f!reader x friends with benefits!warren rojas — warren rojas masterlist
djats week 2025 — day #001
summary : you’ve known warren for years, and the two of you have been fucking for a few months now. you’ve been slowly developing feelings for him, but haven’t said anything, scared that it would ruin your friendship. luckily for you, he feels the same way.
warnings : very suggestive content but no actual smut, this is the closest to smut i think i’ve ever written though, drug use (weed), reader and warren are both bad at feelings sigh, overall pretty cute and they get so freaky off screen
word count : 1.3k
You’re all giggles and wobbly movements as you get out of bed, untangling yourself from hotel bedsheets and narrowly dodging Warren’s reaching hands, trying to pull you back for round two.
“I should get going,” you say, starting to get dressed again, looking over at him when you can’t find your underwear. “Did you steal my panties again?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t remember you wearing panties in the first place,” he says with a shrug, trying to act innocent.
“Asshole,” you accuse, finding the lacy garment poking out from the pocket of his jeans, which are discarded on the floor.
“Come on, stay the night,” he says with an over-the-top pout as you pull your panties back on. “I’ve got a few joints, pre-rolled ‘cause I know you’re too much of a princess to roll them yourself.”
“You’re such a dick,” you say, shrugging on one of his t-shirts and tossing his boxers at him, hitting him square in the chest. You do end up returning to his side, your excuse being “I’m only staying ‘cause you’ve got the good stuff.”
“Can’t blame you. Besides, I like a woman with priorities,” he says, grabbing his stash from the nightstand drawer and handing one of the joints over to you, along with a lighter, as he gets his boxers back on.
You snort, lighting up the joint and taking a hit before passing it back to him, flopping back against the pillows. “Why do you always want me to stay so badly, huh?” you ask. It’s not like you mind it at all. You and Warren have been friends for ages, and—though you hate to admit it—your feelings have been growing from just being platonic.
“You’re good company,” he says with a shrug, smoke spilling from his mouth as he talks. “Just because we’re fuck buddies now doesn’t means we have to stop being best friends.”
“Aw, you think I’m your best friend? I’m flattered,” you say with a laugh, adjusting to settle against him. He doesn’t mind the contact, always welcoming it. He’s usually the one with an arm around your shoulder, or a hand always fiddling with any dangling bits of your clothing, jewelry, or even a strand of your hair.
He holds the joint for you as he places it between your lips, pulling you close with his free arm wrapping around you. “Why wouldn’t you be? We’ve known each other for years.”
“Yeah, I just thought your best friend would be like— Eddie or Daisy or something. You’re always hanging around them,” you explain.
“Yeah but that’s ‘cause I have to,” he explains as he takes another pull. “Sure they’re cool and all, and I do like hanging out with them, but you’re a million times better.”
“I think you’re biased.”
“Why would you think that?”
“Because, A: you’re high, and B: I let you have sex with me like every other night,” you argue.
“Okay, it’s not the sex, because if we were just friends without this whole thing going on, I’d be fucking groupies. And even then, I’d still consider you my best friend,” he objects.
“You still fuck groupies,” you point out, stealing the joint back
“I used to, yeah, when we first started doing this whole thing. But I’ve stopped,” he informs you, making you pause mid-drag, a small coughing fit ensuing.
Warren hands you a bottle of water and you gulp it down with a quick thanks before conceding. “Okay, I didn’t know you stopped. But still, I think the weed is making you say stuff you don’t mean.”
“What happened to drunk words are sober thoughts?”
“That doesn’t mean anything right now cause we’re high, not drunk,” you argue, handing the water back to him.
“Smartass,” he says, setting the bottle on the nightstand. “You good though? Never fun to cough during a smoke.”
“I’m fine,” you assure. “The revelation that I’m the only one you’re sleeping with just shocked me, is all.”
“Why is it so surprising that I’m happy fucking just one girl at a time?”
“Because I’ve never known you to only do one at a time,” you say. “I used to see you with a new girl every week. And this was back in high school; according to the others, you’ve only gotten worse.”
“Well it’s different when it’s you. Those girls are just pretty strangers. We’ve got all this… history. It’d feel wrong to have sex with you tonight and then have sex with some groupie tomorrow,” he says. “And besides, with the groupies, they’d just leave afterwards. With you, I get these fun conversations and someone to smoke with.”
“Mm, fair enough,” you say with a laugh, kissing his jaw.
“Thought you didn’t want round two?” he asks, but welcomes your kisses anyway.
“A girl can change her mind,” you say. “Blame the drugs.”
“You’ve barely had any,” he points out, but sets the joint in an ashtray and captures your lips in a proper kiss anyway.
You can only hum in response, unable to speak with Warren’s tongue messily finding its way into your mouth. Your hands find their way into his curls, tugging lightly and eliciting a groan from Warren as his hands find their way up your—his—shirt.
“You’re so good, baby,” he mumbles, groping at your tits, mouth trailing down to your neck. “So fucking good.”
“Mm, uh-huh,” you agree blearily, moaning as his knee nudges up between your thighs. “‘S cause you make me feel good.”
“Stop flattering me. I’m gonna get a big head,” he laughs against your skin.
“You already have one,” you tease.
“You’re so mean to me,” he says, and you can feel his bottom lip jutting out in a pout against the crook of your neck.
“You love it,” you say, playing with his hair.
“Yeah,” he agrees, resuming his ministrations against your skin, definitely leaving marks that you know will be a bitch to cover up tomorrow. “I do love it. Love you.”
Your hands pause their movements, pushing him back a bit. “What did you say?”
“I love you,” he repeats, as if it means nothing, eager to get back to touching you.
“No— Warren— stop,” you say, hands planted firmly on his shoulders, preventing him from kissing you some more. “What do you mean you love me?” you ask, brows furrowing.
“I mean I love you. Why do you think I’ve stopped fucking other girls?”
“You said it’s because it feels wrong because of our history.”
“Well it’s partially because of that,” he says, “but it’s also because I love you. You’re really cute and kinda out of my league ‘cause you’re super smart and I’m just a hot drummer. But you’re also my best friend and I love you. A lot. Maybe too much.”
“Why didn’t you say anything sooner?” you ask, frowning.
“Thought you’d laugh at me and think I’m stupid or something. I know I’m hot and I’ve got a good dick, but most girls don’t see me as a guy who wants commitment when they look at me, y’know?”
You sigh, trying to hold back a few laughs at how ridiculous this whole situation is. “You know I don’t see you like that.”
“Then how do you see me?”
“Warren, I love you too. Shit, man, I’ve had these feelings for you for a while now,” you admit, your laughs now slipping out. “I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to ruin our friendship. Thought I’d rather just have sex than nothing.”
His lips spread out in a smile as he pulls you close. “Why are you laughing?” he asks, kissing your cheek, then your jaw, then down your neck again.
“‘Cause I’m thinking of how much time we wasted,” you explain, still trying to fight off your giggles.
“We did waste a lot of time, huh?” he asks, getting a nod in response. “I know how to make up for that though.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” He grins, kisses trailing down your chest and stomach, down to your thighs. “Love you, baby.”
You settle against the pillows with a sigh, hands returning to their spot in his curls. “Love you too, honey.”
a/n: your girl never writes for warren but he's silly i like him i think once i turn 18 and start writing smut i'll write him more
