movement that gives you away completely.

noel pulls back just enough to look at you, and his lips – smudged with your lipstick and slick with spit – are already curling up into a smirk.

“what’s wrong?” he asks, voice low, amused. he already knows the answer.

your chest moves faster than usual, your eyes search for his but nothing comes out of your stammering mouth.

his hands slide down your thighs again, slow and deliberate. he caresses the skin under your skirt like it’s nothing. “d’you wanna stop?…” he adds, softer.

but he doesn’t wait for an answer. instead, he slowly leans in until his lips are on your neck.

your breath catches instantly, your eyes flutter shut and your hands wrap around his biceps like you’re holding on for dear life. because you don’t want to stop – you just don’t know what’s happening to you. you’ve never felt this aroused before.

he continues leaving wet and slow kisses along your skin. his nose brushes under your ear and he takes in the sweet scent of the perfume you’d put on for another lad – he smirks to himself, because right now, your body keeps reacting to him.

you try to say something, but it comes out broken.

he pulls away then, looking at your glassy eyes. his hand slowly shifts to your face, brushing your hair away as he watches you, like he’s not doing all of this on purpose. “d’you wanna stop, darling?” he asks again, like he doesn’t know the answer already.

you shake your head eagerly, “n-no… no…”

he raises his brows, gentle and mocking all at once. still smirking. “no?” he asks softly, shaking his head just like you, but slower.

“no… it’s… it’s okay. don’t… don’t have to stop, noel” you try to reassure him calmly, like your head isn’t spinning.

“yeah?…” he asks sweetly, leaning in and pressing another kiss to your lips. he feels you trying to slide your tongue inside his mouth again, but he doesn’t do it back – he just smirks against your lips and carries on. “why d’you get all nervous, then?”

your mouth opens, closes again. your breath is uneven as you try to come up with something, because how do you even say it? that if you even move an inch he’ll be able to hear how wet you are?

but noel shakes his head slowly, “s’okay, love…” he murmurs, voice low as his hands slide over your ass – caressing and grabbing it softly, slowly. “can feel it, y’know.”

you swallow, eyebrows pinching together for a moment as he drags you over his crotch. he just hums in response, leaning in again and saying it against your lips: “fucking soaked through, baby. no need to lie, is there?”

you breathe out his name, needy.

he gives you a soft kiss, gentle, almost like he feels bad. “poor birdie. don’t even know what to do with it, do you?” he says quietly, fondly.

your face burns instantly, breath catching as you shake your head just a little, more instinct than anything else. far too gone to realize that you’re full on admitting it.

he just coos you in response, nodding softly, “yeah… i know, i know…”

his hands grab your ass a tad firmer, pulling you closer and making you shift on his lap. he guides you forward, making you slowly rub yourself over his hard and warm cock strained underneath his jeans. he shows you that he’s equally as turned, like it’s just part of the lesson. “feel that?” he says, quieter now, almost amused.

you let out another tiny moan, a shaky one as your head dips forward, forehead resting on the side of his neck as you nod, shyly.

he exhales softly through his nose. “see? feelin’ it too. means you’re doin’ it right, yeah?” he adds. his hands slide again, almost lazy and a tad bolder as they caress your inner thighs now. “hard as fuck. jus’ for you.”

you breathe out his name, eyebrows furrowing just from how bad you want it. his fingers come up again, brushing lightly over your jaw, turning your face just enough so he can look at you properly.

your lipstick is ruined. your lips a little swollen from kissing. your eyes are glassy in that pretty pleading way.

he shakes his head, caressing your cheek. “look at you…” he murmurs, dragging his thumb across your bottom lip, smearing it just a little more. “can’t send you out like this, can i?”

you blink at him, dazed. “y-yeah?” you whisper.

“yeah, darling. can't go out like this… date won’t be any good if you're this worked up. you'll be distracted. wouldn't be fair to the lad, yeah? need to clear your head first.”

you stammer a little, but he’s quick to cut off any logic thing you might say – he’s your friend, you’ve got a date, you’ve never done this before… anything that might keep you from crossing the line you desperately want to.

“nah, love… s’alright… just gotta help you first, don’t i? lemme make you feel good, then you go to your lad. how's that sound, hm?"

it sounds logical in the hazy fog of his scent and the ache between your legs – especially when his mouth is back at your neck again, slow and warm and distracting.

you nod dumbly, trusting his shitty excuse because you simply don't know any better, and noel always seemed to know everything.

“y-yeah…” you breathe out.

“yeah? sounds good?” he asks softly, already sliding his palm upwards your inner thigh.

you nod eagerly, eyes glassy as you watch his face and the way he’s completely mesmerized by your needy expression. he’s mirroring your action and nodding back, nearly mocking and fully smug.

his finger press down your needy clit over the drenched fabric of your knickers, your hands immediately grasp his shoulders.

his brows furrow for a moment. “fuck… look how wet you are…” he says it lowly, nearly breathing it out, like he’s impressed and feels bad at the same time.

you moan as he starts circling your clit, eyes tightening shut as he drags out the pad of his fingertips over the slick fabric.

“n-noel… i…”

“what, hm?”

“please…”

he smirks at your plea, tipping his chin and saying lowly, “this ain’t enough f’you, hm?”

you let out a shaky huff, shyly shaking your head no. noel hums in response, leaning in to give you another slow kiss. his tongue drags warm and lazy against yours, and you melt into it immediately, hips pathetically searching for more of his touch.

then, his fingers slide underneath the lace. you break the kiss with a gasp, one that immediately becomes a moan. he presses a soft peck over your lips, the corner of your mouth – the fabric clinging to his knuckles doesn’t stopping him from circling your clit with a ridiculous precision you’ve only fantasized about.

“better?” he asks quietly, lips brushing yours again like he’s being gentle.

you nod desperately, your bottom lip feels a little sore from how much you’ve been biting it. he breathes out a tiny laugh at it, shaking his head once to himself as his gaze trails down your body.

his eyes land on your thighs spread for him right over his lap. your skirt is pushed up, allowing him to watch his fingers rubbing circles around your clit, the drenched fabric pulled to the side exposing you to him.

the wet and soft sounds of his fingers working your cunt make him lick his lips, tilting his head so he can even get a better look – furrowing his thick eyebrows nearly in pleasure just at the sight.

“such a pretty cunt you’ve got here, love” he praises, and his voice makes your head spin – tipping to the side without you even meaning to, eyes closing and lips agape as you softly pant.

he hums at your needy sounds, but his eyes stay fixed where you’re soaking his fingers. “mhm… look how wet it is…” he says nearly absentmindedly as he watches it attentively, like he wants to commit the sight to memory. “so pretty… looks so sweet…” he murmurs, lower now.

his free hand moves closer, his index and middle fingers spread your lips apart, his other hand still slowly stimulating your clit in gentle and precise circles.

“no one else has ever touched you here, yeah? just me, innit?” he asks barely above a whisper.

you shake your head, fast and eager and needy. he hums in response, slowly nodding like he’s almost proud of the fact. not pulling his eyes away from your cunt even for a second.

his two fingers rubbing your clit widen the motion, slowly, until they’re teasing right over your entrance – picking up the wetness you’re letting out and feeling you clench around nothing. but he didn't go in.

he just keeps teasing your needy opening. dragging down… and taking a little longer to go back to your clit again. then, he repeats like it’s nothing, like you’re not a whimpering mess already, nearly begging.

because he wants to hear it.

“please,” you breathe it out, whispered like you’re embarrassed by it. your head involuntarily shifts closer to him, lips accidentally bumping against his jaw. “noel… please. please, noel…”

he smirks, only then looking up. “what?… d’you want me to put it in?” he asks, breath warm against your lips. slowing down even more.

your breath stutters, and you nod eagerly. your hands clutch at the sides and back of his neck, forehead nearly pressing against his. “p-please,” you beg, and it comes out small, needy. breaking around the edges. “i’ve… i’ve done it myself. it’s okay, you can—”

he smirks even wider. his lips press against yours a little firmer now, his finger pushed in just enough to tease you, then away.

“yeah?” he says roughly, still quiet. his head tilts just slightly, eyes dragging over your face and taking in how you’re trying to not break the kiss. “you have, have you?”

you nod, fast, desperate. already dragging him for another kiss, panting a little harder.

then, he moves his hand away. the stammering protests die in your throat as he speaks, before you can chase his touch again.

“show me then.”

your heart drops. heat crawls up to your face so fast you feel like it could explode your head. “w-what?”

he keeps his eyes on your face when he takes your hand – his fingers gently wrapping around your wrist before you can even think about pulling away. he looks down to watch his hand guiding yours.

“show me how you do it when you’re alone, love” he murmurs, like it’s the most reasonable thing in the world.

you hesitate, eyebrows furrowing softly. he does a soft ‘tsc’ with his tongue, his thumb caressing your wrist while his other hand rests on your thigh, spreading them further on his lap. he tips his chin towards you softly, the way when he’s silently saying cmon.

“said you’ve done it before, sweetheart. let me see how you like it, hm?”

he can feel your hand shaking, he can see how you swallow roughly at his request and at how he’s not letting you back out in the gentle, softest tone.

you don’t pull away, you simply obey.

your hand trembles so violently it’s a miracle you can even find your own entrance, but the moment your own skin touches the slick, swollen folds of your cunt, a tiny sob catches in your throat.

he hums quietly as he keeps the gentle grip on your wrist, pushing your hand softly until your digit slips, so easily it feels like you’re doing it all on your own. you’re so wet it’s effortless, your hole greedily swallowing your finger as you start a slow pace.

it’s different when he’s watching – everything feels hotter, shameful and perfect all at once. and his voice, his hands, his smell… him. everything about it makes your head spin.

“that’s it…” he murmurs, almost under his breath, pleased. “good girl…”

his words makes your movements falter for half a second before picking back up again. your finger slides in and out so slowly it makes a gushy noise every time – one that’s like music to noel’s ears. you curl them softly every time you push in, but it’s not enough to reach your most sensitive spot.

his thumbs dig in softly in the flesh of your thighs every time a tiny moan slips out of you. noel’s eyes are blown wide, tracking every movement of your hand, lips parting as he watches.

he nods absentmindedly, not pulling his gaze away. he shifts one of his hand, pressing his palm over the aching bulge that’s formed inside his trousers, while his other thumb keeps brushing soft patterns on your inner thigh.

“how many, hm?” he asks quietly, voice dipping lower as his head tilts slightly, eyes dragging back up to your face. “how many fingers have you put in, hm?”

you whimper softly, clenching around your own finger and closing your eyes as you furrow your brows, shyly. “noel…”

his hand resting on your inner thigh moves until the pad of his thumb presses over your clit. you gasp at the feeling, head tipping back and the words escaping before you can even realize.

“t-fuck. one… one, noel”

“yeah, love? just like that, then, yeah?” he asks softly, still drawing slow circles on your clit as your own finger slides in and out. you nod, desperately – his other hand immediately shifting to the button of his jeans at the sight.

his thumb keeps moving as he slowly drags his own zipper down. like he’s in no rush at all.

“and what d’ya think about, hm?” he murmurs, voice low.

your breath hitches, your head shakes faintly, more instinct than anything else.

“course you do, love,” he cuts in softly before you can even try to deny it. his thumb presses just a little more firmly, enough to make another moan catch in your throat again. “everyone does…”

your head drops foward, face now buried on the side of his neck as your hips stutter. he smirks to himself, turning his head enough to whisper right in your ear.

“what d’you think about when you’re fingering your pretty cunt, hm?"

your lips part, and his name slips past them in a soft, broken moan that makes his mouth twitch. it makes him nod, smug and satisfied. like he’s praising you for giving him the correct answer.

“mhm… that’s it” he praises softly. his hand slides up the back of your neck, his fingers are firm and tender all at once as they thread into your hair, guiding your mouth back to his.

and yet again, you’re too deep in the feeling of his tongue on yours to even form a coherent thought. to even keep moving your finger inside yourself. all you notice is him shifting underneath you, his hips lifting off the mattress just so he can drag his trousers down, enough to free his leaking and hard cock.

his hand in your hair tightens just enough to pull you back, breaking the kiss before you can chase it again.

you whimper softly at the loss, mouth slightly agape, breath uneven. he gives you a soothing peck on your parted lips, then the corner of your mouth.

then, his grip shifts, guiding your chin downward so you can see his hand wrapped around his cock, stroking it slowly.

it looks intimidatingly real in the dim light – his tip is flushed and leaking, the soft hairs on his crotch make you start moving your finger inside yourself cunt again, and the way he’s touching himself right now makes you let out a shaky moan.

he’s fucking big, too. not that you have someone else’s to actually compare to, but you’re aware that that’s the “a lot” your girlfriends talk about once they’re sharing their sex experiences in between class breaks.

it makes your head spin in nerves and excitement all at once.

the soft, shaky breath you let out seems to make him stroke himself with a little more intent. he lets out a low moan at the friction just to make you loose it a bit more. his fingers tighten in your hair without even meaning to, and he doesn’t move your head even an inch, because he wants you to watch – just like he’s been doing to you for the past few minutes. your fingers curling in and out like you don’t know what to do with them anymore.

he raises his brows in mock innocence at your reaction, like he didn’t even see it coming. like he has no idea what it’s about.

fuck me, if the birds he’s slept with had that reaction and they aren’t even virgins, he can only imagine what you’re gonna be like once his cock is fucking you relentlessly.

he’s no monster – he’s a prick, sure. but he’ll start slow, right? he’ll make sure you’re soaked like this once he slides in. he’ll only pick up the pace once you beg for it, and he knows you will. he knows you’ll look so pretty doing it, too. even prettier than now, and that’s fucking hard to top. he strokes himself faster at the mere thought.

“what?… look how hard i am, love,” he says, coyly and quieter, enough to make your stomach flip. “hurts, y’know.”

and before you can think too much about it, he’s guiding your hand away from your dripping cunt. you whimper softly at the absence of stimulation, but then, he’s making you wrap your hand around his own length. "do it f’me, darlin’. help me out, will you?"

his hand is over yours, both wrapped around his cock as he strokes up and down slowly. like he’s showing you something rather than asking.

you watch it like you’re hypnotized. how pretty his slit looks with pre cum smeared all over it, how the heat and the velvet-soft skin feel good underneath your touch. you start to stroke him on your own, his hand slowly letting go of yours as you mimick the way he just taught you.

noel lets out a moan deep from the back of his throat, moving his hands until they’re grabbing your inner thighs a little firmer now at the pleasure. “there we go…” he says softly, watching your hand work him. “fuck, darling…”

you pick up your gaze until it’s on his face again, being met with the sight of his lips slightly parted, blue eyes glued to your hand stroking him up and down. you furrow your brows softly at it, swallowing down a tiny whimper as you involuntarily shift on his lap, searching for any friction you can get.

and just like he could read your mind, one of his hands leave your thigh. he brings two fingers to his own mouth, wrapping his lips around the thick digits, swirling his tongue around them enough to make them slick. then, he guides them to your neglected pretty entrance.

he pushes two fingers in without any resistance. you let out a shaky moan, head dipping forward and grip tightening around him as you try to steady yourself. you moan his name, broken and needy – not from pain, because you’re so wet right now you feel like you could take all of him without batting an eye.

he hums at that. smug and pleased, but his hips twitching upwards tell on him, that he’s fully loosing it just like you. “that’s it, love… fuck. do it f’me and i’ll do it for you, yeah?” he adds. his tone is coaxing, but the roughness in his voice makes you clench around his fingers without even meaning to.

your breath stutters, movements turning uneven for a second before trying to find some kind of rhythm again. you’re clumsy and still a little shy, but the way you’re looking at him, feels like you’re fucking begging for it.

he curls his fingers inside you, the angle is a little awkward in between limbs moving sloppily and needy – but he gets it right. it makes you moan the loudest than you have so far, eyes falling shut and eyebrows furrowing as his thumb finds your clit at the same time his thick fingers slowly fuck you.

your hand starts working him faster, needier. your free one digs into the curve where his neck meets his shoulder, sliding to the back of his neck like you’re fully loosing it.

he smirks at your reaction, nodding to himself and grunting lowly every time his hips meet your hand. every time, the filthy wet sounds of his fingers fucking you get even louder.

you start babbling his name, and he taunts you with a “yeah?” that neither of you know what it’s referring to. you nod dumbly anyway, breath hitching as you try to follow his pace, try to match him, even though everything feels too much already.

your body shakes over his from pleasure and from movement of him fucking your hand. it doesn’t stop him from leaning closer, his free hand tugging the cut from your top down until your breasts are exposed to him – he closes the distance sloppily, greedy as his mouth latches onto your nipple, widely swirling his tongue around it and sucking it. your nails dig into the back of his neck, searching for something to hold onto as the feeling keeps tightening.

you choke out a moan that’s nearly a cry, head tipping back and lips parting as you pant. “fuck… n-noel… i… oh my god, noel…” you blabber, hips now grinding against his palm.

he keeps thrusting into your hand, only pulling his mouth off from your tits to moan against your mouth, tongue sloppy and uncoordinated as he swallows your moans. “gonna cum f’me?” he murmurs, teeth grazing your flushed lips.

you nod, desperately.

“c’mon then. such a tight fucking cunt, baby. want it all over my hand, yeah? cum all over my fingers, cmon.” he grunts.

with a last curl of his fingers, a last press of his thumb right over your sensitive bundle of nerves, you came undone. 

fucking hard, you did. your moans now sounding nearly pornographic as you squeeze noel’s fingers so hard he even doubts for a second that he’ll be able to play guitar for the next couple of days. 

eh, he wouldn’t really mind. 

you threw your head back, mouth falling agape and needy broken moans escaping. your breath was coming out shaky, hitching. little high pitched whimpers filling the room, mixing the wet and gushy sounds of noel’s fingers fucking your cunt relentlessly. 

he watched, chin propped up so he could look up and take every bit of your reaction. your free hand slid up the back of his neck desperately, in need to grab onto something or you’d might die from how intense it all felt. 

he smirked at the realization – nothing there anymore, is it? he buzzed it right off. 

he remembers last week, when he’d just arrived at the pub with the new haircut. your reaction was adorable, stuttering as you realized how fucking fit your mate, your best friend, looked. even while tom chatted you up, he could catch your nervous gaze snap back to him.

pfft, what a fucking joke, this tom lad. if he thought that was bad, imagine now, eh?

your nails digged in his scalp, his lips curled into a smug smirk parting enough so a low moan could escape. 

your hand went limp around him, unable to keep up. but he doesn't mind. he covers your hand with his own, his hard cock messily sliding upwards into your shaky grip as he watched your orgasm wash over. he thrusts one, two, three more times into your palm until he spills over, too.

hot spurts of his cum land right over the fabric of your cute skirt, over the soft skin of your thigh and knuckles. 

his chest heaves, forehead dropping to rest against your neck. only then his fingers finally stop. he feels you pulsing around them for a few more seconds. his free hand rests over your ass, sliding up your back as your body trembles over his.

after a few seconds of your heavy breaths being the only thing filling up the room, noel slowly withdraws his fingers out of you. the wet sound echoes in the silence, a tiny over sensitive whimper from you make him breathe out a tiny laugh despite himself.

“fuck me…” he breathes out. then, he pulls away to look down at the mess. his brows raise in amusement, his smirk grows even wider. “ruined that.”

you don’t adress it. fuck me indeed, the house could burn down now for all you care.

“noel…” you say again, softer this time. needy and shy from how much you want it. you’re still breathing hard, still shaky, still clinging to him like you don’t quite know how to ask for it.

his eyes flick back to yours, and he looks so pleased. so smug.

he only raises his brows, like he’s saying go on.

your hands slide up the back of his head, nearly apologetic for the mess you’re making. but you just shake your head as you lean closer, eyes glassy and pleading as you give him a soft kiss on the mouth.

“don’t…” your voice falters as you say it quietly against his lips. “please, noel… i don’t wanna stop…”

you feel him smiling against your mouth, his hands shifting until they’re back on your ass again. he slowly squeezes the soft flesh, barely kissing you back and breathing out into the slow glide of your tongues. “yeah?… don’t wanna stop, hm?”

you shake your head, quick and needy, your fingers still curled at the nape of his neck, keeping him close.

he hums softly, still tracing patterns on your hips and ass. he nods a little, then looks down. “i mean... that’s fucking done for, that.” he murmurs. not sounding sorry in the slightest, still smirking. “shame. y’looked dead pretty in it.“

you don’t even argue, you just lean in again, pressing another soft, desperate kiss to his mouth, like that’s your answer. like you don’t care about anything else anymore.

his hands tighten slightly on your ass at that, grounding and unapologetic all at once. “easy…” he coos, quieter now, nose brushing yours. “gotta sort that date out first, yeah?”

you whine, eyebrows furrowing and your lips nearly shifting into a needy pout. “noel…”

"gonna give it to ya, love... just be a good girl and call the poor lad, yeah?” he says, nearly buttery from how soft it is – it makes you want him to ruin you even more.

“now?…” you ask quietly, blinking up at him.

“yeah, now.” he says softly, brushing your hair out of your face. “can't have him standing there outside the pub like a fucking muppet, can we?“

you take in a shaky breath, nodding. he nods back, giving your ass tiny encouraging pats, watching you slowly shift off from his lap.

you lick your lips as you lay down on your stomach, propping yourself on your elbows so you can reach for the telephone and punch in the digits.

your heart is still hammering inside your chest when it starts ringing. you swallow gruffly, because you feel noel’s hand caressing your calf – a soft reminder that he’s very much still watching.

“hello?”

“t-tom?…”

“oh, hey. was about to leave the house, actually. you’re on your way t—“

“tom, i… i’m sorry. i think i’ve come down with something.” you said shakily, the air leaving your nostrils as you heard noel shifting behind you and the soft thud of his shirt falling on the floor.

your eyes were closed as tightly as your hand around the phone, listening to tom's unenthusiastic and nearly confused "oh." on the other line.

you couldn't see how noel was still smirking – his mouth still stained with your lipstick as he slowly settled more comfortably on the mattress, sitting on his heels right between your legs.

"well... what... are you feeling? are you alright?" tom asked.

you took in a deep breath so you could reply without your voice breaking. but just then, you felt noel's hands unhurriedly guide you until your knees were deep inside the mattress, ass arched up until you were perfectly exposed to him in a way that made your cheeks burn.

"i'm... i'm okay. i'm just... i have a really bad fever."

"right..." tom answered after a pause. "that's... well, that’s unfortunate."

"yeah." you swallowed.

behind you, the mattress dipped again. noel's hands settled on your asscheeks, lifting the fabric of your skirt until it was out of the way – he let out a low groan at the sight of the delicate fabric drenched, clinging onto your folds.

your forehead pressed deeper against the mattress as you felt him gently apply pressure over the fabric, drawing out torturous wide and slow circles over your clothed cunt, feeling your wetness cling onto the pad of his fingers. "i know, i... i'm really sorry." you added, but it came out broken.

tom didn't notice, apparently. "we can go out another night, if you want."

"yeah— that... yeah. that's alright." you managed, though your voice came out quieter than intended.

tom started talking about another place the two of you could go to, but behind you, noel leaned closer.

your whole body tensed with the sensation of his warm breath brushing such a sensitive spot, and the fever was about to become real once you felt the tip of his nose rubbing up and down your folds, hands gripping your flesh harder at your scent and his mouth watering from how wet you were.

your hand immediately flew to your mouth, covering a shaky and breathy gasp, coming out broken while tom talked about another restaurant down his street, a fancier one. you couldn't name what kind of food they served there even with a gun pressed on your temple, because the pressure of noel's nose was maddening.

and as if it couldn't get any worse, or better, his tongue slowly darted out – leaving a wet, slow and messy kiss right over your knickers. like the mess your own arousal made on the fabric wasn't enough.

a small tear formed on the corner of your eye, the hand covering your mouth shaking as you tried to keep quiet. noel hummed quietly against your clothed cunt, not even pulling his mouth away as he hooked his finger into the edge of the lace, pulling the fabric aside just enough to expose you.

you gasped softly, feeling his warm mouth pull away only an inch so his blue eyes could settle on your cunt. glistening and already puffy from his fingers, but still aching and throbbing for more.

"well... get some rest, yeah? hope you feel better." tom said on the phone.

your fuzzy brain could only think of an "okay" as a response, but noel's tongue leaning closer and slowly licking your clit cut you off immediately with another shaky gasp, making you instantly press your palm harder against your mouth.

you clenched around nothing, brows needily furrowing and back arching despite your cheeks heating up. at how dirty all this felt. at how his tongue was completely unhurried as it teased you, the intention clear: he wanted you to fall apart.

now, his lips slowly closed around your clit, softly sucking while his hands fondled your shaky thighs.

"sure you're okay?" tom asked, nearly concerned.

"yes! i... yeah. i'm sorry, tom. i'll... yeah, i'll get better. i'm so sorry." you stammered, and you could feel noel smiling against you, pulling away with a soft wet noise and guiding his fingers closer to your entrance. they didn't slide in, just applied enough pressure to spread your lips, watching how your needy hole dripped for him. just for him.

"it's alright. see you soon, then." tom said.

"o-okay... bye." you said quickly, immediately biting your bottom lip since you didn't trust yourself to keep quiet once your shaky hand placed the phone on its handle. fast, clumsy and desperate.

at the sound of the soft plastic thud indicating the call was finally over, your face buried inside the mattress. a small amount of drool smeared over the soft cotton sheets past your parted lips.

you let out a long and broken whine, muffled into the mattress as your hips helplessly twitched against his hands.

“there’s a good girl,” noel murmured, his voice dropping. he didn't give you a second to catch your breath as his two fingers, still slick with you, stretched you open with a deliberate push.

you bucked against his hand, a sharp gasp cutting through the quiet bedroom as your fingers tightly grasped the bedsheets. "noel..." you moaned his name needily.

he breathed out a small chuckle at your tone. “fucking hell, look at you,” he muttered under his breath, nearly amused.

even as he straightned his back, properly placed behind you now, his eyes never left your entrance swallowing his digits, you were so fucking wet taking him wouldn't even be that big of a problem. his thumb found your swollen clit as he thought, pressing down with a soft pressure that had your voice breaking into another needy whimper.

“so wet for me. didn't think it'd be this easy.”

“noel— please, noel,” you cried out, muffled by the soft bed. your back arched helplessly, trying to push yourself deeper onto his hand, silently begging for him to stop teasing.

he only hummed in response, a cruel and pleased sound, before his hand shifted.

his palm rubbed your back upwards before it settled on the nape of your neck, fingers tangling inside your hair. he tugged your head back until his mouth was right by your ear, gluing your back onto his chest, firm and tender all at once.

“drivin’ me fucking mad, love.” he breathed out, teeth grazing your earlobe and the delicate earring dangling, while his breath – hot and ragged – made goosebumps raise on the back of your neck.

your hand shook as it reached out for his hip, nails involuntarily digging in as you felt and heard the distinct rustle of fabric behind you from his free hand shoving his pants down to his thighs.

he placed a gentle kiss on your cheek, despite his fingers tigthening inside your hair. “just needed to stretch y'out first, don’t i?” he whispered in your ear.

whatever words were sitting on your tongue died as soon as his hand wrapped around his cock, shifting closer until his shaft was directly pressed against you, sliding and teasing up and down your soaking wet folds without actually pushing in.

the friction made your breath hitch, softly crying out. “please… fuck, please.”

he let out a low and breathy laugh, teeth grazing your cheek softly as a smirk grew on his lips. "i know. i know, darling." he cooed, nearly condescending.

he only looked down to watch his cock sliding underneath the edge of your panties, his length perfectly fitting between your glistening lips – amused at the sight, slowly pushing his hips to make his cock slide between your folds without actually pushing in.

the feeling of his sensitive head brushing the damp lace made him hiss softly, but he didn't stop. “d’you want it?” he asked quietly, nibbling your jaw.

you couldn't even form a coherent word, brain entirely fried. you just moaned loudly, nodding your head frantically despite his firm grip inside your hair.

his hand sharply met the flesh of your ass, catching you off guard and pulling out a high-pitched moan from you.

“ask nice,” he commanded, firm. but his mouth placed another sweet kiss on your cheek right after. his hand went down to where your bodies almost met, pressing his palm firmer against his cock so the friction felt meaner. "c'mon, love. can do better than that, hm?"

you nodded desperaly, the words stumbling out of your mouth. “please, noel… please fuck me.” you sobbed, a stray tear spilling.

“think it’s too big f’ya, love. don’t y’think?” he taunted, gaze dropping past the curve of your spine, watching his length dissapearing underneath the fabric, sliding between your folds and coming out glistening with your arousal.

you shook your head desperately. “can— can handle it. want it. please, please…” you choked out in a broken whimper.

another wet kiss on your cheek, another harsh squeeze on your ass. "yeah?" he teased quietly,

you whimpered in protest as he pulled his warm cock away from you. but then, his hands guided you back into all fours, slowly and firmly.

your fingers immediately grabbed the sheets in anticipation. your forehead pressed into the mattress, tears softly wetting the cotton as your back arched even more.

you couldn't see it, but a smug smirk grew on his lips at the sight, not pulling his gaze away even when his hands were busy reaching for his wallet. a soft crinkling sound of a foil wrapper tearing open made you look behind you.

his palm settled on your ass again, sliding underneath the messy hem and caressing your skin, gentler now. his free hand rolled the rubber along his shaft, head tilting. “think y’can take my cock like this, hm?” noel muttered.

you didn't really know what the reply was, not rationally, at least. but you nodded anyway, swallowing gruffly despite wanting him so bad you thought it might kill you.

then, his hands slowly hooked into the waistband of your panties. he dragged them down your shaking thighs slowly, watching a thick, glistening trail of wetness visibly connecting your swollen folds to the fabric, the elastic strained around your knees.

the cold air of your room clashed against your skin, making your head feel even fuzzier.

your head tilted to the side, cheek resting over the mattress and eyes immediately landing on some stuffed animals already scattered over the bed, breath hitching. then, you looked at him behind you, eyebrows furrowed in such a needy way it made him physically remember himself to take it slow.

he let out a low, breathy laugh at your reaction. "i know," he whispered, reaching over to grab the small plushie sitting on the corner of the bed. he turned it around with a smirk so its beaded eyes faced the wall. "there. don't need 'em watching, do we."

hovering over you, with his hand wrapped around his cock and guiding himself towards your entrance, he stared down at the view and swore to himself he’d never seen a cunt so wet before, or a bird that’s begged so pretty like you.

he guided the heavy head of his cock right to your untouched entrance, pausing for a second to look at your face before he slowly pushing in. his mouth leaned down closer to your cheek the second you gasped softly at the stretch – a low grunt escaping from his lips at your cunt fluttering around him, so fucking wet it nearly sucked him in.

but he still pushed in slowly. agonizingly slow. a needy sound caught in your throat, vision going white as your body naturally clamped down around his length.

he grunted as his hips slowly slid in.

“look at you takin’ my cock, baby,” noel choked out, his head dropping into the crook of your neck as he pushed through the nearly absent resistance, filling you completely. “fuck." – he kissed your pulse point – "fucking made for it.”

he let you adjust, his hands slid up from your hips, smoothing over the arch of your spine and soothing your back, "good?" he murmured against your skin, checking in.

you couldn't even form a syllable. you just choked out a breathless whimper, nodding against the mattress as your fingers digged deeper into the sheets. you were stretched so fucking full, the smeared mascara underneath your eyes smudging the duvet.

he let out a low, rough laugh, pleased with the pathetic sound you made. "fuck," he breathed out, amused. "doesn't hurt?"

you just whimpered in response, squirming underneath his weight pressed over your back. his free hand moved closer to your face, elbow propping himself up and palm meeting your cheek in two light taps. "hey, don't go all dumb on me, c'mon."

you inhaled, coming in a hitched breath. you shook your head softly, "just... it's okay."

"sure y'alright?" he asked again. his crotch was still firmly pressed against your asscheeks, fully inside you now.

"please." you whispered, broken and needy.

he breathed out a laugh, amused. his palm craddled your face and his thumb brushed over your bottom lip.

"fucking hell, please what?" he asked quietly, leaning in and kissing your lips even though you couldn't fully kiss him back, not when you were still getting used to the fullness.

his lips bumped into his own thumb, taking in a deep breath and feeling his cock twitch at the feeling of your tongue fully loose and fully dumbed down against his. "please fuck you, that it?" he whispered against your mouth, his free hand gripping your hip harder.

you gave another needy nod, your ass arching instinctively, silently begging.

he smirked, despite feeling his cock throb inside you, equally as needy. "yeah?" noel muttered.

you whimpered, tongue brushing the pad of his finger, eyes looking up at him even glassier than before. needier. “please, fuck me…”

at your plea, he straightening his back with a rough moan, his palms properly positioned you back into all fours.

and then he pulled back. the friction of his condom-clad cock dragging against your tight walls made your vision blurry, a sharp sob tore from your chest as you felt the loss of his warmth close to you. but before you could even process the emptiness, he drove back in. slow and heavy, bottoming in again.

"god, fuck." he groaned, hips grinding heavily against your ass. his blue eyes watching the way you took him so pretty. "wish you could see it. fucking swallowing me."

the mental image made your skin burn, a hot flush spreading over your face and neck as he pulled out, slowly, only to push in again with the same depth.

"so fucking tight," he breathed out, hands grabbing your hips harder and pulling you back into him – the sounds of his hips slapping your flesh making everything feel dirtier, the wet sounds of his cock stretching you out making you whimper helplessly. "gonna milk me fucking dry before i even get a proper go, aren't ya?"

the pace was excruciatingly slow, he held onto a steady rhythm like he didn't trust himself to fully let go. the feeling had you weeping into the mattress, shaky and needy moans escaping your lips with every thrust.

you didn't know what it was like at a fast pace, all you knew is that you needed more. all you knew was that the pain already faded away.

you wanted him to do whatever he wanted, sure that it would be exactly what you needed.

“noel— please, noel, want... fuck, more.” you babbled.

he leaned down, “i know, love. i know,” he cooed. his teeth gently grazed your neck met your shoulder. the sting only added to the feeling of his hips finally picking up the pace. “look at you, taking all of it and already begging for more, christ.”

before you could ask for anything else, his hand reached out to yours, his thick fingers wrapping around your wrist and guiding it between your legs. "rub yourself f'me, sweetheart. can you do that?" he instructed gently, nibbling your earlobe and smirking against it the second you gasped at the new friction.

as his back straightened again, hands tight on your hips, your fingers just followed his lead, sloppily rubbing circles around your clit.

the action immediately made you pulse harder around him, reaching an unbearable amount of pleasure. his deep strokes were hitting you perfectly, and the friction against your swollen bundle of nerves made your entire body shiver.

you began clench around his shaft in tight, helpless pulses. your needy moans getting so loud not even the mattress could muffle them properly anymore.

behind you, noel let out a low string of curses, large hands pulling your hips back into him. his eyes were stuck on his cock dissapearing inside you, slick with your wetness every time he pulled out just to drive himself back in faster.

“fuck, that’s it,” he grunted lowly. he began to fuck you heavily and fast, watching you squirm underneath him – fingers helplessly speeding up as you felt the tightness in your belly tighten.

the loud and wet sounds of his cock splitting you open and your sweet moans made him throw his head back in pleasure.

“already fucking coming, aren’t ya?" – he picked his gaze up again, not bearing the thought of not watching you underneath him – "squeeze it tight, love. fuck, cmon. that's it.”

you screamed his name into the mattress, your whole body shaking as your orgasm crashed like a tidal wave. noel himself wasn't far behind, with one last deep thrust, hot spurts of his cum spilled inside the condom, his head tipping back with a low moan as his hips stuttered.

neither of you moved for a couple of minutes – your body collapsed softly over the bed and his followed, chest over your back, keeping you pinned and ruined beneath him. all you could do was pant and feel your limbs softly shake.

noel was the first one to snap out of the sirupy athmosphere inside your bedroom. his forehead pressed softly over your shoulderblade as he cursed softly under his breath, eyes closing tightly shut with a small hiss as he slowly pulled out, steadying the condom around him with his fingers.

your immediate instinct was to hide, legs curling up softly while he sat down on the mattress, hands busy with tying the condom.

no one really talked about this part, where you have to figure out what the hell you're supposed to say with a head still fuzzy from your first ever earth-shaterring orgasm.

luckily, his eyes landed on you.

and then, he broke into a tiny and breathy laugh, settling himself beside you, hand reaching out towards your face and pushing the messy hair out of the way. "what? cat got your tongue or summat?"

that made you relax again, eyes closing and lips softly curling up. "stop that."

he laughed quietly, letting his hand linger on the side of your neck.

"i probably look crazy now." you said quietly, referring to the mess around your eye lids.

he broke into another quiet laugh again, shaking his head. "look pretty, yeah? don't fret." reaching out, thumb brushing over your bottom lip, picking up the smudged tint of your lipstick on the pad of his finger. your eyes closed, still smiling softly despite it all.

"you okay?" he asked quietly, head finally clear enough to snap back into the gentle noel you were familiar with. you nodded in response, he hummed softly at it. pleased and tired. "was it good for you?"

your eyes opened at it, eyebrows furrowing in that suspicious way that immediately made a weary expression settle on his face. "what?" he asked quietly.

you scoffed lightly, "you just wanna hear me say it."

he laughed, finally catching on. then, he shrugged, playful now. "maybe." he said, you hummed, wore out – he noticed, another huff of a laugh immediately escaped him. "cmon, let's get you cleaned up."

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. . ݁₊ ⊹ .

[upton-green]

Open up your mind! Open up your heart! Nothing else is keeping us apart!

Happy Fete Day to all who celebrate :D

[highflyingcami]

u + me = <3

cw: lover boy pre-fame!liam <3; established relationship; fluff; drug use; food play-ish; high sex; oral f. receiving; breeding kink-ish.

𑣲 word count: 5k. ˊˎ-

wn: word vomit alert !!!! sorry it took me soooo long to write for liam omg this is so embarrassing, but here’s a little cutesy something that blossomed because of a conversation with the lovely @robinavitchwdc !! hope you guys enjoy

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. . ݁₊ ⊹ .

★ 1993.

your relationship with liam has been perpetuated by “special first times” ever since the second the two of you met.

it happened at the opening night of a new pub in manchester, which immediately meant that itself would already be a thing – what can you do? in shitholes like this, so much as a different colored bird flying by turned out to be a fuss.

but the bar, you see, had nothing special. the cool drinks promised in the flier handed out downtown were watered down and impossible to attain in less than 20 minutes, since the place was packed – even the lagers, with potential to save the night, were warm. fucking hell.

the incredible band all the way from london was nothing but four lads with gel in their hairs and a self esteem that did not match their vocal skills.

the chips were cold, soggy and underseasoned. and that was the last straw for you, since all you sipped on was a can of coca cola and a water bottle to try to make up for all you had sweated inside – the place so packed not even the ac could save it.

you pushed the door open, an annoyed expression on your face as you walked to the curb. it was the only place you could at least hear your thoughts, desperately trying to come up with a plan to get home.

“alright?”

a male voice disturbed your thinking process, and the second your head turned, you realized a very pretty face came along with it.

within five minutes, you learnt his name was liam.

ten minutes in, that liam was your age. that he had three brothers and a mum that will be canonized the moment she passes.

twenty minutes in, that he was in a band with his older brother and a few of his mates. and even though you had never heard of it, “we’re proper sound, we are. done a gig in scotland last week.” he explained.

he didn’t mention the van breaking down in the middle of the road, that didn’t seem proper rock and roll – at least not when chatting up a pretty bird that looked bored out of her skull.

thirty minutes later, with a sore ass from sitting on the harsh curb pavement and an aching jaw from laughing so much, you finally left the pub.

not to shag or anything, no. that came another day. that disastrous pub opening night, all you did was sit across him in a cushioned booth while sharing fish and chips, telling him to stop talking so you could swallow your food without choking from laughing so much.

that evening, liam walked you home. on the way, he was torn between holding your hand or placing an arm around your shoulder – ended up being the second option, seemed bolder. proper rock and roll star, he thought.

but the moment he dropped you off on your doorstep, that remaining boyish part of him took over. he rubbed the back of his neck as he asked you for your phone number, and he laughed once you told him not to call at night, since your dad was home.

as liam was on the process of building up the courage to kiss you, considering if he would cradle your cheeks and slowly pull you in, or just step closer with a hand on your waist and give you a kiss worthy from a romantic movie – the kind of lovey dovey shite birds liked – just to knock the breath out of you, you stood on your tippy toes and stole a kiss yourself.

definitely drunk on adrenaline, but as giddy as him once it was over – both standing there with cheeks flushed and stupid smiles on your faces. he tripped over his feet while walking away and you fumbled with your keys to let yourself in, both still laughing.

that very first night was special, and it had inevitably set the standard for the following meetings.

the first time watching him perform really did knock the air out of your lungs. you rolled your eyes once his whole face shifted into that smug expression the second you told him so. that was the first night he kissed you in public, wrapping his arms around your waist and flipping noel off just because he groaned at the public display of affection, making you laugh even harder.

the first time he bought you flowers wasn’t special because of the same reason it is to everyone else – the romanticism of it all was there, yes. but it was remarkable, mostly, because he couldn’t get five consecutive words in without sneezing. even when doing something so important such as asking you to be his girlfriend.

the first time you slept together was also your first time. and you’ll never forget how sweet he was, soothing your brain bubbling with nerves. you’ll also never forget how he nicked a bottle of wine from his mother’s cabinet, just in case you wanted it to relax even more.

that night, he checked in every chance he had – as his mouth traveled down your neck, as his hand slid underneath your shirt. even as you panted after your first orgasm, softly asking if you were alright with his lips slick from your arousal, chin glistening as it rested on the top of your thigh, his broad hands soothing your skin.

he watched your face closely for any sign of discomfort as he slowly slid inside you. your eyes closed at the stretch, missing the way his eyebrows softly furrowed at your tightness, wishing badly he could feel you without a layer of rubber in the way.

he moved slowly and only afterwards you said he could. sharing wet and slow kisses, moaning quietly inside one another’s mouths – making him force himself to think about that terrible car accident he had seen on the telly last week just so he wouldn’t finish too fast.

he remembers the first time you shyly asked him if you could suck him off. a breathless and disbelieving laugh escaped his lips immediately, like no answer other than “yes” existed to that question.

his hand stayed in your hair, his chest heaving as he softly guided you. you started with slow, tentative licks around his leaking tip, eyebrows softly furrowing as tasted him, slowly pampered the head of his cock with wet kisses.

“just… fuck, darlin’. just… do whatever you feel like, yeah?” he reassured gently, despite his breath hitching.

his thumb brushed over your cheek as you built up the courage to take him into your mouth. slow, always slow.

your eyes stayed on his expression, inevitably pressing your legs together and little by little taking him further into your mouth. you couldn’t help it, not when he looked so pretty – with glassy and droopy blue eyes, bottom lip tinted with an even prettier shade of pink from soft bites and kissing.

── .✦

tonight, the special occasion was your parents out of town.

they adored liam to bits, it was impossible not to. you quickly realized that by the second time he had come around, where your mother baked the exact same cake he praised during the whole time you all sat on the table for tea.

your dad put on a tough front at first, but by the second time liam had purposely called at evening – followed by nearly an hour of chatting with your old man about football – you realized that your dad liked the gallagher lad more than he cared to admit.

but liking him or not, sleepovers were incredibly rare. and the very few times they happened, liam stayed on the couch. well, for ten minutes tops – because the second he heard your dad’s indistinguishable loud snoring, he stealthily made his way upstairs.

sometimes, he’d just do it to wind you up. kissing your neck and smiling against it as you slapped his grabby hands away, whispering yelling that he would get caught.

it would always quickly develop into something else. you’d snugly fit right over his lap, while his hands stayed on your ass to slowly move you over his clothed cock. he’d breathlessly kiss you before dragging his mouth down your throat, sucking the soft skin hard enough to leave you purple little marks you secretly loved so much, despite those being a bitch for the rest of the week.

it forced you to dig out your collection of high neck tops and wool scarves. eh, it’s for the troubles – cleaning his sticky underwear in the bathroom downstairs wasn’t exactly a piece of cake, he’d think.

but sometimes, he’d just go to cuddle you, smell the back of your neck. and, every time, he would slowly slip out of bed as soon as he realized your breathing evened out – just because he knew that if he stayed for another second, he’d fall asleep too. and that would be a real fucking problem in the morning.

because of this specific reason, the second you had told liam your parents were driving off to your aunt’s house for the weekend, his head already spun with anticipation.

being home alone with you was a first on its own, but throughout the night, another opportunity came up only to add to it.

liam had just performed, he was still sweaty and still buzzing like everyone else in the small venue once he found you, smiling so big and so proud he swore his chest would explode.

the dj afterwards turned out to be a wicked girl from london. that bird had a real gift, he thought. he had never seen you so carefree and happy about going out – he even danced along to some madonna tunes just because his missus was so thrilled in the dance floor.

he pretended he wasn’t that familiar with the lyrics, but he remembers very clearly from one specific day. “like a prayer” spun softly in your record player, his hands gently resting on your hips as you straddled him. he attentively listened to you hum the lyrics despite almost dozing off from the feeling of the soft brushes on his skin.

you had told him he had lovely eyes – for makeup purposes rather than a romantic girlfriend one. and, after five minutes of assuring him you’d take it to your grave, he let you experiment some of your makeup skills on him.

“i’d make a fit girl, wouldn’t i?” he teased, hands on his hips as he checked himself out in the mirror. leaning in closer to get a proper look at the artwork, laughing just because your giggles filled the room.

his mate happened to have some of the good stuff that fit perfectly with the post-gig atmosphere.

even though you were buzzing from the music and two lagers you had stolen from his hands, he made sure to check if you were up for it.

he was already used to it, but liam knew you weren’t. putting pressure on you was the last thing he wanted, always. but fuck me, wasn’t he pleased once you happily shrugged and replied “sure. let’s do it.”

the next hours passed in a blur, and next thing you know, you’re fumbling with your house keys, laughing because liam won’t stop kissing your neck.

you have no idea who drove you there, all you knew was how the two of you giggled all the way – stopping only to occasionally snog, not even paying mind to the collective groaning around you.

“liam!” you struggled, breathless and knocking over a roll of paper towels once you stepped into the kitchen.

liam’s hands were all over you, sliding over your waist and pulling you closer. then, eagerly landing on your tits, squeezing them firmly over the fabric and laughing inside your mouth at your tiny – completely useless – giggly protests.

he only hummed in response, shifting his head until his mouth latched on your neck. your head tipped back with another breathy laugh, eyes closing and fingers sliding inside his hair.

your whole body felt fuzzy, the high washed over you in a gentle way. it made the whole kitchen spin, it made liam’s touch feel a hundred times more electric.

annoyingly, it made your stomach softly grumble – at the same time a little light bulb in your head lit up, telling you that liam hadn’t eaten anything for hours.

“liam!” you tried again, still laughing. your hands weakly tried to push his chest away, making him stumble back with a laugh. his cheeks were flushed, hair a fucking mess, eyes not leaving your mouth for a second.

you managed to break away from his embrace, but he was quick enough to glue himself back to you in no time. his mouth pampered the side of your neck with kisses, his palm slid up your back until it reached the nape of your neck.

your hand shook from laughing as you reached for a jar of jam, body swaying and mouth falling agape the second his chubby fingers tightened inside your messy hair – tipping your head back and attacking your jaw with kisses, smiling against your skin at the sound of your laugh.

“you… have to eat!” you tried weakly, between laughs.

“nah, fuck that. wanna eat you.” he mumbled, only making you laugh harder.

his hips pressed firmer against your ass, allowing you to feel the firmness of his clothed erection over your soft flesh. you turned around, trying to stay focused – because right now you thought it was a matter of keeping him, the boy you loved so much, fucking alive.

you turned, lower back immediately pressing against the counter, hand fumbling with the lid as liam watched. his palms were still on your waist, pupils blown out and focused on you struggling. still laughing, obviously.

“let me… put it on some bread, okay?” you breathed out, followed by a soft pop from the lid finally giving in.

liam only hummed, puckering his lips like he was deeply considering your words. his fingers, however, reached inside the jar, picking up some of the jam and smearing it over your lips before you could even register it.

you yelped once his tongue licked it, eyes closing tightly with a surprised laugh and head tipping back at the feeling. “liam!”

“i’m eating. ‘m eating, see?” he murmured against your skin, picking up more and smearing over your neck, licking it clean once more.

your fingers tightened inside his hair, belly aching from laughing so hard. his free hand slid underneath the hem of your shirt, pushing it up enough to expose your chest.

he had noticed you weren’t wearing a bra since the pub. he even leaned close to your ear and asked if you were cold once he noticed your hardened nipples strained against the fabric – earning a laugh from you and a smack on his arm, that made him step away with a shit eating grin plastered on his mouth.

right now, he took advantage of it. his lips curled up in a droopy smirk as he reached inside the jar and smeared it over your tit – his eyes far more focused than his own hand, watching attentively the mess he was making like it was the greatest thing ever. it was, to his dazed brain. even better with you enjoying it just as much, clearly.

he leaned down, greedily wrapping his mouth around your nipple and sucking the sweet spread. he hummed against your skin, hands grabbing your waist harder to pull you even closer to relief some of the neediness inside his trousers.

your head tipped back, every sense heightened. “you’re crazy.” you breathed out with a shaky laugh, amused and excited all at once.

he hummed, straightening up until his mouth was on yours again, murmuring into the kiss. “crazy about you.”

at this point, you couldn’t even kiss him back. you jaw ached from laughing, and to make it even worse, he couldn’t go on another second without saying the funniest things in the world.

the sticky trail of jam on your skin caught on his shirt as he finally scooped you up off the counter. he wasn't graceful about it, nearly tripping over the kitchen mat and somehow managing to stumble down the hall and up the stairs.

by the time he laid you on the mattress, you were both breathless. the room remained spinning in a slow and hazy circle that made everything feel completely detached from reality.

undressing was a disaster – your shirt got caught over your head, leaving you trapped in the dark for a solid ten seconds while liam tugged frantically at the sleeves, cursing under his breath and laughing so hard he didn't have the strength to actually pull it off.

his own trainers took an eternity to kick off, one of them flying across the room and whacking into the wardrobe with a loud thud that made you both freeze, wide-eyed, before bursting into another fit of hysterical giggles.

he crawled between your thighs, the heat of his bare skin against yours making your stomach twist in anticipation – despite still giggling just like he was. he stayed with his eyes on you the entire time, droopy and blown out.

while he battled with your jeans, he tried to dirty talk. "you're... you're fucking mine, alright? i'm gonna..." he paused, his brow furrowing as a groan escaped him, biting his lip and body nearly collapsing on the mattress with how hard he was struggling.

he finally managed to take them off. “fuck sake. finally.”

you only laughed harder, head throwing back into the pillow and eyes tearing up. “finish what you were saying!” you laughed.

he snorted, shaking his head. “don’t even remember.” he said breathlessly, shifting until his mouth was on your thighs. he pampered your skin with sloppy, wet kisses – his laughed against your skin vibrated through your whole body.

you hand reached out, head tilting as you tried to watch him. fingers running through his soft, messy brown hair. he closed the distance without even sliding your knickers off, placing a wet open mouthed kiss on your covered cunt.

his eyes fluttered shut at your taste, while your chest arched with a broken moan, still smiling despite yourself.

“liam… you need… to take them off!” you giggled, panting. you chuckled as he pulled back and immediately tug the fabric out of the way, nearly drooling from how much he wanted your taste on his tongue.

“i'm gonna... fucking, mad... proper— fuck's sake." he babbled, immediately cutting himself off with a groan as his eyes finally landed on you bare for him.

your cheeks burned, chest still shaking. but his hands were focused for a brief moment, guiding your knees apart until you were completely open to him.

he lost any track of thought as he unapologetically stared. his fingers reached out, gently spreading your soft lips apart to admire the wetness glistening under the dim light. “jesus, fucking christ.” he let out in a low, shaky breath, thumb tracing your clit before closing the distance.

you gasped at the feeling of his tongue sliding over you with a long stroke that made your hips instantly jerk off the bed.

his hands gripped your thighs, holding you still while his tongue worked over you with an eager and messy wet pace. you whimpered, fingers knotting into his hair, pulling him closer as your fuzzy head amplified every single touch. he paused for a fraction of a second, lifting his head just enough to press a wet kiss to your mound.

“could eat this. for fucking ever. taste so fucking good, god.” he groaned against your skin, before diving right back in until you were shaking, your orgasm washing over you before either of you could even realize.

he didn’t realize it, actually, maybe that’s why he kept kissing your cunt messily even as you panted heavily, too lost in the feeling of your clit throbbing underneath his tongue.

but you didn’t give him a chance to catch up, tugging him by the hair and making him shift over your body. he crawled back up, his cock heavy and twitching inside his underwear at the sudden firmness of your hand inside his hair.

your hands settled on his cheeks as you pulled him in for a kiss, moaning inside your mouth as you realized you could taste yourself. it all felt so dirty and intimate, your legs wrapped around his hips to pull him impossibly closer.

you moaned his name, hand clumsily pushing the elastic band as an attempt to free his length.

he breathed out a laugh. “yeah?” came out smug and muffled against your lips.

you instantly broke into a smile, kissing him deeper, humming. your hand slipped past the waistband, wrapping around him and slowly stroking at the same time he got rid of the remaining fabric.

the realization hit you both at once, no fumbling around in his pockets for a condom this time. it was another thrilling and slightly terrifying first that made your heart hammer harder against your ribs. he looked down at you for a second, searching your face for approval, his whole face softening as soon as you nodded – both breaking into a quiet fit of laughter.

he guided himself to your entrance, the leaking tip of his cock pressing against your wet hole. you gasped softly as he slowly slid inside. the feeling of skin against skin made his eyes roll back, immediately burying his face on the crook of your neck. it all felt overwhelming, making him close his eyes, breathing you in.

you moaned needily as he started to move, hips rolling in a slow rhythm. suddenly, he pulled away until his eyes could meet yours, clearing his throat and even then feeling the need to swallow gruffly before he spoke. it was very unlike what he was attempting, the proper rockstar about to say something incredibly filthy.

“you’re… you’re so— fucking, proper tight, babe. like a fucking… a fucking— glove. or summat. warm like a fucking glove ‘round me.” he tried, brows furrowed in deep concentration.

the absurdity of it hit you instantly. a loud, ungraceful snort escaped your nose, and that shattered any cockiness he was failing at. liam dropped his head into the crook of your neck, shoulders shaking with uncontrollable laughter.

“a glove?!” you gasped, tears pricking the corners of your eyes, stomach muscles aching. his body shook softly as he laughed with you, still tangled together, breathless.

“i’m trynna be sexy here, bird.” he protested, but he couldn’t keep a straight face. a massive boyish grin across his face remained pressed against your neck, his burning cheeks heating you while his cock twitched inside you despite it all.

your hands slid over his shoulders, then all the way down his arms and back. his skin felt warm and fuzzy underneath your palms, the high blossoming deep inside you only adding to the intimacy – that by itself already felt like a drug.

you laughed so hard a tear streamed down your skin, disappearing into the hair beside your temple. he gave you another stroke, watching you in awe, still laughing as well.

“laughing with a lad’s cock inside ya. you’re fucking cruel, you are.” he teased, without any bite to it. not a single ounce of seriousness in his words, not when his chest softly rested over yours from laughing so hard he couldn’t even prop himself up in his elbows like usual.

you shook your head, hand squeezing his arm as much as the lack of oxygen tightened inside your chest. “stop! i’m…” you tried, nearly incomprehensible and fully breathless from laughing. “i’m gonna fucking pee, liam.”

liam collapsed then, his body weight pressing over you while he laughed, wiping a tear from his own eye with a flush on his cheeks that had nothing to do with embarrassment and everything to do with how much he adored you.

you laughed harder, hands tapping his arms. “liam!”

“can’t feel my legs.” he said simply, muffled against your neck.

you shifted underneath him, biting down a laugh as your palms pressed his chest, guiding him until his back was flat on the mattress.

liam let out a dramatic, breathless groan at the change, his head rolling on the pillow as you straddled his lap. his hands slid up the sides of your thighs, opening his eyes with struggle and letting his lips part in awe.

“fuck, look at you.” he murmured, voice dropping into that honey thick rasp, blue eyes blinking up at you, completely blown out and adoring. “fucking beautiful, you are. fucking goddess.”

you laughed, cheeks flushing and hips moving, inevitably clenching around him once his palms settled on your waist, fingers sprawled before sliding up to grope your breasts. his touch was completely unhurried and unapologetic, his gaze following attentively the way his own thumbs slid over your wet nipples, still sticky from earlier.

“fucking hell, look at these.” it was a dirty praise, nearly in disbelief. his fingers digged softly into your flesh, lips parting at how warm it felt underneath his touch, brows furrowing in pleasure with every movement of your hips. “fucking mad. you’re so fucking stunning, ’s not even fair.”

you leaned down with a breathy, fond laugh. he didn’t mind your messy hair falling around his face, not even your lips found his in another sloppy and slow kiss. you could still taste the night on his tongue – the lagers and the cigarettes he smoked, the sweet jam and your own arousal.

he let out a shaky groan that turned into a disbelieving laugh as his eyes rolled back, overwhelmed with how unbelievably wet you were. “fuck, babe.” he panted, chest heaving under yours as you moved.

you laughed softly against his jaw, leaning down until your tongue traced his collarbone. you could listen to the wet sounds of your cunt clamping down on his shaft, feeling how you left the soft patch of hair on his crotch slick with your arousal every time you moved.

his hips thrusted upwards involuntarily, pulling a gasp out of you. you shifted until your mouth was on his, but neither of you managed to properly kiss – only shaky breaths escaping. the high was slowly replaced with that sweet kind of desperation that had you crying out into his mouth.

“gonna be fucking big, me,” he babbled into your mouth, hands sliding down to cup your ass and pull you down harder against him. “wanna— fuck, darlin’. wanna put a baby inside you, yeah? make a proper little family with my girl.”

another laugh bubbled up your throat at the intensity of his high mind, but it was cut short into a gasp as he drove his hips up, hitting a spot that made you whimper his name.

your fingers tangled inside the floppy hair you loved so much – head spinning at the thought that these hypothetical kids would maybe have it, too. or the droopy blue eyes that made you melt. or the pretty pink plump lips you were so glad you could steal kisses from whenever you’d like.

“’m serious, yeah?” he moaned, thumbs stroking the curve of your ass as he kept up the rhythm. his cheeks were flushed with a deep pink, his chest heaving under yours as warm puffs of air hit your face, his breathing jagged just like yours. “wanna make you all— fucking full of me, babe. fill you right up. spoil you fucking rotten. g-gonna… buy you everything you want. give you everything. my perfect girl.”

you buried your face in his neck with a moan, his name falling from your lips like it was the only word you knew. overwhelmed by the warmth of his bare body and his raspy words as he stretched you out.

your fingers trembled as they found his, immediately intertwining. pressing his hands into the mattress on either side of his head as you picked up the pace. both completely lost in the haziness of yet another first.

── .✦

another first time happened the next morning.

despite you having raised your hips the moment he babbled “‘m gonna cum. fuck, gonna—“ in a brief lapse of conscience, right now, the two of you stood in a drugstore aisle. sunglasses on and half empty bottles of gatorade in your hands, heads tilted to the side as you both analyzed the different shades in the nail polish wall.

the morning after pill already sitting in your stomach for the first ever time. you had asked for it with cheeks so warm you thought you’d pass out and voice so quiet you unfortunately had to repeat yourself to the man behind the counter.

right now, as he stood beside you, liam’s hand reached out and picked up a soft pink colored one. “reckon this one would look good on ya, i think.”

“you think?” you asked casually, your free hand sliding over his back until it rested on his waist.

“yeah.”

your head tilted, humming. then, you shook your head softly. “i actually think i already own one like this.”

his brows raised softly, huh. that’s why i think it’s pretty, then. “right.” he placed it back on the shelf.

you reached out, picking up a black one, a teasing smile immediately growing on your lips. “what about this one, hm?” – your hand gave his side a squeeze, not moving your palm away even as he tried to squirm out of your touch, grinning – “proper rock and roll. right?” you added.

he laughed, shaking his head and leaning in to press a kiss inside your hair. “cheeky bird.”

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[eggieeggsta]

John just holding Paul’s hand delicately 🥹🥹🥹🥹

[ggtia-cowriter]

i love when they do this little head tilt so much

[neutralwinemotel]

foda-se o futebol. foda-se a seleção brasileira. foda-se neymar jr. foda-se todo mundo.

[alicehighflyingbirds]

all my loving to highflyingcami

[alicehighflyingbirds]

fuck gringos and let’s go mexico

[saltandcreamz]

Oh Darling!

[silversunsailing]

comic wip

[highflyingcami]

OLD HABITS - PART EIGHT

cw: childhood friends to lovers; fingering; unprotected sex; thigh riding; m. masturbation; dirty talk; breeding kink-ish; idiots in love secretly dating <3

𑣲 word count: 14,5k. ˊˎ-

wn: surpriiiiiseee !!!! i started writing with the intention of this being the epilogue but i realized it would be enormous (as you can clearly see...) so yay extra chapter!! shoutout to @oliviastring for encouraging me on doing an extra chapter and my lovely @gxnyadavid for the brillianttt studio idea!! i had so much fun writing this, hope you all enjoy <3

ps: no songs in this one this is ssoooo embarassing omg.. im so sorry. cest la vie.. there's smut though! # girlboss and. yes. i know. but i MUST sip on my secret dating milkshake or else i die. it's an actual condition...

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ever since sofia’s third birthday, things with the band got a little more difficult.

dealing with personal stuff while the band put out an album wasn't any news to you. that's just life, isn't it? besides, your part of the work had become muscle memory after 10 years.

by now, you knew what news channels they should or shouldn't talk to. you knew what advertisement strategies worked so heathen chemistry would stay in the charts for weeks – and you already knew it wasn't that much effort, either, since the world already knew how good oasis were.

one thing you weren't really used to was bonehead not being around, and the absolute headache it would bring. gem and andy were angels fallen from heaven, thank god. it crossed one less problem off your list, since your own brother and guigsy leaving wasn’t that easy to handle.

and, thankfully, you were still you. that made things more efficient, because you were still a bit scary to those who knew you, even scarier to the poor ones who didn’t – in that category, fit some man in a suit that wanted to boss things around just because he thought he had the upper hand.

he clearly felt cocky given the fact his stadium was the one to host the first night of the tour. while you never got tired of deflating the male delusional bubble, no matter the stress that came along with it.

“no, listen.” you cut in, speaking in the same steady tone you always did, not changing if this idiotic man in front of you wouldn’t stop talking. “i don’t care if it’s the stadium’s sponsor. what goes behind them is the band logo and the live footage. if that screen even flickers with a fucking pepsi ad, i’m not joking, we’ll walk.”

“you can’t do that.” he said with an exhale, noticing how serious you sounded and even then not letting his arrogant and misogynistic guard down.

“we can and we will. there’s a clause in the contract, sir.” you said as you walked off, feeling your tongue tingle with the desire to replace the polite addressing with a full mouthed “dickhead.”

some wide eyed roadies’ heads followed as you walked through the backstage area. one of them smartly started to chase you, because there were still some things to sort out.

because you were still the boss, in all your terrifying glory.

your nails were still always perfectly manicured whenever you pointed at somebody, telling them exactly what was still fucked up and how they’d fix it, in that – nearly condescending – dumbed down way even your three year old daughter could understand. except now you’d started wearing skirts more often.

still with the boots, though. always the boots.

“if the lights aren’t sorted in the next ten minutes, i’m—“ you started as you walked, cutting yourself with a huff before something too snappy could come out. the poor roadie, who was nearly tripping on his feet as he made an effort walking beside you without you even telling him to. “not having another manchester situation, yeah? can’t happen.”

across the room, noel was in his own argument. still the chief.

“i don’t give a fuck what the label said. if they wanted the setlist they should’ve written the fuckin’ songs, shouldn’t they?” he said plainly. one hand lazily scratching his beard while the other held a cigarette between his fingers.

you watched him as you walked, slowing down once you realized his eyes also flickered toward your direction. but the roadie’s shaky voice was quick to bring you back into your own conversation. “the tech guys are already on it. said it should be settled in five.”

“right,” you muttered, taking a quick look at the papers in your hand, like they were very important. “i gotta sort… this out with noel. thanks, though.” you said nearly absentmindedly, sounding very focused as you already started to walk again.

the roadie just nodded and went back to whatever it was he was doing, while you walked towards the direction of noel’s backstage dressing room, just a few seconds after he had just entered.

you opened the door already looking for him, and despite already expecting it, you let out a quiet surprised squeal once his hands found your waist and immediately tugged you closer.

the door barely clicked shut before his mouth was on yours. noel kissed you eagerly enough make you stumbled back into the door with a startled laugh that disappeared inside his mouth, his hands sliding to the sides of your cheek as you both smiled into the kiss.

“noel…” you whispered shakily, and he could hear the smile you had on.

he cut you off with another kiss. his hands sliding underneath the skirt that had apparently been driving him insane all evening, grabbing your ass and kissing you even harder.

you laughed against his mouth before his head dipped to the side, latching on your neck as his own body pressed closer to yours.

your head tipped back with a small moan as he messily kissed your pulse point, instantly letting out another breathless laugh once you felt his hand moving beneath your skirt.

“noel…” you tried again, breathier.

he just kept kissing your neck anyway, humming against it and doing it even smugger when his hand pressing over your cunt, dragging slow circles with his palm, pulled a moan out of you. “what?” he taunted quietly.

“n-noel…” weaker now. your hand grabbing his shoulders to keep him there. maybe even closer.

“hm?” he hummed into your skin, tone as unconcerned as his hand slid inside the elastic waistband of your knickers and his mouth finding yours again.

“we’re gonna get caught like this.” you moaned against his lips, lips falling agape at the feeling of the pad of his fingers rubbing slow and steady circles over around your clit.

his smirk only grew against your lips, eyebrows raising in that cocky way as he breathed out, “no one’s gonna walk in.”

your eyes fluttered shut, hands grabbing him tighter as your chest arched into his at the feeling of his fingers immediately pushing inside your entrance. “i’m the chief, remember?” he added quietly, cocky.

you let out a quiet moan that only fueled him on, curling his finger until the tip found your sweet spot. his front pressed firmer against you, allowing you to feel his cock warm and strained inside his jeans.

“jesus, fuck.” he breathed out, his voice coming out rough and amused at the squelching sound of his finger slowly fucking your wet cunt, deep and steady. “y’hear how fucking wet you are, darling? hm?”

you nodded eagerly, eyelids still tightly shut and already feeling a small tear form in the corner of your eyes. “n-love…” you started, trying to keep quiet – immediately cutting yourself off with a gasp at him speeding up just a bit, mouth falling agape and hands grabbing his arms harder.

“seemed stressed,” he murmured. “wanna make you feel good, yeah?”

god, he’s fucking good with his fingers. annoyingly so, even better than what you have fantasized about.

you nodded eagerly, nails digging into the back of his neck, making a smirk grow on his lips despite the slight burn. his brows raised cockily as his teeth nibbled your ear, his tone low and smug. “there she is,” he murmured.

“noel,” you moaned again, needier this time, one of your legs helplessly lifting while your hips involuntarily grinded into his touch.

“yeah?” he whispered smugly. “feel good, darlin’?”

you nodded your head immediately, cheeks hot. which only made him grin wider. “just takin’ care of my girl, aren’t i.”

your lips fell agape, head tipping back as your brows furrowed, feeling the tightness in your lower belly too intense to fight it. “f-fuck, noel… i’m—“

“mhm. proper good boyfriend, huh? feel you squeezin’ me. go on, cum on my fingers, give it to me.”

he knew your body too well already. despite how little time had actually passed, cocky bastard.

you let out a shaky moan, your hands flying to the back of his neck and pulling him in for a messy kiss – a strategy for you to shut yourself up. your cheeks burned with how quickly you felt apart, the sound of his voice calling himself your boyfriend making your orgasm hit you like a fucking trainwreck. you wish you could tell your teenager self about this exact moment. christ, she'd loose her fucking mind.

your tongue kept sliding against his as your orgasm washed through, moaning inside his mouth and feeling his own lips parted in that little smug way you secretly loved, his fingers still fucking you through it.

thankfully, his free arm was holding you firmly against the door as your knees weakened for a moment.

as the intense feeling faded away, your mouth stayed on his, panting while his lips kept placing soft kisses in the corner of your mouth, slowly tracing them to your cheek as you breathed him in.

“jesus christ.” you muttered quietly, breathy and in nearly disbelief. it pulled a laugh out of him, smiling against your warm cheek and slowly withdrawing his fingers from you, absentmindedly pressing his crotch firmer against your thigh, just for a bit of relief.

“you look fit when you’re stressed, yknow.” he said casually, despite panting a little himself. like this is the perfect explanation to why he couldn't go one second longer without getting his hands on you. to be fair, for him, it kinda is very reasonable.

you huff out a laugh at it, closing your eyes and head tipping back. your hands shakily went to his face, sliding your palm down his cheek, absentmindedly cradling him – not really noticing how he was still admiring your expression.

he hummed at the touch, leaning in and placing a soft kiss on your neck, not minding how his body was still caging yours against the door anyone could open at any moment.

he didn’t care, just kept kissing your neck slowly, humming at the feeling of your soft hand sliding down to the side of his neck. “look fit all the fuckin’ time, actually.”

you laughed, hand sliding down his chest. “yeah?…”

“mhm.” he hummed.

you licked your lips at it, already closing the distance once more and not even managing to properly kiss him since you were smiling. "so, ‘my boyfriend’, huh?"

noel huffed out a breath at it, amused. "well. yeah." his nose softly brushed yours, his tone carrying the words like it was as certain as death. you hummed, pleased, kissing him even though both of you were still smirking.

"yeah?" you teased, your hand already sliding underneath the hem of his shirt – making his hands grab your ass and pull you impossibly closer to him. he grunted against your mouth at the feeling of your palms sliding over his happy trail, only nodding in response, a warm breath inevitably leaving his nostrils in a huff and gently brushing your skin as your hands started to undo his belt.

"well... i should be making my boyfriend feel good, too..." your hands fumbled with the button of his jeans, making him smirk. immediately wiping it off his face once your palm slid inside his underpants, feeling the warmth of his stiff cock against your skin as you palmed him. "shouldn't i?..."

he couldn't stiffle in a quiet moan at the feeling of your hand wrapping around him. you smiled against his mouth, feeling him involuntarily mirror it – a smirk grew on his lips at the same time his hands went to your cheeks, holding your face as he breathed out shakily, "yeah?"

"mhm..." you hum quietly, eyes looking into his blue ones that right now were nearly not blue at all. your chest arched into his, a quiet moan slipping past your lips as you felt his pre cum slowly wetting your thumb that slid over his tip with every slow stroke.

he throbbed underneath your touch. and yet, a smug smirk stayed on his lips, hands still cradling your cheeks as he breathed out: "fucking getting you off, isn't it. me... fuck, being your boyfriend."

you bit down your bottom lip, your tone equally as hushed as his making everything feel so much more intimate. and fuck me, so much hotter to you. "maybe..."

his hands grabbed your face a little tighter at it, pulling you into a kiss and filling your mouth with his tongue, slow against yours, and a groan you gladly swallowed with a quiet moan yourself.

then, three knocks on the door.

your hand immediately froze, your eyes widened. while noel's hands remained on your face, a small trail of spit connecting his mouth to yours as he silently threw his head back with a roll of his eyes, before closing them in an annoyance.

"what is it?" noel shot back, annnoyed. his hands still held you close and his needy cock still throbbed under your palm.

"going on in five." the voice on the other side of the door informed.

his head tilted to the side, that silent "fuck my life" gesture. your brows furrowed, eyes closing as you quietly whined in protest, your own head dropping until your forehead rested on his chest.

he sighed, and you immediately knew something reasonable was coming. so your mouth reached out, pampering his jaw with kisses as your hand went back to slowly moving. "already?..." you whispered.

he sighed again, nodding and rubbing his nose on your cheek as he did.

then, your hand reluctantly stilled for good.

"i'm gonna fucking kill this roadie." you spoke quietly, it got a proper laugh out of him. inevitably getting one out of you, too.

then, noel pulled away just enough to look at your face again, his palm slid over your forehead, softly brushing your hair out of the way and letting out a huff at the feeling of your hand pulling away.

he kissed your cheek anyway. "couple more hours..."

"hm..."

then, he kissed your other cheek, properly smiling now. "then... all yours." he said quietly, his hands slipped down to yours, squeezing gently before bringing them up and pressing a kiss against your knuckles.

you breathed out a laugh at it, eyes closing despite yourself. "okay." you said quietly, reluctant, almost. your hands reached out to his hair the moment his fingers went to his trousers, fixing them at the same time your fingers combed his hair back in place. all while he kept a smile on his lips as fond as yours. christ, we're disgusting.

being with noel, you found out that neither of you can keep your hands to yourselves, and keeping this a secret, for now, would actually be harder than you imgined.

you also found out that – at your grown fucking age – the idea of noel gallagher being your boyfriend did your head in the same way it did when you were a teenager.

worse now, obviously. because now, you knew how soft his lips felt like against yours. you knew that his skilled fingers felt every bit of amazing inside you as you could've possibly imagine. you knew that his smell drove you insane and already made you want more of him even while the both of you panted over the mattress, tangled and sweaty and embarrassingly crazy about one another.

you knew that every time his cock pressed over and over on your sweet spot that remained neglected for so long, he'd moan words in your ear that made you hold yourself back from asking him to put a fucking kid inside you.

by the way, it's been exactly one week since sophia's birthday party.

one week of feeling his warmth glued to your back as he spooned you into the best fucking sleep of your life. one week of explaining to a very smart three year old that you and uncle noelly were just having sleepovers even though anais had already gone back to her mummy's.

one week of having noel's hand firmly clasped over your mouth as his cock filled your eyes with tears of pleasure.

one week of finding out he really was indulgent about eating you out, and one week of him calling your ex husband a wanker after you'd told him that colin just... didn't really care about it – before diving right back in, not minding how your arousal would leave his chin and sometimes the tip of his nose fucking glistening.

one week of breakfast filled with more laughter and chatting than usual.

one week of listening to noel rant about how the snow white prince was a proper creep.

one week of rolling your eyes and laughing whenever noel would bend down in the shower for you to wash his hair just because your fingers felt "so much better."

one week of the both of you keeping this a secret. and obviously laughing about liam's cluelessness, not meanly. just because the both of you wondered what his reaction would be once he finally found out.

then, you'd think about how tense the atmosphere was at sophia's birthday with bonehead and noel in the same room and your laughter would fade instantly. it didn't really develop into anything else because everyone there was wise enough to know it wasn't the time or place to air out dirty laundry.

imagine if bonehead finds out that now noel's shagging his baby sister.

noel laughed at the thought, cocky and annoying enough just to rile you up, earning a smack on his chest even though you were trying not to laugh yourself.

so, yes. just one week. it just is that serious.

that's why you had to keep a straight face while watching the gig from the side stage. you'd done it a million times, haven't you?

except now, you had to bite down a smirk and wear your best poker face when noel would meet your gaze. that's why your chest heaved as you watched him tilt his head back, part his lips and furrow his brows as he played the guitar – the same exact face he'd make with you on top of him moments before he came.

during tonight’s gig, you drank more than you usually do – which is… zero. you liked staying sober in case you needed to step in.

a few years back, you’d allow yourself to properly drink at the after parties, the kind of nights where you’d mostly wander off with your arm intertwined with claire’s, making your way to a random balcony for cigarettes and gossip.

after becoming a mom, however, drinking became less frequent. maybe a glass of wine here and there at the comfort of your own home, or a nice drink at a dim lit restaurant.

tonight, the gin and tonic in your red solo cup slowly disappeared with every little nervous sip you took. and it’s needless to say that it was a very, very bad idea.

because the cup that was supposed to sit on your hand mostly for comfort, a little supportive tap on your back in shape of alcohol, felt more like a punch in the fucking cunt.

because of course it backfired. and all you could do was shake your head at yourself, sighing and thinking “i thought i was smarter than this.”

it was like gasoline to put out fire. and noel certainly didn’t help. he walked off stage giving you a look only the two of you knew what it was all about, dabbing the small white towel over his sweaty neck. the kind of look that told you he couldn’t wait to get back to the hotel, either.

the thing is, liam’s hand found noel’s shoulder the second the group arrived at the hotel, dragging him to the hotel bar and leaving you no option but to follow. forcing the two of you to unfortunately stick around for the afterparty.

and throughout the whole thing, your eyes lingered on him across the room. both keeping a distance because people couldn’t catch on just yet.

the first time you tried to leave, you’d just given noel a look that meant “you go first.” and waited for the magic to happen.

then, a very enthusiastic andy stopped him to talk, and from the apologetic look noel gave you while the bassist was too busy drying tears from laughter, you noticed right now wasn’t gonna be it.

another drink for you, two more for noel.

the second time, you pushed off your chair with a yawn, in a strategic volume and closeness that noel would notice and follow your lead. but liam was quicker, he wrapped his arms around your shoulder, shaking your body and ruffling your hair while teasing: “don’t have to be all boring just cause you’re a mammy now, eh? miss moody.” while nicole shoved another shot into your hands, both with giddy smiles and cheeks flushed.

a shot for you, two more for noel.

you kept looking at him, as discreet as you could possibly be. but the first few buttons of his shirt were open and his hair was a complete mess from the gig. and every time he caught your eye, the corner of his mouth twitched like he knew exactly what you were thinking, the fucking prick.

the third time, he managed to slip away, wandering off with a raise of eyebrows that telepathically said “i’ll be here in the lobby waiting.”

you managed to get a few feet from the exit, when a very drunk claire with a cellphone on her hand told you her ex had called and that they got into a huge fight.

you quietly sighed as you hugged her, patting her back and allowing her to calm down for a few minutes. then, you kindly – a little slurred from the drinks, sure – told her to get some rest in her room. that tomorrow was a brand new day.

while noel, in his all impatient glory, passed by the two of you with his eyebrows furrowed at the scene of you caressing her blonde hair as she sniffed and nodded, half in confusion and half in frustration.

he grabbed another drink.

once claire made her way upstairs, you took a deep breath and walked to the bar once more. you could see noel’s back, sat down on a stool and talking to a man you’d probably recognize sober – stuck in yet another conversation he had no interest in being for longer than 5 minutes.

luckily for both of you, the man walked off somewhere else.

and for the first time since you’re stepped into this place, you two were as alone as you could be. for now, at least.

both of your gazes were facing the direction of the bar. both trying to fight stupid smiles at the realization that fucking finally, we’re gonna go upstairs in a bit.

his head tipped to the side, leaning close enough to your ear. you could smell the alcohol on him, the one that made him a little bolder, a bit more careless.

“that skirt makes you look fuckin’ mental, y’know.” he said quietly.

you closed your eyes immediately. “noel.”

“what?” he asked, and even though you weren’t really looking back at his face, ignoring the warning completely.

you could hear the smirk he had on.

you bit back a smile, shaking your head.

he leaned closer anyway, “makes me wanna bend you over. fuck you ‘til you can’t fucking strut backstage for fucking days.”

you laughed, breathy and embarrassed and turned on. “you’re such a fucking asshole…”

“what?” he breathes out, innocently, despite smirking wider. “you look so fucking good...”

“noel…”

“not even close as how good you look when you’re creamin’ all over my cock, though.”

your chest, heaved. you could feel your nipples hardening underneath your fucking top.

like it has been previously established, it really is that serious.

you licked your lips, fighting another smirk from growing, pressing your thighs together, hands gripping the wooden table from the bar tighter.

noel noticed every tiny movement, they only fueled him on. his voice lowered, mouth so close to your ear now that his breath brushed your skin – innocent to everyone else, but…

“y’think you can keep it on?”

“let’s go.” you cut in, immediately. already turning your body towards the exit and practically marching the fuck out of there.

not even a meteor or jesus fucking christ himself could stop you now.

noel lingered for exactly five seconds, breathing out a laugh as he took a last sip of his beer, his eyes darting down to your ass as you walked before he pushed himself away from the bar. someone even said something along the way, to which he replied an absentminded “cheers” and just kept walking.

you pressed the elevator button and quickly clasped your hands together, looking up at the numbers slowly shifting – too slow, in your opinion – until they got closer and closer to the lobby.

you kept watching the numbers even when noel stepped beside you, exhaling softly in that polite way people do when there's nothing going on here. not at all.

the doors opened with a ding. you stepped in calmly with a inhale. then, noel.

both of you being the only bodies disturbing the stillness of this elevator. both still looking ahead as he reached out and pressed his floor. the door slowly started to close, and your gazes remained focused on the thick metal bars slowly approaching one another.

it closed with another ding.

you turned immediately, his hands found your waist before you'd even properly wrapped your arms around his neck, mouths instantly crashing. his arms now tigthly wrapping around your waist as his feet steered the both of you closer to the wall.

your hands slid up his hair, you swallowed the moan he let out inside your mouth, kissing you harder at the mere touch. his knees bended just enough so his hand could slide up your inner thigh, having an even easier access as you slid your leg up his hip, kissing him back just as eagerly – only breaking it once you felt his palm pressing firmly over your center, shifting your head until your mourh greedily latched onto his neck.

"fuck–" noel moaned, his forehead inevitably dropping to your shoulder. his lips fell even wider apart once your hand palmed his warm cock strained underneath his jeans. "fuck–"

"missed you." you breathed out, your eyebrows needily furrowing as you kissed him, despite him not really kissing you back anymore – his gaze just dropping to your hands fumbling with his belt and getting it undone surprisingly fucking fast, already unclasping the button and tugging the ziper down. "god, missed you so fucking much."

he smirked despite himself, his hands grabbing your cheeks again as he pulled you into another messy kiss. "yeah?"

"you have no fucking idea." you whispered as shakily as your palm sliding underneath the elastic waistband of his underwear and wrapping around his cock. your lips fell agape at the sound of him groaning, needier now.

his mouth pressed against your cheek, hands grabbing your face harder as his teeth involuntarily digged into your cheek. softly, fueled by the smell of your moisturizer, the same one he has been wathcing you put on every single morning for the past seven days – inevitably bucking his hips foward, searching for your touch, sloppy already.

"gonna show me how much you've missed me in there, huh?" he said lowly against your skin, earning a broken moan from you and a shaky "yes" that only made him bite your cheek harder.

his fingers fumbled with your knickers, immediately finding you dripping from him once he shoved the fabric aside and started rubbing taunting, torturous slow circles around your throbbing clit.

the soft sting caused by his teeth added to the warmth of his breath against your warm cheek – now slick with his spit – pulled out a pathetic whimper from you. your eyes were tightly closed, your wrist strained underneath the elastic resistance that couldn't keep you from speeding up your strokes around him.

the elevator shook softly as it stopped, both of you withdrawing your hands away from one another despite still kissing. his fingers were still slick with you as he grabbed your jaw, kissing you harder. your hands tugging him closer by the hair still had a smudge of his pre cum.

you only broke the kiss, reluctantly, once you heard a soft ding. he chased your mouth anyway, not managing to fully close the distance because...

"OH MY GOD."

both of your heads turned so fast it nearly gave you fucking whiplash, meeting a wide eyed blonde that knew the both of you for too fucking long and thought she'd die without seeing this right in front of her eyes.

your mouth opened, eyebrows furrowing as you searched for words inside your throat. your leg still slug over his hip, while his hands were still tangled in your messy hair.

claire stammered, her hand raising and pointing at the both of you the way she did once a movie revealed its plot twist.

"OH MY GOD?!!"

"right. uh–" noel started, even though he had genuinely no clue where that sentence was going.

claire launched herself foward anyway, barely giving you time to react as each one of her arms wrapped around your necks into the world's most aggressive group hug. so tight it made you audibly exhale – the way people do when they're punched in the stomach.

noel immediately tried shifting backwards, because... well. yeah.

she squealed anyway, completely delighted – and oblivious to noel's huge problem inside his trousers – as she jumped and still squeezed your necks tightly.

"claire, i–" you tried.

her sobbing immediately cut you off. "i can't believe this. this is the happiest day of my life."

"claire." you wheezed, hand physically trying to push her away as a flight or fight response. your brain needed oxygen.

she sniffed, pulling her hands off you both only to get her hair out of her own face. "i forgot my jacket downstairs. and then–" she cut herself off with a cry, tears properly streaming down now, her brows scrunching up in genuine emotion as she placed her hands on your's and noel's shoulders, shaking you both for emphasis. "oh my god, i can't believe this! you've liked him for so long!"

“okay. breathe.” you said immediately.

“i’m so happy,” she cried again, wiping her face and completely ignoring you.

noel rubbed a hand over his face, his shoulders shaking from laughing now, completely amused. “christ.”

"claire, listen–"

she cut in immediately, “OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD, ARE YOU TWO GONNA SHAG RIGHT NOW?”

you blinked.

"CLAIRE?" your tone incredulous.

"yes." the only male voice in the room spoke, completely simple.

you glared at him, while claire broke down again. the way a girl does once her best friend finally gets the boy.

"OH MY GOD. GO!" she started, waving her hands in a get out of here gesture, holding the elevator doors that were about to close again, “OH MY GOD. GO. PLEASE GO!”

you laughed despite yourself, eyes falling shut while you stumbled into noel's feet, who had already taken your hand into his and walking out of the elevator, shaking his head while laughing.

"are you gonna be okay?" you asked, looking over your shoulder as noel made you walk, peeping first her hands appearing from inside the elevator – still shooing the both of you away - followed by her head, still crying.

"yes! PLEASE DON'T WEAR CONDOMS!"

noel breathed out a laugh deep from his chest as his hand clumsily unlocked the door with his card.

"PLEASE MAKE BABIES!" she yelled from the other side of the hall, the elevator closing at the same time the bedroom’s door opened, just to shut exactly two seconds later.

the only sound filling the bedroom was your laugh, breathy and drunk as you walked further into it, stumbling over your own feet, shaking your head, amused at everything that had gone down.

"she's out of her mind." you said, almost to yourself.

the room was dark except for the dim bedside lamp that had been left on, just because you told him how you thought the soft yellow light made the room feel more comfortable one night back at your place. his hands were stroking your hair and your voice was quiet in order to not disturb the girls with heads right over your laps, blissfully asleep while an animated movie was playing quietly in the background.

noel lingered by the door, watching you. his blue eyes droopy, a small smug and fond smile permanent on his lips.

you were a happy drunk, giggling even at the wind that blew by – always have been.

he remembers the first time he had seen you get properly drunk, at sixteen. how that was one of the first times he had to brush off the way his heart did that funny thing whenever his name came out of your smiley lips. the same smile that light up your whole face, more rare in the sober moments. you'd save it for the moments where him or liam said something so daft you couldn't physically hold it in.

he remembers holding your hair back in a ponytail when you inevitably had to vomit it all out, caressing your upper back for comfort. he remembers telling his drunk brain to fuck off at the realization of how soft your hair felt underneath his hand.

he remembers the streets spinning. maybe from the drinks. maybe from something else he didn't want to acknowledge.

he remembers the way home, the sound of your and his adidas trainers stomping down the same street where you'd become friends all those years ago. he remembers how his head already hurt at the iminent nagging from his then girlfriend the next day for ditching her – rightfully so.

but he remembers that same worry fading away at the sight of you wearing his jacket, the one he had insisted on you taking.

he remembers thinking he's daft.

he can't even remember her name now.

back then, he remembers thinking you were the prettiest girl he'd ever seen.

right now, when you turned around and met the sight of him – still standing by the door, still watching you – his thoughts were the exact same.

your laughter slowly died in your throat, shoulders softly dropping from the intensity he was looking at you. "what?" you said, barely above a breath.

he slowly pushed himself off the door, unhurriedly walking closer. your chin tipped upwards once he stood right in front of you, gaze dropping down to his mouth while your chest started to heave.

for a second, neither of you spoke. his palms found your cheeks anyway, thumbs brushing along your skin. “wanted you for so long.” he said quietly, rough with adoration.

your breath caught in your throat at his words. his eyes flickered over your face, catching every small reaction. he was so close his nose brushed against yours, sharing the same shaky breaths.

“so fuckin' long.” he added under his breath, more to himself than anything.

you found yourself moving closer without thinking, drawn in. your hands slid up his chest, feeling his heart hammering underneath the touch the same way yours did.

you leaned in first, lips already parting for his tongue to claim yours the way it has in secret for these past week. his hand sliding to the back of your neck, then upwards until his fingers tangled inside your hair, stopped you. firm and possessive enough to pull a moan out of you.

he watched the way eyebrows needily furrowing, how your eyes filled up from how badly you wanted him right now.

his mouth hovered over yours for another few seconds before his head tilted, lips parting right over your pulse point. the kiss started slowly, making your breath break into the quietness of the room and immediately pulling a groan deep from his chest – at the helpless little sound you'd just let out, at your taste, at your smell. at you. after wanting it so badly he thought he'd die from it more times than he could count.

his mouth got greedier at the realization, messier. your hand went to his shoulder immediately, gripping him like your knees had lost all strenght. “noel...” you breathed out.

he let out a low laugh against your skin. “mhm,” he murmured, voice rough as his mouth shifted even closer to your ear, almost taunting. “i know.”

you moaned quietly at it – his voice, his smell, his mouth. him. your eyes closed at the feeling of his teeth sinking into your neck. hands grabbing him tighter, pulling him closer.

then, his head shifted to the other side of your neck. kissing your bare skin with the same intensity, same hunger. “look at you.” he whispered by your ear. “can't believe you're mine.”

your throat tightened instantly, another moan being pulled out from you like those words were a punch in your chest. your head tipped back slowly, chest arching closer to his, your fingers curled into his shirt and you spoke before you could even stop yourself. “say it again,” you whispered.

his mouth twitched, a small breath leaving his nostrils, almost overwhelmed by all of this. “you like hearin’ that?” he teased, like he wasn't as close to loosing it.

then, he shifted. guiding you until the edge of the bed caught you behind your legs. you sank onto it, still looking up at him. he didn’t look away as he followed you down, watching your back slowly settle on the soft mattress while his knees sunk settled right between your spread thighs.

your elbows kept you propped up, in the right position to be able to watch him taking your right calf into his hands.

without a word, his hands slid down to the zipper of your boot, dragging it down slowly – still not pulling his eyes off from you. the soft sound of the metal seemed loud in the quiet room, only filled by the sounds of your breathing. he dropped the brown and high kneed leathered shoe to the floor, the wooden heel collapsing on the carpet with a soft thud.

he leaned closer to your ankle, placing a unhurried and wet kiss there. "mine." muffled, shifting his mouth further up until it landed on the soft flesh of your calf, giving it the same teasing treatment. his eyes still on you. "mine."

then, a wet kiss on your knee. one of his hands moved towards the hem of your skirt – already hitched up – and slid underneath the fabric. his palm fondled your thigh slowly before it shifted to your other leg. he gave your flesh the same possessive squeeze before he started undoing remaining zipper, still teasingly patient. "mine."

his grip was firm, the calloused pad of his fingers got rid of the other pair. he only broke the eye contact as his peripherical vision caught a glimpse of the mismatched sock. old habits die hard. he huffed out a small breath at it before leaning down and kissing your ankle the same way. "mine."

then up your calf. "mine."

then your knee. "mine."

his hands slid higher, letting go of your knee, palms flat as they ran up your bare thighs, pushing your skirt up and groping your thighs like he had earned the right.

he tipped his chin toward your direction. "take it off," his voice rough and commanding, sitting back on his heels, hands moving to the buttons of his own shirt.

you licked your lips, hands shaky as you reached for the hem of your top. you pulled it over your head, discarding it blindly onto the floor. the cool air hit your skin, but all you could feel was the heat of him.

the fabric parted and revealed the sight you could never get tired of. the soft patch of hair on his chest, the way it raised and fell just because he was in your presence. blue eyes still locked on yours.

his chin tipped up and down again, quietly commanding you before he made himself fully clear. "everything."

you reached behind your back, unhooking it and letting the straps slide down your arms. the moment you dropped it, his eyes tracked the movement, all while his hands went to the button of his pants. shaky as it slowly came undone. unhurriedly gettind rid of the fabric until he was just in his underwear.

he leaned down, your breathing stopped the moment he took your hand – despite the familiarity by now, every touch still felt electric. his fingers wrapped around your wrist and guided your hand down until it was pressed right over his hard cock strained by the fabric.

you moaned, fingers involuntarily curling around him. he let out a harsh, ragged breath through his teeth, leaning over you until his chest was brushing against your bare breasts.

"this is what you do to me," he whispered, his voice vibrating against your lips, thick with an agonizing amount of restraint. "always have."

"noel, please," you moaned, the words coming out as a needy whine. your hips instinctively shifted upwards, desperate for the friction, desperate for him to soothe the ache between your legs. "kiss me... please..."

he didn't answer with words, only a moan passing through his parted lips – smug and needy all at once. his hand slid under your skirt, fingers hooking into the waistband of your underwear and dragging them down your legs without even looking, slow and smooth, before tossing them carelessly to the side.

your skirt was still bunched around your waist, and he didn't kiss your mouth yet. he hovered just inches away, letting you feel the heat of his breath, letting you writhe beneath his weight as his hands slid down to the elastic band of his underwear, tugging it down and immediately wrapping his palm around his free cock, guiding himself until his wet tip was pressed against your entrance.

you gasped the instant he slowly pushed in, eyebrows furrowing needily as you watched his lips part in pleasure. a broken moan escaped your mouth as the slow stretch. your nails digged into his shoulders and thighs wrapping around his hips as he fully slid in. he went slow, until your eyes rolled back.

"so fucking wet," noel groaned, his lips brushing yours. not properly kissing you even after you'd asked so nicely – just because he knows you already won't be able to kiss him back, his poor pretty girl. his hand went to your jaw, grabbing it gently and rough all at once, noticing how your lips fell agape like you couldn't handle all of it.

his tongue slowly slipped inside your mouth, you could feel how his cock twitched inside you at the contact. his hand squeezed your jaw a bit harder like he couldn't control it, a harsh breath leaving his nostrils from the pleasure once his hips finally moved. slow and nearly teasing, pulling a gasp out of you. "kiss you like this, hm?"

you nodded desperately, already feeling tears fill your eyes. he watched your face with sheer adoration, nearly disbelief from the fact that he could actually do this now. your hips twitched, trying to force him deeper. a short huff left his nose at the action, leaning closer like he was about to kiss you again, only to whisper against your lips, pushing his hips back and foward at the same torturous pace. "fuck you like this, yeah? feels good?"

his chest heaved against your bare breasts, the soft patch of hair brushing your skin. "cunt's fucking made for me. taking me so fucking well." he whispered. his tone dripping with possessiveness and lust as he looked down at the vision he'd dreamed about more times than he'd like to admit.

the thought made him shift his hips away and back in, a slow and deep thrust that made your toes curl, legs squeezing his hips tighter.

"yours," you choked out, nails dragging down his back. "please..."

"yeah?" he murmured, shifting his weight to give you another thrust. his hand traveled down your torso, fingers immediately finding your clit. "this pretty cunt right here. all mine, hm?"

the friction was overwhelming, pulling a loud moan from your throat, already too gone to say anything else other than his name. he pulled a breath between his gritted teeth, giving you another deep thrust.

before you could moan his name again, his hand went to your face again. this time, his broad palm brushed strands of hair out of your face. the gesture was tender, but you could still hear the wet sounds of his cock slowly stretching you out. you could feel the soft hairs on his crotch, slick with you by now, brushing your sensitive bundle of nerves every time his hips pressed in.

you still moaned needily, watching every blink of his eye – like a man that still hasn't figured out if this is reality or yet another cruel prank his subconscious was playing at.

he needed to feel all of you, watch every twist in your expression – absentmindedly nodding along every time a sound came out of your mouth, pleased. like he was hypnotized. his fingers shifted until they slid inside your mouth. your tongue immediately swirled around his digits like it was second nature, eyes glassy and needy fixated on him as you tasted his fingers. "my perfect girl. fucking mine."

he picked up the pace at sight, heavier now. his fingers slipped out from your mouth with a wet sound, immediately wrapping his hand around your jaw again. the strenght of his fingers digging into your cheeks made you clench harder around him.

"y'feel this cock inside ya, yeah?" he breathed out, voice broken from the overwhelming pleasure while his slick lips bumped against yours with every thrust. "all yours. 'm all fucking yours."

you nodded desperately, "love it. f-fuck, i love you."

he kissed you greedily just then, because god fucking knows how much those three little words did his head in every single time. god knows how long he's been waiting to hear them.

he shifted closer to your ear with a broken moan. “yeah? d'you wanna do what she said, hm?” he whispered, in that dirty rasp that made your head spin, while hips driving harder into you now. the sounds of his cock fucking your soaked cunt mixed with the skin slapping noises made it all feel deliciously dirtier.

you moaned loudly in response, nodding desperately. while he didn't wait for a verbal answer – his cock deep and relentless. “me filling you up, that’s what you want? stuff this pretty cunt with my cum ‘til you’re dripping with it, yeah?”

you could only moan, eyes glassy and completely ruined by the thought of him filling you up again, the same way he has been ever since the first time.

his fingers digged deeper inside the skin of your jaw, too gone to calculate the force – the right amount that made you pulse around him, eyes blinking away tears from pleasure. the right amount of firmness that forced you to look at him as he wrecked you.

“imagine that,” he growled, breathless as he picked up the pace, his chest slick with sweat now. “all fucking bossy tomorrow when it’s me dripping down your thighs. fuck.”

you threw your head back against the pillow, mind completely blank, completely consumed by the heat of him between your legs. you wanted it so bad it felt like a sickness, like you could die from how badly you loved him. and he was taking what was his, making sure you felt every single stretch.

“they should fucking see you like this, yknow," he taunted, blue eyes glinting with the pride of someone who's been dreaming about this for half his life. "smart girl goes all dumb with noelly’s cock inside her, don’t ya?”

all that left your mouth now was incoherent babbles of his name and "yes" over and over again. he kept driving into you deep, bottoming out with a force that made your eyes roll back. "should... fuck. see how pretty you look taking me. dirty thing." he rasped, teeth sloppily nibbling your bottom lip.

your hands flew to his hair, messing it up slightly as your fingers tightly tried to hold onto it, still short. still buzzed off.

secretly, even though he looked annoyingly fit, you couldn't wait for it to grow out again. so you could finally play out the fantasies you'd had ever since seventeen – in your bedroom, looking at the pictures he had sent back from tour with the inspirals, secretly wondering what it would be like with him like that.

like this, right now.

the thought alone would make you blush, and little did you know it would annoyingly come back even as you were older and married to someone else – around the time they were recording standing on the shoulder of giants and the two nights at wembley. you didn't tell him that either, not yet. god knows how cocky he'd get once he finally finds out.

noel moaned loudly, shaky, at the touch, hips speeding up. "go on. can scream all you want now. that's it, fuck."

a loud moan escaped from your lips, head spinning with how deep he was inside you.

“should’ve told her we weren’t gonna use one anyway, hm?" he muttered, teeth nibbling your earlobe, his breath hot and ragged. "that you let me fuck you raw like this, huh? could fucking die inside you. fuckin' hell, darlin'."

he slammed into you again and again, his upper body pinning you down, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he felt himself loose the last of his restraint. “no fucking chance i’d wear one," his grip on your jaw tightened as his pace turned sloppier. "with this perfect fucking cunt ‘round me. dripping all over me.”

with one last, deep thrust, you came undone at the same time a low groan escaped deep from his throat. spurts of his cum painted all over your inner walls that rhytimically pulsed as your own orgasm washed through. your back arched off the bed, a breathy and needy cry leaving your lips as he filled you up.

for a few seconds, all you did was pant. feeling his heavy body shaking over yours, his weight coming down fully as he let go, burying his face in the crook of your neck, his breathing warm and uneven.

"fuck me," he breathed out against your skin, his voice a coming out in a tired whisper, despite still smiling, droopy and spent.

you couldn't help but laugh too, especially once he rolled onto his side, immediately pulling you with him so you were tucked securely against his chest.

his hands, which had been gripping you so fiercely just moments ago, were now tracing gentle and lazy circles over your hip. you let out a weak, breathless giggle, forehead resting against his neck as the first wave of laziness washed over. "you're heavy," you mumbled, a small, sleepy smile tugging at your lips.

"and you're loud." he murmured, his voice thick with affection. then, he leaned down so he could place a kiss on the top of your head, while his fingers caressed your messy hair.

you laughed, rolling your eyes and shifting closer anyway. your leg hooked over his thigh.

you swore the feeling of his skin against yours, slick and warm, was the most comforting thing in the world. he was smiling, swollen lips from kissing pressing into the crook of your neck and making his way up to your jawline. his touch was light, nearly ticklish – he laughed at you squirming, despite giggling softly just like him.

just two idiots tangled up in the sheets, completely in love and utterly exhausted.

the weeks passed like that. to the rest of the world, you were just the same old, the ones who had been around since the beginning.

to the crew and the press, maybe a bit intimidating when it came to business.

to others, still a sensitive topic – one that had been a big elephant in the middle of the room for a long time, with tension eveyone was aware of, despite never really knowing the real reasons why. and now, just two grown adults who had missed their timing, and were finally okay with it.

but behind closed doors, the unspoken tension that had lingered in the air for years had finally settled into something real. a gentle kind of quietness between two people that had no desire of pretending they weren't mad about one another anymore.

you two knew the secret feeling of rooting for the rest of the party to leave the elevator first, and the thrill that would follow right after – where his hands would pull you closer by the waist and your mouth would curl up as you snogged him back. making up for the lost time every chance you had.

"fuck the security cameras." he muttered as his mouth dragged down your neck one time in budapest.

you laughed, pulling away just to make a point. "we could sue, actually."

he rolled his eyes, already placing a hand on the back of your neck and pulling you closer as he fondly told you to "shut up."

you knew no one batted an eye at the room numbers you had booked. your and noel's every time being the only ones on the same floor.

you knew that, now, the only thing capable of putting a smile on your face while you sorted out scheduling burocracy in your cellphone was text messages from noel – who stood in the opposite corner of the same room, only waiting for your reaction at a cheeky message he had sent.

you’d catch him looking out of the corner of your eye, a tiny knowing smirk would tug at his lips while he pretended to tune his guitar. the rest of the crew around you both completely oblivious to the little digits.

“Look up.”

“Was that bruise on your knee me? might have to kiss it better later.”

“Stop giving me those fuck me eyes. you cruel woman. gonna make me embarrass myself.“

“Need a cig. come. PS: definitely NOT an excuse to snog you.”

“Should be a crime having legs like that. cant wait to bury my face between them later XX”

“Chief said youre working too hard. stop frowning and met me in the bathroom, i miss you.”

“My hair still smells like your fancy shampoo. pretty sure rkid looked at me funny. it will make his brain overheat!!”

── .✦

one night in tokyo, already in the last leg of the tour, the band's plans of getting drunk with sake were replaced with launging around a studio noel had asked you to book the day before –just because he had a melody in his head and couldn't wait until london.

what years ago would have been a polite request somewhere backstage, with neither of you really looking at one another's faces, this time was with his palms sprawled over your stomach, one leg thrown over you while his hand held your one of your tits for mere comfort. while one of your hands cradled his cheek and the other played with his hair.

"you think we could book a studio for tomorrow?" he mumbled.

"hm?" you hummed, not quite catching what he said since you were practically already drifting off.

he licked his lips, patiently repeating himself. "you think booking a studio for tomorrow would be possible?"

"yeah."

a beat. your hand still gently running over his head, his thumb absentmindedly sliding over your nipple.

"i got it." you said quietly, shifting until your body was impossibly closer to his.

he exhaled blissfuly, his arms holding you tighter and his mouth placing a kiss on your temple. "thanks, love." he muttered quietly.

now, the studio still smelled like green tea. you could never grow bored of watching him work, you think. you found cute how whenever he'd tug the strings on the guitar – with the same notes filling the room over and over again until he was satisfied – his brows would still furrow the same way they always have.

it reminded you about that one time he fixed your record player when you were fifteen and he was nineteen, brows deeply furrowed and a frustrated "bollocks" deep from his soul slipped past his lips because the needle wouldn't stay right.

or all those times you'd fixed him and paul sandwiches after the hacienda, still a bit sleepy from the sudden disruption and permanently annoyed the way fourteen year olds always were. where noel would watch your hands with that strange concentration only a hammered and freshly eighteen year old boy would have.

or even that one time noel and paul were in charge of taking their younger siblings to the park down the street, where five year old you grumpily stood in front of him and begrudedly let a nine year old noel tie your undone shoelaces.

he explained step by step too, just so the next time he wasn't around you'd still be able to do it. "you make a knot, then two bunny ears, one goes under and then you pull them. see?"

while just two days before you two had left for tour, you were busy in the kitchen preparating the perfect park-date sandwiches, you overheard him in the living room with your two little girls. he was sat down on the floor right in front of their little legs dangling from the couch, pink sneakers already on even. "right. anais' bunnies are done, ain't them, sweetheart? now it's sophia's turn."

you smiled to yourself at the thought, shaking your head as your gaze went back to the book in your hands.

andy stretched his arms over his head. gem was sitting beside you, talking to claire that sat beside him. liam was on the phone with someone. everyone was done, noel stayed in his little focus bubble no one really dared to pop.

and just like that, after liam pressed the red little button in the cellphone, he managed to convince everyone to come to a restaurant nicole happened to know the owner.

everyone else cleared out with casual goodbyes and "see you tomorrow" once you and noel informed you'd hang back tonight. you swore you could see claire turn her face away just to laugh, immediately patting gem's back as everyone walked out of the door, now very determined to not let anyone change their minds.

the door clicking shut signaled that it was finally just the two of you.

you didn't look up, too focused on the book in your hand and not interested in disturbing noel's music making.

he swore you were his biggest supporter because of that, even back then, when all he had was a dream to songwrite for a living. even when people would laugh and dismiss it as teenage daydreaming, you never did.

you were so into the book you didn't notice him stand up with a sigh, placing the guitar on its stand and make his way towards the couch. your legs stayed curled under you, eyes reading the book that caught your eye in an airport when you landed in japan. the title seemed useful for an inevitable event: talking to the girls.

noel plopped down beside you, his hand immediately settling on your thigh and his face burying on the side of your neck with a heavy sigh. he placed a kiss on your neck before muttering into your skin. "back's fucking killing me." his breath still smelled slightly of the black coffee he’d been nursing all evening, a touch of the mint gums he had been chewing throughout the day, as well. he'd been constantly snogging you, hadn't he? had to keep up.

you hummed in response, head tilting and free hand resting on the side of his head, absentmindedly caressing his temple.

"what’s that then?" he muttered, blue eyes tracking the print on the page.

"it's a book about kids and divorces. we should get prepared for telling them without mess up their heads."

he scoffed softly, nearly amused. "their tiny little heads, yeah." his lips brushing the side of your neck as he spoke, making a small shiver wash over your arms, head tilting involuntarily and lips softly curling up, a bit ticklish. "tell me, then. is it any good?"

you cleared your throat, unintentionally adopting an academic tone. "chapter four says that if introducing a family friend in a new romantic setting, it is essential to establish clear boundaries. the children have to feel secure that their existing relationship with the adult will not be erased by the new dynamic. that the pace has to be according to the kid's comfort level. no sudden shifts in living arrangements occur within the first six months."

noel let out a low, breathy chuckle against your skin, his broad hand caressing your thigh, "fucking hell, you sound like a tape recorder."

you laughed, the serious facade crumbling as you tilted your head back against his shoulder. "shut up. i'm trying to be responsible."

"doing a terrific job, yknow." he said easily, his hand sliding over your leg until his thumb stroked your knee. then, he paused, picking up his head and squinting his eyes at the page again. "can you read in japanese?"

okay, he needs glasses. that information is going straight to your to-do list.

you let out a quiet hum, keeping your face completely blank as you looked down at the english text. "yes."

noel paused, his hand stopping its movement. "really?" his brows immediately furrowing again. god, he's so cute.

"of course not, noel," you said, bursting into a laugh as you turned the book toward him. "this is in english, look. i got it at the airport."

"oh." he muttered, a little sheepishly. then broke into a grin, amused and fond. "smart-arse." his hands found your waist and pulled you until your legs were draped over his lap, the paperback slipping from your fingers and landing with a soft thud on the carpet as you laughed.

your hands went to his shoulders to steady yourself as he tucked you tight against him, his face immediately burying into the crook of your neck. he began to kiss you there – rough and warm and tender all at once, needy little kisses that dragged up toward your jawline, his stubble scratching pleasantly against your sensitive skin.

"missed you." he mumbled between kisses, his teeth gently nipping at the soft skin right below your ear, making you squirm and giggle, your fingers sliding over the short hair at the back of his neck.

"i've been here all day." you teased, still laughing even though his hand slid under your shirt, his palm hot against the bare skin of your stomach.

"hmm. you know what i mean." he grumbled, placing kisses on your cheek. he smiled against your skin at the sound of your laugh. he swore it was his favorite sound in the world.

his hand slid over your waist, caressing your back and allowing it to slowly fall down until it rested on the curve of your ass. you breathed out a tiny huff of a laugh at the gentleness, shifting your head until your nose brushed up and down against his. "missed you too."

he sighed softly, rubbing circles on your lower back.

a beat.

"mad, innit."

"what is?" you asked quietly, hand going up to his face and thumb gently brushing over his cheek as your eyes locked.

he shook his head softly, nearly shy. "us. after all this time." he said quietly, then added, "divorces 'n all that."

you breathed out a laugh, "yeah. i know what you mean."

another beat.

"we're here now." you added, quietly.

a small smile grew on his lips. "yeah." he breathed out, his blue eyes lifting to meet yours.

the comfortable silence returned, but then noel broke it with a small huff of a laugh. you smiled too, even though you didn't really know what it was about. "what?" you asked gently, head tilting.

he shook his head, almost embarassed at the thought while his hand settled on your hip. "nothing, just..." his free hand reached upwards, sliding a strand of your hair behind your ear. "just thinking."

"about?..." you offered, thumb still gently brushing over his cheekbone.

he licked his lips, taking a deep breath in before he started quietly. "there was this one time. don't... really remember where, but i think it was around '95."

"mhm?"

he swallowed, his head tilting as he watched his thumb brushing over the fabric of your skirt. then, his palm slid down the side of your thigh in a gentle caress, before moving upwards again, then down again. like that would make his next words less dirty than they felt like to him. "we'd done this gig... think it was somewhere hot. dunno."

you bit back a small smile, shifting slightly over his lap, mostly for comfort – your legs rested on each side of his thigh, not minding that the skirt's fabric was a little bunched upwards, since no one else was around. he licked his lips again, shaking his head softly as some color flushed over his cheeks, thumb still absentmindedly digging on the side of your thigh at sudden the realization of your position. at the sudden awareness of your clothed cunt warm right over his jean covered thigh.

"just.. you were wearing a black skirt." he murmured, his voice dropping. "then you bent down."

you let out a soft, breathy laugh, your fingers caressing the short hairs at the back of his neck, scooching your hips just an inch closer to his on the leather cushions. "yeah?"

"yeah." he breathed out in a laugh. "couldn't look away. felt like a right fucking perv."

you just kept looking at him, licking your lips and watching him even though his eyes were fixated on your lap, his thumb still working circles into your skin.

"late night in the room was fucking tragic," he admitted, the honesty of it heavy in the air, making the back of his neck feel warmer. "rented a porno. needed it, i think."

you breathed out a laugh, despite suddenly need more friction. "yeah?"

"yeah. yknow what the girl did?"

"what?" you whispered, feeling your heart violently throb against your ribs, eyes still locked on his face as he stared at the fabric of your skirt.

"bent over the table. skirt and everything. had the same hair as you as well," he muttered, followed by a rough, self-deprecating breathy laugh slipped past him, like he couldn't quite believe the memory. "finished before the lad even properly fucked her." he closed his eyes as he confessed.

you bit down a small laugh, a thrill running straight down your spine.

"couldn't look at you proper after a few days. was all i could think about," he confessed, hand sliding a little higher up your thigh. "every time you walked into the room, every time you sat down next to me on the bus, i was just... fucking seeing it. over and over. felt like a proper pervert, swear to god."

you smiled, the warmth in your chest blooming into something dirty and sweet at the same time. your hand moved until your thumb brushed over his stubble. "did it… that time in australia," you said softly, the confession slipping out before you could even think to hold it back.

he blinked, lifting his head up just enough to look at you, his blue eyes slightly dark, his brows knitting together in that familiar, confused line and a nearly boyish smile growing in his lips. "what time?"

"that football match," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. your hips shifted foward once, breathing coming in a little shakier at the memory alone.

"yeah?" he laughed. it came out a bit rough, a little embarrassed as he softly shook his head. "i was fucking fat, then."

"no, you weren't..." you countered gently, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw as he watched you.

"yes i was. was livin' on kfc and fanta." he insisted, a genuine grin tugging at the corner of his mouth, though his eyes searched yours for any sign of a joke.

"well... thought you looked.. really fit." you murmured, your cheeks warming up just a bit, even after all these years, even after everything you’d already shared.

"yeah?"

"yeah..." you replied quietly, hips shifting foward once more. you swallowed down the sudden lump in your throat, "used to think about you during sex."

noel froze for a second before a long breath left him – that rough, shy raspy laugh, nearly in disbelief. "did you?” his hand slid until it rested over your ass, feeling the fabric brush the back of his hand and your muscle softly clenching underneath his touch as your hips moved foward again.

“yeah,” you whispered, a small shy smile on your lips. "just...” – you shrugged – “wondered. thought about it. if you'd look like that while... yknow."

he huffed, smirking. "sweaty?"

you laughed, nodding. your nose brushed his, lips softly bumping against one another without fully closing the distance.

he licked his lips. “did too,” he said simply, quietly.

“did you?” you asked quietly, voice trailing off as your hips shifted instinctively against his.

“wouldn’t let myself think too hard about it, though,” he muttered, his hand gripping your ass tighter now, while his free hand going to his own clothed arousal, pressing his palm over it for a bit of relief.

“felt bad?” you asked, breath hitching.

“yeah. would cum too fast, too,” he confessed, his voice turning thick and entirely unbothered by the bluntness of it now. you two laughed quietly at it, despite the atmosphere slowly shifting.

his free hand dropped down slowly, fingers reaching for the button of his fly, the metallic sound echoing in the quiet studio. you leaned in, lips brushing his ear as you rocked your hips forward in a slow and deliberate motion, your hands gripping his shoulders for balance. a soft moan escaping from your lips at the friction.

he couldn’t help but smirk at the sound, though his own breathing had hitched. "won't even wait for me to get my jeans off?"

you whimpered, cheeks heating up, a small needy smile tugging on your mouth. "noel..."

he let out a ragged breath, despite still smirking. "eager tonight, aren't you?" his head fell back against the couch as his fingers freed himself from the denim with a low groan. "fucking hell..." he muttered, swallowing as he pushed the fabric down, enough to free himself.

your hand slid up the back of his neck, only picking your head up to look at his length slapping against his lower belly – a small trail of his pre cum connecting the tip of his cock to the soft cotton fabric of his shirt – before his hand wrapped around his own length.

his grip was steady as he started stroking himself, as slow as your hips grinding over his clothed thigh. both quiet and nearly shy at the beginning as his eyes stayed glued to your face, watching your reaction.

the sight of him doing it made you dizzy. his lips remained parted and his cheeks slightly flushed as he watched your expression. you let out a soft whimper, fingers digging into the back of his neck.

“y’remember that one time? when we went to that country house to record definitely maybe,” he breathed out, making it all even more intimate. his hand still moving over himself.

"mhm..." you hummed quietly, needy now.

he let out a long, ragged sigh. "that fucking bikini."

you let out a breathless laugh, "you're serious?"

"had to lock myself in the bathroom for an hour. thought about ripping the bloody thing off you."

"i did the same fucking thing," you confessed with a soft laugh, your movements stuttering for a second before you caught the rhythm again, your thighs squeezing his leg as you slid forward and back.

“no you didn’t,” he said with a small scoff, like he was trying to grasp the sheer absurdity of what you were suggesting.

“yes! i did,” you shot back, a breathless laugh escaping you as you shifted on his thigh. your hand reached out, looking at your fingers softly brushing his wrist, tightly closed around his cock. you took in a shaky breath before continuing, nearly shy. “had the room to myself, didn't i?”

noel let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head as he began to slowly stroke himself again, feeling his cock twitch inside his hand. “what a fucking naughty girl...” he whispered. a massive, smug grin splitting his face. his cheeks were flushed, but his pride was thick enough to choke on. “fucking hell, you’re only telling me this now?”

“what?" you said quietly, smiling softly, "you just said you wanked in the bathroom thinking about me.” your own face burning as you shifted again.

“but i’m a fucking lad,” he reasoned instantly, as if that explained everything.

you leaned in until your warm face was pressed against the side of his neck, hips moving forward and back slowly. “could... yknow. see it, wet shorts and all. you’re fucking big, noel,” you muttered, the confession slipping out before you could stop them.

the second it did, his grin turned so smug you wanted to bite it right off his face, brows shooting up as he muttered quietly "yeah?"

before he could open his mouth to give you another smart-arse reply, you pulled your hand away from his neck, bringing it to your mouth. you quickly gathered a small amount of saliva and let it pool right over your palm, immediately guiding it towards the head of his cock.

he was already slick with a heavy bead of pre-cum, but the second your slick hand wrapped around his cock, his head dropped back – fingers digging deeper into the flesh of your ass and making you grind harder over his thigh. “i had loads of fucking hormones, you prick. had to stop looking at you.”

noel let out a strangled "fuck," hips jerking up involuntarily at the feeling. then, he breathed out a tiny, shaky laugh. “y'were an adult already, you twat.” he grunted out, still trying to hold onto the smugness, to the fond teasing – like he wasn't minutes away from spilling all over your hand. his fingers dug so hard into your hip it was going to leave a mark, and all you could do was keep your rhythm steady.

“i wasn’t getting that much sex, though,” you whispered, leaning down until your lips were just brushing against the stubble of his jawline. “not like you. you had girls hanging off you every night of the week. i was just sitting there, watching you write, wondering what it would feel like if you ever looked at me the way you looked at them.”

“fucking hell…” he groaned, his eyes closing as you gave him a particularly tight stroke, your thumb catching on the sensitive spot just below his head. “just wanted you. fuck, wanted you so bad. should’ve just fucking... shagged.”

“can you imagine?”

“yeah, fucking can,” he rasped out. his free hand slid under the hem of your shirt, his palm clumsily bypassing your bra to cup your breast. kneading it, thumb sweeping over your nipple the way he knew would pull a whimper out of you, your hand pathetically stuttering on his cock for a second.

“tell me...” you breathed, voice breaking as the tension between your thighs grew, moaning needier at the feeling of his mouth latching on your neck.

"wanted to sneak inside your room. or just take you right there.” he muttered against your neck, biting down gently before he began to suck, marking you, leaving a hot, damp mark that would be impossible to hide from the lads tomorrow. “wanted to kiss you fucking stupid. then fuck you right.”

his hand kept fondling your tits as your breathing became shakier, more jagged. your hips kept riding his thigh, his name coming out broken from your lips.

“wanted you so bad. wanted to fuck you so bad, every fucking day. drove myself mental thinking about it.” he murmured.

“noel… please,” you whined, your hand still stroking his cock, but your pace was getting sloppier.

“think we’d be like today?” he whispered, breathing ragged now, his forehead now pressing against yours so you were forced to look directly into his blown-out eyes. “fucking every time we get the chance? in the back of vans, dressing rooms, studios while the lads are out getting a drink?”

you couldn't even answer, just let out a broken little nod, lips moving in the shape of a "yes" even though no sound would come out other than moaning.

“you’d let me put a baby inside ya back then?” he asked, the question coming out completely stripped of any pretense or pride. he just needed to hear it, he needed the answer to something his brain always wondered. “if i’d told you to lay back on the bed… you’d have let me come inside ya?”

“yes,” you cried out softly, back arching as you desperately nodded.

“would see you under me. close my eyes and that’d be all i saw. fucking pathetic, couldn't even look his oldest friend in the eye because he was too busy dreaming about fuckin' her brains out.”

you whimpered his name, hand getting limper around his cock as you felt the tightness in your stomach grow.

“memorized the way you said my name. when you were angry at me, thought about it. thought about how you’d sound like when you were coming on my cock.”

“f-fuck, k-keep... keep talking,” you brokenly gasped out. your head dropping onto his shoulder as your hips stuttered, the friction of the thick denim against your swollen clit becoming unbearable.

your request went completely over his head the moment he could feel your hips stuttering over him, begging to feel your arousal leaking through the drenched fabric of your knickers as your orgams washed through. noel's hips jerked up, immediately burying his face into the crook of your neck, teeth nipping at your skin as he gave himself three fast, heavy strokes, spilling all over his wrist.

your chest slumped over his, both raising and falling at a fast pace. neither of you moving until he guided his hand closer to your face. with a shaky exhale and a lazy, spennt smile tugging at the corner of his lips, his thumb pressed down your bottom lip until your mouth parted slightly.

“clean it for me, love,” he whispered, his tone rough and low, a soft command that had your heart hammering all over again.

your tongue slowly darted out as you licked his cum dripping down the side of his hand, a soft moan vibrating against his skin before your lips wrapped around his slick thick fingers. noel let out a low, breathy and satisfied hum, his eyes tracking the movement with lust even though his skin still buzzed with his own release.

“such a good girl for me.” he muttered, his palm sliding up to cup your jaw, his thumb wiping a stray bit of moisture from the corner of your mouth before he leaned up to kiss to your lips, not mindind his own taste sitting on your tongue.

you kissed him back, needily wrapping your arms around his neck and whimpering inside his mouth at the sudden shift – a small gasp escaped you once his hands slid underneath your thighs as he stood, feet walking towards the mixing desk.

a trail of spit connected your mouths as he pulled away, completely determined despite your little whine of protest, already missing his tongue warm and greedy against yours.

his hands shifted you until your chest was pressed over the desk, the cold metal of the console biting into the warm skin of your torso exposed by the messy and fumbled fabric of your top. the chilly feeling contrasted with the warmth of his hands greedily sliding over your ass, fondling the flesh and shoving the fabric of your skirt up.

“noel…” you moaned needily, fingers fumbling for support as you felt his heavy palm brush your hair away from your back before his hand went to the back of your neck, fingers immediately curling around it while he grabbed his cock, still throbbing as he lined himself with your pulsing entrance – only sliding the fabric of your knickers to the side.

“been thinking about this since '94, haven't you? let’s do it right then.”

and fuck me, you did it right.

that night, the sounds of noel's cock splitting your drenched and puffy cunt open were as loud as his voice – his back bent down so his mouth would stay close to you ear while his hips drove into you, absolutely not minding the pain it would bring him later – telling you every dirty fantasy he's had.

all while your fingers desperately clawed at the buttons, back arching as you let him use you the way you've also fantasized about. his fingers stayed deep and harsh in the roots of your hair. you only realized the ache once your fuzzy brain had cleared out from a few orgasms, still feeling him leaking out of you even as he panted, his forehead now pressed over your shoulder blades.

"fucking hell." you breathed.

"yeah. fucking hell." he repeated, equally as spent. his eyes closed tightly at the sligthest shift, suddenly being aware of the intensity of it all. "you okay?"

you breathed out a laugh, nodding. while he swallowed gruffly, suddenly concerned about everything. "back then... didn't want to just– yknow, fuck you." he started clearing it up, almost nervously. "don't want you to think it was just that."

you laughed, knowing. he carried on anyway, shaking his head even though you couldn't really see it, hands sliding over your waist in a soothing motion. "i'm serious. fancied you like mad."

"relax, noel."

"no, i just–"

you smiled, droopy. cock drunk, pretty much. "noel, i wanted to fuck you when you had the hair." you cut in softly.

he paused before letting out a raspy laugh, "wait, what hair?"

"the shaggy one. recording in france."

noel paused, his eyes narrowing slightly in thought before he let out a loud snort. "weren't you pregnant then?!"

you sighed softly, more in bliss than anything else. "yeah..."

he started laughing properly, leaning down until his nose was deep inside your messy hair.

"what?... i was hormonal."

"always the bloody hormones with you," he chuckled, his arms wrapping around you securely, holding your soft, relaxed body closer to his. "fucking hell."

"used to be so fucking jealous of meg," you whispered, the honesty slipping out easily. "hated it."

noel's laughter died down, replaced by a quiet and faint smile, hands gently caressing your back. "yeah. used to hate colin. proper hated him."

"mhm. i knew," you said.

"good," his fingers tenderly played with your hair despite the teasing edge on his tone, blue eyes softer now, even though you couldn't really see them. "never wanted to be subtle about it."

you laughed in response, shaking your head.

the book remained scattered somewhere across the floor alongside paper sheets and a headphone set that you had accidentally knocked over, but it ended up being actually helpful. because the plan of telling sophia and anais had too many logistics involved, you wanted to be ready. or at least ready-ish. god knows what would come out of two three year old girls.

── .✦

once the tour had taken you to the US, you finally managed to pick sophia up from colin's. and – after too many tight hugs – you finally took her to watch uncle noelly play on stage, just like he did in some lazy afternoons in your living room, with his acoustic guitar and without any of the rockstar pose.

this time, it was a day festival where logistics were pretty much already sorted. sophia quickly found out that, unlike thousands of fans, hanging out backstage and coloring with rockstars was way more fun than actually watching them. while noel and gem realized that their coloring skills were as advanced as a three year old's. what can you say? rockstars are soft these days. 

you had quickly stepped out of the room because a roadie looked like he was about to suffer a heart attack over some delay in alan's in-ear monitor, leaving the three of them on their owns.

“uncle noelly?” sophia suddenly spoke.

“hm?” he replied nearly absentmindedly, busy with putting on the cap of the blue marker after sofia had patiently explained to him that they'll dry otherwise.

“is anais coming over tonight?”

noel thought for a second, his hand freezing briefly as it reached out for an orange marker. okay, think about that divorce book. “anais is with her mummy tonight, love.” was the best response he could come up with. gem huffed out a tiny breath of laughter at the scene, truly – strangely – endeared.

she sighed softly, her shoulders dropping and head tilting as she kept her eyes on the purple marker filling a wizard's top hat. “okay…”

for a few seconds, the only sound was a faint crowd from afar roaring for the opening act and the sounds of pens on paper.

"uncle noelly?" she cut in the silence again.

"yes?" noel replied patiently.

“are you? sleeping over again?”

ah, bless her little heart and her little clueless mouth.

noel freezed. while gem finally pulled his focus off the nearly fully colored image, looking up at noel.

they blinked at each other.

“because you’ve slept over lots.”

god knows what would come out of two three year old girls. this time, it was a secret the two of you had been doing a pretty good job so far at keeping. the two of you and claire – who even in the nights where she had been secretly sneaking gem into her room herself, she had managed to keep her happy little mouth shut.

at least it wasn't liam. not yet – god knows his frontal lobe is as developed as sofia's.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. . ݁₊ ⊹ .

[padswaffle]

uhm...counselor? noel gallagher x reader

HI GUYSSSS finally i managed to finish this long ass fic omg and then i realized it was perfect for a series sooooo, here it is!! i hope to not screw this up at all byeeee

tags : yearning (kind of), strangers to friends, summer camp ! au

CHAPTER ONE.

When you were a kid, you always hated camping.

You hated the bugs, the hot humid weather sticking to your skin, mosquitoes, sleeping anywhere but in a proper bed and so on.

But when some of your friends told you about a summer job, being a counselor for a summer camp next to lake Windermere, you accepted, you don’t even know why.

So here you were, same humid climate making you sweat as you were making crowns with a bunch of kids out of colored sheets of cardboard.

Your friends were assigned to some other activities, kitesurfing and climbing, you hated sports so this was the best thing you could’ve done with the kids.

One of them; dark skin, big brown eyes, black braids with some colored beads decorating them and a cute hello kitty shirt, tugged the hem of your shirt, asking for help with cutting down the line you drew on her pink cardboard.

From another table, you heard someone swear, the voice was deep, not certainly a kid’s. 

You raised your gaze, a tall guy with hair long to his neck was saying something like “Not my favorite shirt mate” to a little kid, red haired, who was looking at him confused.

“I thought we were supposed to not say curses around kids” you said, walking to the table where the crime had been committed.

“Rkid stained my shirt with his blue paint” said the guy, kind of pouting and showing you the spot - definitely smaller than you imagined - on his bottom right.

“You know it’s washable paint, right?”.

“Oh, is it?”

You nodded, laughing.

Later that day, in the laundry, you found out the guy’s name was Liam, he was 22 and was at the camp with his brother, apparently they had the same idea as you and your friends.

“Oh, me brother’s with the kids climbing too” he said, while you showed him how to pour soap into the washing machine “He’s not a sports lad, but he preferred being there than…leaving me to take the blame for some kid falling while climbing” you chuckled at those words.

He seemed nice. 

You spent the whole day teaching Liam how to behave - and possibly not curse - in front of the kids.

He looked like one of them in some manners, like he never grew out his kid phase. 

Later that day, on time for lunch, the groups with older children came back from the lake.

You spotted your friends, reuniting with them and asking how the day went.

Clara, one of them, told you how she almost fell from her kitesurf for a stronger breath of wind causing her to lose balance and fall with her face on her board.

While you were in the cafeteria, talking and eating, you glanced at the table where Liam was sitting.

“You know, today I was paired with a guy for the kids activities” you said followed by the immediate attention from all your friends “Don’t worry, not my type, but he’s nice, even though he is kind of like a thirteen year old trapped inside a twenty two year old body” i smiled, nodding towards his table.

“Oh, that’s him?” asked one of your friends “Yeah, Liam” I said, then furrowed my brows at the sight of him talking with another guy.

“Who’s that one talking to him?” you said to yourself.

Clara gasped, looking at you “Who’s that you say?” surprised you even asked “Girl, you talked to Liam Gallagher” you looked more confused than before now “That’s his fucking brother” she said.

“Noel” added another one of them.

Noel didn't knew why he agreed on being a counselor for a summer camp, but here he was, stuck with his brother in that desolated land, worst of all, full of hyperactive kids. 

Maybe his mother, Peggy, dear woman, thought that his big brother attitude would be useful dealing with kids. 

Wrong than ever. 

When Liam was only 7 he was learning how to properly get on a bike, he fell and when he started crying, Noel shouted at him to get on it again and that the big bloody scratch he had was nothing. 

Imagine what he could've done with kids who weren't even his relatives. 

So now he was seated in the cafeteria, his brother rumbling about some kid who messed up his favorite shirt that morning, but he was too busy looking at your table. 

“Who's that?” he asked when you glanced at them. 

“That's the bird who helped me with me shirt” Liam said “I already told ye, are ye even listening to me?” he added. 

“Yeah, yeah, I am” but he was already glancing at you again. 

That evening, the kids went for a swim at the lake. 

You and some other young adults were in charge of guarding them, along with the beach’s lifeguards. 

Wearing the top of your orange bikini and your jeans shorts, you were sitting on a towel, the red and orange sunlight hitting your face. 

When the light disappeared you thought two things; there was an eclipses or someone was blocking it. 

Here he stood, Liam, smiling like a fool, his long hair slightly damp from the lake’s sweet water, his pale skin exposed, he was wearing a striped red and white swimsuit that made him look like one of those 50s actors from the movies your mam used to watch.

Next to him, a silhouette; hands on his hips, looking down at you, or at least that's what you thought since he had sunglasses on. 

Liam sat next to you “Thanks for today” he said “Me ma would've killed me if I'd brought her a stained shirt”.

“Told you it was washable” you answered. 

“That's me brother, Noel” he said as he sat in front of you and made a little gesture with his hand. 

“Oh, so you're the one who was climbing with the kids today” Noel nodded.

“I wouldn't trust him with kids, when I wa-” his brother stopped him “First of all; you cried for every little thing, second, you learned to ride a bike, didn't ya?” Liam looked at him with a mix between shocked and confused. 

“Yeah, but…” he spoke. 

“Then shush” said Noel. 

You were surprised by his attitude; he was bossy and not in a kind way.

The way he shushed Liam out, like he was a puppy that needed to behave, made your stomach flip. 

“Is it your first year here?” he asked. 

He had the same blue eyes as Liam, but while his were bigger and sadder in a certain way, Noel’s were sharper. 

You nodded “A nightmare, innit?” he said, but you shook your head “Not at all” you chuckled “I like being with kids, but I know they can be a lot sometimes”. 

“A lot isn't enough to describe them” said Noel with a little smirk curling up his lips. 

That day the sun hit your face just right, making your cheeks warm from the hot weather while one of your friends complained on you not putting on sunscreen. 

You couldn't admit you did just cause you liked how little freckles adorned your cheeks and nose. 

The water was warm enough for you and Liam to go inside, he started splashing your face which led to a fight inside the water, Liam loosing. 

Noel was sitting on the waterline, smoking a fag while looking at the two of you with a smirk that curled his upper lip. 

One day you found yourself out of the ladies’ toilet, sitting on the stairs that led to it, massaging your temples for the headache that that day destroyed you, all cause one of the kids threelw a tantrum, at not being allowed to be swimming in the lake. 

Some steps approached through the dry leaves on the bumpy ground and someone sat a few steps away from you, smoke of a cig adorning the air with soft loops and clouds. 

Noel turned his face to look at you “Though day?” he asked, watching how you held your head between your hands, eyes closed and hair messy. 

“Shut up” you answered. 

“I told you you should've asked to be with the teens”.

“Teens are worst”.

“At least they don't cry if they can't go swimming in the lake”.

You turned your head at him “Were you spying on me?”. 

“Just happened to be there” he exhaled the smoke from his mouth. 

“Can I?” you asked, nodding towards his cig. 

Noel took it out of his mouth, handing it to you “Oh- you don't have to-” you tried to speak. 

“M not wasting a fag for someone who doesn't even smoke”.

“How can you-”.

“Liam” he said and you nodded “Right, Liam”. 

He couldn't shut up for a second could he?

The only sound audible was the one of the crickets in the late summer night, despite the weather not being that warm, they still sang. 

Noel glanced at you every now and then between puffs of his cigarette, his blue eyes shining with the bathroom’s green emergency light. 

He didn't know that, in that moment, something was about to happen. 

[silversunsailing]

you'll be my only one

[kmlottin]

Kylian Mbappé one shot

Day 7 of Kinktober

Sorry for making everyone wait x

Part 1 🤭

warning: it's a lot

He looks even more unreal in person than he did on the stream.

Black suit, precise and sharp, sleeves falling just right at his wrists. The lights and cameras catch on the fine line of his jaw, the curve of his mouth when he smiles. And then there’s the trophy — that ridiculous, gleaming golden boot in his hands — as if he needed more reason to walk like the world belongs beneath his feet.

You stand near the back of the ceremony, half-hidden behind a pillar, badge around your neck, champagne flute sweating in your fingers. Staff, not star. Close enough to see everything, far enough to stay out of the photos.

That’s the rule, after all.

Friends with benefits. Not girlfriend. Never public.

You pretend you’re watching the stage like everyone else, but your focus keeps narrowing to him alone. The way his hand settles on the base of the trophy. The way he laughs at something the president says. The way he tucks his tongue into his cheek when the host lists off his numbers for the season, like he’s trying not to grin too hard.

Too late. His ego is practically its own guest of honour.

“Golden Boot winner of the 24–25 season…”

The crowd cheers, you clap along, and he lifts the trophy again, that bright, blinding smile spreading across his face. He looks out over the crowd and, for a second, you’re delusional enough to think his gaze finds you.

Then his eyes flicker, the barest beat, and his smile softens in a way the cameras probably won’t catch.

You feel it low in your stomach anyway.

You take a sip of your champagne to cover it up.

He gives the usual speech: thanks the club, his teammates, his family, the fans. Talks about how this is just the beginning, about wanting more. His voice is smooth, steady, his Spanish rolling easy off his tongue. You know that voice when it’s wrecked, low, broken beside your ear, but today it’s polished, public, golden like the trophy in his hands.

“…and to everyone who believed in me this season,” he finishes, eyes skimming the room again, pausing for a heartbeat at the back, “Thank you. We’re not done yet.”

You shouldn’t feel like that means you. You shouldn’t feel a warm flush creeping up your neck.

You put your empty glass down and remind yourself: this is just fun. Just for now.

When the ceremony ends, the room dissolves into pockets of people: officials, executives, cameras, microphones; suit jackets and handshakes. Camera flashes and Spanish, French and English all overlapping. You hang back, watching him navigate it like it’s a game he’s mastered: picture with the president, picture with the club reps, picture with the trophy alone.

Your phone buzzes in your hand.

K: Where are you hiding?

You glance up to the stage. He’s mid-photo, trophy tucked against his chest, the same wide smile on his face, but his gaze is pointed somewhere over the photographer’s shoulder, toward the back of the hall.

You text back:

You: I’m busy. Go be famous.

The phone barely has time to dim before it lights again.

K: Already famous. Come congratulate me.

You roll your eyes even as your lips curve.

You: You just got a whole ceremony for that. That wasn’t enough?

K: No. Need you.

Your heart trips over itself at the last word. You stare at it for a second too long, then slip the phone into your bag and move, weaving through clusters of guests, staying low, small, forgettable.

By the time you reach the side corridor, security is guiding people out toward the exit and the back rooms. Kylian disappears behind a door with two officials and the trophy in his hands. You pause, unsure if you should even be here, when a security guard spots you.

“Player area,” he says, though his tone is more apologetic than stern.

“I’m just…” you start, then the door swings open again.

Kylian steps back out, suit immaculate, trophy tucked against his forearm, phone in the other hand. He looks up, spots you, and his whole face lights in a way that has nothing to do with the cameras anymore.

“She’s with me,” he says simply, nodding to the guard.

The guard steps aside without question.

You raise a brow as you come closer. “Abusing your power already?”

He leans down just enough that only you can hear him. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”

Heat flickers to life under your skin. You swallow it down. “Congratulations,” you say instead, tilting your head toward the trophy. “Golden Boot. Couldn’t have done it without your most loyal supporter in the back row.”

“Hmm.” He squints, faux-thoughtful. “Funny, I don’t remember seeing you in the front celebrating me properly.”

“I was working.”

“You could’ve worked closer.”

“I didn’t want to distract you,” you reply, matching his teasing. “God forbid you trip on the stairs because you were too busy staring.”

You mean it as a joke, but his eyes darken just a shade, something sparking there. “You really think you’re that distracting?”

You open your mouth, shut it again, and look at the trophy instead. “Maybe I was more interested in the award than the winner.”

He presses the golden boot into your hands so suddenly you almost fumble it.

“Here,” he says. “You can hold it in the car. Get it out of your system.”

Your fingers curl carefully around the base of it. It’s heavier than you expected, cool and dense, all sharp details and gleam. The weight of a season condensed into a single object.

“Careful,” he adds softly, a flash of something sincere behind the cockiness. “That’s our baby.”

You snort. “You’re not calling a trophy our baby.”

“Why not?” He starts walking down the corridor with you, casual, like he didn’t just say something that made your stomach clench. “Took nine months of work. Constant attention. Kept me up at night.”

“You are impossible.”

“And you like me like that.”

You don’t answer, but he hears your response in the way your shoulder brushes his as you walk.

The night outside is that particular Madrid kind of soft — the city humming, sky washed in orange light, air still warm even though the hour is late. The driver pulls up the black car by a side entrance, away from the journalists and fans gathered near the front.

The moment the door closes behind you, the noise of the world is replaced with the low murmur of the engine and the quiet click of your seatbelts. The city’s glow bleeds in through tinted windows, painting the leather interior in streaks of gold and blue.

You balance the trophy in your lap carefully, fingers tracing the detailed laces, the ridges of the boot. It’s absurdly beautiful, in that over-the-top, football way. It also feels strangely intimate — like you’re holding a piece of him.

He watches you for a moment instead of telling the driver to go. The car smells faintly like his cologne, clean, dark and expensive. “You like it?” he asks.

“The boot or the man attached to it?” you say lightly, still studying the way the metal catches the light.

His chuckle is low. “Both, I hope.”

You glance over. His suit jacket hangs open, sleeves pushed up just enough to reveal the curve of his forearms, the black T-shirt beneath clinging to his chest. The faint glow from the car light catches on his watch, making it gleam sharper than it should. The look is dangerous: not polished trophy-winner now, but something between tired and wired. His knee nudges yours.

“You looked good up there,” you admit, the words slipping out more honest than you intend.

He smiles, slower this time. “I always look good.”

You aim a playful kick at his ankle, gently enough not to upset the trophy. “See, this is why I stayed in the back. Your head is already too big.”

“Lies,” he murmurs. “You stayed in the back because you like watching me from a distance. You like pretending you’re not going home with me.”

Your throat tightens. You look out the window to hide the way your cheeks heat, the way the line lands too close to the truth.

“Drive,” Kylian tells the driver finally, voice easy, and the car glides into the night.

For a few minutes, Madrid is just a blur of lights. You rest your head against the back of the seat and let the motion lull you, thumb smoothing along the engraved plaque at the base of the trophy. You can feel his gaze on you, heavy and curious.

“Say it again,” he says suddenly.

You tilt your head. “Say what?”

“That you’re proud of me.”

You blink. “I never said—”

“You were going to,” he cuts in. “Back there, before I gave you the trophy. You had that look on your face.”

“What look?”

“The one that makes me play better,” he says simply.

Something tender curls in your chest, unexpected and fragile.

“I am proud of you,” you say, because lying feels pointless in the dark. “You worked hard for this.”

His exhale is quiet, almost like a sigh of satisfaction. “There it is.”

You shake your head, but you can’t keep the smile off your lips.

“You know,” he muses, turning his attention to the window, “a lot of people want me tonight.”

“Wow,” you deadpan. “And here I thought this ride was exclusive.”

He grins. “The club wants me for more photos. Sponsors are already calling. Fans outside the building, waiting. Cameras, interviews, parties.”

You hum. “And yet you’re in a car with me.”

He shifts closer, knee pressing more firmly against your leg. “Exactly.”

You swallow.

“What do you want?” you ask, the words out before you can stop them.

He looks at you then, full on, like he’s considering how honest he wants to be. Outside, the city lights streak across his face, making his eyes look even brighter.

He leans in, close enough that you can feel his breath on your cheek. “I want,” he says slowly, “to get home, take off this suit, and remind you why you shouldn’t hide in the back next time.”

Your fingers tighten around the base of the trophy.

“You already did that,” you say. “I was there. I saw the goals.”

“That’s for them,” he say”. “What I do to you after, that’s for us.”

Heat flares dangerously low in your stomach.

The driver takes a turn, and the car’s movement pushes you a fraction closer to him. His hand drops to your knee, palm warm through the fabric of your dress. He doesn’t move it, just lets it rest there, weight and promise.

Your pulse picks up. You stare straight ahead, pretending to be fascinated by the traffic.

“Kylian,” you murmur, a warning that doesn’t sound like one.

“What?” he asks, all faux-innocence. His thumb strokes once along the inside of your knee, slow. “I’ve just had a very successful season. Let me celebrate.”

“You’re going to blame everything you do tonight on that trophy, aren’t you?”

He nods toward it, still balanced carefully on your lap. “You’re the one holding it like it’s sacred.”

“It is,” you say, a little too earnestly.

His hand squeezes your knee, and you feel the shift in him, from light to intent. “You know what else is sacred?”

You don’t answer. Your mouth is dry.

“The way you look at me when I score,” he says softly.

The words land heavy between you. You squeeze your legs together without meaning to, the movement subtle but not subtle enough under his hand.

He notices. Of course he does. He leans in closer, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Every single goal,” he murmurs, voice low, “and all I think about coming home and putting that same look on your face. Over and over.”

You inhale a shaky breath, the city outside vanishing into blur. “You’re really drunk on yourself tonight,” you whisper, but it lacks bite.

“Maybe,” he says. “Or maybe I’m drunk on the idea of you in my bed with nothing between us.”

Your heart slams once, hard.

Nothing between you.

Your gaze drops instinctively to his hand on your leg, then to the trophy in your lap. Golden boot. Golden boy. Golden season.

You don’t say anything, and he doesn’t push. The rest of the ride stretches out thick and quiet, his thumb tracing lazy circles against your skin, your mind running ahead of your body, imagining, wanting.

By the time the car slows to a stop in front of his house, your nerves are a live wire. The driver moves to get out, but Kylian leans forward, murmuring, “We’re good, thanks. See you.”

He’s already stepping out, coming around to your side to open the door himself. His hand extends toward you, steady, familiar. You try not to think about how many cameras were trained on that same hand tonight.

“Careful,” he says, nodding toward the trophy in your lap. “If you drop my boot, I’m dropping you.”

“You’re not funny.”

His grin flashes in the soft wash of the porch light. “You’re still here, so I must be.”

You follow him up the short path to the door, the night air still buzzing with the echo of applause from the ceremony. Inside, the quiet feels heavy. As you step through the entryway, your reflection catches in the window, him, tall and composed behind you in black; you, slightly undone, clutching the symbol of his triumph like something breakable.

Kylian pauses behind you, gaze flicking to the glass before meeting yours in the reflection. His hands find your hips, fingers spreading lightly.

 “You see that?” he murmurs.

“What?”

“How good we look together.”

You scoff, but your heart stutters. “You and your boot, sure.”

“You, me, and the boot,” he corrects. “The perfect family”

“Liar.”

His hands tighten once on your hips before he lets go, guiding you down the hallway with a hand at the small of your back. His touch burns through the thin fabric of your dress.

Inside his home, the air is cool and faintly scented with whatever expensive candle he’s been using lately. The space is tidy but lived-in: a jacket on the back of a chair, a couple of controllers on the coffee table, a pair of trainers by the door.

“Here,” he says, nodding toward the shelves by the TV already lined with trophies and framed photos. “Give him a place to sleep.”

You move over, careful, still cradling the boot like it might shatter if you breathe too hard. There’s an empty space between a silver cup and a framed shot of him mid-celebration, mouth open, eyes wild with joy. The golden boot slots in like it always belonged there.

You take a step back.

He comes to stand just behind you. In the reflection on the black TV screen you see him, dark suit, dark eyes, your smaller frame in front of his, the gleam of gold between you.

“Looks right,” he says quietly.

“The shrine is getting out of hand,” you mumble, but your voice comes out softer than you intend.

He huffs a laugh and dips his head, his lips brushing the side of your neck in a quick, warm kiss. “You love it.”

You pretend you don’t shiver. “I love that it means you’re finally going to sleep in on your days off instead of pacing around the training ground at 8 am.”

“Can’t promise anything,” he says, mouth lingering by your skin. “I’m already thinking about World Cup.”

Of course he is.

You turn to face him, meaning to say something half sarcastic, half sincere — of course you are, you’re ridiculous — but the words tangle when you see him up close like this, without the cameras and the speeches. The suit, the small crease at the corner of his mouth from smiling too much tonight, the tired brightness in his eyes.

He smiles, slower now. “What?” he asks. “You’re staring again.”

“Just taking it in before you get insufferable,” you say. “Golden Boot, World Cup, what next? ‘I can’t hang out, I’m too busy being a star’?”

He makes an offended sound. “I already make time for you. Very valuable time, by the way.”

You snort. “Yes, thank you for blessing me with your schedule.”

He rolls his eyes but the corner of his mouth curves. His hands find your hips again, thumbs pressing into the fabric of your dress. “Speaking of my schedule,” he says lightly, “what are you doing tomorrow?”

You blink. “Tomorrow?”

“Yeah.” He tries to keep it casual, gaze sliding past you to the trophy for a second before coming back. “After the match.  Thought we could… do something.”

“Do something,” you repeat, wary. “Like what? Netflix and you pretending to let me pick the movie before stealing the remote?”

He laughs softly. “We can do that any night. I meant…” He hesitates, searching your face. “Go out. Dinner. Somewhere you don’t have to hide in the back and drink cheap champagne.”

The word dinner lands heavier than it should. Different to ‘come over,’ different to the unsaid you know where the spare key is.

You pull a small face to cover the sudden flip in your stomach. “Out-out?”

He shrugs, trying for nonchalant. “Could be quiet. Not a big scene. Just…you and me. Food. Maybe a drink that doesn’t come from the players’ lounge fridge.”

You open your mouth, then close it again. You do have plans tomorrow.

They’re just not with him.

“I can’t,” you say, and immediately cringe at how stiff it sounds.

His brows draw together. “You can’t?”

You blow out a breath, glancing past him to the boot, anywhere but his eyes. “I’ve got plans.”

“What plans?” he asks, too quick.

“Just plans,” you say, which is obviously the worst answer you could have given because his expression sharpens instantly.

“With who?”

You pause for half a beat too long.

“Don’t do that,” he says quietly.

“Do what?”

“Act like I’m stupid.”

You swallow. He’s still holding your hips, grip gentle but firm, like he’s worried you might bolt if he lets go.

“It’s just a date,” you say finally, trying to keep your tone light. “It’s not a big deal.”

His jaw ticks once. “A date.”

“Yeah.”

“With who?” he repeats, slower this time.

“Someone my friend introduced me to.” You shrug like it’s nothing. “He works in marketing. It’s not serious, it’s just… drinks.”

Kylian stares at you for a long second, like he’s waiting for you to laugh and say got you. When you don’t, something in his posture changes.

“He works in marketing,” he echoes flatly.

You resist the urge to fidget. “You don’t have a monopoly on my Saturday nights, you know.”

The second the words are out, you see them hit. His eyes flash, then go cool, his mouth flattening.

“Right,” he says, carefully. “Of course I don’t.”

You hate how defensive you suddenly feel. “We said this wasn’t…” you gesture vaguely between you. “whatever. We both know what this is.”

“Do we?” he asks.

You blink. “Kylian, come on.”

He lets out a short laugh, no humour in it. “I just thought, since you’re in my bed more than your own lately, maybe I get to know when you’re… when you’re seeing someone else.”

“It’s not someone else,” you say, then wince, because that sounds worse. “It’s just… someone. Once. Maybe twice.”

His grip tightens on your hips. Not enough to hurt, but enough to make heat spark low in your stomach in a way that annoys you.

“Why?” he asks simply.

You stare at him. “Why what?”

“Why do you need him?” His voice is calm, but there’s something loaded under it now. “You’ve got me.”

You laugh, startled. “You can’t be serious.”

He doesn’t laugh back.

“Kylian,” you say slowly, “you’re the one who didn’t want a relationship. You literally said the words ‘no complications’ to my face.”

“I know what I said.” He runs a hand over his jaw, frustration flickering. “I just didn’t realise ‘no complications’ meant you going out with some guy who sells shampoo.”

“He does more than shampoo,” you mutter, then groan at yourself. “That’s not the point. I’m allowed to date. You’re allowed to date. That was kind of the agreement.”

He’s quiet for a long moment. When he speaks again, his voice has dropped, low and rough. “And you think he’s going to be better than me?”

Your heart jumps. “It’s not a competition.”

“Everything is a competition,” he says, and it’s so very him that you almost smile.

You don’t, though, because his eyes are serious now, burning into yours.

His thumb presses a slow, deliberate circle into the dip of your hipbone, the pressure just shy of bruising. The air between you crackles, thick with the scent of his cologne and the faint metallic tang of the trophy still warm from your hands.

“Kylian,” you start, voice thinner than you want, “Come on, we’re not doing this.”

“Doing what?” He leans in, forehead almost brushing yours, the heat of him radiating through the thin fabric of your dress. “Talking? Or pretending you don’t want me to remind you exactly why you keep coming back?”

Your laugh comes out shaky. “You’re jealous.”

“So what?” The admission is rough, unfiltered, nothing like the polished speeches from earlier. His hand slides lower, fingers curling possessively over the curve of your ass. “Some shampoo guy gets to take you out, buys you cheap wine, and I don’t even get a heads up?”

You swallow, pulse thudding in your throat. “You don’t own me.”

“No,” he murmurs, lips grazing the shell of your ear, “but I know every inch of you better than he ever will.”

The words hit low and filthy, a spark straight to your core. You feel yourself clench, thighs pressing together instinctively. He notices, and his grin turns sharp and smug.

“See?” His voice drops to that register that always unravels you, the one he uses when he’s buried deep and whispering French against your skin. “You’re already wet just thinking about me.”

Heat floods your cheeks, but you don’t deny it. Can’t. Instead, you reach for the only weapon you have left: distraction. Your hands find his belt, fingers working the buckle with practised ease. The clink of metal is loud in the quiet room. His breath hitches, but he doesn’t stop you.

“Hey…”

“Shut up.” You sink to your knees before he can finish, the plush rug soft under your shins. You look up at him through your lashes, watching the way his jaw flexes, the way his hands hover like he’s not sure whether to pull you up or push you down.

You palm him through his trousers, feeling the thick line of him already hard and straining. “Let me congratulate you properly,” you say, voice husky. “Since you’re so desperate for attention.”

His laugh is ragged. “Fuck. Yeah I am.”

You unzip him slow, the rasp of the zipper loud in the hush. His cock springs free, thick and flushed, the head already glossy with pre cum. You wrap your fingers around the base, stroking once, twice, feeling him throb hot against your palm. He’s thicker tonight, veins pulsing with the same adrenaline that had him owning the stage.

“Careful,” he warns, voice already shredded. “You start this, I’m not stopping.”

“Who said I want you to?” You lean in, tongue flicking out to lap at the slit, tasting salt and him. He groans, fingers threading into your hair, gripping tight.

You sink lower, lips stretching around the crown, taking him inch by inch until your nose brushes the trimmed hair at his base. He’s thick, filling your mouth, your throat, the stretch making your eyes water. You hollow your cheeks and suck hard, pulling back with a wet pop before diving down again, sloppy and deliberate.

“God, yes,” he hisses, head falling back. “Just like that.”

You work him with your mouth and hand in tandem, slow at first, then faster, messy, the way you know drives him insane. Saliva slicks your chin, drips down your wrist. His grip tightens in your hair, hips starting to thrust shallowly, fucking your mouth with restrained power.

But even as you take him deeper, choking slightly on the length of him, you feel his gaze burning into you. He’s not lost in it, not completely. His free hand cups your jaw, thumb brushing over your stretched lips.

“Look at me,” he demands, voice rough.

You look up, eyes watering, and the jealousy is still there, banked but blazing. He’s not forgotten. Not even close.

“You think he’ll ever get this?” he growls, thrusting deeper, making you gag softly. “This mouth? This throat? You on your knees for me like you were made for it?”

You moan around him, the vibration making his cock twitch. Your own arousal is soaking through your panties now, thighs slick. You’re distracting him, yes, but you’re losing yourself too.

Saliva drips down your chin, slicking your hand as you pump what your mouth can’t take. Gagging softly when he hits the back of your throat, then swallowing around him until his thighs tremble.

Kylian’s head falls back for a second, a low curse in French, but then his gaze snaps down, dark and hungry. “Dress,” he demands. “Need your tits. Now.”

You don’t stop sucking, just reach up with your free hand and yank the neckline of your dress down. The fabric catches on your bra for a second before you shove that down too. Your tits spill out, nipples already hard, bouncing slightly with the rhythm of your head.

He hisses at the sight, hips jerking forward. “Fuck, look at you.”

You pull off just long enough to swipe your thumb over the tip of his cock, gathering the fresh bead of pre cum, then smear his tip over one nipple, then the other, painting yourself shiny and obscene. The cool air hits the wet peaks and you moan, the sound vibrating around him as you take him back in.

Kylian’s grip tightens in your hair, guiding you now, fucking your mouth in shallow, filthy thrusts. “That’s it,” he pants. “Mark yourself with me. Let him smell me on you tomorrow.”

You’re dripping down your thighs, the rug rough against your knees as you shift higher, sitting up straighter so your tits bounce with every bob of your head. Spit and pre cum mix, dripping onto your chest, sliding between your breasts in slick trails.

He’s close. You feel it in the way his cock swells, the way his abs clench under the open shirt. “Gonna come,” he warns, voice wrecked. “Open wide, baby. Drink my cum.”

You do, pulling back until just the head is in your mouth, tongue swirling, hand pumping fast. He comes with a guttural groan, hips stuttering as the first hot spurt hits the back of your throat. You swallow what you can, but there’s too much, thick ropes overflowing, spilling from the corners of your mouth, dripping down your chin and onto your tits in messy, pearly streaks.

He keeps thrusting through it, milking himself dry, painting your chest until you’re glazed and filthy. When he finally pulls out, a final drop lands on your lower lip. You lick it away, slow and deliberate, eyes locked on his.

Kylian stares down at you, chest heaving, cock still half-hard and glistening. His thumb swipes through the mess on your breast, smearing it over your nipple, then brings it to your mouth. You suck it clean without hesitation.

“Still think he’s gonna be better?” he asks, voice low and dangerous, jealousy still simmering under the euphoria.

You don’t answer. You can’t. The taste of him is thick on your tongue, his cum cooling on your skin.

He hauls you up by the arms, spinning you until your back hits the wall beside the trophy shelf. Your baby glints in your peripheral, a mocking third party.

Kylian cages you in, one hand braced beside your head, the other sliding under your dress to cup you through damp lace. His fingers press against your clit, circling once, and you whimper.

“Tell me,” he says, voice lethal soft, “when he kisses you goodnight, are you going to be thinking about how I taste? How I stretch this pretty pussy until you can’t walk straight?”

You arch into his touch, helpless. “I need your fingers”

“Say it.”

“Please,” you breathe, the confession torn out of you. “Please, I need you.”

Kylian’s eyes flash at your gasped plea, pupils blown wide, the brown shimmering under the low lights. In one motion he bands an arm around your waist, lifts you clean off the wall like you weigh nothing, and hurls you onto the wide sofa. You land on your back with a soft, breath stealing bounce, tits still out, streaked with his cum, glistening wet and obscene. The trophy watches from its shelf, golden and smug, catching the light like it’s laughing.

He’s on you before the air returns to your lungs, knees shoving your thighs apart with bruising force. Your dress is already bunched at your hips; with a rough yank he drags the rest of the fabric up and over your head, the cotton catching on your arms for a heartbeat before he tosses it aside like it insulted him. The bra follows, straps snapping against your skin as he rips it free with a single impatient jerk, the elastic stinging your shoulders. You’re naked now except for the ruined lace panties clinging to one ankle, soaked through and useless.

“Stay,” he orders, voice gravel and smoke. He plants one hand beside your head, forearm caging you in, veins standing out against the muscle. His watch glistens in your peripheral. The left hand slides down your sweat-slick stomach, fingers splayed wide, possessive, before two of them spear back inside you, with no warning. The stretch is immediate, brutal, perfect. You arch off the cushions with a broken cry, the leather cool and sticky against your spine.

“Fuck, listen to you,” he groans, pumping hard, knuckles curling to stroke that spot that makes your vision blur white at the edges. Every thrust drags over swollen, sensitive walls, the wet sounds loud in the quiet room, slick mingling with your ragged gasps. “Still dripping my cum from your tits and you’re already begging for more.”

You claw at his shoulders, nails raking the cotton of his shirt until the seams strain. “Please…”

“Say it again.” He adds a third finger, stretching you wider, the burn exquisite, your pussy fluttering around the intrusion. His thumb finds your clit, circling fast, relentless, “Tell me who this pussy answers to.”

“You,” you sob, hips bucking involuntarily, chasing the pressure. “Only you.”

“That’s fucking right.” He leans down, teeth grazing your earlobe, breath hot and humid against your skin. “Nobody else gets this. No one.”

His fingers piston faster, curling, scissoring, the heel of his hand grinding against your clit with every brutal thrust. The pressure builds low and vicious, different from the usual climb, sharper, deeper, almost frightening. It coils behind your pubic bone, a hot, liquid weight that makes your thighs tremble and your toes curl against the leather.

“Kylian, I— wait.” Your voice cracks, high and desperate. “I can’t…”

“You can.” He cages you fully now, forearm braced beside your head, the other hand relentless between your legs. His bicep flexes with every pump, the heat of him radiating through his shirt. “You’re gonna give me everything tonight. Gonna squirt all over my fingers so you remember who you’re coming home to.”

The words snap something inside you. Your back bows off the sofa, spine cracking, thighs shaking violently. Then it hits, an explosive rush, hot and uncontrollable. You scream his name as you gush around his fingers, clear liquid pulsing out in messy, forceful spurts, soaking his wrist, the leather beneath you, dripping down your ass, over the floor,  in warm rivulets that pool beneath your tailbone. The sensation is overwhelming, like your entire lower body is unravelling, pleasure so intense it borders on pain.

He doesn’t stop. Just keeps fucking you through it, drawing out every shudder, every spurt, hand coated, fingers curling mercilessly until you’re limp and gasping, tears streaking your temples, chest heaving. Your pussy clenches in aftershocks, milking his fingers like it’s trying to keep him inside.

“Good girl,” he praises, voice wrecked with awe. He pulls his fingers free slowly, the drag making you whimper, and brings them to your lips. They’re slick and shining, dripping with you. You suck them clean without thinking, tongue swirling around the digits, tasting yourself, sharp, musky, mixed with the faint salt of his skin. The proof of what he does to you.

You gasp his name over and over, a desperate plea.

“Bedroom,” you gasp, remembering the rule, the condom, the one thing you both swore you’d never break. “Condom…”

“Fuck the condom,” he groans.  “One time won’t hurt. I need to feel you raw. Want to fill you up until you’re dripping with me.”

The words hit like a drug. Your pussy clenching involuntarily , the thought of him bare, hot and thick and coming inside you, making something primal unfurl in your gut, a dark, hungry ache that makes your hips roll upward on instinct.

His cock is rock-hard again, jutting against your thigh, still slick from your mouth, the head flushed dark and leaking. He drags it through your soaked folds, coating himself in the mess you made, teasing your entrance with slow, deliberate nudges. Every pass over your clit makes you jerk, oversensitive and trembling, the swollen bundle of nerves sparking white-hot.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, voice low, eyes locked on where you’re joined. “Pussy still fluttering, begging for more. You’re gonna take me raw, aren’t you? Gonna let me fuck you until you’re dripping with me for days.”

You nod frantically, beyond words, legs spreading wider on instinct. The leather is cold and slick beneath you now, your own release cooling against your skin, pooling beneath your ass in a sticky puddle. He lines up, the blunt head pressing against your entrance, stretching you open just enough to make you gasp.

“Beg,” he demands, voice rough, hips rolling just enough to tease. “Tell me what you need.”

“Please,” you whisper, the plea spilling out before you can stop it.

“Please what?”

“Fuck me. Fuck me hard. Please—”

The plea snaps something in him. He thrusts in to the hilt in one brutal stroke, no barrier, just heat, skin and the drag of him bare inside you. You moan loud, back arching off the sofa, the stretch exquisite and overwhelming. He’s thicker than his fingers, hotter, the veins along his shaft dragging against your walls with every inch. You feel every ridge, every pulse, the way he bottoms out, and his balls press flush against your ass.

“Fuck,” he groans, stilling for a moment, buried to the root, forehead dropping to yours. “So tight. So good. Can feel you squeezing me already.”

Then he moves, hard and fast, hips snapping with the same precision he uses on the pitch. Each thrust punches the air from your lungs, the sofa creaking beneath you, leather sticking to your sweat-slick back. His hand finds your throat, slightly squeezing, just holding, thumb pressing over your pulse so he can feel it race.

“Gonna fill you up,” he pants, voice shredded, hips grinding deep on every downstroke, the head of his cock kissing your cervix with each punishing roll. “Gonna pump you so full you’ll feel me for days. I need my cum inside you.”

You’re beyond words, nodding frantically, nails raking down his back through his shirt, leaving red trails that burn under the cotton. He shifts his angle, the blunt crown dragging hard over that swollen spot inside you — once, twice — and the pressure snaps like a live wire. Your orgasm barrels through you, violent and unrelenting. Your back bows off the leather, hips jerking so hard the force of your clenching pussy pushes him clean out with a wet, filthy pop. A fresh gush of slick sprays across his lower abs, dripping down his shaft in messy rivulets.

Kylian hisses, eyes blown black, cock bobbing heavy and slick in the air between you. “Fuck, look at that,” he moans, voice raw with awe. “Pushed me out like you can’t take it. But I know you will.”

He grips the base of his cock, lines up, and slams back in, one brutal thrust that punches the air from your lungs. Your walls fluttering wildly around the sudden invasion, still spasming from the aftershocks. He doesn’t give you time to adjust. Just sets a relentless rhythm, hips snapping, balls slapping against your soaked ass with every drive. The sofa creaks beneath you, leather sticking to your sweat-slick back, the room echoing with the wet, rhythmic slap of skin on skin.

Your thighs tremble around his waist, heels digging into the small of his back, urging him deeper. He drops his weight onto one forearm beside your head, the other hand sliding between you to find your clit, swollen, sensitive. His thumb circles slow at first, deliberate, spreading your slick over the bundle of nerves until you’re whimpering, hips rolling to chase the pressure.

“Ky-” It’s a broken sob, your voice cracking on the second syllable.

“Not yet,” he murmurs against your temple, breath hot. “Hold it. Let it build.”

He slows his thrusts, grinding deep on every stroke, the head of his cock dragging over that spot again and again, deliberate and maddening. Ten strokes - slow, filthy, each one dragging a whimper from your throat. Twenty. Your pussy flutters around him, greedy, trying to pull him deeper. Thirty strokes, and sweat beads on his temples, dripping onto your chest, mixing with the mess already streaking your skin. His shirt clings to his back, damp and rumpled, the fabric rough against your nipples as he leans down to suck a bruise into the swell of your breast.

Fifty strokes, and you’re shaking, the pressure coiling low and vicious, heavier with every drag of his cock. He feels it, the way your walls start to ripple, the subtle tightening that tells him you’re close again. His hips stutter, then steady, grinding deeper.

“Fuck, I feel you,” he groans, voice cracking. “Squeezing me so tight. I’m gonna cum, baby. Gonna fill this pussy.”

Your legs snap around his waist, heels locking at the small of his back, pulling him impossibly deep. “Inside,” you gasp, the word torn from you. “Cum inside me.”

Your words snap something inside him. He buries himself to the root with a guttural groan, hips stuttering as the first hot spurt floods you. You feel it, thick, pulsing, the warmth spreading low and heavy in your belly. The sensation tips you over. Your second orgasm crashes through you, slower but deeper, your walls clamping down in rhythmic pulses, milking every drop from him. Another flood of slick gushes around his cock, soaking the leather beneath you.

You come together, bodies locked, his cock twitching with every rope of cum, your pussy fluttering in perfect sync. He keeps thrusting through it, shallow, filthy, pushing his cum deeper, drawing out every shudder, every clench. Only when you’re both limp and trembling does he still, cock still half-hard and plugged inside you, cum leaking out around his base, slick and white, dripping down your ass to join the mess on the sofa.

He collapses half on top of you, both of you panting, sweat slick and trembling. The air is thick with sex. The scent of leather, his cologne, your perfume, your combined release. His forehead rests against yours, breath mingling.

For a long moment, there’s just the sound of your breathing and the distant hum of the city outside.

Then he presses a kiss to your temple, soft, almost tender. “Stay with me,” he murmurs against your skin.

You don’t answer. You can’t. The weight of what just happened settles between you like the trophy on the shelf — undeniable, gleaming, impossible to ignore.

You both know what this means.

Neither of you says it.

[grassy-noel]

Oasis: Right Here, Right Now (1997)

[onlyamemorycellphone]