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cherry-leclerc · 3 months

Text

dirty mouth ☆ cl16

genre: humor, fluff, a tiny bit of smut

word count: 2.5k

Winter break and your boyfriend convinces you to go with him for his annual training in preparation for the new season, and this unleashes a natural disaster when it comes to him.

req!… hope u guys enjoy a bit of pottymouth!charles lol

When your boyfriend first brought up the idea of you tagging along to his winter training you thought, yeah, it doesn’t sound half bad. Sitting by the fireplace - hot chocolate and an overdue book in hand…

“Charles Marc Hervé Perceval Leclerc I am going to kill you,” you screech as you slide down the fast hill, white snow flying all around you from the sudden speed. His heart races fast as he chases after you.

You had begged for hours for him to let you read in peace. It’s all about the experience, he would yodel as he pointed out the window where everyone was skiing. Come on, it’ll be fun.

Given, you wanted him to stop moaning every second - not in that way at least - and so, you complied. “Oh, amore, you look so cute! Wait, hold on, let me take a picture.”

“I look like a stupid snowman,” you growl as you look down at your ski suit. Wincing at the strong flash of his phone, you scrunch your nose. He frowns.

“An adorable snowman.”

As soon as you stepped foot out, you wanted to punch him square in the face. It was so cold that for a moment you thought your limbs would give out. Joris giggles as he snaps a quick Polaroid of you pouting, cheeks the darkest shade a pink. You flip him off before turning to Charles.

“You don’t love me.” He groans, already knowing this card all too well. You hum. “Nuh-uh, you don’t because if you did then you wouldn’t put me in this position.” A smirk slides onto his soft lips.

“Don’t worry, I know a position that will warm you up later.” Your jaw drops. Leaning down to press a kiss onto the tip of your nose, he continues. “And I do love you, don’t be ridiculous.”

You realized he wasn’t going to give in to your pleas to let you turn back around, so you sucked it up and followed him and the boys. Andrea bumps his shoulder against yours, trying to get your attention.

“Vous plaisantez j'espère?” you groan as you fall down into a pile of snow, unbalanced from his delicate nudge. His smile drops. Sorry, sorry! He checks to see if you’re hurt because Lord watch out if you are, Charles would kill him.

“Questo é fantastico,” Joris mutters as he takes another picture. You bite the air. Andrea waves him off before helping you plunge through the snow.

“Please don’t tell Charles,” he begs as you squint your eyes teasingly. Don’t worry, I won’t. I’m fine, aren’t I? Your boyfriend’ trainer silently thanks you. “I was just trying to ask if you were ready?” He wiggles his dark brows.

“Ready for what?” You look around. “To freeze my ass off?” He stops dead in his tracks. “Oh! You mean to go to the bunny slope!” Cheerfully, you clap, wide grin stretched onto your lips. “I’m kind of scared, but it’s for beginners so I think I’ll be okay. Plus, you guys will all be there.”

Andrea shakes his head, almost seeming disappointed. “Charles, Charles, Charles…”

“Charles what?”

“We’re here!” Looking up at your boyfriend, he buzzes as he points up at the ski lift. Your smile drops. Angrily, you struggle to make your way up to him before smacking his shoulder.

“You said the bunny slope!”

He grimaces. “I know, I know, but you need to feel the rush!” He tries to kiss you but you swiftly turn your head causing him to smack his lips right onto your helmet. “I know you’re mad-”

“Of course I’m mad, you lied. I can’t go up there.” Huffing, you cross your arms. He winces at your tone.

“Chérie, but I’ll be there with you! Joris, Andrea, Antonio, me…” He coolly raises his brows. “We’ll keep you safe.”

You scoff. “Better start planning my funeral.”

“You’ll be fine, let’s go.”

“Alright baby, bend your knees - come on - you know how to do that,” he teases with a cocky tone. The boys groan as they cover their ears and you burn bright red. He throws his head back laughing as he continues. “Lean a bit toward, too.” He suppresses another dirty joke when you throw the ski poles all frustrated.

“I’m not doing this if you keep this up.”

“Okay, okay, I’m done,” he promises as he hands them back to you. After a bit more coaching from all of them, you nod.

“Lots of mansplaining, but I guess I could give it a shot.” You narrow your eyes at your friends. “Promise you guys will go after me if I can’t stop?”

Promise, they repeat in unison.

“Pro?” a teenage boy asks as he looks you up and down. Charles clenches his jaw as he steps in. She is. His voice comes out harsh and the worker just raises his arms up in defense before winking over at you. Have fun.

Dragging you away, you squeal as you try to keep up. “He was only being nice!” Nice my ass, he sourly grunts as he makes sure your feet are secure. You pout. “And I’m not a professional, you stinky liar.” You roll your eyes. “Guess that’s all you know how to do today - lie.”

Playfully, he mimics your movements, then he smacks your ass. “Be a good girl and show us all what you learned.” You squirm at his words before nodding.

Knees slightly bent, like how they are when you bounce up and down around his thick cock.

Lean forward, like when you press your naked chest against his own and he kisses you until your lips burn out.

Everything somehow led back to moments between you and the Monegasque and maybe that’s what made you far too unfocused that you missed your step and started sliding down the hill before you even had a chance to notice.

“Guys!” you wail as you fly past by them with their jaws on the floor. “You group of liars!”

The brunette quickly snaps out of it and chases after you, avidly skiing past other skiers. Andrea, Joris and Antonio all follow after him as they breath heavily.

“Turn, baby, turn,” Charles screeches as he clumsily throws out reminders of what he taught you on how to come to a halt. Shift your body weight!

Shutting your eyes for a brief second, you send a quick prayer to the man up above and curse your boyfriend for a lifetime. “I can’t do it, I’m sca- agh!”

You’re barely able to safely swoosh past a group of boys as they all yell at you. Charles flips them off before sliding past them.

“Smile!” Joris demands as he clicks his camera. You little bitch, you shout. Help me, douchebag! “Right.” He’s just about to catch you when all of a sudden he loses his place and falls. “Oh, allez!”

Then comes Antonio who as much as he tries to help, he can’t seem to get close enough. Charles huffs a puff of cold air. “Just grab her!” She keeps getting away, his friend pants.

And Andrea isn’t really trying but he’s definitely in for adrenaline as he cheers for his friends like their own personal cheerleader. Oh, so close!

Joris eventually catches up but can’t do much anymore, apart from start recording. He laughs as you zigzag, arms momentarily flinging through the air.

“No! Keep them still!” Charles yelps, terrified to see you hurt yourself.

“I’m never listening to you ever again, Charles! You never think when it comes to these things, do you?” You tremble from the icy breeze. “Noooo, he never does! Because all he thinks about is fun, fun, fun, fu-”

Next thing you know, you’re crashing into a chunk of snow as you groan from the sudden stop, but nothing hurts. “Oh thank God,” you let out. Patting yourself down, you squint your eyes at the group of men who ease their pace as they grow closer to you. “Dickheads.” You look around. “Where’s Charles?”

Hearing the shutter of a camera go off, you tilt your head in confusion. “Oh yeah,” Joris gasps. “This is definitely going to be shown at your guys’ wedding.”

Feeling something twitch underneath you, you squeal with panic as you try jumping up but only hear a ring of grunts. And you recognize them like the back of your hand.

“Charles?” Taking off his helmet abruptly, he heaves. As soon as he catches his breath, he touches your face carefully. Are you hurt? Are you okay? You throw your arms over him like a koala and kiss his clothed neck. “What do you mean, am I okay, what about you?” He shrugs it off.

“As long as you are.”

You swoon before swatting him all over his chest. This is pure gold, Joris adds as he continues recording.

“Men are all dirty, filthy, scrummy, stupid liars,” you hissed as his large hands tried to ease your hits. “You said you guys would help me!”

His eyes darken. “What do you call what I just did? I basically gave my life for you!” He brushes white snow off his lashes. “I’m lucky to be alive, you brat.”

Dinner that night is filled with snarky remarks from Charles and strong bickering from you.

“If you hadn’t forced me then I wouldn’t be bitching about it!”

His right eye twitches for a split second. “I already said I was sorry! I saved you, be a little thankful.”

The group of friends could tell the tension was growing thicker between the couple as they munch on their food quietly. He just doesn’t have a single cell to help him think about the consequences, you mumble as you bite down on a brussels sprout.

“You know what? How about we all just relax?” Andrea tried to lessen the rigid behavior of his two friends. “How does a trip to the hot tub sound?”

The Monegasque stiffens as soon as you walk out with your tiny bikini. You were a quivering mess, which made you cross your arms to try and warm yourself up, which in return ruined your boyfriend's sanity. He was practically drooling like a dog at the sight of your perfect tits being pressed up.

In a singular motion, Charles removes his shirt, leaving him in only his swim shorts. His large bulge increases your heart tempo as you remind yourself to keep cool since Joris and the rest were still around.

“Mierde, you know what? I forgot the towels.” Joris turns to Andrea and Antonio. “Do you guys mind helping me?” They patiently nod before making their way back into the cabin.

Teeth chattering is all he could hear coming from you, white rings flying in the air as you let out shaky breaths. His arms itch to bring you in and it’s not until he looks into your loopy eyes that he sighs and makes his way over.

He towers over you as his arms wrap around you like the warmest blanket to ever exist. “Are you still mad?” Despite letting him touch you, you still keep your face straight, not letting him be able to read you. “Chérie-”

“I want to get in,” you cut him, creating distance as you dip your toe in first into the hot tub and then the rest. Annoyed, he tsks his tongue before doing the same. Be like that then.

Click.

Turning fast to face the glass door, you vividly catch a glimpse of your friends locking it and closing the curtains. Make amends, Andrea yells out like a strict parent.

“Connards!” Splashing your hands onto the water as a mini tantrum, you moan. The green eyed boy keeps quiet as he watches you. “What are you looking at?” you hiss. Nothing.

You think about climbing out and trying to find a way back in but the hot water feels too good so you decide against it, choosing to enjoy the sensation. As soon as you close your eyes, the brunette starts whistling.

At first you try to tune him out, but it only gets louder from there. Theme From A Summer Place. You recognize it in less than a second. It’s what he always plays for you on the piano as you bake him snickerdoodles. Whether it’s summer or not - it’s a routine.

Your silly resentment grows smaller with every curve his tongue travels through, soft symphonies somehow making you feel more cozy than the actual hot tub.

He could hear the way you tread through the water, but it still catches him by surprise as you climb onto his lap, graceful fingers pushing his long hair back a bit.

“I’m sorry for being a bitch today.”

He chuckles deeply, leaning up to kiss your wet lips. “I’m sorry for almost killing you.” He drums his fingers against your thigh. “It scared me when you lost control…I should’ve just let you stay back.”

“It wasn't right for you to assume that I would be fine skipping the bunny slope and jumping straight into that, but I know you meant no harm.” His jaw ticks.

“Of course I meant no harm, are you kidding me? You dragged my heart along with you when you flew down that hill.” You giggle sweetly, strands of hair sliding off your shoulders. He smiles.

“It’s not entirely your fault.” He quirks his left eyebrow. Blushing, you begin playing with the droplets that sprinkle across his chest. “My mind went…” He whistles seductively. You nod, avoiding his green stare. “Yup.”

“It’s normal, no? I mean you are my girlfriend.”

“But not in a moment like that, Charles! We all nearly died,” you wheeze as you shift on his lap. He grunts.

“And yet, we didn’t.” Turned on by everything about you, he angles his head upward before linking his pink lips to yours. Water droplets tickle your chin as he moves his mouth against your own. Your body temperature increasingly grows heated and not just from the hot tub.

The way he kisses you with such urgency is enough to make your head spin, as if he’s been away for years and just barely got the opportunity to enjoy your pillowy lips. Slowly, you circle your hips as he groans, hands pinching you in return as he grows harder.

“God, I’m so glad you didn’t die,” he mumbles in between your lips. Laughing, you vibrate against him as he cringes at the sudden change. “Anddd you ruined it.” You poke your tongue out.

“Don’t say perverted things then!”

His stare drops. “How is that perverted?”

Shrugging, you climb off his lips as you press a warm kiss against his stubble. “Teasing, Mr. Leclerc. But how about we go up to bed?”

His eyes crinkle at your simple words. “Shoot me in the head if I ever say no to that.” Splashing out of the pool, you giggle as he grabs you, kissing every inch of your glowy skin.

Headboard hits the wall strong and fast as you cry out against his chest, groans flying past his lips as he circles his fingers against your swollen clit.

From downstairs, the boys grab Charles’ car keys as they hurry out the door.

“Andrea, what were you thinking?”

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stormberry-12 · 1 year

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the pogues/ESPECIALLY JJ would protect innocent!reader SO MUCH. like she could be the youngest or something and they would go back for her (for ex. when they had to leave jb in s3). anyways jj would so definitely say something like, “you’re like their little sister, but you’re MY girl.” yk

my woman ~ jj maybank x reader

Ahh yes, I totally agree, and I LOVE the innocent!reader and JJ trope>>>

summary: in the ask! not from season 3 but a close concept. :)

pairing: jj x innocent!fem!reader

warnings: slight language, reader in danger, mega fluff.

notes: lowercase intended, this was made late at night and not rlly edited srry if its bad lmao, (jj requests open still)

~<>~<>~<>~<>~

you shifted around and felt the sun on your face as your eyes fluttered open. you were in the twinkie bumping along a winding road, clinging onto jj, who was sitting in his seat, like a koala. or as jay called it, "the front pack", it was like a piggyback but on his front because he always wanted to check on you and make sure you were okay.

you shifted your legs around his torso and lifted your head from the crook of his neck.

"hiya, cupcake," he whispered softly, taking one of his arms that was wrapped around you and moving it so he could brush strands of hair from out of your eyes. "good nap?"

you nodded, wiping the sleep from your eyes, and he smiled. you suddenly recalled how you had gotten here and relief washed over you.

~<>~<>~<>~<>~

you were running through alleyways on the cut, you felt betrayed. where had the pogues gone? they were there with you five seconds ago and now you were running away from those bloody square groupers alone.

over by the pogues, jj was having a mental breakdown, "where did she go man?"

"damn it!" john b exclaimed."pope, i thought she was behind you when we cut down this way!

"we have to go back for her-" jj houghed.

"i don't know jay..."

"no... no. we have to." he held his hat in one hand and ran the other through his hair in distress.

"he's right, we have to." pope agreed.

"come on man, we finally lost those guys and now you want to follow em?" john b sighed.

"jb you of all people should understand, she's like a little sister to you man! she's still only 16 and this kind of stuff scares the shit out of her, i can't do that to her guys-"

"john b we're going after her," kie pleaded.

"god! we're wasting time, i'm gonna go after her, even if i have to do it by myself!" jj ran off in your last seen direction. john b gave in and followed along with the rest of the pogues, they all knew jj was right, and their group wouldn't survive without you.

as you continued to run, blood pumping through your ears, you looked for the best spot to hide behind, trying to throw them off. you slid behind a large dumpster and listened as the sets of footsteps of the two men ran past you.

you waited a moment, calming your breathing before you moved from behind the bin. you jumped as the footsteps came back in your direction, but instead of those square groupers, it was jj and the pogues.

"y/n!" j sighed in relief scooping you up into his arms. "I'm so sorry, that will never happen again-"

you just stood there too exhausted to complain, your face buried in his chest. john b brought the twinkie around the corner and you all piled in, driving off into the night.

~<>~<>~<>~<>~

"you came back for me," you smiled at your boyfriend wrapping your arms around his neck, still facing him on his lap.

"of course," jj said. "you know you're like their little sister, we honestly would fall apart without you... and your my girl."

"your girl?" you giggled.

"my girl, my woman, my soulmate." he repeated smoothly pressing his forehead to yours and closing his eyes. "you sure you're okay?"

"yeah," you said, leaning into his touch, playing with the hair on the nape of his neck. "perfect,"

~<>~<>~<>~<>~

#jj maybank blurb #jj maybank #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank x reader #obx fanfiction #outer banks #john b routledge #kiara carrera #pope hayward #sarah cameron #innocent reader #obx

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leclsrc · 1 year

Text

you know it ✴︎ cl16

genre: porn WITH plot (for once?! everyone cheered), humor, bit of fluff... oh inaccurate depictions of the 2022 season sorry

word count: 7k

Charles is a bit disappointed the pretty girl he harbors a crush on doesn’t have him listed as a Formula 1 crush. He is a lot disappointed that you two can’t fuck.

nsfw warnings under the cut!

18+ because... degradation, praise, charles is a bit switchy here lol, penetrative sex, a bit of ass play sorry...., oral (m receiving), semi public sex, yeah

title from this. i love u guys im so sleepy

Joris insists there’s some big present waiting for Charles in his car, to celebrate the middle of the season that has, and will no doubt continue to stretch into a period of conflict and strategy woes. He yanks off the beanie sitting on his head, listens to small talk drifting between Joris and Carlos as they all walk toward their cars to alleviate the bubble of nerves in the low of his stomach.

Sure enough, there’s an unassuming box lying on the driver’s seat. Joris slides into the passenger seat after Carlos drives away with his girlfriend, his grin shit-eating and mischievous. The door is half open when Charles takes the box to inspect it. White, with the Ferrari logo printed neatly on the centre (very classy touch), the sides are signed by different members of his team. He scratches through the seal and pulls the flap open.

He’s been given a quasi-official Ferrari box of condoms.

Thirty-six condoms, at that, small squares neatly lined up next to each other. Talk about a welcoming present. Not a camera, not racing memorabilia, not a new pair of shoes. Just condoms. Thirty-six of them.

“A mid-season pick-me-up,” presses his friend, giddily. The shorter male lounges comfortably on the seat, a blissful look of pride on his face. Laughing with exasperation, Charles wedges the box shut and tosses it carelessly into the backseat, preparing to drive. This isn’t his first rodeo with weird gifts—he’s half-sure he got adoption papers from an especially excited fan once before.

“You are such an asshole.”

“It’s also a congratulations on winning literally every race so far present,” Joris adds. It’s hyperbole but has a ring of truth to it. As the season closes, Charles’ chances of holding up the trophy this year increase.

Despite himself, Charles has a better outlook on his chances for the remainder of the season, driving-wise. He’s given it his all so far, and the rest looks promising enough. He only hopes he’s right. Netflix also increased the amount of people getting into the sport, so he’s dealing with tons more fans and nosey DMs, but it’s not too much of an impediment to a hopefully stellar season.

Charles makes a right. “Do you plan to use them?” Joris asks then, a teasing tone taking on his voice as he scrolls through his phone.

“No, not really,” Charles says, lying straight through his teeth.

“You’re a fucking liar, you are.” He whips his head toward Charles, observing his stoic side profile. “You’re single, haven’t gotten laid in months—”

“—weeks.” Corrects Charles with a cough, the defense coming at an embarrassing speed.

“…Case in point. And sports gets everyone horny. And if you didn’t know, Mattia actually OK-ed the condoms, so you’ve basically been greenlit by your boss to fuck half the world. Thank me later. I’m proud of myself.”

“Sports gets everyone competitive. Because it’s sports. Which, you’re conveniently forgetting, is my life profession.”

“Loosen up,” Joris whistles lowly. “You think Lewis got seven titles by being a closed-off celibate? It’s practically tradition to fuck around if you’re single in sports. And, for others, being in a relationship is barely an obstacle, anyway.”

Charles hates to admit that Joris is right—because he is. Racing isn’t racing without the extravagant parties that follow, and the girls and guys brought back to hotels for reasons known to everyone. People from everywhere come to the paddock and the clubs—models, influencers, actors. The pent-up energy has to go somewhere, he supposes.

But even if the little shit is right, Charles still maintains a level of dignity. Ergo, he’s steadfast in his belief that he will not be sleeping around or putting this godforsaken box of condoms to any semblance of use while the rest of the season progresses. He just hopes he won’t eat his words.

—

Monza kicks off with a 1-2 and secures Charles with a comfortable lead ahead Max.

He is high on adrenaline all night, toasting and chugging to the win, snapping pictures with Carlos, proud out of his mind. It’s everything he’s wanted and more, a quench to the thirst he’d developed over the season, a slap in the face to his doubters, a kiss on his. He texts his family, friends who aren’t present, some other people who he feels are deserving of a personal announcement, and pockets his phone.

“Now would be a great time to put that gift to use,” Carlos says at some point, when everyone in the garage is kicking back alcohol and slowly preparing to move the celebrations someplace else.

Charles cringes visibly, having almost forgotten about the dreaded gift, and totally forgotten Carlos’ knowledge of it. Even with the recent win, he’s already thinking of the next, the promise of a two-peat, another podium, hell, another 1-2. The condoms were honest to God the last thing on his mind.

They break apart an hour later, when Charles is heading to the hotel and Carlos is headed somewhere else. He’s almost to the exit when someone calls his attention in a curt English voice.He turns and finds Lewis jogging toward him, outside of his race suit and back in the fashionable apparel Charles merely wishes he could pull off.

“Lewis,” he waves, pacing toward him to save the extra few seconds of waiting.

“Amazing, amazing race, man,” the elder compliments. “You’ve got the best chance at the title here.”

Warmth melts into Charles’ body and he offers praise back, which—praising Lewis is just about the easiest thing in the world. Nerves bleed out of him as the conversation continues, the atmosphere of a finished race a welcome accompaniment to their strategic talk.

“Headed to a party, yeah?” Lewis asks when they’ve both exhausted the topic. Charles gives a half-hearted shrug, already energized enough from such a momentous win, and he nods in response. “Nah, I get it. Sometimes you just gotta sleep. But hey, if you’re ever free, we should go get dinner sometime.”

—

The “dinner sometime” happens in Singapore. Having gotten P1 beside Lewis and therefore once again high off the adrenaline, Charles claps Andrea on the back and retrieves his phone to view two texts. One reads Put the condoms to use yet, champ? from Joris, and the other Can I take you up on the dinner? from Lewis. One goes answered and the other goes muted on his iMessage.

A little something he failed to remember was Lewis’ plant-based diet, a fact that hurtles back toward him when he can’t find steak on the menu of this classy, hole-in-the-wall type of restaurant. Of course Lewis would know these types of places, he thinks. He’s a millennial semi-hipster with a separate Instagram account for his dog.

Charles ends up ordering pasta, and Lewis beside him orders a cacophony of very vegan, hippy sounding meals, the quantity of which could feed the two of them. “I hope you don’t mind,” Lewis says when the waiter departs, “but a friend is actually joining us tonight.”

“Sure,” Charles says honestly. As long as it’s not some deranged hyperfan, he does well in social situations. Right then, Lewis calls someone over. Charles looks up, squints through the dim mood lighting to try and make out the nearing figure. And then you’re sitting down across them, smiling softly, exchanging hellos with Lewis.

A little something Lewis fails to remember is his “friends” can just as well be called “celebrities,” because he is, after all, a sporting legend. So if Lewis says “friend,” Charles will assume it’s a “friend,” and not a world-famous model whose face is plastered everywhere on and offline.

“Charles Leclerc,” he says blankly.

You introduce yourself, sliding easily into a bout of questions, apologies for missing the race, you’re impossibly jetlagged, it’s crazy. Lewis chips in with something about how he’s already ordered food for the both of you, and this and that, and Charles is hopeless, staring at your face the entire time. He hopes he looks more sexy than aloof or, worse, starstruck, because it’s turning out to be the kind of situation where he looks like the deranged hyperfan, and not the other way around for once.

To be clear, Charles isn’t a fan of you. He just knows of you, because honestly, who doesn’t at this point? You’re talking on and on about how your latest shoot with Jacquemus was a pain because you shot in a tank top in sub-zero weather, but you express it like it’s the most profound topic on Earth.

Lewis turns to him and, in an (eventually successful) effort to include more of Charles in the conversation, goes, “She’s a big Formula One fan, Charles.”

Okay. Common ground. Charles lifts both brows smugly, his eyes flickering back over to you. “Really?”

You meet his eyes and smile, looking downward and blinking owlishly. You’re so pretty, long lashes fluttering as you blink and try to find an answer. Christ, you’re so painfully his type.

Lewis chimes in again—“Really. And not just because she and I are friends. I mean she was into racing before we got acquainted. Honestly. Quiz her and everything”—then excuses himself to “take a call.” (His phone wasn’t even ringing—total bullshit—but Charles is ultimately grateful for it.)

You make a face of shut up toward the departing Lewis, and Charles exhales a quiet laugh at your defiance. You clear your throat and come up with an answer.

“I’m not a big fan,” you say. “I’m more of a casual, ‘every once in a while’ type of fan.”

“That’s what every big fan of sports says,” Charles says smoothly.

“Is it?” You ask, cocking your head to the side, making a tch noise. You chuckle before going, “Well, if you insist, I’ll be honest. I didn’t want it to come to this, but okay. I am a fan… of Red Bull.”

Charles fakes extreme offense, his jaw dropping as if totally scandalized. You laugh, throwing two hands up in faux surrender. “Not Red Bull,” he says, his tone making him sound even more devastated. “You’re telling me you—don’t tell me you think Max Verstappen is attractive.”

“I mean, a bit!”

Charles makes sarcastic sounds of disapproval, and you laugh. Charles leans forward, and you do, too, both of you smiling. “So you’re into the angry drivers?”

“I’m not into a specific kind of driver,” you say casually, your tongue peeking out to lick over your bottom lip. Your voice is as soft as it is firm, slow and demure, matching the way your eyes glint. You’re impossibly pretty. He almost can’t handle it.

“So who’s making the cut?” He prompts, interested.

“Well, for starters, drivers who are my age,” you say slowly. “I turned twenty-four this year, so anyone within that bracket.”

“Oh?” Charles pretends to delve into deep thought, teasing. “Maybe Stroll? He’s very funny, speaks good English. You can never really say no to a Canadian.”

Your face warms, and you hope your flustered state isn’t too obvious as you shake your head. “He seems fun, but I prefer somebody a bit… a bit older.”

“Older…” he hums. “Pierre, perhaps? Tad bit older, real charming, great driver. I can introduce you. We’re good friends, you know.”

You click your tongue, smiling shyly. You bite your lip and it takes everything in Charles to not turn on his horny gears when he sees you, big eyes and lip bite, look so pretty. “You tease me,” you say meekly. Charles covers a cough with a chuckle and adjusts his position on the seat.

Later, after Lewis comes back in (“Long call, eh? It was about Roscoe.” Bullshit again) and you all get to order drinks, and you’ve departed in your private car, pressing an air kiss to Lewis and waving goodbye to Charles, he turns to the Mercedes driver and hums.

“Next time you have one of these”—he points to the restaurant, gestures to the front door—“dinners, let me know, okay?”

“Ah.” Lewis winks, smirking. “I’ll be sure to.”

—

Understandably, your schedules never seem to mesh well together. Lewis ends up giving Charles your number as compensation.

He stares at the contact longer than he’d like to admit, when he’s marinating in the sweltering heat of Austin. He’s finished much of his work for this half of the day so he’s mostly watching the engineers work on the last bits of modification for Sunday; he cherishest the free time and drafts, reads, and rereads texts, scours Google and Instagram for pictures of, and anything related to, you.

There’s a few new articles about buying a new car (a Benz, much to Charles’ chagrin) and new photoshoots intermittently scattered across Europe, with all sorts of brands. He sees a picture you’ve posted of yourself smiling at the camera and thinks of how pretty it would look as his lockscreen.

Am I seeing you soon? He texts finally. He hopes it’s enough to let you know who he is.

Hopefully is the reply. He smiles the whole day.

—

You’ve been texting and calling almost everyday, conversations stretching continents. He only sees you next in Mexico, Friday night, at a club Lewis has rented out for a crazy price that will no doubt be replenished in days anyway. He’s dropped to second here, but the thrill riding in him makes up for his disappointment. The place is so crowded—everyone and their mums seem to have been invited here—room blinking purple and blue, each step vibrating with the heavy bass of EDM. He catches you right as you exit the washroom area, and you look pleasantly surprised to see him.

He saw you earlier, when you were doing shots of tequila and chatting with with Bella and Lewis, but just as quickly as he spotted you, you’d dipped back into the sea of people. Now is better, he thinks. You two are alone.

“Charles, hi,” you say casually. You’re wearing a tight top and a short skirt that, despite Charles’ best efforts, always cast his gaze downward. He wonders what’s underneath, hungers to get his hands there. But he’s nothing if he’s not patient, willing to play the long game.

He takes a step forward, his gaze steady on you. Charles isn’t the tallest driver, but he’s got a big presence. You swallow, taking a step back to accommodate him. He smirks. “You look pretty.”

“You flatter me,” you say thickly, smiling, inviting him closer. The air is hot around the both of you—when your eyes flit around, they see nobody. You’re alone together. His eyes pierce into yours so deep you feel like breaking eye contact, exhaling as you take another step back—evidently, you’re distracted, because you stumble.

His arm circles around your waist, and once you steady, the hand moves down to your hip. It stays, a reminder of what you might be getting soon. You smile curtly, wondering what this might look like to a bystander, a stranger. Somebody might want to piss and walk in to see the strongest world champion contender’s hand on Chanel’s poster girl’s waist.

“Is this okay?” He asks softly against your ear.

“More than.” You say, breath shaky. “It’s more than okay.”

He chuckles. “Good. I’d hate if we couldn’t fuck before Abu Dhabi.”

Your finger traces down and wraps around the belt loop of his jeans. “Who said anything about fucking?”

Charles exhales a laugh, his lips curling upward into an amused smile. “Ah? I can’t fuck you, then?”

“I’ll let you fuck me when you’re holding up the world champion trophy,” you say sweetly, tugging him closer. “That’s okay, right?” You stare up at him, blinking, pouty. He wonders, is this how you might look with your lips wrapped around his—

“That’s about a month away.” His composure barely wavers, his hand traveling lower, blunt nails digging into your ass. Your breath hitches.

“I’m aware,” you say lowly. So be it, Charles thinks—he’s got thirty-six condoms for a reason.

“Define fuck,” he says, voice rough.

“Penetration.” You’re quick with it, cocking your head to the side. You lean back confidently, testin him, eyes batting flirtatiously.

It’s time he get a little creative.

—

Daytime weather is hot and the paddock is swarming with people, but Charles has his sights set on somebody sitting in the Mercedes hospitality. He manages to get out of morning meetings earlier, wedging himself out of the room and passing by a mirror to fix his hair with admirable concentration. He’s in the middle of combing through it when a force tugs at the hem of his polo, causing him to stumble backwards.

“Uh—Carlos? What the hell?” He asks, brow raised defensively. Facing him are Carlos, Joris, and Pierre, arms crossed over their torsos and amused expressions on their faces.

“What are you doing?” Asks Pierre, cocking his head to the side.

“Fixing my hair.”

“Pussy appointment?” Joris interjects; the vulgarity of his statement earns him a poke on the side from Carlos, who clicks his tongue.

“Wh—I don’t—”

“You are shit at lying, mate,” says Pierre, his lips curled into a devious smile. “Who is it?”

“It’s nobody,” he lies.

“Charles,” says Lewis suddenly from behind them, waving his arms to get the former’s attention, “are you going to go over and say hi?”

Hook, line, and sinker. He’s been caught. “Well, well, well,” Carlos starts, mischievous.

“Guys—” Charles says, attempting to make an excuse.

“Looks like your vow of celibacy isn’t so far off after all,” Pierre adds. “That one over at Mercedes is going to break it, eh?”

“Yeah.” Joris says, smirking. “Lucky George, huh.”

The three face him, incredulous. “I was kidding,” he fibs, once he realizes his epiphany is wrong. “Kidding.”

Charles walks off, and ends up seeing you right where he expected you, sitting beside Lewis in a tiny dress with your hair pinned up into a bun. Almost naturally, your words fall into the flirtatious back-and-forth you’d started at the dinner, hyperaware of the cameras snapping your pictures. At some point, the Brit excuses himself to “take a call” (again, bullshit) and leaves the two of you alone.

“See anything nice on the paddock?”

“Nothing I haven’t seen before,” you say with a teasing smile, head cocking to the side to gauge his reaction. He chuckles.

“Did you get a picture with Max?”

“Only a ton.” You pause. “And Daniel, too.”

“Ah, you’re just crushing on the whole paddock, now are you?” He pokes his tongue into his cheek, leans forward.” Uh, Checo?”

“Pass,” you say with a nose scrunch. You’re so fucking pretty.

“Lewis.”

“God, pass. He’s not ugly, but he’s my brother at this point.”

“Pierre.”

“Horribly French, but… smash.”

“Are you not into the French?” He smiles. “Good to know. Hmm—Carlos.”

“I’d be stupid to say anything other than smash.” You narrow your eyes, licking over your lips. “I’m into the Ferrari guys, is the thing.” His gaze travels to your crossed legs, long and disappearing into the hem of your dress.

He smirks. “Are you?”

“I really am,” you hum.

“Are you staying long? All weekend?”

“Yeah, I’m free from work for now,” you say casually. “Any recommendations on what fun things I can do here?”

“I can think of…” he says, smirking a little. “A few.”

—

Stupid places to have sex, number one: a motorhome.

Still, Charles is crowding you up against the wall of the room, swallowing the whimper that leaves your mouth with his own. And still, this isn’t sex. At least not the kind he wants the most. He mentally praises Carlos for being able to decipher the typo-laden text he’d sent out on the way here, one hand around your waist, the other barely capable of typing with how fast his brain ran. Clesr the fuckng room npw now npw it read. Thank God.

Your mouth tastes like champagne, and everywhere else smells divine. Your hands roam impatiently over his shoulders and you make muted noises of frustration at your inability to pull his shirt off. You settle for letting your hands crawl underneath it, stroking over his abs.

“D’you remember what I told you,” you pant, his lips insistent on your neck, “at the club?”

“Yeah,” he says, grunting at the memory.

“Okay.” You breathe. “Let me suck you off.”

“Fuck,” he groans. “Jesus. Okay. Fuck.”

You giggle, and he watches intently as you drop onto your knees, looking up at him through thick lashes. You’re insistent, pulling the zip of his jeans down and tugging his cock out. It’s pretty, thick like the rest of him, already hard.

He’s at his limit, having you here like this, on you knees and stretching your lips around the tip of his dick. Your eyes barely leave his, fluttering as they tear up when you take him in your throat.

He throws his head back, squeezes his eyes shut, lets a hand unpin your bun and thread itself into the untangled hair. If he looks at you, he’ll see your head bobbing up and down on his cock, and he genuinely needs to hold off the orgasm first.

He rocks forward into your mouth and feels your throat close up around him. That’s enough to weaken his resolve, send grunts out of his throat that he can’t keep quiet.

“Oh, shit,” he says, feeling every part of your mouth and throat around him, warm and tense. He can’t help but thrust harder, steady but not too rough, growing more aroused with every sound of you choking on him.

His gaze flickers toward you. You’re teary-eyed, lips dotted with spit, choking yourself on his cock. Just for him, here in public. You pull off, blinking tears away from your face and looking up at him smilingly.

He laughs, guiding his cock back into your mouth, watching the way your brows knit together, pleading, almost. You're at his mercy, he thinks, thrusting harder, listening to your coughs. He loves seeing you like this, innocent face messy and slick with spit and precum, eyes big and needy.

“You like that?” He grunts. “Look at me.”

You nod the best you can. Yes, you want to say. Give me more, I love it.

“Yeaaah, fuck. I know you do,” he says through his teeth, staving off his orgasm the best he can before he releases all over you. The image alone of streaking you with his cum, claiming you all over-eyelashes, tits, cheeks splashed with cum-is enough to send him closer to the edge. “Gonna cum,” he grunts.

You moan around him, the vibrations causing his eyelids to flutter. You shake your head, pulling off and wrapping your hand around his dick, stroking slower. “Not yet,” you say sweetly, watching him throw his head back in pleasure and frustration. He runs a hand through his sweaty hair, exhales shakily.

“Shit.” He whines. “Come on, baby. Make me cum.” He cups your jaw, stares down at you.

You stroke him faster, lip between your teeth. “Okay,” you say with a smile. “Cum for me, Charles.”

He stops staving himself off, falls into the pleasure and relief of your hand around his cock until he’s tense all over, knitting his hand into your hair and pushing you backwards so he can press his tip on the flat expanse of your tongue and let his cum shoot there. It drips from your tongue and lips onto your chin and you giggle, swallowing it, scooping up the rest to push into your mouth.

You stand, licking your lips slowly. “I owe you,” he pants, zipping himself up. Already he’s thinking about what he can do to you in return. Tease you, like you did him, bend you over his lap or sit you on it and make you whine and writhe and wait and cum.

“I’ll hold you to that, champion,” you murmur, kissing his cheek and slipping back outside.

—

Ferrari’s advice is shit and despite his good mood and quick-witted driving, Charles finishes in fifth—not too shabby, but disastrous for his overall standings.

He suffers through a horrible debrief where attempts to defend his honor go unheard, his mood wilting and wilting until he’s at the media pen and ushered in front of some network he hasn’t heard of. They’ve probably paid to get a good seat here.

He’s in a shit mood, he hasn’t seen Joris or Pierre or you in hours, and has only faced red-faced frustrated superiors and now, wide-eyed journalists with loose mouths. The media’s done the mandatory speculation between the two of you, so he already expects questions of that variety, but it’s still hot and angry when he does.

Are you banging the Marc Jacobs model? The Irish reporter asks with a wink, so very unprofessional and not at all belonging to reputable media. The hot leggy one who has fuck me eyes?

Charles clenches his jaw, rolls his eyes, says fuck off mate and shoves him backward a little, then walks away and readjusts his cap. The clip makes Twitter and he feels even worse with the amount of troll accounts telling him to Jeez, take a joke.

After the ordeal, in your hotel room, you sigh softly and run your hands through his still shampoo-smelling hair. “You didn’t need to do that,” you say, a bit strictly. He knows you’re grateful, though, and a bit proud.

“I wanted to,” he insists softly. He forgets to leave before morning; when he does, he forgets his official Ferrari shirt hanging on the seat, leaving in a spare one instead. It’s got his number across the back. You don’t tell him.

—

In between Mexico and Sao Paulo, he manages to catch a flight to New York to peek into one of your photoshoots. It’s for Chanel and he’s half-sure he’s taken more pictures of you than the official photographer did. At this point your vague relationship status has caught onto headlines everywhere, and he doesn’t miss the curious murmurs from paparazzo that follow him as he enters your apartment later to greet you.

You’re in a pair of shorts and a tank top when you open the door, greeting him with a tight hug and leading him inside with a loose grip.

“Wine?”

“Please.” He eyes the wide area, the big floor-to-ceiling windows and the art on the walls. “Hungry?”

“Mmm.” You hum, sliding a glass toward him. “Starving.”

“Pizza?”

“Something else.” You smile. He tears his eyes away from your tits, poking out of the thin cotton, and coughs.

The both of you end up on the couch, your legs draped over his as you talk about racing.

He’s ranting about how he’s neck to neck with Max now, and the final verdict will likely be decided at Abu Dhabi, a fact that sends nerves all through him. You’re listening, you really are, but it’s difficult to keep listening because his hand, big and rough, is stroking your bare calf as he talks absentmindedly.

You offer the occasional mmm-hmm and uh-huh and even the oh really to sell it, but he doesn’t seem to be conscious of how many sparks are coursing through you because of his hand on your leg. He just talks and talks, accent curving into curse words elicited by the competition.

And his voice, rough and deeper when he slides into Italian phrases, gets in your head, reminds you of the way he’d moaned when you had his dick in your mouth. You like that? he’d said, panting, heavy, hot. His hand remained in your hair, controlling you the same way you did him. Fuck.

When you blink, he’s stopped talking, and has likely noticed your wandering imagination if his teasing smile is anything to go by. You cough, clear your throat, adjust your thighs. You’re thinking—you can’t stop thinking—about what happened in Mexico, not just in the motorhome but in the club where he’d let his hand sprawl over your ass and stay there, possessive.

The tension rises. I owe you. He really does. You reach over and grab your phone from the coffee table, snap a few pictures of him. “—Hey!” He protests, scrabbling to grab it from you while balancing his half-full glass. “I look god awful.”

You stand up, review the picture. He looks so impossibly handsome. “You’re right, you do,” you say, pouting.

He reaches over again, chuckling, and you avoid him. “Foul play!”

“Tch. At least show it to me,” he says defeatedly, so you do: presenting your screen to him.

Quickly, he makes a grab for it, but you just escape his grip, ending up right in front of him and leaning over. You’re losing your balance, digging your toes into your carpet to maintain stance. He spares a glance at your shorts, riding low on your hips, showing a bit of thin lace.

Charles tugs you forward by the hem of your top and then takes your wrist into his grip—the force of his grab makes your tits shake underneath your flimsy tank top. It’s dragged down so far your tits are spilling out. His eyes flicker down to them, dark, and a pretty smile spreads across his face.

“Come on, give it,” he challenges, eyes narrowing a little. You bite your lip, inwardly liking this a little too much—being at his mercy, trapped in his strong grip. You’re flustered and it shows.

He wrestles you onto his lap with ease, his arms steady around you. You stare downwards, dark eyes meeting his, hand on his broad shoulder for leverage. He’s so pretty, you think, so hot and handsome and you need him right now. Through his jeans you can feel how thick he is, his dick growing, getting hard and huge under you. It feels big even through a few layers—you can’t help but imagine how it might feel inside you.

Your phone clatters to the carpet behind the couch. “I win,” you say breathlessly.

He grabs your hips and jerks his upward, letting his stiff dick press up even more against your shorts.

“I think I’m the winner here,” he says gruffly, hands feeling you up all over. He thumbs at your chest, rubbing over your tits. You shiver—it feels good having him on you like this, your mind turning to mush.

“Shut up,” you laugh, shakily. A hand wanders in between your thighs, another coming to squeeze your barely-covered ass. You can’t focus on much, just his hands roaming everywhere and his hard dick pressing against your core. He shoves your hips downward again, his cock hard and perfectly against your pussy.

“You feel that?” He asks; it leaves him in one low breath.

“Yeah,” you say, whimpering. “I want it.”

He grinds up against you again, his thumb teasing the hem of your shorts. Closer to where you want it. “Don’t think you could even take it, baby.”

“I hate you,” you say. “You know I can.”

He laughs. “We’ll see, yeah?” You find a rhythm of grinding down against his cock, nestled right against your ass. He’s everywhere and you can’t handle it anymore, finding yourself craving him more and more.

You moan against his neck—and then come to your senses. “No.”

He smirks when you pull away. “Tempted, were you?”

“Not…” You pause. You’re sweaty, flushed all over, and your panties are sticking to you from how wet you’ve grown. “Not very.”

—

Abu Dhabi is a son of a bitch.

It comes with meetings, meetings, debriefs, calls, meetings. Everything is riding on the night’s race, the flurry of social media a welcome source of anxiety for him as he watches the hours whiz by. You’d missed seeing him, understood he was busy; you send a selfie to compensate and it gets him calm enough to last the pre-race buzz.

Time speeds by with lunch, coaching, drills, talks with Carlos and Mattia and even Max, who displays support as strongly as competitiveness. Before he even realizes it, he blinks and he’s in his suit, adjusting his balaclava, inhaling, exhaling. Everything is just the way he likes—needs—it to be.

He drives himself to P2 behind Max, eyes shut.

All else seeps into him, natural method, natural routine. He flexes his thumbs. Through the team radio his engineer goes good luck, and Charles’ practice bleeds into his subconscious. The air is heavy, with tension and excitement, the division of blue and red. Everyone’s eager to see who claims the title.

The lights go off and everything is left to skill, blurring into noise and turns and expletives yelled into the team radio. He can’t even feel himself think, turning with dexterity and overtaking with the kind of vengeance he hasn’t let out in a while.

For all his trying, Max keeps up just the same, keeping a neck and neck level for the relative entirety of the race. They’re milking out the last few laps together, and Charles feels every fibre of his being work toward this, just this, nothing but this right now. Nothing but the finish line.

You got this, Charles, says the engineer, voice heightening. Maiden world championship.

He nods to himself, trusts his instincts and when he catches sight of the finish line, he thinks: he’s the best driver on the grid.

So he revs faster, and the rest descends into—

Absolute fucking chaos.

—

He’s smiling when he approaches the reporter, who’s already holding the mic with wonder. He asks for a message in Italian, then reminds him—and the crowd—that, in case he forgot, he’s world champion. Charles thinks he genuinely can’t ever.

“What are you doing to celebrate?” He asks then, smiling.

Sweaty, with damp hair and shiny skin, he smirks and leans closer. “Someone, I hope.”

—

“Hey there, champ.”

You’re already leaning against his hotel room door when he gets there, after the chore of wrestling himself free from the rest of the team pressuring him to get drinks. Carlos helps out, babbles something or other about Charles being “busy with something else”—which isn't wrong, not at all. He offers a smooth wink, bending down to kiss you.

Your mouths meet, softly first then increasingly messy as he pins you against the door. You push away, breathing heavy. “I don’t know what you’re into, but I don't want the top floor of this hotel seeing us fucking.”

“I wasn’t into that, but now that you brought it up…” You swat his arm and he laughs, unlocking the door and pulling you inside. You’re clinging onto him—his arms, his chest, anything, kissing up his neck and jaw. He groans at how needy you are. All for him, he thinks. Probably soaked through your panties and it’s all because of him.

“C’mon, pretty girl,” he says gently, voice low as he leads you to the bed. He catches sight of your shirt and a brow raises. “Did you buy that?”

“Hmm?” You look down, following his gaze and blinking. The shirt you’re wearing is loose, hanging off your shoulders and hastily tucked into your miniskirt so it looks like you actually have trousers on. “Oh. No, this is yours.”

“Mine.” He smiles a little. “You look so good in it, princess.” His hands mindlessly grope at you, hungry, sneaking underneath your skirt to feel at the lace there.

In retaliation, you lean forward, unbutton his jeans and tug at it.

“You left it at one of my”—you gasp, feeling his finger sneak its way beneath your panties—“my hotel rooms.”

“Pretty girl, pretty shirt, pretty lace, yeah?” He tugs, lets the garter of the skirt loosen and fall off your hips on its own. “Red.”

“You take too long,” you groan.

“You’re just eager,” he laughs, thumbing at your clothed cunt.

You’re so wet, evident even in the lazy circles he rubs over your entrance. You’re aching, desperate, begging almost. So he gives you what you want, maneuvers you onto his lap and pushes your (his) shirt up to stuff your mouth with it.

It won’t work for long, but it’s enough. He pushes your panties to the side and pulls his hard dick out. You’re sitting against it now, leaking slick onto it, at his mercy, branding his name and his number across your back. It’s hot.

He stares at the way you rock softly against him, hungry eyes meeting yours. “You’re so pretty, baby. Ruined.”

“Fuck me already,” you say, voice throaty, innocent.

“Can you take it?” He asks, teasing you, slapping his dick against your clit softly. You whine.

“Please,” you insist. “I want it. Make it fit.”

He’s a massive tease with it, his breath fanning against your skin, hands sticky on where they’ve hiked your shirt up. He lowers you, slower, against the tip of his dick and he watches your eyes flutter when you sink onto it. After ages of waiting. Your grip’s like iron on his shoulders, moans leaving you in quiet bursts of pleasure.

You’re far away, dumb from the feeling, you barely register the way he shoves the shirt back into your mouth to keep you quiet. “So fucking tight, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say. It’s muffled, barely intelligible. “For you.”

You’re only able to take it because you’re so wet, so turned on, face and brain filled with nothing but pleasure. He can’t take it.

“Mmmfh,” you say, muffled by the bite of cotton in your mouth. You’re sweaty, flushed, overstimulated—you don’t know where to focus. On his lips against your jaw, his hand on your neck, the way your pussy swallows his aching dick. “It’s so big, I—”

“You okay?” He asks, breathily. Smiling. He’s in control, but still he sounds whiny—almost, if not as desperate as you. “You’ll take it all for me, won’t you?”

“Oh god,” is all you muster, letting him stretch you out even more, gushing all over his cock. “I, I—”

He moans, his grip tight against your waist, watching his dick bury itself in you. “You’re getting me so full,” you whine. “So deep, I feel it—” you taper off into a moan again when he presses hs thumb to your clit, distracting you from the stretch as he finally, finally bottoms out.

“Good?”

You nod. So good, give me more.

You grind against him, let the shirt fall out of your mouth. “You’re getting my dick so wet,” he comments, breathless. “So pretty for me, too.”

Growing antsy, he attempts to move, but you whine. Your turn to tease, you think, after he was a dick to you just now. “Not yet,” you say, lip caught between your teeth. His hands are tight around your waist. Desperate.

You squeeze around him, watch his brows knit together, a grunt leave him in a frustrated exhale. “You wanna fuck me?” You tease against his neck, blinking innocently.

“Yes,” he replies, not missing a beat. You pout, like you’re empathizing with the problem you’re causing; you grind slowly against him and he lets out a guttural fuuuuck. He’s so big, so hard—you can feel every inch of him inside you.

“Tell me again, Charles,” you say with a giggle. You’re so hot like this, face flushed and timid, hips moving slowly. He could cum just from the way you bite your lip, the way a whimper slips out of you when he hits the right spot.

“—Yeah,” he says, sweetly. “I want to—please, let me fuck you. C’mon, baby, can I?”

“Aww,” you tease.

“Can I?” He asks again, voice deep and thin with the need to fuck you, thrust up into you and make you the dumb one. His face is flushed and desperate. “Can I move, baby? Let me, please.”

You’re not stupid. You know—if his flushed, pleading face and big green puppy eyes are anything to go by—that he’s going crazy, growing antsy. But you’re not complaining.

“Hmm,” you say, feigning genuine thought. “I don’t know, Charles. Feels good just like this. And you want to make me feel good, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says.

“Yeah.” You repeat, staring into his dark eyes. He’s frustrated, desperate, flushed all over and sweaty. His fingers dig into your hips. “I’ll make you feel really good, baby, if you let me.”

“Go ahead,” you say softly, “fuck me, please.” And he’s thrusting upwards to meet you halfway. It’s knocking you out, almost, the pleasure of it, the dizzy onslaught of euphoria. He’s stretching you out so well, whining softly into your neck and yeah, you two have waited far too long to have this. You

“Fuck,” he grunts, lids squeezed shut and head rolled onto your shoulder. “Go on, baby, ride it, make me cum.” He cups your jaw, reaches his thumb into your mouth. It’s too much, all of it. He makes you suck on it while thrusting up, dizzying you with his cock.

He grabs handfuls of your ass, teases his thumb at your tighter asshole just to watch your eyes flutter, feel your cunt grow wetter. “I’ll fuck you even fuller next time,” he says; the implication gets you hot.

You bounce harder, chasing release as his thumb teases over your ass, the tip of it just thrusting in enough to elicit strings of moans out of you. “Come on, ride me,” he goads. “So good for me.”

“Fuck,” you pant, “cum in me, please.”

You cum first, writhing around him and riding your orgasm out in lazy grinds over his hard cock. You want to see him cum, see his eyebrows knit and his mouth release pretty whines, feel him claim you inside, hands hot and heavy on your ass. He does, with a guttural fuuuuck, shoving his dick up in you to the base and spurting all his cum in you.

He thrusts, watches his cum leak out of you, fucks it back in, in a vicious cycle. You shiver, blinking coquettishly and watching along—and then you’re both crumpling over each other on the bed behind you. You pant heavily against his chest.

“Hey.” He muses out loud, drumming against your skin.

“Yeah?”

“I have thirty-six condoms we need to go through. Wanna go on a date?”

#f1 #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc drabble #charles leclerc smut #f1 x reader

4K notes · View notes

c0zyrainfall · 4 months

Text

Damian: Ooh. There's a cute girl over there.

Anya: What.

Damian: Do you wanna be my friend? Only if your dad is an elitist tho

Anya: My dad's a doctor

Damian: Ew imagine being as poor as the upper middle class

Anya: No

Damian: I hate you.

Anya: I hate you too.

Anya: Ugh, I'm sorry for punching you I guess.

Damian: I'm literally in love with you.

Anya: what

Damian: WHAT. I SAID I HATE YOU

Anya: what 😭

Anya: Guess I'll befriend him? For the mission!

Damian: I cannot stand the sight of you crying. You're not allowed to cry in my presence. It's too dangerous because I'll just give you anything you want.

Anya: I want sweets

Damian: You're so unfair

Anya: Well shoot, you're gonna get a tonitrus bolt unless I save you rn.

Damian: No

Anya: Take my hankerchief

Damian: I literally owe you my life now

Anya: I'll settle for cake.

Anya: Omg our moms are friends now. We should become friends so we can beat them at friendship

Damian: Hold up did my mom reveal all my embarrassing secrets

Anya: Nah

Damian: Darn... I mean that's great, but we're still not friends

Anya: Camping trip!

Damian: Camping trip:

Anya and Damian: wait no we're stuck in the woods together

Damian: Guess I'll hold your hand 🙄

Anya: 🥹

Damian: Ugh I brought the cake... Nvm my friends ate it

Anya: Omg a terrorist hijacked the bus. I'm gonna go save everyone

Damian: Wait no ur gonna get yourself killed!

Anya: what are you worried

Damian: Yeah kinda 😭 Just a lil but only because you're my classmate

Anya: well too bad I'm saving everyone anyways... Oh nvm the terrorists just strapped a bomb to my neck.

Damian: Put it on me instead

Anya: ....

Anya: I saved everyone

Damian: I guess you did. That was kind of a little bit cool.

Anya: Well you were pretty cool too when you tried to take the bomb for me

Damian: I only did it cuz we're friends 😭

Anya: We're friends?!?!?!

Damian: NO

Anya: OHOHO other people think I'm cool now. I don't need Damian anymore

Damian: Say WHAT

Becky: Ur jealous lol.

Damian: No

Ewen: Space is cool

Damian: Whatever

Ewen: OMG Anya we share a common interest in space!

Anya: I want to build a castle on the moon!

Damian: When I grow up I'll make it so you can go to space whenever you want. I will literally build you a castle on the moon.

Becky: You are SO jealous lol

Damian: Well I can't really deny it now can I

Damian: I literally got Anya the most expensive cake in the world. But only to pay my blood debt to her for the handkerchief thing, and for no other reasons.

Anya: Omg give me the cake.. I mean, be my friend.

Damian: She wants to square up???

Anya: No. I want to be your friend.

Damian: Idk why she wants to fight me so badly but I guess I'll oblige as an excuse to spend time with her... I mean to give her the cake.

Anya: Omg just give me the cake already.

Damian: I'm literally in love with you. I MEAN I DON'T WANT TO BE YOUR FRIEND. I'M JUST GIVING YOU THESE TO PAY BACK MY BLOOD DEBT.

Anya: Yeah okay we can be friends now! Gotta beat our moms at the friendship scheme.

Damian: Wait she's in love with me

Anya: King of jumping to conclusions over here 😭 Omg nevermind pls leave me alone

Damian: Queen of mixed signals you make no sense 😭

Anya: Bro chill we're literally in first grade 💀✋

Damian: Haha, you're too dumb to make it into the same class as me next semester

Anya: Oh wait ur right :(

Damian: Wait but what if she actually beats me though

Anya: I drew a beard into my face with permanent marker.

Damian: WAIT BUT WHAT IF SHE ACTUALLY BEATS ME THOUGH

#spy x family #spy family #spy x family anya #anya forger #damianya #spy x family manga #spy x family spoilers #damian desmond #damianya dynamic so far #to be continued lol

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heartlilith · 6 months

Text

DRUNK ASTROLOGY THOTS 👹

♠️If I could be ANY moon sign, you bet your ass it would be either Aquarius, Sagittarius, Gemini (you heard me), or Aries. I don’t want to be the mom friend anymore!!!! I want to be crazy!!!!

♠️My dear prominent Earth placements, aren’t you sick of being the mom friend? Don’t you want to go crazy?

♠️Pisces and Aquarius in the chart is sooo vibey. Like you are the definition of ethereal and calm. Plus you are so smart in ways that other people aren’t.

♠️^Actually, everyone that has a mix of the following: Aries, Sagittarius, Scorpio, Pisces, Libra, Gemini, Aquarius, Pisces … I be high key jealous of you guys, you’re so cool

♠️Taurus, Cancer, Leo, Virgo, Capricorn placements are the definition of “Do no harm, take no shit”. I love you guys, you guys are the backbone of the zodiac.

♠️Any placement you think is “bad”, let me tell you something: LEAN INTO THAT SHIT. I don’t care if it’s Moon square Pluto, I don’t care if it’s Pluto in the 12th house, I don’t care if it’s Mars in the 8th house or Chiron in the 1st. LEAN INTO IT. OWN IT.

♠️This has nothing to do with astrology but growing up as a little girl I always thought every human being was beautiful because everyone brought something different to the table. What’s “ugly”? There may be 10 people that find you “ugly” for every 100 that think you’re beautiful.

♠️Speaking of “beauty”, don’t read too far into posts that say “indicators of beauty” or “indictors of high sex appeal”, sure some placements may indicate it but not everyone is going to find a particular person attractive even if the next person thinks they’re the MOST attractive. If people vibe with you, they vibe with you. And there will be people that do, trust.

♠️I love being around Air signs because as a Fire/Earth dominant, it’s nice to be reminded of how to let things go. I’m going to them for advice. Wait I just thought of something (💡) !!! The element you LACK is the element you should get advice from. BOOM.

♠️I love Lilith, she’s a bad bitch. She’s everything that goes against what women “should be”.

♠️If you have a Pisces MC, what job/career do you have currently?

♠️Spongebob was definitely a Cancer sun Pisces moon Capricorn rising

♠️Omg 😂😂😂😂 MR KRABS WAS A CAPRICORN SUN SCORPIO MOON SAGITTARIUS RISING LMFAOOO. I’m dead at the Capricorn 😂

♠️Love languages:

Aries - Physical Touch

Taurus - Quality Time

Gemini - Words of Affirmation

Cancer - Quality Time

Leo - Gift Giving

Virgo - Acts of Service

Libra - Gift Giving

Scorpio - Physical Touch (but also Words of Affirmation)

Sagittarius - Physical Touch

Capricorn - Acts of Service

Aquarius - Quality Time

Pisces - Words of Affirmation

♠️Water signs are friends with their demons, 3am comes around and they’re like “heyyy what’s up girl?”

♠️Cancer placements act like Aries placements when they’re hurt

♠️Fire signs in the 1st/3rd/5th/10th be so damn loud….. but the way they laugh >

♠️Virgo reminds me of the shocked pikachu meme 😂

#astrology #astro observations #astrology community #astro #astro community #rising signs #leo #sagittarius #scorpio #cancer #Aries #Taurus #Gemini #every other sign #hi

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verstappen-cult · 5 months

Text

HOW YOU GET THE GIRL | CL16

— 03. THE DRAMA

PREV. PART | NEXT PART — [ SERIES MASTERLIST ]

summary: in which charles has an embarrassing crush on alex's childhood best friend and everyone meddles. content warnings: faceclaim is taylor hill but you can picture her as you’d like! some cursing and a tiny bit of angst because why not. time jump of a month approx.

INSTAGRAM POST

📍 LONDON, ENGLAND — JUN 27, 2023

Liked by alex_albon, landonorris and 897,455 others

yourusername i kinda like it here. ⛳️

view all 7,637 comments

user66 uh excuse me? the second slide???

user67 IS THAT CHARLES ???? user68 I THINK SO

alex_albon i feel betrayed.

yourusername stop being so dramatic

user69 my parents are together i still can’t believe it

user70 oh my god okay it’s happening

user71 everybody stay calm OH MY GOD user72 are they together? user71 girl go on twitter and see

landonorris let’s play and see who’s better

yourusername me ofc

charles_leclerc ❤️

user73 relationship goals

user74 lol we don’t even know if they’re dating user75 they kissed in front of thousand of people AND on live tv what are you talking about

user76 he’s too good for her

user77 who is she anyway. user78 stop being so childish, he’s never gonna date u

user79 who wouldn’t want to date her i mean just look at her

user80 all these people saying charles is too good for her like ??? SHE’S too good for him

user81 she will get bored in a few days mark my words

danielricciardo Ok but who won?

charles_leclerc i won! yourusername charlie don’t lie maxverstappen1 I don’t believe anything he says ever since I won fair and square playing FIFA and he threw the controller at me. landonorris he did that to you too? pierregasly that’s nothing. he threw a padel racket at my head, i still don’t remember anything from that day. charles_leclerc ffs shut up yourusername leave him alone you bullies

user82 i love how all the drivers are calling charles out lol

Y/N’S iMESSAGE

“that’s not how you make pasta!” you’re dying with laughter at seeing charles trying to cook.

“i asked you if i could cook!” charles can’t help but join you in your laughter, leaving the burned pasta aside.

“because you said you knew how to!”

“you better not believe anything i say.” he takes a sip of wine. the one he brought alongside the beautiful flowers that are now adorning your terrace.

“not even when you say how much you like me?” you pout, looking at him beneath your eyelashes.

charles walks the short distance to where you are sitting in the kitchen counter and you happily make room for him between your legs, arms finding your waist in no time.

“you should a hundred percent believe that.”

“mh i don’t know,” you tease, playing with his soft hair. god, you love his hair so much. “i think you should show me.”

“oh i’m definitely going to do that.”

INSTAGRAM POST

Liked by sabrinacarpenter, gigihadid and 566,328 others

yourusername 💐

view all 8,771 comments

user83 that’s one hell of a bouquet

user84 charles knows what he’s doing

gigihadid Can’t wait to see you this weekend!

❤️ by author

user85 i wanna be her so bad :(

user86 If it weren’t for Charles nobody would know who she is. He put her on the map.

user87 this is a grown ass man by the way user 88 i swear to god men are so in love with charles is getting kinda scary

carmenmmundt What a beautiful picture 💛

user89 tired of her comment section being all about charles

user90 fr like they forget she’s her own person user91 I just know she doesn’t like this at all, she’s always speak up about these kind of things user92 if this were to happen the other way around everyone would be insulting her

user93 CHARLES IS WITH HER RN OHMYGOD

user94 what are you taking about user93 LOOK AT CHARLES STORIES HE LITERALLY JUST POSTED THE PICTURES user95 if it wasn’t for the close up of the flowers we wouldn’t even know they’re together user96 he def did it on purpose

user97 the boys, the girls, the gays, they all like Y/N

INSTAGRAM STORIES

landonorris has replied to your story

landonorris: *chandler bing’s voice* can I BE any more obvious? charles_leclerc: just stop watching friends, i beg you

maxverstappen1 has replied to your story

maxverstappen1: Uh, so that’s why you wouldn’t travel with me. Interesting. charles_leclerc: can i use air max for the next race? 🥺

pierregasly has replied to your story

pierregasly: you guys make me sick charles_leclerc: Y/N says to shut up pierregasly: 🤮🤮🤮

yourusername has replied to your story

yourusername: i like this soft launch/hard launch thing charles_leclerc: i bet you like me more yourusername: debatable charles_leclerc: i can make you change your mind 😏

TWITTER — JUN 28, 2023

TWITTER — JUN 30, 2023

TWITTER — JUL 02, 2023

ALEX’S iMESAGGE

TAGLIST (bold means i couldn’t tag you) — @leclerc16s. @willowpains. @berrnuu. @minkyungseokie. @1655clean. @sassyheroneckgiant. @scott-mccall-could-lift-mjolnir. @nessacarty1. @a1leexxa. @storminacloud. @lovstappen. @littlehoneyfreak. @paintedbypoetry. @thatoneembarrasingmoment.

note: hiii besties, take this as an early new years present! this was supposed to be posted after dec 31st but couldn’t leave it in the drafts. there is at least one or two more chapters, so if you still wanna be added to the taglist let me know! <3

#꒰꒰ 📁 ─ verstappen cult files ꒱꒱#f1 x reader #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fluff #f1 imagine #f1 grid x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x you #f1 fanfic #charles leclerc smau #charles leclerc blurb

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night-raven-tattler · 5 months

Text

Love beyond spoken words - part 1

Summary: Everyone has a way of saying "I love you" without using those three words.

Characters: Ace, Jack, Azul × GN!Reader (separate, romantic)

Other parts of the series: Jamil, Rook, Idia, Sebek

Warnings: food mention (Jack's part)

By opening the document, you agree to Mx Tattly's terms of source confidentiality.

-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

You had no idea how Ace was able to maintain an average of 80 for his grades, because it never seemed like he was paying attention in class

Even when he was hunched down over his notebook as if he was writing down notes, he still gave you the impression he was not listening to the lecture

...because he wasn't, really

A folded piece of paper fell on your textbook from the direction of the seat next to you, and if the red heart doodled on it was any hint towards who the sender was, you knew he wouldn't allow you to pay any more attention to the rest of the lecture

You unfolded the piece of paper, and the words written on it brought a small smile to your face

"Hey hot stuff, wanna ditch Deuce and Grim for a lunch date? □yes or □yes"

You decided to tease him a little, so you drew a third square with a "no" written next to it and crossed it, then you folded the piece of paper and tossed it in his direction

And watched how his confident smirk turned into an offended frown in less than a second

He scribbled down something and threw the piece of paper towards you once again, huffing just so he caught your attention enough to look at him and see how hard he was trying to act hurt

"Come on! I even called you 'hot stuff' and everything!"

You couldn't deny that the whole situation made your heart skip a few beats

Your banter was no secret to anyone: all of your friends knew you and Ace loved to push each other's buttons in an endless silly game of cat and mouse

Yet the written notes kind of made the whole situation have an intimate note to it

It was a game just for the two of you, only for your eyes to see, antitipation and excitement building up as both of you slowly added to your secret conversations

"So you call me 'hot stuff' only when you want me to do something?"

You scribbled back and threw the paper at him and watched how his eyes widened as they followed the words on the paper, and a bit of pink dusted his cheeks as well

He hesistated before he wrote down a reply, and he slid the unfolded piece of paper towards you

"I won't admit anything on paper so you have no physical proof you can show off to the others."

You turned towards him and rolled your eyes, showing him exactly what you thought of his reply

But then, he signed to you to turn the piece of paper around

And, as you did, you discovered another message from him

"I wouldn't mind telling you exactly what I think about your looks if you say yes to that lunch date."

You waited a few minutes before writing down on the piece of paper, letting Ace grow a bit anxious and impatient from your lack of response

He watched as you folded the piece of paper and placed it gently on his slightly open palm

And he had to hold himself back from fist bumping the air when he unfolded the piece of paper, revealing how you crossed out your previous "no" answer and marked the other two "yes"s instead

『••✎••』

Jack had a hard time expressing his more sentimental feelings outwardly, and you assured him that you still knew he cared about you

While he was not a poet or a novelist, he still wanted to learn how to express his care for you better

And one day, an idea finally came to him as he watched a few students exchange notes during class...

It all started when he ran to you during P.E. and silently handed you a water bottle before going back to where he came from

On the water bottle, you noticed a small sticky note, slightly wet from the condensation on the cold bottle, and the note had a message written on it

"Remember to drink water. I don't want to see you dehydrated."

You quickly looked for Jack in the small crowd of students, and when you finally spotted him, you noticed how he was trying to look everywhere but at you, while rocking a cute blush on his face and neck

One day, you forgot your notebook in the library, but luckily your knight in fluffy armor retrieved it for you

As you took it from his hands, you noticed the sticky note on it, but before you could ask anything about it, he walked away

"We have a test next Wednesday. If you need help with studying, you can ask me for help."

Jack was sweet enough for you to buy you lunch while you saved two seats for the two of you somewhere in a more secluded corner of the cafeteria

He returned to you with his lunch and your own - a whole grain bread sandwitch and a bag of assorted nuts

And the usual note you've started to get used to

"You look tired. Hope you regain some of your energy with this."

You looked up to him, who was trying to pick between looking at you and looking away from you

You smiled sweetly at him, unwrapping your lunch and starting to eat and chat, and Jack appreciated not bringing up his new habit right away

As much as he denied it, Jack liked to be admired and felt a sense of pride whenever you watched him outrun his track and field clubmates whenever you dropped by

His speed and stamina was something he obtained from his own efforts, but he couldn't help but wonder how much of the motivation he carried with himself daily was multiplied by your influence

Jack discovered he became more and more determined every day: to become stronger, to become a better student, to show you that you always have him to rely on in times of need

You waited until the club took a break to approach Jack; you handed him a towel and he mumbled a thanks before dabbing it on his sweaty face and neck

You also handed him a sports drink as you praised him for his hard work

The bottle was unexpected, but what surprised him more was the sticky note he noticed as he took the bottle from your hands

Even though the note was slightly wet from his sweaty palms and condensation, the message it sent was clear

"I'm very proud of you. Keep going! I believe in you!"

He shily reached his hand towards you and took a hold of your hand as his tail wagged happily, occasionally brushing your legs

『••✎••』

The contract on the desk in the Lounge's VIP room was unlike any Azul has previously seen

The paper was slightly wrinkled, the whole thing was handwritten, and the hearts at the corner of the paper were not part of any contract etiquette he was familiar with

Amongst the sea (pun not intended) of probably misused legalese he didn't quite know himself and a bunch of sentences written in overly pompous formulations vaguely resembling formal speech, a certain phrase caught his attention

"The contractee will be able to exchange 10 minute break times with any desired act of affection from the contractor, as long as the contractee provides proof of fulfilling the required terms."

The contractee being him, and the contractor being you, of course

Azul's face turned pink, and a small smirk appeared on his face

Even when you were away from him, you still dedicated time to make sure he was taking care of himself in the silliest of ways

Your little unprompted attempt at playing his own game was amusing, and his mind raced with all the ways he could take advantage of the terms you presented him with...

That's why you were summoned to him VIP room a day later

"I'm quite interested in your offer. However, I think we should discuss the terms of the contract further before we sign it."

You were both amused and surprised by how professionally Azul was playing along your silly little game, but you remembered he was in Octavinelle for a reason: he liked being entertained

And you had fun while drafting the contract, so you supposed your idea was entertaining enough

Still, you were happy he was so eager to indulge you

Game or no game, you were still determined to sign a contract with favorable enough terms

"What did you have in mind?"

"Well, I'd like to propose a better way of defining the affection I'd be receiving, and I would also like to suggest offering different rewards for different timestamps."

Azul anticipated your stubbornness to influence you heavily in the negotiation, yet he didn't quite imagine the extent of your determination to have him rest

You did not even allow Azul to reduce the break time anywhere under 10 minutes

The terms you settled on were simple: 10 minutes for physical affection outside of kisses, 20 minutes for kisses anywhere outside the face, and 30 minutes for a kiss anywhere on his face

And when the piece of paper finally had both of your signatures on it, you stamped the paper with a kiss before handing it to Azul, whose face turned red at the gesture

You never expected Azul to take the contract as seriously as he did; you received at least one message a day of him telling you he was taking a break to drink some water and relax his hands

You didn't plan of breaching the contract either: you always did everything your greedy little octopus asked for

You got to spoil your boyfriend while he finally had a convincing enough reason to take a break: it was a win-win in your book

『••✎••』

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #ace trappola #ace trapolla x reader #jack howl #jack howl x reader #azul ashengrotto #azul ashengrotto x reader

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thatone-brightstar · 1 year

Text

The Bear & The Fox (Carmy Berzatto x Fem!Reader)

Chapter 1: Bear meet Fox

Words: 5.2k

Summary: Out of everyone in the vast city of Chicago, Carmen was glad it was you who stumbled into his rundown restaurant.

a/n: I'm too in love with this man to not write about him, so I'm contributing to our shared obsession with my silly little ficcc.

Also reader is Latina in this and yes it's partially self indulgence.

You couldn't believe you were about to do it.

Not due to excitement but mostly dread, and a bit of self loathing, that the lowest point in your life had brought you here of all places in the city. Might as well call it point Nemo because there was no way you could get any further away.

Pulling your phone from the back pocket of your jeans, you kept your eyes still on the rundown building across the deserted street, afraid it would dissipate and take with it your only chance of employment in a 200 mile radius. The phone screen lit up with the last message from your brother a few days ago and you wanted to punch him square in the face at the way he worded his stupid attempt at “helping” you find a job.

‘So you stop moping around the house cuz its getting pathetic’

Read the text under a picture of a ‘HELP WANTED’ sign, poorly taped to the inside of a surprisingly clean window, stark contrast to the grimy brick that surrounded it. A second text had also been left on read, with a maps link to the location where you stood, balancing on your feet out of nerves. You contemplated your options, as if you had any; turn around, head home and lay in bed until you withered and died of misery. God, your brother was right, you were getting pathetic.

You took a very deep breath, held it for a few seconds, then blew it out into the cold surroundings. ‘You can do it. It’s just another interview, you've done those before. More in the past month than your whole life sure, but who cares? This is the good one.’ You tried psyching yourself up. It could always be worse, you remembered, though lately it seemed more true everyday.

You forced your feet to move from their petrified state and walked towards the building, made sure that the sign was the same one your brother sent, then stood with an outstretched hand about to pull the door open when a voice coming from the left side of the building called your attention.

“Yo, sweetheart! We open at noon!” A man wearing gray joggers and an over washed shirt stood with his head peeking against the corner of the building. If it weren’t for the apron tied around his waist, you’d assume he’s some stranger sticking his nose in other people’s business, but with the bags under his eyes and the cigarette hanging from his mouth, you recognized the trademark of a tired restaurant worker.

“I’m here for the help wanted ad?” You said more like a question, raising a manila folder and shaking it so he could see that you weren’t there for sandwiches, or whatever it was they sold.

“Why?” He asked skeptically, scanning you from head to toe and taking a drag from his cigarette without using his hands. Show off.

You couldn’t come up with an answer on the spot, out of nervousness and intimidation, so you chose to shrug. You could have said you needed the job or literally anything else, but that answer seemed to be enough for him. The guy took another drag then gestured with his head for you to follow him around the corner. With a doubtful turn to the glass door, you moved to the left and followed the man into the parking spot between buildings where, you hoped, another entrance to the restaurant would be waiting for you.

You moved slowly over the gravel, making your way deeper into the empty space. A breath you didn’t know you were holding left your lips at the sight of a long metal door opened ajar, with the man finishing his cig keeping it from closing. He made a circular impatient motion with his hand while staring at you and that was enough for you to quicken your pace towards him.

“Hurry up babe, we ain’t got all day” He said with a loud voice despite being less than three feet away. “C’mon, I’ll see if I can find my asshole cousin. He’s the one who put that stupid sign up anyway.”

You fully entered the building and were immediately welcomed by the familiar scent of roasted meats and sauteed vegetables, the buzz of old vent pipes and the scraping of metal pans against the burners slightly numbed the anxiety growing in your stomach. This was familiar, this you knew. Down to the Bachata beat playing somewhere inside from an overworked radio and the blinding white lights reflecting off the even whiter tiled walls.

The man seemed to have disappeared somewhere past the kitchen, leaving you stranded in the middle of the Steward station with nothing but a half assed ‘wait here’. You clutched your folder containing your resumé near your chest and tried to make yourself as small as it was possible in the already tiny space, so as to not interfere with anyone who were to pass by in a hurry. It felt like minutes had passed and the guy had not returned. You tried to keep yourself entertained by counting the stained steel pots hanging from the hooks above the sinks, then moved to count the beat up escoffier containers that rested on the rack in front of you. When that was done, you checked your surroundings in search of someone else to help you, as the asshole had been gone for some time and it didn’t seem like he’d be back soon.

About to give up hope and ready to push the exit door, you hear a loud ‘Corner!’ headed your way and turned just in time to see a mountain of pots and pans being carried to the sinks by a faceless body. His head was turned to the other side, probably doing his best to keep an eye on the path ahead. You tried to say something but the words were stuck in your throat, so instead you stepped back out of his way and waited until he dropped the cookware. The faceless person dropped everything inside with a loud bang, then rested his arms against the metal edge, sighed and let his head hang low. From your position, scooted by the door in silence, you waited expectantly for him to turn around so you could say something; maybe explaining why you’re there would be a good way to start. But it took him some time to move. All you saw is the flexing of strained muscle on his arms as he gripped the sink like a lifeline. The movement of his tensed back as he breathed under the thin white shirt he wore brought a warmth to your cheeks and you knew you’re starting to be creepy so you forced yourself to talk.

“Hi-” Is all you get to say before he jumped back startled, wide blue eyes with a wild expression and a hand clutching over his blue apron where his heart was.

“Jesus fuck! Don’t fuckin’ do that!” He shouted at you with a hand raking through his hair.

“Sorry!” You yelled back. Your heartbeat pounded in your throat and ears and the warmth from a few seconds ago had turned scorching hot over all your skin.

He leaned forward and rested his hands over his knees trying to calm his pulse, then chuckled lightly and regained his composure. “No no you’re good, I-uh I didn’t mean to yell like that but you scared the shit outta me.”

He passed his hand over his face then left it over his mouth, contemplating you for a solid minute. He looked over at you unsure of what to say as you stood holding your folder to your chest and balancing on your feet.

“Right… so'' He leaned against the sink. “Who are you?”

“Yeah sorry, I saw you were asking for help up front and wanted to see if it was still available.” You said pointing to where you assumed was front of house. In the small space, you couldn’t really make out the layout of the place. “Some asshole guy let me in but then left me here.”

“Fuckin’ Richie” He says under his breath. “Yeah, yeah it still is. You got any papers on you?”

You hand him the folder you had been clutching to your chest. He looked at you one last time then opened it to find your wrinkled resume inside. While he analyzed the information you peeked another look at him. Ashy blond hair framed a strong jaw and nose. He had a broad back and strong arms, likely from all the physical effort it took to work in a kitchen, and even though he took up some space, it seemed like he tried to shrink into himself. The pale skin on his arms was littered with designs that you couldn’t make out from the distance, but you could see the hyper pigmentation of a few scars.

“Oven?” You ask, pointing to a small angry red mark across his forearm.

“What? Oh fuuuck.” He said as he turned his arm. “That’s the first time I see it, honestly.”

You laughed lightly under your breath, before he turned to you with a small smile.

“C’mon.” He guided you out the Steward section and you assumed he’d take you to whoever was in charge of the place.

Your nerves had settled due to the familiar ambiance, as he conducted you through the different sections where a few cooks turned curiously, then settled by the expo that stood tall facing the small window opening into the dining area.

“Mind if we check it here? The office is a shit hole right now.” He looked down at you with expectant eyes.

You swallowed dryly, you weren’t expecting him to be the one in charge. Does that mean you were checking out your future boss? Fuck. You nodded, afraid to trust your own voice. He nodded back then looked at the worn out paper.

“You have a pretty cool resume.” He started. “You’ve been all over the place. Hostess, service, line cook. Private chef for two years, where was that?”

“Uhm, some rich folks up in Lincoln Park. Just dinner and meal prep.” You said as nonchalant as possible.

“Well listen, I don’t think I can pay you as well as they did.” He joked. “We’re not that big of a place and in all honesty, business’ a little tight right now.”

And there it was, the last rejection you were expecting. You looked down at your hands and did your best to calm the bile climbing up your throat.

“But we could really use the help, so maybe I can offer you to help out up front and once we’re back on our feet, you can move back here. The pay’s not the best and the hours are crazy long but it’s just in the meantime.” He stayed quiet waiting for an answer.

Your head snapped up to look at him after the first half, still surprised it wasn’t a rejection. You didn’t notice you had been quietly staring until he raised his brows expectantly.

“Wait, so that means I’m hired?” You questioned, still cautious.

“Yeah, you think you can start today?”

“Yes, yes thank you so much!” You cleared your throat to hide the too obvious excitement. “Yeah, I’ll just need a place to drop off my things.”

“Great, well we gave Sydney our last empty locker, but you can keep your bag in the office. It’s pretty safe.” He pointed to a closet sized door to the left and asked you to follow him while he explained that family was served before opening and that he’d introduce everyone then.

After dropping your bag inside the dimly lit room, that was indeed a shit hole, he guided you back to the kitchen, then through a white door that pushed into the front of house. You saw the asshole leaning against the long counter separated from the tables, telling a very engaging story to a shorter man in a backwards cap who appeared to just want to finish fixing a broken tap. When the door slammed behind you, they both turned towards you and the chef, who you had yet to know the name of. The taller of the two’s eyes grew in realization and his hand flew to his mouth in a fist to try and hide his laugh.

“Shiiit, my bad doll. I swear I went lookin’ for ‘em but fuckin’ Fak here couldn’t keep his pipe shut and started talking!” He said, using the back of his other hand to slap at the chest of the other man who turned offended to him.

“I didn’t say shit! You came running to me talkin’ about the pretty girl you had in the bac-”

“Both of you shut the fuck up and listen” The man behind you interrupted impatient, he placed his hand lightly on your lower back and pushed you further into the room. The placement of his hand did nothing to subside the growing shade of pink in your cheeks from the comment. “This is… shit sorry, I never asked your name.” He turned to you, hand still on your back.

A quiet ‘it’s okay’ left your lips and you introduced yourself to the group of men. The chef repeated your name to himself as a way of memorizing it, then spoke back to the group.

“Richie, she’ll be helping you up front.”

“Fuck you, I’m not babysitting!” He turns to you. “No offense sweetheart, but this,” He said signaling the bar, “is a one man symphony, okay? I can’t have you screwing with my system.”

You did your best not to roll your eyes at him, because of course you expected him to be defensive about it. Enough experience in the service industry had shown you that older people tended to be quite resistant towards change, especially if the change came in the form of barely 5’3 and female. Sure you were young, you had barely graduated culinary school two years ago during the pandemic, but you had been working since your third year so you were more than familiar with the business.

“Well you have a shitty system.” Said Fak under his breath as he finished unscrewing something.

“What the fuck did you just say?” Richie said, offended.

“I’m just saying man, you could use the help. I saw you jump at a customer the other day cause he was asking for ketchup.”

“Cause only idiots ask for ketchup with a sandwich!” He threw his hands in the air and turned his back to Fak.

“He was ten!” He shouted back.

“Look, I don’t have time to argue! Richie, you imbecile, take the help cause you need it and stop jumping on people before you catch a case, all right?!” He turned to you, rubbed your back with his hand still there and smiled slightly. “You’ll do great.” He says finally before turning to Richie and pointing up at him while walking back. “Don’t fuckin’ scare her off.”

And he was gone out the door. Richie made a gesture with both his hands pushing from under his chin to where the chef had disappeared then turned to you. He stayed silent, one hand on the bar and another on his hips as he stared at you in intimidation. You held his gaze, not cowarring now that you knew he wasn’t going to murder you. An ‘Aha!’ from Fak brought him back and he slapped his hand on the bar.

“Alright c'mon. I’m gonna need you to organize back here while I sweep around the tables. We open at 12 so we got enough time. Got it? ” He finished.

You salute with your right hand, rolled up your sleeves and walked behind the bar to start working on the task. “Yes, chef.” You mumbled out of habit.

“Nah, don’t fuckin’ start with that ‘chef’ thing with me, I’m already up to my balls with Carmy sayin’ it all the time.” He replied exasperated.

“Fine. Yes, asshole. Whatever.” You respond, rolling your eyes and starting to take things out from the fridge at the bottom of the counter.

You heard a snicker from Fak a few feet away, followed by a smacking sound and an ‘Ow! Fuck you!’ before Richie’s sneakers squeaked away into the other room. What you didn’t see was the small smirk on his face as he started walking away. You had balls, he’d give you that.

You powered through the absolute rat’s nest the bottom of the counter was. An empty jar of pickles, two moldy sausages and a single slab of cheese without the wrapper were only a couple of things you found while trying to clean the mess. You took anything useless and dumped it into a black trash bag Fak was nice enough to get you, before showing you where they kept all the cleaning supplies so you weren’t in the dark. It took you two trips to the supply shelf, a sponge, a rag and half a bottle of dish soap to ultimately get rid of the stale grease that gave the impression to have been there since the opening of the place. Once you were satisfied with the way you organized the station, you moved to scrub the top of all the counters and even give a little swipe with the rag on all the stools.

You had baby hairs sticking to your forehead and cheeks by the time you were done, even your jacket had been discarded and thrown under the now clean bar, but a satisfied smile rested on your face despite all that. God, you really missed working. You finally took some time to admire all the framed pictures littering the surrounding walls. Most were of sports players you weren’t familiar with; one, because you really weren’t a fan of any sport, and two, because the pictures looked so old that most of the specific features had been erased from too much exposure to the sun. There were also football jerseys hanging by a corner near the unlit menu and a big ‘Beef Deli’ sign on the wall behind you. You saw a couple cooks moving around behind the window under the sign and a little knot formed in your stomach at the thought of having to introduce yourself in a while.

You checked your wristwatch on your left hand while you wiped the sweat from your forehead with your right, hoping you still had some time to kill. But before you could look down, a voice by the door called your name. You looked up to see the chef, Carmy you had learned his name was, looking at you with a small smile.

“Front of house looks good, chef.” He complemented, clear blue eyes scanning the counters as he leaned against the door, hands playing with a spoon.

You took a deep breath and smiled back, holding onto your wrists behind your back, “Thanks, chef. I-uhm hope you don’t mind that I took some Fabuloso to wipe down the counter by the window. It smelled like shit.” You finish, pointing at the purple liquid in the spray bottle beside you.

“Yeah, no that’s fine.” He answers, a small laugh stuck in his throat. “But that was actually Tina’s so don’t let her see you used it.”

Your mouth opened slightly as your eyes grew, and you were afraid to ask how bad it would be if she found out. He straightened up with a smirk and tapped his spoon twice on the metal counter before signaling for you to follow him with his head.

“C’mon, family’s up.”

You turned on your heel to follow him into the other room, but jogged back, jumped over the counter high enough to slap the spray bottle with sufficient force for it to fall and roll under the counter. You did not know Tina, but you were sure as hell you also didn’t want to get your shit rocked on your first day on the job.

You tried tidying up your hair back into a less messy ponytail and combed all the stray baby hairs before entering the adjacent room where the other workers were getting ready for family. Some faces stared from their seats, questioning the presence of the stranger invading their space. A few you had met on the rush while taking the garbage bags out or crossing the kitchen to the supply shelf. Marcus, the pastry chef, waved with a simple smile and pointed to an empty space beside him. The simple action brought a wave of relief over your shoulders as you advanced towards him, hands interlocked in nerves. You mumbled a ‘Thanks.’ and served yourself a glass of water from the pitcher in front of you.

Once everyone was sitting with a container of food in front, the chef introduced you to the table and let everyone know you’d be helping out up front with the service and that if they had any questions, they could ask you directly. The first one to jump at the opportunity was an older man with dark skin, asking you in a thick accent if you were related to Tina. There was a burst of laughter around the table, but he seemed to be serious about his question.

“Ebra, not all latinos are related you racist fucker.” Responded a small woman sitting beside him with a slap to his arm. Okay, so that’s Tina, you thought. “That’s like me saying you and Marcus are related cause you’re both black.” She finished pointing at the tall man sitting beside you.

“We are related.” Ebra responded with a teasing smile, staring at Marcus and you immediately knew where this was going. “I am his grandfather- his mom called me daddy last night!”

Another roar of laughter shattered along the table and you had to stick a spoonful of rice in your mouth to hide your smile. You heard a ‘C’mon man, that’s not right.’ from Marcus as he shook his head, but the creeping grin let you know that it was all in fun. The conversation flowed between comments on the food and stories they all recounted, glad to have a fresh pair of ears to hear them.

One of Richie’s was from a few weeks ago, when they had set up a video game tournament at the restaurant to make some extra cash and the nerds in line had gone so bat shit crazy, that one punched Carmy on the jaw and he had to go out and ‘beat their asses into shape’. You slowly swallowed the bite you had taken and stared at Richie sitting at the end by Carmy.

“Was he dressed like a giant carrot… By any chance?” You ask mortified.

“No shit! You know the fucker?!” He yelled, slamming his hands on the table. Everyone turned to you like you were holding a new piece to a worthy puzzle.

You covered your face with your hands then crossed them in front of your chin. “Yeah… I think that fucker’s my 19 year old brother.” You affirmed scrunching your face in disgust. Fuckin’ Joshua.

The table went wild with jokes about how Carmy had almost gotten knocked out by a teen and through the hysterics you could still make out Richie’s voice saying “Oh my god, sweetheart. Thank you, really. You just made my WEEK!” All you could do was pick around your container as heat crept up your neck.

You peered up through your lashes at Carmen sitting with a mortifying look and mouthed a heartfelt ‘Sorry’ for what felt like the tenth time that day. He was leaning back with his arms crossed, smiled with an ‘it’s okay’ and let everyone take a jab with their jokes. You looked back down to your food and did your best to drown out the teasing noises from everyone, but were unaware of how the chef raised his brows and swallowed dryly with his gaze still on you.

After minutes of teasing, everyone picked up their empty dishes and separated into their areas. You stayed in the dining room wiping down the tables that were left to clean before opening service and a couple of ideas came to mind on how you could decorate them to reduce the depressing feeling. At least for now, napkins and holders would do, the rest would have to wait. You power walked to the front where you remembered seeing a packet that looked to be from napkins, but once you reached inside all you found were a bunch of wrinkled brown pieces of paper.

“Richie!” You yelled from your crouched position.

“Yo!” He yelled back, head popping above you over the counter.

“I can’t seem to find any napkins.” You spoke while still searching hopefully in the space.

“You’re holdin’ em.” He stated, matter-of-factly.

You stand fully and shake the supposed napkins in front of you. “Richie, these are stained and say Starbucks on em!”

His grin grew wide on his face as he walked back with extended arms. “Welcome to The Beef, kid!” He laughed, then leaned down to unlock the glass door where you could already see some people forming a line.

You quickly dropped the napkins, grabbed the blue half apron you had been given and tied it around your waist as fast as possible. Fuck, fuck, fuck. A fuckin’ heads up would’ve been nice, you thought as you plastered on a soft smile for the clients.

“Alright, fuckos! We’re open!” He shouted into the restaurant and wiggled his brows towards you. “Goodluck.”

Fuck.

*****

He was worried for you for the first fifteen minutes after opening. Afraid you’d see the mess you had stumbled upon or that his idiot cousin would say something that would have you grabbing your bag and leaving without as much as a goodbye. He wouldn’t blame you, hell, he would’ve even done the same if his name wasn’t in the lease now instead of his brother’s.

He stopped worrying however, when he saw the way you managed yourself around the floor and customers. Empty plates were picked up with ease and replaced with warm ones that spent less than five minutes on the counter, the orders were taken within minutes and served with a kind smile. He was even surprised when you walked away from the other side of the expo with three plated sandwiches balancing in one hand and a forth plate in the other.

“Can you manage, chef?” He even asked when he saw you trying to find the perfect space between your fingers that could balance the plate, your lip caught in concentration.

You looked at him with your head still bowed and a breathy smile. “Yeah, thanks.” Then turned your back to deliver the dishes.

It wasn’t his intention for his gaze to linger longer than it did as your hips swayed naturally with every step, or when despite the hectic sound of the kitchen he could still hear you laugh politely at a joke from one of their regulars. But it was only until Syd elbowed him in the side that he noticed he was being a bit creepy. Jesus, it’s like your 14 again, he thought.

“You’re worried Richie’s gonna scare her off but you’re the one giving me the creeps with all the staring.” She said after reading the printed ticket for another order.

“Heard, chef.” Was all he said, cleared his throat and went back to work, doing his best not to look up every time you walked to receive a new order.

It was only when the lunch rush died down and he was in desperate need of a cigarette, that he saw you sitting down with your head resting against the cold bricks of the adjacent building and eyes closed peacefully. He didn’t want to bother you, but he also didn’t want to waste the opportunity of telling you how well you had done in the first half of the day. Besides, the heavy door behind him slammed closed and startled you slightly, so there was no going back now.

“Hey.” You smiled softly, stretching your arms above your head and your legs straight forward, then relaxed altogether.

“You smoke?” Carmy asked, offering you a cig as he sat on the empty crate a few feet away from you, elbows resting on his knees.

You shook your head no, but thanked him anyway. “I quit a few months ago.” You said just as he flicked his lighter on and the tip grew bright orange.

“Shit, sorry. If it bothers you I can turn it off.” He offered. He wanted to say ‘I can go somewhere else’ but he didn’t want to give you the idea that he didn’t wanna be there.

You shook your head no again still smiling and pulled one of your legs to your chest, turning to him. “So…” You asked curious. “How’d I do for my first half?”

Carmy chuckled lightly as he exhaled smoke into the air. He turned to you from his crouched position and for the fifth time that day, he took a good look at your face. Jesus fuck, how could someone as beautiful as you end up in his dump of all places? Despite your overworked expression and a few small bags beneath your eyes, he was sure he had never seen anyone’s face glow with such brightness as yours did now. His eyes danced around your face, taking in every single freckle he could before he tore them away after what to him felt like an eternity of staring- no- admiring your features.

“You did way better than I expected. Truly, chef. Thank you.” He whispered and, despite the noisy Chicago surroundings, you heard every word.

Your smile beamed brighter for what felt like the first time in months and the fist that had been constricting your heart for a while now seemed to give you some much needed space to breathe.

Carmy finished his cigarette in comfortable silence, now laying back against the cold brick wall that helped ease the rising temperature in his body, while you played with the aquamarine ring on your pointer finger that reminded you too much of the chef’s specific shade of blue eyes.

“What’s Carmy short for?” You asked all of a sudden, pulling him out of his internal thoughts.

It took him a couple of seconds to process the question, then smiled down to the gravel under his feet. “Uhm- it’s short for Carmen. It’s a family name. " He responded.

“Oh.” Was all you said, nodding your head. “It's nice. I have a cousin named Carmen.” You continue with a smile on your lips.

“Yeah?” He asked, turning down towards you, only to see you stand up and clean off the dust from the back of your black jeans and readjust the apron around your waist.

You stood with your hands on your hips and stared down at him for another second before smiling and making your way to the tall door. “Yeah, but she’s a girl.” You reply without turning back and push your way into the restaurant, leaving the chef with a snickering grin and a lightheaded feeling he wished wasn’t just from the nicotine.

Chapter 2.

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anantaru · 1 year

Text

SLEEPLESS NIGHTS SHINE SO BRIGHT

— ꒰ synopsis ꒱ — sleepless nights with your boyfriend kuni.

— ꒰ word count ꒱ —1.1k

— ꒰ genre ꒱ — fluff, gn! reader, established relationship, soulmates, just very indulgent and fluffy

"kuni… are you asleep?"

snugly protected by the silky and soft blankets of your bed, there‘s a settling fatigued, weary voice scattered across the shaded room, your voice, that was spelling out your boyfriends name.

"i‘m not."

"—how did you know i wasn't?!"

of course you knew, you cannot not know, because no one was as exhausted and kept up by their own overactive mind as scaramouche was.

yet believe it or not, kuni would learn of a habit that was dear to him, more so important.

it was to wait for you to doze of way before he was allowed to do so himself— it‘s not like he was doing it on purpose anymore, maybe at first to make sure you‘re out of danger and safe, notwithstanding was it turning into a personal act of love, acting out the words his affections spoke to him.

scaramouche slowly slopes his arm over your body to lean into you— yet with your current state, you don’t have the energy to say anything or move at all— your muscles were thoroughly glutted with exhaustion.

while it was strenuous at first, he was finally close to you now. his warm touch the softest, gentlest and rarest, it's intoxicating and can turn a simple moment such as this one into home.

kuni’s head uses you as his own personal pillow and you feel his little hair strands repeatedly tickle your cheeks. It made you smile vividly and clear— and your heart was swelling deeply within your rib cage whenever you encountered such sincerity.

urgently, he was softly outlining your frame over your clothed body with his fingers. kuni's caress was exceptionally light and even inside the shadowed room that was clouding his pretty face from your eyes to see— you could regardless of that, discern a tranquil smile squared on his lips— at nothing but the refined look of you being awake, next to him, being together.

"you can‘t sleep as well?" a whisper closing around your ears as he rubs your arm, silently placing his lips on you to pull you in for a quick kiss.

"no.." your breathing was slowed, emerging set apart, "i tried to sleep but it's not working." he can feel you hum against him, distantly, — a tilt shaken, somewhat saddened.

but here, you were safe, kuni realizes, there was no need for you to feel dejected. here, you were given the love you deserve, because all the repeated fire that burned in him was for you. here, in his arms, nothing was extinguished nor forgotten, but it was easier to navigate through, together.

"can you tell me a story kuni?" you tenderly slide your hands into his loose fitting sleepwear and hug him tight while drawing small circles on his bare back.

he quietly hisses at the coldness of your dainty fingers but melts into your touch despite that, smiling.

"hmmm.. a story?" he drawls and squeezes himself close to you— but by how he was approaching you, gentle and content, there‘s a honey laced perception in his tone of mannerism, an understanding kindness that only he was able to display on you. he‘s again, only offering you what you deserve, in kuni‘s eyes, it‘s everything and all.

he thinks about it, focusing and closing his eyes, hauling out a low lift of air from his lungs before speaking once more, "did i ever tell you about how i beat those two fatui guards up?" he whispers it, but proudly smirks into you too, like it‘s a love confession of some sort, as if this story wasn‘t filled with pure danger and sheer bloodlust.

a listless, airy laugh emits from the tip of your tongue which had brought his attention right back to you, "i don‘t think you did." but as you snuggle into his chest, effortlessly closing your eyes and giggle, you were eagerly awaiting a story that surely was to be wildly humorous and engaging to listen to.

"i‘ll make sure to leave out the violent stuff so you won‘t get nightmares because of me."

kuni kisses your temple, playfully entangling his legs with your own and coaxing out another laugh from past your lips— he loves doing that, letting yourself feel and experience, letting your tense shoulders fall back into the silken cushions as you play out the silly game.

now, the situation seemed more inviting, more, flowing. your mind was moderately simmering down, little by little, bit by bit.

"you‘re sweet, you know that?" this was a reminder you had planned to point out way sooner, "and you're mine kuni." with the little intention behind your words being to have your cute boyfriend flustered and giddy, all while innocently mushed into your body.

and oh, who could've seen that coming? could it be that you caught the usual cool headed and self controlled scaramouche off guard?

maybe, or— lets be real; clearly.

the truth was, kuni realizes that he needs this from you, to hear it, to receive a certain satisfaction that stirs his soul— to soften the emotions in him that were circumstantially hardened by his past.

something that would completely overthrow him to the furthest extent, words colliding and preciously riveting in his belly from how settling and compelling it was to hear this from you.

a reminder from his soulmate, you can say.

"you‘re saying this because you‘re tired." he proposes and fights back the urge to plant kisses all over your face and quote on quote, overdo it— but the spirited heatwave in his cheeks was only partly able to be kept concealed from you.

"no no no." you start to whine, leaning your forearms over his chest so he'd be the one laying down now, so it was you who could watch him perfectly— his scruffy hair, his beclouded eyes hanging low, his skin pale and illuminated by a single broken ray of moonlight flaring down on top of him, exposing his firm shoulders and collarbones from under the way too large sleep shirt he was wearing.

"i‘m saying it because it‘s true!" you huff, your eyes sparkling like the prettiest, most ethereal stars in the sky. "you're mine!"

"you need to stop doing that!" kuni can‘t elaborate on this feeling and hides his face into your neck, "don't do this." and a squeezed out mumble effuses from him onto your skin as he placed sweet little kisses on your neck.

you turned him all shy and embarrassed yet he’s rolling his eyes because, yes, you got him speechless, finally.

you giggle and slide your digits over the sharp outline of his jaw, "i'm not doing anything!" though he knows it better, knows when you were being particularly evil and ready to play out a short, cryptic game.

"fine.." he fights back a smile, "suit yourself then."

it's been a long time since you had him wholly dumbstruck and left bewildered, but … maybe he'll let you off the hook for tonight.

"tsk." he suddenly clicks his tongue, "—and here i wanted to tell you my story but you kept interrupting me!"

the night goes and passes between laughter and you kiss his lips under the stars that rest above you both, "please do tell."

and from the demise of the darkened negatives you felt just moments ago, kuni and you happily chatted away until the first out of many rays of sunlight grazed your fulfilled bodies with their presence.

#scaramouche x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #scaramouche x you #genshin impact fluff #genshin fluff #scaramouche fluff #scaramouche x y/n #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #genshin impact scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #wanderer x you #genshin impact scaramouche #genshin impact drabbles #genshin drabbles #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact

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wayward-dreamer · 3 months

Text

Ritual

Square/s filled: Marathon sex @spnkinkevents

Pairing: Jensen x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 885

Summary: Jensen and Y/N have a ritual that they always stick to whenever he comes back from a long filming schedule.

Warnings: Swearing, smut: dirty talk, implied oral sex (f receiving) unprotected sex (wrap it up people), rough sex, marathon sex, fluff.

A/N: trying to drabble my way out of a creative block. Happy reading! :)

Y/N really hated it whenever Jensen had to leave for a project. She always understood, and she never held him back because that’s not the person she was. She’d never stop him from doing what he loved most, but she could definitely lament about the fact that he was often gone for months at a time. They would see each other for a weekend every few weeks, whenever he was free or going to a Supernatural convention where she’d meet up with him if she could and wasn’t working herself. It was difficult but they made it work.

Plus their reward whenever he came home at the end of the whole project was the best part.

It didn’t matter how many times their phones rang, chimed with texts, whenever he returned neither of them came up for air until they were both satisfied.

Y/N had been out running errands while Jensen arrived home from his two-and-a-half month long shoot, where they had only seen each other on one weekend and spent a lot of nights having phone sex. As soon as she got his text, she rushed out of the store she was in after paying, and hurried back to the house, being careful on the roads despite her urgency. He had just stepped out of the shower when she dumped the bags by the door and jumped him, stripping him of his towel in one quick pull and pushing him down on their bed.

He turned and placed her on her back, drifting down between her legs as he pulled her flowy skirt off as he went down on his knees. It wasn’t long before his skilled tongue and fingers brought her first orgasm like waves over her body, her hands tight in his hair as his name fell from her lips in breathy moans. As he stood and flipped her over onto all fours, he stroked his shaft before he entered her in one quick shift of his hips, wasting no time in wanting to feel that euphoric bliss he only got with her.

Jensen’s thrusts were hard, long strokes into her clenching walls, his pelvis undulating against the curve of her ass as their pleasured sounds, words of endearing filth and the slapping of skin became the soundtrack to their vigorous love-making. The result of not having seen each other in so long. Her second release came just as quickly as the first, her fists pulling at the sheets underneath her convulsing frame as a shrieking moan escaped her. She felt her wetness flow over his cock, still hard inside her, but that wasn’t good enough for her. She needed to feel him let go; she needed to feel the warmth of his release.

Y/N hissed slightly as she shifted forward, feeling a delicious ache between her legs as he slipped out of her, turning around and placing her hands on his shoulders to push him down on his back before he could even question it. She straddled his hips, taking his length in her hand and pumping him a few times before she notched him to her waiting heat. A long, shuddering whimper left her as she slid down onto him, their eyes locked on each other as he groaned, the sound rumbling deep in his chest.

“Fuck,” he husked, staring up at her in awe. “This view never gets old, darlin’.”

She hummed as a smile spread across her face, her hands planted firmly on his chest to use as leverage as she began to move, rocking her hips back and forth. They moved rapidly, chasing not only another burst of ecstasy for herself, but for him too. She could feel how close he was, the tell-tale signs of his grip tightening on her hips and his neck straining, veins pressing against the skin as his gaze darkened while he looked up at her. It was her favorite view of him.

“You gonna cum again for me, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice rasping and deep. “You gonna cum hard, soak my cock, right?”

“Yeah,” she breathed, as she threw her head back, eyes squeezed shut. “Want-want you to c-cum too-”

“Oh, I’m right there with ya, darlin’,” he reassured her, his hips beginning to move up to meet her thrusts. “Gonna cum so hard in your tight, perfect little pussy…”

Y/N felt her core tightening with every sinful word from his plump lips, the dam breaking before she could properly anticipate it, falling over the edge once more as her arousal covered him. It didn��t take him long to go over after her, a drawn out “fuckkk” escaping him as he grunted, ropes of his cum mingling with her wetness as it coated her walls.

Jensen smirked as he closed his eyes, basking in the feeling that washed over him as she rolled off, settling in next to him. They breathed heavily as he opened them, his green orbs meeting hers as they smiled at each other.

“I’m gonna need a couple minutes,” he chuckled, before he carried on, shifting closer to her, his lips hovering over hers. “But there’s no way I’m done with you yet, darlin’.”

She giggled, pecking his lips once, twice. She loved this little ritual of theirs.

“I’m counting on it.”

#spnkinkevents #Jensen x Female!Reader #Jensen x Female!Reader Smut #Jensen x Female!Reader Drabble #Jensen x Female!Reader Fanfiction #Jensen Ackles Smut #Jensen Ackles Drabble #Jensen Ackles Fanfiction #Supernatural RPF #Supernatural Fanfiction

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loveing-eyes · 1 year

Note

say i love you for the first time (seprate) sero, shinsou , mina , kiri , deku , bakugo, denki , todoroki

"saying i love you for the first time"

hanta sero

•he would be the one to say of first without hesitation around 3 months into the relationship

•you were laying on his bed just talking about life when you sat up smiling at him and laid a kiss on his cheek

•he smirked and said i love you senorita

•you froze for a moment staring in shock turning into the shade of Kirishima's hair while his smirk grew wider

•after a moment you realized what happened and hugged him saying you loved him too

•most of that evening was spent just cuddling in sero's bed

denki kaminari

• you said it first from him being an idiot and getting hurt at the training camp around 3 weeks into the relationship

•hearing from jirou that your boyfriend got hurt had you freaking out you

•instantly had her take you to where he was passed out

staring at him and waiting for him to wake up was absolute torture the hour went by slower than the first day of school

• and when he did wake up he was groggy and you pumping on him crying didn't help that whatsoever

•confused him, even more, when you sobbed out "i love you ok you idiot don't do this shit again"

•suprisingly he didn't shortcircuit and quickly wrapped his arms around you in an attempt you console you

•"i love you too y/n/n" he would whisper back into your ear after a moment when he felt you had calmed down enough

eijiou kirishima

•manly man said it first during a bakusquad hangout and 4 months into the relationship

• most of the 1-a class was just hanging out in the common area including you and kiri who were off just getting popcorn just talking about the date you had planned

•he just smiled and blurted it out "I love you" realized what he did when half the room stopped talking and you froze

•cue Kirishima turning the same shade as his hair

•you put down the bowl of popcorn grabbing Kirishima's hand and kissing him on the cheek "i love you too sharky" you teased and most of the girls gushed as most of the guys groaned and told you to get a room

•very nice the date the next day was wonderful

shoto todoroki

•you said it first out of worry he didn't feel the same way around 13 months into the relationship

•you knew things would be very slow when you started dating shoto but after over a year and he hadn't said I love you it had taken 2 and a half months to so much as hold hands

•you felt like he loved you and you knew you were his first real s/o so you were patient but you felt insecure about it after 10 months and you had made barely any progress

•you distanced yourself a bit and shoto barely noticed you felt like he had been happier you felt stupid for thinking he was happier but something told you he was and you didn't know who to tell

•then came the next 3 months of a downward spiral and shoot realized you weren't just having a bad week

• finally you worked up the courage to tell asui and she told you to just be honest with him and if he doesn't feel that way just leave him and try to stay friends so you decided to do it

• finally you walked to todorokis room knocking wait for him to open and let you in

•sitting on the floor next to him you explained how you felt leaving out the fact it was because he never said I love you

•he felt confused and was mad at himself thinking he had done something wrong

•you had to explain it was from something he hadn't done

•which confused him even more making him think you distanced yourself cause you hadn't had sex yet

•which made you feel bad and apologize and tell him it was from something he hadn't said

•which brought you back to square one

•"shoto its cause i dont know if you love me I know l love you but its not extremely easy when your monotone"

he sat for a moment staring with a blank expression "well of course I love you I wouldn't be with you if I didn't" straight forward to the point

•like a weight was lifted off your shoulders you launched yourself at your boyfriend

•he wrapped his arm around you softly laying his head on your shoulder "I'll try to say it more dear"

katsuki bakugo

•you said it firt in the middle of an argument around 3 months in

•you knew it he knew it everyone knew it katsuki was a total asshole with anger issues

•though no one expected he would get in a screaming match with his girlfriend's best friend (Denki) while she was out

•and when she got back and found out she wasn't happily marching straight to her boyfriend's room demanding an answer

•which he refused to give her one until they were in a screaming match themselves"it doesn't matter just know I had a reason"

•"well what was the reason" she wanted to know what would cause him to lose his shit "he said something" bakugo groanedd "well what did he say" y/n whispered taking a seat on the edge of his bed "it doesn't matter" bakugo groaned shoving a pillow over his face "yes it does you idiot I want to know why the bo I love screamed at my best friend"

•upon hearing "i love" he shot up "you love me" his girlfriend nodded "did you not know that" he shook his head "he was talking about if how I didn't ask you out he would totally be with you right now"

•y/n moved closer to him hugging bakugo "katsu dont worry ok I love you and only you" she whispered before kissing him softly on the forehead "I love you too idiot" he mubled hugging her back tightly

mina ashido

•she said it first during a one-on-one sleepover 2 1/5 months in

•her sneaking in your room at 11pm saying she was bored and missed her girlfriend and laid in your bed watching tv with you

•during commercials she tuned down the volume talking about random things before peppering your face with soft kisses whilst cuddling

•in the middle of giggles she wrapped her arms pulling you closer to her whispering "I love you" in your ear barely audible

•cue you smiling and tightly hugging her back "i love you too" the two of you would gaze into each other's eyes smiling knowing you met "the one"

•short quick and sweet little sleepover with 2 lovers always wonderful

izuku midoriya

•he attempted to say it first around 1 1/2 months in key word attempt

•you two were supposed to just have a cute study date which went to hand holding and not talking just scrolling on your phones to you laying in his lap fidgeting with his free hand

•glancing up you smiled adoringly at his concentrated face trying to do his homework your finger grazed over on few of his scares

•smiling you pulled his hand closer to your face you peppers soft kisses onto his scares which made him look down at you confused for a moment before realizing what you were doing

•"i love you...- uhhh your eyes they're very pretty" he flushed a bright pink and you pushed yourself up off his lap "zuku I love you too don't worry" that made him flush even more and you kissed his forehead before laying back down on his lap now with his hand slowly going through your hair as he attempted to calm himself down

shinsou hitoshi

•he said it first hanging out 2 months In

•everthing was ready for movie night snacks displayed on your table you were dressed comfortably and your boyfriend was still picking out te movie he wanted to choose horror thinking it would freak you out

•you grabbed a few more pillows laying them on the floor pulling shinshou down with you laying on his chest as he turned on an American horror movie "it" apparently it was about clowns

• you were fine until the maggot doll showed up and you shoved your head into shinsous neck knocking the air out of him "ok babe you know I love you but never do that again" he groaned sitting up and rubbed his neck

•"you love me" you would stare in shock for a moment and he would realize his half-assed love confession "yes and a shame it was only said cause you almost killed me" he would joke

•"i love you too Toshi" you whispered as he pulled you closer "good good now help me pick a move that won't result in me getting a bruised neck"

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pockeymcmockey · 2 years

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ℑ𝔫 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔎𝔦𝔩𝔩 | 𝓐𝓮𝓰𝓸𝓷 𝓣𝓪𝓻𝓰𝓪𝓻𝔂𝓮𝓷

Summary: During Aegon and [Name]'s feud, something drastic takes place...

Warnings: Almost murder, violence, poison, sex, penetration, a woman's virtue being taken with consent, breast worship, talk of motherhood, dirty talk from Aegon, angst

Author's Note: Not the nastiest I could've written but good enough! Based on this request.

ℭ𝔦𝔯𝔠𝔞 𝟷𝟸𝟼...

When Aegon Targaryen the Second was born, his sister [Name] was born just moments afterwards; they were twins. They did things just as twins would. Wherever [Name] went, Aegon would follow and vice versa. The twins loved sharing their nameday, they had the biggest celebrations and would receive the most lavish of presents together. When Alicent would pick Aegon up, little [Name] demanded to be picked up as well. The two even shared the same bed. But things change.

[Name] assumed Aegon was jealous of her, afterall, their father did prefer the more feminine twin. As they grew older, Aegon noticed the small changes of his sister. Her hair grew longer, her face sharpening, her violet eyes filled with vibrancy and her figure vivacious. [Name] noticed changes in Aegon as well. He cut his hair, shorter than shoulder length and his curls almost non-existent except for the hairs on the back of his head. His face was no longer oval-shaped but square instead and all the more alluring.

Of course, things did get heated between the two when Viserys was told to choose Aegon as heir. Their aunt Rhaenyra was already his chosen heir, however if he were to give that title to someone else, Alicent wanted Aegon to be heir. [Name] could tell from the beginning that Aegon did not carry the same maturity as she, her wanting the title of heir so desperately while it was practically being handed to Aegon on a golden platter. The twin with the longer hair began to resent her brother, him being given everything without the labor for it just because he was male and she was not.

[Name] would avoid her brother now, ignore his advances of conversation and reject his every offer. Aegon was oblivious to his sister's resentment toward him, only focusing on how cold she began to act without asking her why. Then when their mother, Alicent, arranged their marriage, [Name] exploded with raging emotion. Alicent sent her to her chambers to calm herself, the Princess rambling to her handmaidens who sat with her on her chamber floor.

"He's a spoiled, dimwitted twat and I'd just about kill myself if I have to conceive a child for that idiot!" The Princess complained to her handmaiden, Lorraine, as she lay her head down in her lap. The other handmaidens rubbed at her skin, massaging her tense muscles. Peaking through the crack of her door was Aegon, clenching his fists against the iron handle before storming off to his own chamber and slamming the heavy door shut. After hearing the malicious words of his sister, Aegon vowed to make her life a living hell, whispering these exact words into her ear during the wedding.

During the day, the twins were at each other's throats, annoying the entire castle with their antics. Aegon would step on her robes whenever she decided to walk with her younger sister, Helaena, her gown ripping down the middle exposing her bare arse to him. [Name] would get him back with ten times the power by pouring milk of the poppy into his soup until he was drunk off his mind then smothering his face into the bowl. The both of them would sleep with a dagger under their pillow or in their hand, cautiously waiting for the other to sneak up on them during the night.

There was one night when [Name] successfully reached over her husband for a pillow and tried suffocating him until he grabbed the dagger from under his pillow and nicked her. Another night, Aegon brought in a rock from when he was sauntering in the courtyard and hit her over the head with it. The Princess screamed painfully before jumping from her bed and tackling Aegon to the floor, her dagger to his throat until he called a surrender.

Months passed and their teasing was yet to diminish, including the scar on the Princess' temple from Aegon's rock. Sometimes she would get migraines throughout the day, almost falling ill at one point, Aegon berated by their mother for taking his tricks too far. Things stayed this way for many more months to pass until one day when Aegon caught his sister lying limp on the floor of the council's chamber with a chalice in her hand, liquid spilling from the golden cup. He only thought she was drunk and napping when he kicked her side, expecting her to wake up and shout at him.

Aegon was relentless in his gentle kicks, noticing she had yet to open her usually glimmering eyes. The masculine twin began to worry, kneeling before her and placing a finger under her nose, noting the blood that dribbled from her nostril. His heart hammered against his chest when he realized she wasn't breathing. He picked up the chalice and took a quick whiff, Long Farewell, he noted. The poison was one that, just as said in the name, took a while to kill in a matter of days if nicked on the skin but digesting directly could only be an hour before death starts to creep up on a man.

Aegon carried his wife to the maesters, revealing the cause of her frail state and demanding them to feed her the antidote. Aegon—but most importantly [Name]—was lucky the maesters had the exact antidote incase a member of the royal family was to be poisoned. The Princess was force fed the antidote until she awoke with a deep, long inhale. When her vision repaired she turned to get a look at Aegon until her expression turned cold, her eyes avoiding his gaze as she hopped off of the pedestal.

Aegon chased after her, wrapping a thick hand around her arm and pulling her into his chest. He finally got a good look at her and could see the war going on inside of her. "Where's my 'thank you'? I saved your life, you know?" Aegon teased, smirking at her, however it fell when he saw the tears welling up in her eyes. A frown etched onto his face as his gaze flickered across hers, confusion evident in the way his eyebrows were furrowed. "What's wrong, sister?" Aegon asked softly, rubbing a thumb against her cheek.

"You almost had me killed and you want me to thank you?! You are so full of yourself!" She smacked at his chest, his expression even more confused then before. He went to open his mouth to speak when he decided against it, choosing to just stare at her. "The handmaiden that brought me the chalice said it was from you, a gift of truce..." She sniffled before continuing; "I thought our banter was only teasing, I did not realize you held such intent toward me that you would act on it." She wiped her tears that began to fall.

Aegon shook his head vigorously, explaining to her that he'd been in the training yard with their brother Aemond and had no contact with any handmaidens. When the twins informed their mother of the treason that has taken place, Alicent relayed the news to the King who had ordered his men to bring every single handmaiden and staff to the throne room. Aegon stood next to his brother with his sister-wife between him and Helaena as their father, King Viserys, interrogated the staff in the room.

Those who did not comply with the King's questions were executed on the spot, [Name] having to look away and hide in the chest of her husband who kept a protective arm around her. When one of the cooks admitted they were asked to brew a poison, they were asked by who. The cook turned to look at one of the handmaidens, one the Princess recognized immediately. She felt betrayed as the handmaiden came forward, staring at the Princess with regret.

"Lorraine, how could you do this to me? I thought we bonded, I thought a friendship was blooming?" [Name] cried to her handmaiden, the one who would listen to her all day and all night, the one who would sing to her and listen to all her stories. Lorraine sobbed loudly, the room going silent until she spoke up: "I'm so sorry, Princess. I had to, they would've taken my brother!" [Name]'s eyes widened but before she could ask who, Lorraine was executed.

Aegon and [Name] spent the rest of the day in each other's company, still bickering but getting along nonetheless. Well, sort of. Aegon threw an apple slice at his sister, her returning the motion with a full loaf of bread. The only difference was that they were actually enjoying this moment, cackling and smiling at each other. When the Princess leaned in to push away her husband, he grabbed her wrists, keeping them where they were placed on his chest. [Name] smirked and licked her lips enticingly before dragging her twin brother to the bed that lay in the middle of the room.

Aegon unlaced the ribbon attached to her robe, letting them slip from the knot easily. Aegon forcefully ripped her gown down the middle, grasping her now visible breasts in his hands. [Name] moaned as she helped Aegon out of his clothes, both of them falling back onto the bed. The Prince suckled on the bosom of his sister, groaning as she reached a hand down to his cock and squeezed it gently. Aegon roughly flipped her over onto her stomach, lifting her ass up to him before landing a smack against one of her cheeks.

The recoil of her ass enticed another groan to come from Aegon's lips, pushing her head into the sheets and arching her back more. The slick of her cunt was used as lubricant for Aegon's swollen cock, the tip of it pushing into her slowly. [Name] gasped with wide eyes, this new feeling of her cunt being breached earning a moan from her. Aegon knew his sister had never been mounted, so he tried to be gentle until she got used to him, and when she did he let his lust take control. His hips never reluctant with pounding into her cunt, grabbing a fistful of her platinum locks and wrapping them around his hand like a leash.

Everytime he would pull too hard and lift her head up involuntarily, he would push it right back down, smothering her face into the sheets as he leaned over her. His teeth nipped at her ear, licking at the space behind it before whispering the nastiest of words to her. "When these breasts are full of milk, our child will have to find an alternative 'for I shall be the only one drinking from them!" He jested, feeling her breasts as they were smushed against the mattress. "I'll fuck my sons and daughters into you and make you a mother." And with those final words, Aegon spurted into the womb of his sister, her following shortly after.

Aegon rolled onto his back, pulling his wife close then kissed her head. The Prince caressed her naked skin before jesting once more; "how do you think Mother would take news of being a grandmother?" [Name] laughed before softly punching her husband, snuggling up to him with a hum and closing her eyes. Aegon smiled down at her, rolling onto his side and resting his chin on her head as they both fell into dreamless sleep.

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sihtricfedaraaahvicius · 5 months

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Note: I didn't plan this, but it is awfully fitting how my last fic of the year is the closing chapter to the first fic I ever wrote. Thank you for your patience, I hope it was worth the insanely long wait (sorry!), and a big thank you to everyone who reads my silly little stories. It truly means more than you can imagine!

Warnings: mention of violence, blood and slavery.

pairing: Sihtric x Princess!reader (f)

summary: everyone faced the consequences of Sihtric's previous actions.

wordcount: 3,4k

Masterlist

Part I: The Dane.

Part II: The Truth.

Part III: The Lust.

Part IV: The Pain.

Part V: The Fight.

part VI: The Battle.

You slowly regained consciousness while you were being brought to the chambers of Lord Wiltshear, your bare feet dragging over the cold and wet stone floor as the guards held you up with ease. You had lost your shoes somewhere on the town's square, not too long ago, when you were abruptly captured and taken away before Sihtric, your Dane husband, could reach you through the crowd.

Your head was spinning and a headache taunted you as you vaguely remembered that your husband had won the fight of which you were the prize. You had given up everything to marry Sihtric, whom you had fallen in love with, and it had also been a way to escape a horribly dull life by being married to Lord Wiltshear, who was at least twice your age.

You quickly recalled how the Lord had tricked you all by not fighting a fair fight, and having someone fight for him when Sihtric had called to make the square. That someone who was now dead, his body still bleeding out at the centre of the town after Sihtric had hacked his axe into the poor man's skull. You remembered how the Lord then demanded you to be his slave, instead of his wife, and how he had ordered his guards to seize you and imprison you, while Uhtred and his men didn't stand a chance to save you.

You then remembered the last thing you heard before you were knocked out was Sihtric's voice. His gut wrenching hoarse voice, the sound of it still echoed in your head.

'My love!' Sihtric had shouted, 'meet me in Valhalla!'

You swallowed hard at the memory, and you felt defeated as much as you were confused. You were taken from Sihtric. You were taken away from your lover, your husband, your Dane. And as you were taken, the last thing he had shouted at you was something about Valhalla, which he knew you didn't really believe in.

'Meet me in Valhalla.'

His words sounded in your head over and over again as you felt your eyes tear up. How could he have been to stupid, so careless. How could he have suggested you as the prize for their stupid fight after he had provoked the Lord.

'Meet me in Valhalla.'

You heard his voice clear as day and you shook your head, angry and saddened at everything that had occurred. Not just today, but ever since you first saw Sihtric. You were sad at how you had finally married the man of your dreams, the man of which your father, Alfred, claimed to have had a prophetic nightmare of, and now you were torn apart… again. As if neither of you hadn't suffered enough. And you remembered how you had heard Sihtric's words before, those exact same words before he had shouted them at you from across the town.

'If I die,' Sihtric had said as he had given you his dagger, 'then meet me in Valhalla.'

'Valhalla,' you whispered as your eyes shot wide open while the guards dragged you towards a large, iron door.

You remembered the dagger and how it was tucked underneath the skirt of your dress, strapped to your thigh. You remembered the secret fight training you had received from Hild, a nun at the monastery you had escaped from with Beocca, as she knew you would always be a target because you were a princess. And with that knowledge, you pretended to be unconscious again while the guards unlocked the door to your prison.

Outside of the castle you had been dragged into, a shield wall had been formed after Uhtred's voice had ordered the position over the roaring crowd. The town's people were bewildered at the formation, while the guards of Wiltunscir were scattered amongst the peasants and unable to form a decent defence against the wrath of your husband and the warband that had secretly travelled not far behind with you. When Uhtred had fetched Beocca to arrange the marriage between you and Sihtric, he had also immediately called for men to join him, as he figured things could turn grim, and they had.

'Forward!' Uhtred shouted, and the wall moved one step closer towards the enemy, 'forward!' he ordered again, and they slowly closed in on the guards and warriors of Wiltunscir.

While Uhtred ordered his shield wall to move forward, several guards of the town had moved up into the castle towers on the Lord's commenad, armed with bows and arrows. And it didn't take long before they fired their arrows in a desperate attempt to save their Lord and his legacy.

'Shields up!' Uhtred shouted as soon as an arrow shot right overhead, missing him by a hair.

The first line of men knelt down, the second line of men threw their shields over the men below in front of them, and the third line of men held up their shields above the men who shielded those before them, and so on. It rained arrows and rocks were being thrown too, but Uhtred's men were prepared and had brought their own archers, who fired back with flaming arrows. Several guards up in the towers had caught on fire and fell down to their deaths after they had leaped off the castle in blind panic.

'My wife!' Sihtric shouted when he felt as if they weren't making progress fast enough, 'I have to get to my wife!'

'We know!' Finan huffed under his shield as an arrow hit and poked through, right before his eyes, 'mother of Christ!' he breathed after the close call, 'you can't get to your wife right now!'

'I can make a run for it,' Sihtric yelled, without truly thinking.

'You can't run until all the archers are down, Sihtric!'

'I can,' Sihtric hissed as he tried to count the remaining archers on the walls.

'No!' Finan grunted, 'even if you'd made it, you have no idea how many guards are with her!'

'I can take them-'

'Don't be so bloody stupid!'

'She's my wife, Finan!' Sihtric yelled, desperately.

'Exactly! She's your wife! Whose life you put in danger by making her a prize!' the Irish man snarled, 'you've done enough rash things already today. Just wait!'

'No,' Sihtric huffed and peeked from underneath his shield, once again counting the archers that were still standing in the towers.

'Don't do it!' Finan gave the Dane a slight shove back, 'it's too much of a risk!'

'My wife!' Sihtric gasped, and he pushed himself out of the shield wall.

'Sihtric! Stay in line!' Uhtred shouted.

With trembling hands, covered in blood, you slowly stepped through the dark and cold passage you had been dragged through. Your dress was drenched with blood and your face was covered with splatters of the same red. You had managed to take the guards by surprise and wildly stabbed into them, ensuring their deaths while being covered in their blood. The smell and its taste made you gag, and you desperately tried to steady your shaking body as you slowly made your way back into the daylight. Your head was still spinning while the sound of swords clashing against shields and men shouting their last battle cries came closer. You held Sihtric's dagger in one hand as you stepped closer to the top of the stairs, overlooking the town's square, overwhelmed by the violence that had occured while you had been dragged away, and was still ongoing.

You saw countless dead bodies all over town. People with arrows in their chest and some with their heads hacked off. Arrows flew through the air in all directions, men were fighting with weapons and bare hands while women fled with their children. And it was all witnessed by Lord Wiltshear, who watched from a distance while he was guarded by several men. Your eyes scanned the lifeless bodies with terror, in fear of finding your husband amongst them. And just as you began to cry, you suddenly heard the familiar voice of Uhtred belt out your husband's name.

'Sihtric! Stay in line!'

Your head snapped up into the direction you had heard Uhtred's voice coming from, and there you saw him, Sihtric, your husband, running across the battlefield as if his life depended on it. And it did, his life truly depended on how fast his legs could bring him to you, while he held his shield up above his head to protect himself from the arrows that were now aimed at him, as Lord Wiltshear's eye had caught your husband running towards you and shouted an order to take down the Dane. Sihtric locked eyes with you as he ran and jumped over the fresh corpses that were in his way, and he didn't take his eyes off you until he finally ran up the stairs of the castle and reached you. And when he reached you he wrapped his arm around you as you grabbed onto his armour, and he kept his shield up to cover you both while he held you tightly pressed against his chest. Then, he slightly leaned back to take in your appearance and a panic came down over him.

'T-the blood-'

'Later,' you cut your husband off, 'we have to hide. Now!'

You took his hand and pulled him with you, to seek cover inside the halls of the castle you just escaped out of, but before you reached the doors you felt Sihtric's hand slip out of yours. You looked back over your shoulder to see your husband standing still with his hands up, while two of Lord Wiltshear's guards held him at swordpoint. They forced him to drop his shield and they took his axe and sword, all while Sihtric kept his jaw clenched and his eyes on you. You watched how the guards disarmed your husband, and every time you wanted to interfere, Sihtric gave you a quick stern glare with his eyes which told you to not make a move.

Then, you heard Lord Wiltshear order his men to stop fighting, and Uhtred followed his lead. Everyone lowered their weapons slowly and turned to face the old Lord who shuffled his way up the stairs to you and Sihtric, while several guards kept you separated.

'She belongs to me,' the Lord said to your husband, out of breath after climbing the stairs.

'Never,' Sihtric hissed, and the sword that was pressed against his skin drew blood at his slight movement, 'she's my wife!'

'She was promised to me, the beautiful princess,' the Lord sighed, 'but since you have fouled her, she will be nothing but a slave,' he looked you up and down as he stepped closer, 'hm, a pleasure slave, perhaps,' he grinned, and you almost gagged at the sight of his dirty, yellow stained teeth.

'You will be dead before your filthy fingers can touch her,' Sihtric spat, then hissed in pain as the blade marked his throat once again.

The Lord muttered something under his breath, after which his guards then kicked Sihtric down to his knees. You gasped and attempted to run to him, but you were harshly restrained by another guard. The Lord laughed as he took in Sihtric's furious glare at the guard who held you captive.

'No, I shall not make her a pleasure slave,' the Lord then said, 'she shall be just a slave. I will try to remember to give her food and water every now and then,' he smiled at Sihtric and waved at the guard to take you to the chambers, again.

'No! Take me,' Sihtric shouted desperately as he tried to escape the guards, but he got shoved back to his knees.

'Take you?' the old man furrowed his brow.

'Take my life instead of hers. Let her live freely and make me your slave.'

'Sihtric, no!' you cried as you fought the guard off, 'you can't-'

'I am much stronger than her,' Sihtric continued, and the Lord signalled the guard who had grabbed you again to a halt.

'Interesting,' the Lord mumbled as he studied Sihtric, who was covered in cuts and bruises after the recent battle, and tears had welled up in his mismatched eyes.

He feigned his bravery, you knew it, you could tear he was terrified but he would not allow himself to break in front of the Lord.

'I- I can fight,' Sihtric went on, 'I can do heavy work. Make me your slave, Lord, and let the princess go.'

You bit your tongue as you stared at your husband, while Lord Wiltshear was seriously considering the offer as he knew he was right. He knew that Sihtric would make for a good slave. But the last thing you wanted was Sihtric to become the one thing he had escaped by leaving Dunholm when he was young; a miserable life of slavery.

Across the square Uhtred and Finan watched the bargain with shock. They both knew they could not stop the negotiation and that the outcome would be grim, regardless of the choice Lord Wiltshear would make. A deafening silence lingered while the Lord went over his options, until he clasped his hands together and smiled.

'Very well,' he said, 'the heathen will be my slave and the princess will be escorted back to Wessex. Where I'm sure a punishment will be waiting.'

'No!' you screamed as the guards picked Sihtric up from the dirty ground and shoved him towards the passage that you had escaped from earlier, while Uhtred and Finan yelled something inaudible in protest.

Sihtric fought his tears and clenched his jaw as he was shoved past you, and you could only stare into his eyes with your own teared up pair while you felt yourself become dizzy. Everything seemed to spin around you while your heartbeat sounded in your ears, and it felt as if the ground beneath your feet was crumbling away.

'You,' the Lord said to Uhtred, 'will leave at once, take the princess and deliver a message to the King for me. Tell him that I still want my promised wife, but that it will not be this one,' he stuck up his nose to you, 'tell him that I will be waiting-'

Suddenly the Lord stopped speaking and everyone gasped when they saw the arrow sticking out of his chest, which had punctured his heart in the middle of his preaching. The Lord looked down at the arrow as blood began to slowly pour down and stain his brown robes, and he looked up at the towers where his archers had been. Everyone followed his gaze, in shock, only to all be absolutely baffled that there was no archer to be seen. There was not a trace of whoever had fired an arrow at the Lord, and everyone turned their gaze back to the old man, who then stumbled backwards and fell as he took his last breath. Everyone stared at his body, which was still twitching, and you slowly looked up at Uhtred, who looked as bewildered as everyone else. But his bewilderment soon made place for the opportunity he saw, and he quickly spoke up as he stepped onto the stairs that led to the entrance of the castle and to you.

'Your… your Lord has just died,' Uhtred said, still trying to grasp the situation like everyone else, 'I know there is no heir, which means you are now without a ruler,' he said sternly as he spoke to the townspeople, 'you have no reason to fight anymore, you have no one to give you orders. So I suggest you drop your weapons and surrender, and we will leave here in peace. We do not wish to bring harm upon anyone. I will take back everyone I came with here, and we shall leave you in peace.'

And as Uhtred spoke, the folk slowly began to drop their weapons and surrendered, knowing this was the safest outcome for everyone. And like everyone there, the townsfolk also did not wish to fight, they only fought because they were ordered to by their Lord. But their Lord was now dead, and once that started to soak in, a soft murmuring amongst the people began.

'Lord Uhtred,' one man said, 'we cannot be left without a ruler.'

The crowd started to nod and agree with the nameless man, and more and more people began to ask what would happen next and who would be their new ruler.

Uhtred looked at you with questioning eyes. You knew exactly what he meant to ask you, and you nodded in agreement. You slowly walked to the stairs, your blood soaked skirt clutched in your trembling hands as you carefully stepped down until you were halfway. You cleared your throat and gazed around the town and its folk, who all stared at you with a newfound hope in their eyes.

'I,' you said, and were immediately interrupted when someone shouted at you to speak up.

With flushed cheeks you cleared your throat again and held your chin up high, you were a princess after all.

'If you, the people of Wiltunscir, would accept me as your ruling Lady,' you said with confidence, 'then I promise to not let you down. I promise to protect this town and its people, I promise to bring wealth and safety. I promise peace.'

The crowd listened to you in silence. Some looked at you with doubt and some looked at you in awe. And when your words began to sink in, you noticed a shift, and people began to clap. First slow and rather quietly, but then more firm, and more people joined in and some even began to cheer and whistle, until eventually the entire crowd had joined.

Uhtred walked up the stairs and he took your hands, 'Are you sure you want this?'

'Yes,' you sniffled with a smile, 'I cannot return to my father. The Lord was right about that, there will be a punishment, one I do not wish to endure. I wish to stay here, with my husband.'

Uhtred gave you a firm nod and turned to the crowd, he unsheathed Serpent-Breath and held it up high.

'Kneel before the Lady of Wiltunscir,' he ordered with a firm but respectful tone.

You chuckled lightly and felt rather embarrassed when the crowd did as they were told, and then you began to realise you were now, all of the sudden, the Lady of Wiltunscir. You gasped and quickly turned around, looking at the guard who had held you captive only moments ago.

'Guard,' you said, 'release my husband at once!'

'My Lady,' the guard said and bowed his head, then ran through the doors that led to the prison chambers.

'You think I'm stupid?' Sihtric scoffed at the guard who held the iron prison door open for him.

'Your release was ordered.'

Sihtric furrowed his brow and scratched his head, then cleared his throat.

'Yeah, I'm not falling for that,' he said.

The guard dropped his weapons and stood back, his hands held behind his back.

'The Lady requested your release, Lord,' the guard said.

'Lord?' Sihtric chuckled, 'wait… Lady?'

Sihtric opened his mouth to speak again, but then closed it when it suddenly dawned on him.

'By the Gods,' he mumbled, and then carefully left his prison.

He slowly passed the guard and kept an eye on him, but when the guard didn't move, Sihtric began to run. He ran through the hallway he had been forced through, past the two guards you had killed, and he only stopped when he almost reached the doors, seeing his axe and sword on a wooden table, and he quickly grabbed them. He hesitantly stepped closer to the doors and finally through them, only to see you waiting outside, halfway down the stairs, with Uhtred next to you and the people of Wiltunscir knelt down before you.

You looked back over your shoulder and smiled when you locked eyes with your husband, then hiked up your skirt and ran up the stairs as you began to cry tears of joy and relief.

'My love,' you breathed as you fell in his arms.

Sihtric held you tightly wrapped in his arms, and only pulled back to take your face in his hands and give you a kiss like never before. And when you smiled at him, Sihtric shook his head in confusion.

'I- I'm not sure I understand what is going on,' Sihtric said as he held you close and looked at the kneeling crowd, and then at Uhtred, who grinned at Sihtric's confused face.

'You're a Lord now, my love,' you smiled.

'What?' Sihtric chuckled.

'I present to you,' Uhtred then shouted to your people, 'the Lord and Lady of Wiltunscir!'

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#sihtric kjartansson #sihtric #the last kingdom #tlk #sihtric x reader #the last kingdom fic #sihtric x you #sihtric fic

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loki-cees-all · 5 months

Text

Ch. 3 - Against Better Judgement {Against All Odds - TVA!Loki x Female Reader Longfic}

Previous Chapter / AO3 Link / Against All Odds Masterlist / Next Chapter

Pairing : TVA!Loki x Female Reader

Summary : You take Loki home, hoping that spending time together will make it harder for him to disappear again. Unbeknownst to you, Loki is also trying to get to know you better - but for different reasons entirely.

W/c : 3.7k words

Content / Warnings : A smidgeon of angst, a whole lot of smut (oral - fem. receiving).

Wait, that's backwards - it's a smidgeon of smut (oral - fem. receiving), and a whole lot of angst 😇

18+ Only - Minors DNI

⊱ ── ༓ ── ⋅•⋅⊰ ── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ∙ ⋅ ── ⊱⋅•⋅ ── ༓ ── ⊰

Date : June 25th, 1977 [Sacred Timeline]

“So…would you like a tour?”

You weren’t sure why you said that; Loki’s lips hadn’t left your neck since stepping out of the taxi downstairs, and it was obvious Loki hadn’t agreed to come home with you because he was curious about the decorations in your flat.

But you were concerned that he was only here for another shag, and that little voice in the back of your mind wouldn’t stop nagging you about it. That you were nothing special, that he didn’t want anything serious. That it really was a coincidence that he’d shown up at the club earlier. That he’d forgotten all about you until he saw you again.

Loki’s hands gripped your ass, pulling you tightly against him as you kicked off your heels. “There’s only one thing I want to see here…and to feel…” he murmured as he picked you up and pressed you against the living room wall.

Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, the same way they had the night you met, and you curled your fingers in his hair to pull his face to yours. Loki groaned as your lips met, devouring your mouth like it was going to be the last time he ever kissed you.

Every single kiss with him was like that, burning and desperate and bittersweet in both taste and sensation. As hot as it was, you didn’t understand why it had to be like that - and you were determined to learn more about him tonight.

Maybe that might make it harder for him to go, or maybe so it would be easier to find him later on. That probably wasn’t the best path forward in a healthy relationship, but what else did you have to go on? After all, you didn’t even know what he did for a living…

He pressed his hips against yours, his excitement digging into your inner thigh, and you knew you had him desperate for it - and right where you wanted him. “Against the wall again? Funny, wouldn’t have pegged you as a one trick pony…” you murmured playfully against his lips.

Loki pulled his lips away from yours with a cockeyed grin on his face and amusement blazing in his eyes. “Ohhh. You’re quite cheeky, aren’t you?”

“Depends. Do you like me being cheeky?”

His grip loosened, and so did your legs as he lowered you back down to standing. “I do, yes. So maybe you ought to give me that tour after all?”

Loki brought a hand up to caress your jaw, tilting your gaze up as he pressed another, more gentle, kiss to your lips. “And then perhaps we can find someplace more…suitable…and to your liking, hmm?”

You laughed, and he chuckled along with you. His smile was so loving and intoxicating, and you desperately wanted to be able to see it again the next morning; saving your bedroom for the last stop of the tour would hopefully make that dream a reality.

Sliding your arm along the wall behind you, your fingers finally made contact with the square, brass box housing the light switch. The silver sconces overhead flicked on, illuminating the living area and kitchen in pale, amber light.

Even though he probably didn’t care, you did have a tremendous amount of pride in the way you’d decorated the flat, meticulously picking everything from the shade of paint on the walls to the knickknacks placed carefully on the glass shelves. You’d spent weeks searching for the rug for the dining room, until you found the perfect shade of forest green to pop just right against the golden legs of the dining table and chairs.

But as the lights came on, Loki’s expression changed, shifting from a lustful intention to one that was much more inquisitive and fascinated. His face lit up as he looked around the room, over the colorful paintings that hung upon the cool gray walls, the unassuming carpeted steps that led to the lowered sitting area and its stark white couches.

The dark green tile floor in the kitchen sparkled perfectly, and the city lights of London blazed brilliantly through the glass doors that led to the balcony. Everything was perfect, and exactly where it needed to be - even Loki, who devastatingly re-buttoned his jacket as he started to wander around the space.

“Do you like it? I did most of this myself,” you smiled proudly as he pulled away from your embrace, moving closer to admire the painting above the table. Pleased that he’d noticed that one, you trailed along behind him, arms folded behind your back as you waited for him to speak.

His emerald eyes sparkled as they took in every splash of color in the abstract painting, its shades of blacks and greens crescendoing into blues and purples like a protective canopy of the heavens. You watched his eyes carefully as they widened and narrowed across the canvas, and you wondered if perhaps he owned an art gallery or worked in a museum.

“Did you paint this?” he murmured softly as he traced a finger along the thin, woven branches that served as the painting’s frame.

“I did, yes,” you nodded, smiling wistfully. “It’s silly, but there was this crepe myrtle tree in the backyard where I grew up, and I used to spend hours under that thing. Just reading ,drawing, dreaming…it was my favorite place to be. And this painting is based on that tree.”

“It’s gorgeous. Absolutely gorgeous,” he sighed thoughtfully. “You’ve perfectly encapsulated that tree’s essence. I can feel its love - its protection - from here…”

Your eyes filled with tears as you watched him, studying his serene expression just as he studied your art so thoroughly. “My dad actually took thin cuttings off of its branches, and wove them together to construct the frame for me, so I’d always have a part of it wherever I lived.”

“Your father made the frame for you?” Loki glanced over at you, his smile beaming, before turning back to the painting. “That’s incredible. He clearly adores you…”

You tugged on Loki’s arm, eager to show him the rest of the flat - and to tease him a little. “Mhmm. So try not to break my heart, or he’ll come after you…”

“Oh, I’ll be on my best behavior, I promise.” Loki chuckled as he followed you down the hallway to your bedroom, his thumb brushing softly along your palm. “So I take it you and your father are close?”

You tilted your head curiously, laughing a little at the odd question. “Yeah, I guess? I mean, I’m his only daughter, so…”

It wasn’t often that the men you brought home were interested in your family, of all things. But it had to be a good sign, and your heart skipped a beat as you thought about where the evening would end up. It had started off so sullen, and now Loki was here, fresh from your dreams and right inside your home - exactly where you needed him to be.

And while you had no idea what tomorrow morning was going to bring, your confidence that he wouldn’t be able to just disappear again grew with every moment. He’d come back to you once already - now all you needed was to make sure that he’d always come back.

Just as you were about to step into your bedroom, Loki abruptly stopped in the hallway, and you almost pulled your arm out of its socket when you tried to keep going. You let out a noise of surprise - he was heavy, so much heavier than a man given his lithe frame had any right to be. Shocked, you turned to see him looking at the collage of photographs you’d hung on the wall when you first moved in.

No, not just looking - Loki was studying each photograph of your past like they were the evidence of some unspeakable crime that hadn’t happened yet. It was unsettling, and a chill rushed down your spine as you remembered that Brad Wolfe was still missing. That he had disappeared the same night you’d first met Loki…

“Are these your family and friends?” Loki asked, interrupting your thoughts. You cleared your throat and tried to focus on the fact that he was here, and that he was clearly interested in you.

“Uh, yeah - look, I know it’s not hip for a girl in her twenties to have photos of her family on her wall…” You laughed nervously, letting go of Loki’s hand to wrap your arms around yourself. He didn’t seem to notice, too busy focusing on something he either couldn’t, or didn’t want, to say out loud.

“But, yeah, that’s my mum and dad, my siblings…” you answered, pointing to a black and white photo, old and frayed and worn from time. It was from a vacation you’d taken to Osborne when you were nine; the last vacation you’d taken together as a family.

Loki smiled thoughtfully. “Beautiful. Are you…close with them? Your mother and siblings, I mean?”

Your brow furrowed as he stared at you expectantly. That was a question you didn’t really know how to answer without ruining the whole evening. You were standing there, in a sheer catsuit and clearly eager to get him in your bed…was that not why he was here?

“I mean, I’m as close as I can be. I travel a lot for work, and some of them are…really far away, so I don’t always get to see them as much as I’d like…”

You noticed his attention drifting down towards the narrow bookshelf beneath the collection of photographs, his eyes narrowed as he stared at the candelabrum placed on top. Two thin candlesticks were held aloft via asymmetrical and curved pieces of polished brass, and between them stood a slice of exotic green and gold onyx.

Deciphering whether he hated the piece or loved it was almost impossible, but the look in his eyes told you that he recognized it from someplace very far away. You didn’t know what to say or do, baffled by how little sense all this made.

Loki stayed quiet for a moment longer, processing and contemplating some unknown information that only he held. When he spoke again, his voice was so solemn and serious that it took your breath away. “You should hold on to them, as hard as you can…in case something happens…”

The air in your flat instantly changed, freezing into shards of painful memories - not all of them yours. “In case something happens? Why would something be happening to me?”

When Loki caught the dismay on your face, he shook his head and raked a hand through his hair. “I apologize, I didn’t mean for that to sound weird, it’s just - ”

He sighed heavily, as if eons of anguish were weighing him down again, and you suspected that there was no end to the depth of his pain.

“I never had a close relationship with my family…” he continued, despondent and mournful. “And there were times when I needed them. Times when I would have been so much better off if I did have them…”

Your heart shattered as he spoke, but you realized he was finally sharing a part of his life with you. It wasn’t much, but it was enough - and so you stepped closer to him, slipping your fingers between his and murmuring softly. “I’m so sorry about your family, Loki. I don’t know if it helps…but I’m here now…”

A storm erupted in his eyes, and you weren’t sure if it was relief, desire, anguish, or a combination of everything, all at once. But as he curled his free hand around the back of your neck and pulled you closer, you knew that storm was just for you.

Your lips met in a slow, languid kiss that quickly turned feverish, arms snaking around each other and moans that threatened to set the entire flat ablaze. His hands were desperate as they moved to cradle your head, and you pulled on his hips to finally lead him into the bedroom.

Once across the threshold, you eagerly pulled his suit jacket down his shoulders as you walked backwards towards your bed. Loki let go of you just long enough to free his arms from the sleeves, and the jacket fell limp to the floor. But before he could wrap himself around you again, you were already working to undo the buttons on his crisp white shirt.

“Darling, darling…” Loki breathed as he stopped you, guiding your hands around his neck and pressing his forehead against yours. “We’ve got all night…so let’s take it slow, hmm?”

His jaw clenched as he spoke, as if he were struggling to restrain himself from taking you the way he had that night in the alleyway. Instead, this time it seemed as though he wanted to cherish, savior, worship every single moment with you. It made your heart somersault in your chest and an ache of desire shimmer down to your core.

You nodded, and Loki grinned as he gently lowered you down onto the bed. “Do you remember slow…and comfortable?” he whispered as his weight settled on top of you. The pressure and warmth of his body was divine, and the scent of leather and cedar wood entwined with the lust hanging in the air.

“Slow…and comfortable…and against the wall…” you inhaled sharply, endorphins and hormones pouring into your bloodstream and creating a deep sense of longing and solace, a fierce need mixed with an intense glimmer of want.

You’d only met him twice, including tonight, and yet you didn’t think you’d be able to breathe if he ever left again. How did he manage that so fast?

As you shifted your legs to bring him between them, he nuzzled his face against your neck and his hips began to roll teasingly against yours. “I think a bed is far more comfortable than the wall, don’t you?”

“Mhmm, they should invent a new drink. Slow and comfortable…with Loki in my bed…” you murmured breathlessly, arching your back and rolling your hips with his.

Loki groaned, and you could tell it was getting harder for him to continue practicing restraint. You let out a shuddering moan as he started to nip at your jaw, and you brought your hands up to his hair, fingers tangling within his soft and dark curls, to hold on as your bodies moved sensually together.

It was exhilarating, really, being with him like this: bodies still fully clothed, hips rolling and grinding together like teenagers left alone for the very first time. Heavy breath passed back and forth, hands desperately roaming over the other. One of your legs curled around his hip to allow you to roll harder against his thigh.

Dizzying heat shot down your spine. You could feel his desperate want with every shift and twitch against your aching need. Every second felt like a lifetime of bliss as the pressure mounted, and the anticipation was beginning to drive you mad.

You pulled on his shirt, desperate to untuck it from his trousers and be able to feel his hot skin directly against yours. Loki let out a moan, grinding harder as his lips latched onto your throat, sucking and nibbling on your delicate flesh. His reaction encouraged you further, but then he suddenly grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head.

“I thought we were going to do this slow, hmm?” he murmured coyly, slowing the roll of his hips but not stopping completely. Slivers of gold blazed within his eyes as he gazed down at you, looking up at him with a mixture of bewilderment and idolization.

How he could be so tender and dominating at the same time was beyond you, but you’d happily spend the rest of your life trying to figure it out.

“Loki…Loki, please…I need it…” you whimpered without shame, lifting the other leg to wrap around his waist. Your thighs squeezed tight against his hips as you rolled harder, desperate to feel any friction you could find.

He grinned wickedly before kissing you again, his tongue lapping at your lower lip to gain entry. You happily let it in, moaning into his mouth as you tasted him, fists clenching as his thumbs rubbed gently along your inner wrists. Everything was overwhelming, you felt like you were drowning in his presence, and in just a few more seconds, you’d certainly be coming.

But Loki tore his lips away from yours again, apparently not willing to let you have it just yet, and you whined pathetically in protest.

“Hush, little one. I just want to take things slowly…” he whispered delicately, slowing his hips again. “…to make sure you’re thoroughly taken care of…”

Your breath hitched, and if you hadn’t already been lying down, you might have fainted. “But - why?”

“Because I just…” Loki sighed, nudging his nose against yours as his hands trailed down your arms, exploring every curve and dip of your muscles. His fingertips shifted upwards along your neck to gently venture into your hairline, and his voice was so quiet, so full of turmoil. “I just want to make sure…”

You bit your lower lip as you watched him struggle to finish the thought. His forehead pressed against yours, his exhales heavy against your skin, his pupils dilating more and more with every flutter of eyelashes. You wanted to say something, to either encourage him to keep going if it was going to be beautiful, or to stop him if it was going to kill you.

At first, all you could manage was to reach for him, to delicately cradle his jaw and brush your thumbs along the angles of his cheekbones. The frown on his face was inexplicable, and he seemed so lost with his eyebrows arched towards Heaven and his eyes, hungry and wistful, roaming up and down your form.

But as it became clearer that he couldn’t get the words out, regardless of what they were, you realized how badly he needed the encouragement. “Loki, it’s okay…” you whispered softly against his lips. “You can tell me anything…”

Loki’s breath faltered, and for a moment, it seemed like he was going to argue with you. Why did it always seem as though he knew something you didn’t, and why was it so intriguing to you? How was he composed of so many riddles and complications, and why did you feel the urge to find his answers?

If any other man had behaved like this, swinging like a devastating pendulum from immeasurable generosity to cruel obscurity, you would have walked away already. You would have told him off ages ago. You would have forgotten about him.

But something kept pulling you back in, something deep and unnerving kept asking to be felt, to be known, to be observed and held and needed. Something about him desperately wanted love and he didn’t know how to get it - or maybe he just didn’t know how to recognize it, because he’d never had it before. It broke your heart and stitched it back together, and you couldn’t let him continue going through that alone.

So before he could argue, with whatever his point was going to be, you captured his mouth in a fiercely passionate kiss that took both of your breaths away. He groaned deeply, his face smashed against yours as his lips moved faster against yours.

Loki caressed your tongue with his, and his hands slid around to the back of your neck, fingertips gently grasping the zipper of your catsuit. The sound of the zipper unlatching echoed loudly against your eardrums, and your lungs heaved as he began to free your arms from the fabric.

You shifted as best you could, while feeling giddy and delirious with need, to assist his endeavor, your hips still grinding against his thigh. Loki followed the catsuit as it peeled away from your skin, his hands and lips roaming over your neck and down to your exposed breasts and raised nipples.

As he moved lower, your back arched to press against him, and your fingers tangled in his hair. Every touch ignited something primal that had always lingered beneath your skin. And in that moment, everything else in the world seemed to melt away, until it was just Loki that remained.

“Oh, my God…” you gasped, eyelids fluttering wildly and your cunt throbbed in anticipation. “Please, please, please don’t stop, Loki…”

He glanced up with a wicked grin, humming against your belly as his hands slipped the fabric past your hips and down to your thighs. “Nothing can stop me now, my dear…”

Loki’s hands pressed into your skin as he pulled, finally reaching your knees and curling around your ankles. His breath was heavy as worked, his eyes blown wide with lust and burning hot with need.

You wriggled and squirmed underneath him, trying to free your legs. Your heart pounded in your chest as he finally tossed the catsuit to the floor and gripped your thighs, spreading them to settle back in-between. And as if he couldn’t help himself, like he desperately needed to taste you in order to be sure that this was real, Loki eagerly buried his face between your legs.

Suddenly, everything made sense. His flattened tongue lapped at your clit, and the soft bedding underneath you turned into fluffy clouds that had been warmed by sunlight. He pulled your legs around his neck, and the fear of ever being hurt again disintegrated like a love letter set on fire.

Loki kissed and sucked on your soaked cunt, moaning and groaning just as loud as you were. Your fingers curled in his hair, and your thighs tensed against his broad shoulders as you writhed against his tongue. His name spilled from your lips in whimpers and whines and heavy gasps and heady shudders.

There was no way he could disappear after this. There was no way he could bring you to mind-shattering orgasm if he didn’t intend to stay with you forever. There was no way that this didn’t end with you growing old and so happy together.

And whatever he was going to say earlier, whatever was so important that he couldn’t even get out, drifted further and further away as stars exploded behind your eyelids.

⊱ ── ༓ ── ⋅•⋅⊰ ── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ∙ ⋅ ── ⊱⋅•⋅ ── ༓ ── ⊰

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