#PRESS UP REAL CLOSE AND JUST /FEEL/ EVERYTHING

[vagabond-umlaut]

you kiss the back of my legs and i want to cry

only the sun has come this close, only the sun

gojo satoru x wife!reader; tooth-rotting domestic fluff; gojo LOVERBOY™️ satoru; you aren't any better than him [but less poetic abt the predicament]; tw: pregnancy, 1 tiny mention of throwing up; satoru calls you 'cookie'; and he redefines the word besotted here; his thoughts are also a little yandere-ish but tht's cute, methinks; 2.3k wc; i just wish satoru was real and in my arms rn T-T

belongs to the series 'you make my heart flutter and fibrillate' but can be read as a stand-alone fic if you wanna

the fic title and summary don't rly hv a very strong connection to the fic plot— except the fact they fit both satoru's & reader's characters in this series to a tee ^_^

fic title and summary from 'gps' by shauna barbosa // header frm pinterest // divider by @/benkeibear // jjk isn't mine

you are clingy.

always have been, in fact, now that gojo thinks about it. long before the two of you were married. long before you were engaged. quite a long time before the two of you were anything apart from friends at best, acquaintances at worst.

yet now, as he feels a pair of arms squeeze tighter around his middle, not really still very much squeezing the air out of him— your husband reckons you've grown loads clingier now—

and he loves you for this. loving you even more when he feels kisses being pressed into the space between his shoulder blades.

soft lips, a tad chapped. not without the shy grazing of your teeth.

just how he likes it.

very much how he adores you.

affection, settled deeper than should be feasible into the hollow of his chest, flutters a little when you nuzzle into his back; that pleased little hum of yours quick to follow it. smiling, gojo turns his head a touch to catch a glimpse of you. it takes a beat before you remove your face to lock eyes with him, before returning your face to his back.

he huffs a chuckle, sounding incredibly fond all the same. his feelings for you can never be suppressed anyway. time has proved this to him enough number of times.

he runs a finger down the length of your arm, relishing how it leaves a line of goosebumps in its wake—

"you wanna tell me something, cookie?" your husband finally asks.

your reply doesn't come immediately. and when it does, it is nothing more than a noncommittal noise. too spoiled. too stubborn. a bit too satisfied as well, the emotion further expressed when you nuzzle his back yet again.

gojo's smile grows bigger. his cheeks hurt a little.

he thinks he can live forever with this kind of pain, not even a sigh of complaint ever leaving him.

"aha—" he exclaims loudly, still soft enough to keep the quiet of this sweet bubble you've pulled you both into, "so it's just my irresistible charm that's making you so clingy tonight, hm?"

another beat passes.

and just when he thinks he might have to do with another one of your indistinct sounds for an answer, you speak. to be more precise, whine and grumble, everything so sweet in your adorable voice.

"it's not me being clingy, 'toru— it's the baby— the baby is making me so clingy. making me feel as if i can't live even for one second without squishing you like thisss!!!"

the first reaction your tightening grasp brings out is the wind getting knocked out of his lungs— the second reaction being all that oxygen, nitrogen and carbon dioxide being replaced by a feeling so fierce and so tender— the strongest thinks his knees would have buckled under its weight had he not been lying down but standing—

not that he really minds that, though.

for you, he's always on his knees. whether you ask it of him or not. the only light in this world he is willing to bow his eyes before.

it takes him not too much effort but gojo makes a point of struggling whilst he shifts in your hold. and grins when he finally comes face-to-face with you, drinking in the way your brows are puckered and lips a little parted in an incredulous expression.

his grin simmers down however, when his six eyes notice the spark in your tummy. so tiny. so blinding. so priceless— to him and you both— he knows this, surer than he is of the scars on his palms.

thumbing the hem of your t-shirt, he hums, dragging his eyes back to be drowned in yours, "how many weeks along are you, wifey?"

"satoru," you start, voice turning sharper and just as skeptical as your face was, still is— only to be shushed by a finger to your lips. the man addressed feels his heart skip a beat at your confused big scowl— it's got to be a crime to be as cute as you— really!!!

he pinches your cheek lightly.

"it isn't like i don't remember that, cookie. i just wanted you to say it— c'mon, tell me quickly!" he presses, noting then utilising the moment your face begins to lose its cynical hue over his words.

the scowl lingers there however, twisting your delectably pretty lips—

"nine weeks," you say, hooking a leg over his waist to pull him closer. can he be any closer to you, though? your answer is always a yes, he knows you well enough to know this.

"thirty-one weeks more before we meet our baby."

it's not exactly thirty-one weeks; it's thirty weeks and five days before either of you can meet the baby, but gojo decides not to point out the error. you always hate it when he points out your tiny errors and make a point of snarking about it every time he opens his mouth to speak a word next— the man is wary not to upset his wife, yes, thank you very much.

he offers a sage "hm" in response, one he observes you accept slowly. the scowl lifts itself into a curve so fond— gojo thinks once before he vaults his next query your way. not wanting to see that smile vanish in front of him—

the ask won't cause anything so. but he can never be too sure. he has read too many books and articles to not grasp how fragile pregnancy hormones can make one be.

he tucks a strand of hair behind the shell of your ear.

fingers tarrying there when he sees you lean into his touch— not akin a moth to a bright flame, no. he can never hurt you. not even for once in his wildest dreams—

but how the north pole of a magnet hurries towards the south pole of another magnet. so different in their nature, a perfect pair of opposite crafted by the nature— maybe that's why nothing can ever stop them from rushing to each other once they're proximated, the lines of their mutual attraction existing even when thousands of miles apart.

just like you and him.

contrasting, complementing, completing each other every instant, in every facet of life.

he lets his fingers dance through the tangles in your hair, unravelling the knots in there. that pleased little hum of yours reaches him once again.

stowing the sound away, later to be placed on a pedestal in an ornate glass case as the most valuable praise ever given to him for his effort, he runs a gentle hand, nails scratching your scalp carefully.

"and at nine weeks old, just how big might our baby be?"

"i think there is a chart comparing our baby's size to fruits..." syllables unhurried and a pinch mumbled, you press your heel to draw him in a little more. "i did not really read that too attentively— oh. but. yeah!" a grin forms on your features, sleepy still twinkling in excitement.

"shoko sent me a link to this website earlier today— any ideas, 'toru, what it might be about?"

gojo does have an idea. he has a very, very good idea.

but he chooses not to say that aloud. you look so extremely adorable when you are being this excited. he would hate nothing more than to see your amped up self getting interrupted by him.

he shakes his head. your grin brightens. eyes crinkling with a glint, he can tell even without looking, is knowing.

the tips of your fingers caress his bare back, softer than a breath. "it's about when our baby forms which organs— our baby's eyes are being formed now!!! isn't that too cute, 'toru?"

"it is, cookie," he hums without any hesitation, six eyes activating one more time to zero in on that teeny-tiny spark. then deactivating when he looks back up to your sleepy eyes. a terribly tickled, equally wicked glimmer creeps into his grin. "so our baby is just like a tiny ball of cells with two big blue eyes, huh? they must look so scary, heh— ouch!"

your pinch did not really pain him, but gojo does his best to mimic an awfully wounded puppy, sogging wet from the rain and waiting at the doorstep with his moving blue eyes— it takes less than three seconds before you let go of your glare with a sigh.

you massaging the sore spot on his arm, your husband watches you give yet another sigh.

"first of all, there's no guarantee our baby will have your eye color and not mine, 'toru," you explain, pinning him under your drowsy stare, "it is very difficult to predict that for sure— and secondly: i'll punch you if you ever call our baby scary— sure, they don't really look like a human in this moment, but they'll slowly get there in forty weeks— as per the website, their face, hands and feet are forming in the ninth—"

"okay, alright!! i get your point, my insanely smart, insanely beautiful, insanely sexy wife," gojo cuts in, smiling while warning bells chime in his head at the faintest gloss in your eyes—

but maybe they weren't noisy enough. that is why he doesn't bite his tongue, rather continuing, "but you weren't actually blaming our poor human-ey baby for your clinginess, were you? it's not like they have a telepathic communication set up with you— hell, maybe they haven't even started forming their brain!"

"the baby's brain starts forming by the fifth week, satoru," your quiet reply reaches him exactly when he gets his last giggle out. the moist sheen in your eyes grows more prominent.

and his insides begin to twist—

one-third helpless. two-thirds contrite.

you don't stop talking, tone lower than he has heard you use in nearly forever, "and you better not comment on my bond with our baby— i'll punch you twice if you—"

"i wasn't doing that and i promise to never make you feel that way, my cutie-pie cookie," gojo interrupts, voice far gentler than earlier, just as low as yours, "but feel free to throw me out the house if i ever do that, even accidentally. okay?"

you're not okay.

you never are, when it comes to you being actually harsh to him, even when he's the one asking you to be— shakespeare once called love to be blind— your husband doesn't think you're blind, however. it is your well-contemplated decision to see his mistakes and see each of them as excusable, perfectly pardonable, no matter how silly or serious the world might regard them to be—

you make a noise. somewhat annoyed. unhappy too, yeah. before you push your face into the crook of his neck, nose nuzzling into the flesh there.

you would have bitten him by now. but he reckons you might be a bit too tired for all that. you couldn't even finish your dinner before facing the urge to throw up tonight, yet again.

feeling sorry, almost, gojo resumes his ministrations to your hair, half because you need to fall asleep now; the hands on the clock are close to striking midnight. the other half because he just loves playing with your hair— only to still when you suddenly pull your head back.

brows furrowed as you peer at him, eyes big and earnest.

"you don't really mind when i hug you like this, do you, 'toru?"

"no, cookie!! of course not!!" the man wastes not even a breath before he rushes to explain— because seriously, what!??

sure, he wasn't the first one to fall between you two. but ever since he did fall, he has never not expressed how every second away from you, every fraction of an instant away from you, causes him pain.

and yeah, he might have been a tad too dramatic whilst doing so, but you've always been so good at reading him— then why on earth can't you read him now? why don't you read, he loves it when you seek him out, he loves you more than anyone and anything else??

"good," your satisfied little chirp gives him a light shove away from his frantic thoughts. something tells him he should be put on alert by the way your lips curve into a smug smile next.

but gojo finds himself uncaring. just immensely relieved as he trails his fingers from the back of your head to your chin. thumb reaching out to brush the corner of your infectious smile. you continue.

"but even if you did mind, sorry not sorry— you were the one who put the ring on my finger, so you have to deal with everything i'm, mister!! no refunds nor complaints can be filed here, gojo-san~"

and neither refunds nor complaints he wishes to file, satoru muses to himself as he cups your cheek in one hand. bending down to steal the taste of your beam, your tease, your love for him on his tongue—

not when he has received the world in exchange for letting go of that poor splintered mess of a heart, he used to call his, but is now yours.

and will always stay yours—

"hey 'toru— what will you do if i chomp on your fingers right now, like really hard? will you yell? or will you be the freak that you're and enjoy it, huh?"

gojo pauses.

and wonders.

is there any binding vow one can make to secure oneself to another in every lifetime, for all eternity?

he hopes there is.

your husband really, seriously hopes there is—

'cause no way in heaven, earth or hell, does gojo satoru want to let go of you— and he will not let go of you.

this idea was ROTTING in my brain for ages, but wht gave me the spark– the boost to write this was the wonderful sukuna fic written by ari @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat ❤️❤️❤️ i seriously love u & ur writings sm, babes 🥹🥹 everyone pls go check their masterlist out. it's studded w diamonds and pearls 😌😌🥰

and this is also for my sweet & sour bestie mimi @avatarofstars 🤭🤭— u 🤝 me in being clingy af towards our fictional hubbies 😂😂🥰

hope this was an enjoyable read! pls don't plagiarise, translate or repost this ❤️❤️

masterlist

#gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #gojo x reader #jjk x you #jjk x reader #kit posts 📝

[a-crumb-of-whump]

Content: Rescue, recovery, touch starvation.

"This isn't real."

Caretaker frowned. Whumpee had been so excited to see them just mere hours ago. Now, they sat curled up on the floor with a blanket wrapped around their shoulders, pressed up against the corner of the room in an attempt to escape them.

"What isn't real?"

"Everything," they breathed in response. "None of this is real. It- it can't be, right? I'm gonna wake up soon. I have to."

Tentatively, Caretaker took a few steps forward before crouching down in an attempt to appear less intimidating. They knew that trying to convince them that this was real would be impossible. So, they considered the next best option.

"What can I do to make you feel more comfortable, Whumpee?"

There was a short pause as the small being struggled to come up with a response. "Can I-" They cut themselves off with a sob. "Can I touch you? Please? I miss you so- so much."

Caretaker immediately sat down on the floor, ignoring the weight in their chest as they held out their arms for them. "Of course you can. I've missed you, too."

They almost couldn't bare to move as Whumpee reached out to touch the palm of their hand. It felt as though they were coaxing a frightened animal out of hiding.

As soon as they felt Caretaker's skin against their own, they let out another small sob and pulled their hand to their cheek. Every part of them trembled, as if frightened that it would all go away.

With a gentle smile, Caretaker held the side of Whumpee's face in their hand, stroking their cheek with their thumb as they held onto them. "See? I'm here, and I'm real. You're home."

"I'm ho-ome," they whispered, as if trying to convince themself of it. Then, without a second thought, they practically threw themselves into Caretaker's arms, pressing themself as close as they possible could. "I'm home."

#whump #whump stuff #whump things #whump thoughts #whump scenarios #whump tropes #whumpee #caretaker

[serafilms]

song 44! long story short (taylor swift) + lee anton (spotify wrapped event)

no more keeping score, now i just keep you warm, and my waves meet your shore ever and evermore

You don’t think you’ll ever find a feeling better than that of Anton’s face pressed in your neck, arms wrapped around your waist.

He nuzzles the space between your jaw and collar, and whispers out an, “I love you.”

Warmth spreads through your stomach. Okay well, maybe this is a better feeling.

You don’t know where you’d be without Anton Lee, really. He’s your solace, sanctuary, soulmate. He’s your greatest love, he’s your everything. This industry is hard to work in, even harder to survive in. You’ve been knocked down harder than you ever thought you could, pushed off the edge of the cliff and left hanging on the edge by your fingertips.

Anton was the one who pulled you back up.

It’s a sudden, jolting feeling to realise that he’s real, and he’s right here tangled up with you in your bed. That he’s not a dream, or some guardian angel you’ve conjured up in your head.

The hoodie he’s wearing is soft. The fabric is heavy and thick and feels so real, and tangible, that you find your fingers gripping at it like a lifeline. He’s real, he’s real, he’s real.

“I love you too,” you whisper back.

Your heart feels heavy. It’s the feeling of knowing that you’re home, that this is where you’re meant to be and where you know you’ll always return, but also knowing that you’ll soon have to leave and you don’t know how long you’ll be gone. So rarely do you and Anton find the time to be with each other. And the cycle will restart.

You live in peace, but the battle is never ending. What you would give to stay in this little cabin in the woods that you’ve built in your mind. Just the two of you, forever and ever.

It’s not until the year has rolled down your cheek and brushed Anton’s forehead that you realise you’ve begun to cry. Anton pulls away from you and sits up a bit, hands coming to rest on your cheeks as his thumb wipes the tear away.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” His eyes search yours imploringly. His voice is so soft and so gentle that your heart aches even more. It’s as if it’s reaching out to close the gap between you, however small it is.

“You’re my everything.” Your voice comes out as even less than a whisper. You’re not even sure that you could hear yourself say it. But he did.

There’s a soft smile that graces his lips as he leans forward to kiss your forehead, and then your lips.

The feeling is everything, and the way he looks at you as you pull away tell you he understands you in a way nobody else can.

“I miss you already, and you haven’t even left yet.”

Anton’s eyes crinkle as he laughs. The sound is so familiar and warm, you find yourself drawing closer. “This is just one chapter. Our story is just beginning.”

At your silence, he presses another kiss to your lips and reaches up to brush his fingers along your hairline.

“You know what happens at the end of our story?”

Your hands come to rest on his waist. The corporeality of his body reminds you again of how true his existence is, of how much he is yours. You shake your head, and Anton’s lips twitch upwards as he gazes at you with all the stars in his eyes.

“I come home to you.”

#i’m in a mood. #this is me coping with the fact that anton is in fact Not Real and Not Mine #ignore that this event was last updated 4 months ago. #anton x reader #lee anton x reader #anton lee x reader #lee anton #anton lee #anton #riize #riize x reader #riize imagines #riize anton #anton riize #riize scenarios #riize fluff #riize imagine #anton imagines #2023 spotify wrapped event ! #written works !

[st-el-la-luna]

I Was Kidding Part Two: The Build-Up (Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x Reader)

NSFW 18+

After his accidental, still somewhat drunken confession, Gaz and you enjoy the things people can do when they become more than friends ➔ afab!reader (you/your pronouns), implied alcohol consumption and drunkenness, hangover, crying, big feelings, making out, mentions of wet dreams, dry humping, sexual acts and fantasies, vomiting

1.7k

part one part two

Gaz almost feels like crying. 

Legitimately, he just might. 

Everything about this is unreal. It’s like a dream. The very dream he’s had a hundred times before. Gaz half expects that at any moment, he’s going to shoot awake in his own bed, trembling and alone. 

That he’s going to find an all too familiar sticky patch in his boxers. That the wetness will have seeped through the fabric and into a thick puddle on his bedsheets. 

That he’s going to find himself, once again, worked up beyond belief by nothing more than a wistful dream, brought so close to finishing only to have it torn away from him, leaving him with but a wretched yearning for your touch. 

That he, so hard and leaking precum like a faucet, so desperate for release, would have no choice but to rut against his mattress or his pillow. That he would have to shut his eyes, trying desperately to bring back the memory of your touch, imagined or not, back to the forefront of his mind. 

But now, as he rolls his hips again, harder and deeper than he had before. As his eyes flutter open just enough to see you arch your back, pressing against him. As he hears your moan, the sound warm and wet against his lips, the unimaginable is confirmed. This is actually happening. This is real. 

He bites back a choked sob. Blinks tears from his eyes. 

Holy shit. 

The movement of his hips fumbles for a moment, stuttering against your body, the tip of his cock lined up perfectly with your clothed entrance. He recovers after a pause, panting heavily, going from the occasional roll of his hips against yours to a steady grind. The constant feeling of being pressed up against you, even through the layers of clothes, is heavenly. Soon, the grinding makes way for a desperate, almost feral humping. His hips stutter and shake, hands fisting the bedsheets at your side so hard he thinks they might just tear. 

Gaz whines as he himself breaks the kiss, tongue lingering on your lips for a moment too long, needing to savour the taste however he can, licking over your mouth desperately, almost like a dog. Desperate and slobbery. He pulls back and takes it in. This is real. Holy shit. Holy shit, this is real. Gaz had confessed to you, and you to him. And now… now you two are making out, and you’re lying underneath him, hair disheveled, a heavy flush on your cheeks, spit-slicked lips swollen, eyes lidded and pupils blown wide. Because of him. All because of him. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” had anyone else said it, Gaz might have rolled his eyes. Maybe even laughed. But when you say it? In that low, honeyed purr he has never heard before and so desperately needs to hear again? Fuck. He practically melts. 

He ducks back down, your noses bumping awkwardly as you kiss, not that either of you care. Gaz's hands find their way to your waist, running up and down your sides. His hands shake as they graze your heated skin. 

You bring a hand up to card through his hair and slip your tongue into his mouth. You kiss him hard, sitting up slightly, pushing Gaz back a bit from the force. 

Gaz decides that he could die happy. Right here and now. 

A shaky moan falls from his lips, quickly swallowed by your own. The movement of his hips has become almost frenzied. He knows his boxers were way past saving. He can feel the precum that wets the fabric with every movement of his hips. His dick rubbing against it with each roll. It’s gross, sure, but at the same time, he finds so insanely hot. To think, he’s been reduced to such a state, from what? Just a bit of kissing? God, the effect you have on him is unreal. 

You hook a leg around his waist, pulling him closer than ever before, so close that he can feel the arousal that has soaked through the crotch of your sleep shorts, against his own ruined boxers. He can feel the slickness of your thighs, the dip of your entrance. Oh, fuck. Gaz whimpers as he realizes that, if it weren’t for the clothes between you, he’d be slipping inside your warm, wet heat. You pull him closer still, and he can feel your clit throb against him through the layers, Gaz just about cums on the spot. 

It’s when Gaz finds the courage to move his hands a little higher up, thumb resting just under your breasts, fingers fanning down your sides. That it suddenly becomes too real. 

He’s suddenly very aware of something. And not the tent in his boxers. 

Gaz jerks back. You, who had just brought your other hand to his hip, tucking under his shirt to play at the skin along his waistband, look at him in wide-eyed surprise. 

“I’m sorry,” you say. Your pupils are blown, hazy. Spit dribbles from your lips and down your neck. Gaz watches for a moment, transfixed. You reach for him hesitantly and he suddenly remembers why he had to break the kiss in the first place. “I’m sorry… I-I got carried away. I didn’t think-” 

Gaz cuts your off abruptly as he lunges for the rubbish bin you keep near your desk. 

“Oh, shit,” you say. You hop from the bed and skirt around him, hands waving anxiously. 

Gaz's entire body heaves as he empties the entirety of his stomach contents all at once. Not knowing how to help, you shuffle up on the bed, closer to him. You sit behind him on the bed, rubbing comforting circles into his back as you coo comforting words, your breath fanning out over the back of Gaz's neck as you brush his hair from his face. 

That doesn’t really help the situation. 

After a long moment, Kyle is dry heaving. After another, he’s stopped entirely. 

He stares at the inside of the waste bin and contemplates drowning himself in his own sick. 

“You okay?” you ask, your voice laced with sweet concern. 

“Yeah,” he says, his voice shattering a bit as he stutters. “Yeah, I’m good.” 

He makes a face as he leans back, aware of the vomit that now spatters his shirt. You make a face at the sight. 

You stand, take the basket from his hands, and pet his head gently. “I’ll get you some more water. Then we can run you a shower, okay?” 

Gaz nods. He isn’t fully in his body anymore. He’s hovering somewhere in the corner, watching the scene from above like a ghost. God, he wishes he was a ghost. So that he wouldn’t have to live with this memory. So that he could fade away out of sight, invisible, and pretend this never happened. 

It was only when you leave the room that his consciousness returns to him. He buries his face in his hands and curses himself internally. 

“Come on,” your voice startles him. you have a towel slung over your shoulder and a fresh glass of water in your hand. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” 

Kyle stands on trembling legs and follows you to the bathroom without a word. He brushes his teeth as you prepare the shower for him, testing the water and adjusting it carefully. 

“There we go,” you breathe, setting your hands on your hips. You pause for a moment, eyes flickering anywhere but Gaz's own. You look to the ground and let out a shaky breath. “I… I’m sorry.” 

Gaz feels his heart drop to his stomach. “What?” 

“I shouldn’t have done that. You’re hungover. You're not thinking straight. I-I practically-” 

“No!” Gaz says a little too forcefully. “No. God, no. You have no idea how much I wanted this. How long I have waited for this. For you. I… fuck. I should be the one apologizing. I ruined everything. I mean, nothing kills the mood quicker than someone blowing chunks…” 

You laugh gently. “You’re not wrong,” your eyes soften, “I’m going to leave you to it, help yourself to whatever.” 

“Or,” Gaz swallows the lump of nerves in his throat, looking up at you through his lashes, his expression heated. “Or... you could join me.” 

“God....” You make a low, desperate sound at his offer, eyelids fluttering. You take a step back, grabbing onto the sink to steady yourself. “I want to, really, I do. So bad I can’t even begin to explain. But I need to clean up, and so do you.” 

“Right… Okay. See you after?” 

“After,” you confirm. 

*** 

Steam floods out of the bathroom like a heavy fog when Gaz finally leaves. Hearing noise down the hall, he heads towards it. You’re standing in your small kitchen, your back to him as you hum a quiet tune. 

You turn when he cleared his throat, and your jaw drops. Your eyes flicker down his form. His muscular chest bare and shining with droplets of water to the towel he’s tied loosely around his waist. 

“I… I made toast!” you say, a little too loudly, face burning as you look away. You grab the plate from the counter and hold it out to him, not meeting his eyes. “Are you hungry?” 

“I am,” Gaz says, stepping towards you. You squeak as he wraps his arms around your waist and pulled you close. Kyle watches the way your eyelids flutter as you press back onto his hardening cock, the way your lips part, an airy gasp falling free like a hushed prayer, and decides he could never go without this again. Gaz ducks his head down, pressing himself flush against your back, and licks a long, wet stripe up the side of your neck. His voice is a low growl, rumbling in the depths of his chest. “But not for food.” 

“Is that so?” you hum, reaching back to grab him by the hair at the nape of his neck. Fingers tangling in the dark locks, you pull his head down to connect their lips in a fervent kiss. Eyes lidded, breathing laboured, you whisper against Gaz's lips. “Well, I’ll be sure you get your fill.” 

please comment and reblog to support my writing!

Masterlist!

#call of duty #cod mwii #cod #x reader #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #kyle gaz x reader #cod x reader #cod smut #cod mw2

[totowlff]

chapter forty-six — the loneliest

➝ it's not always easy to deal with your own mind

➝ word count: 1,9k

➝ warnings: mental health issues

➝ author’s note: yes, it's an update. yes, it's a shorter chapter. yes, the conversation is based on real dialogues.

JULY, 2018

As she sat on the couch in Alma’s office, Elisabeth felt pathetic. She couldn’t help it. This always happened during her appointments. Alma had assured her that it was completely normal and that she was far from the only client that experienced such strong emotional releases, it didn’t matter.

She had already been sobbing in front of the therapist for 20 minutes, without being able to complete even a coherent sentence to answer the only question she had asked so far. Such a simple question, but it had been able to make her crumble under the weight of all the fear she still felt.

— I believe it has been a difficult few days for you — Alma said calmly, her hands folded gently in her lap. 

— Yes, very difficult — Elisabeth managed to say, as she dried her nose with the tissue she had taken from the small table next to the armchair she was sitting on.

— Is there any point that you have found more difficult? — Alma asked, as Elisabeth nodded — And what would it be?

Elisabeth took a few deep breaths, trying to contain the whirlwind of emotions that had taken over her since the beginning of the month. Then, after sniffling and drying her eyes, she looked at the therapist again.

— My father's hospitalization — she said, quietly.

— I believe you are following everything closely…

— At first, yes, but now…

Niki's first few days in the hospital were reassuring. The immunosuppression therapy had shown satisfactory results in a short time, which cheered everyone up. However, it didn't take long for predictions of a possible rise before the end of the summer break to turn into what they didn't want to hear.

Elisabeth had just returned from an appointment with the obstetrician when Marlene called her and told her, with a choked voice, about Niki's worsening situation, that he had been transferred to the ICU. She felt tears welling in her eyes as her mother described her father's situation, stating that his lung tissue was deteriorating rapidly.

However, the final blow was when Doctor Idzko said that all treatments had been exhausted at that point, leaving only one option left.

— He needs a double lung transplant to survive. 

Alma pursed her lips, seeming to absorb the impact of the information.

— I assume he's already in line waiting for the organs, right? — she asked, earning a positive nod from Elisabeth — And you, how do you feel about this situation?

— Anxious, anguished, scared, all of that together. It's like there really is a chance that my father will die and I — she hesitated for a few seconds, feeling her throat tighten. After taking a deep breath, Elisabeth continued — I don't want to lose my father.

Even the possibility of it left her feeling disoriented. She didn't see herself being able to move forward without her father's presence in her own life, especially considering the magical phase that was about to begin in her life. How could Elisabeth be a mother without having her father by her side, guiding her in the same way he had always done?

— Why?

She raised her head, hesitantly.

— Because I can't see myself without my father. I don't see myself living in a world where my father isn't present, by my side, supporting me…

Alma pressed her lips into a thin line.

— Elisabeth, you are aware that no one lives forever, right?

— Yes.

— And you understand that our lives, at some point, will come to an end, right?

— Yes, but this is not the time…

— Who is to say that? — the therapist asked, her voice serious.

Elisabeth stared at her in silence, frozen. Sighing, the woman continued.

— It's understandable to be afraid of dying and losing our loved ones, but it's impossible to predict when or how we will all leave. In the end, only today is a reality.

— I don't want him to die now, he can't — she stammered, her eyes full of tears.

— No one wants to lose the one they love, that goes for anyone — Alma explained to her — But that's not up to you to choose, Elisabeth. And, in a way, we need to be prepared for that. To die, you just need to be alive.

She looked down at her hands, the diamonds on her fingers seeming to sparkle with tears. That statement was brutal, not to say cruel. How could life be something so intense and, at the same time, so delicate?

— I think this situation hurts more because you are living on both sides of the coin at the same time, dealing with a departure and an imminent arrival…

Elisabeth pursed her lips, her eyes dropping to her belly. That dichotomy was painful, especially because it was something she had always longed for, which was to see her father becoming her children's grandfather. And that seemed increasingly distant at that moment.

— Can I ask you something? — Alma said, making her wake up from her own thoughts and look up at the therapist.

— Yeah…

— Are you afraid of being alone?

She pressed her lips together tightly.

— Well, not necessarily. I've been alone on several occasions…

— I mean being without your parents, your siblings and your partner. Are you afraid of being completely alone in the world?

— Not a very pleasant prospect, is it?

— But it's perfectly plausible. No one is eternal, Elisabeth, and we never know what could happen the next minute — Alma explained, while her foot swayed slowly — So, do you have this fear?

Elisabeth had never stopped to think about it, but, in a way, it seemed too obvious. She couldn't remember a time when she was, in fact, alone. There was always someone around, whether it was his parents, his brothers and, more recently, Toto. There was always someone she could count on to provide support when needed.

But what about when there was no one?

— Do you think I'm afraid of being alone?

— You tell me, Elisabeth. Do you have this fear?

— I don't know.

Alma smiled.

— I think you know.

Of course she did.

She knew because she felt the agony building every time she woke up alone in bed in the morning. She knew why she had to face her classmates with her head down and pray that they would ignore her presence there, without telling anyone how they had made her life a living hell. She knew because she had experienced loneliness and rejection as a teenager and hated it.

Elisabeth was afraid of being alone.

She was afraid of not having anyone by her side, of being abandoned, of seeing everyone leave and her being left behind. She was afraid of not having anyone around her who understood her, no one who saw her as she really was and welcomed her with the love she had accepted she deserved, no matter how much she thought she was a complete disaster.

— I think I… have that…

Alma tilted her head.

— Fear?

— Yes, that fear.

— And why are you afraid?

— Because it's bad.

— What is ‘it’? — Alma raised an eyebrow.

— The loneliness. Loneliness sucks. And I don't want to be alone.

— Well, if we think about it — the woman began, looking at the notepad she had in her hand — You're not really alone when there's no one around. You're in your own company.

— I don't like my own company — Elisabeth replied.

— Why not?

She remained silent for a few seconds, thinking about the right words.

— Because I'm not a pleasant person to be around.

— You don’t think so? — Alma questioned — From what you told me, you have loving parents, brothers who really like you and a very loving partner, as well as a child on the way...

— But I don't feel like I’m very pleasant to be around, Alma. I feel like I'm a burden that everyone has been condemned to carry...

The therapist gave a small smile.

— I can assure you that you are not a burden, Elisabeth. And, if you have any doubts, try asking anyone around you and tell me the answers in the next session.

After saying goodbye to Alma, Elisabeth drove back to the penthouse in silence, the woman's words reverberating in her head. In just one session, she had realized that she couldn't change her father's fate and that she would be alone, one way or another, and that she would need to get used to her own company.

It seemed like a bleak prognosis.

She was still thinking about the therapist's speech about death when she entered the apartment, seeing Toto sitting on the couch with his iPad.

— Good evening, Liesl — he said, giving a smile, to which she responded shyly.

— Hello, darling.

— Is everything okay? — the team principal asked, setting the tablet on the coffee table while Elisabeth walked over, dropping her coat and bag on the armchair before dropping down next to him with a groan of pain.

— Yeah, everything is fine.

— How was therapy?

— Therapeutic — she replied without much emotion in her voice, making him laugh.

— That's good, it means it's working — Toto said, as he put an arm behind her head and brought her close to him. With her head resting on his shoulder, Elisabeth felt her body react to his heat and familiar scent, her muscles slowly relaxing, as if her unconscious mind knew that she was safe there — And our aprikose?

— They are making my feet swell and making me feel like crying about everything, but other than that, they’re fine. 

— That's good — he smiled, placing a hand on her belly — No more kicks?

— We don't know if they're kicks — Elisabeth murmured.

— Due to the gestational age, they could very well be — Toto said, smiling — And that means we're going to have a very active person to keep us company in this house.

She would have smiled too, if it weren't for the memory of the conversation with Alma. And that didn't go unnoticed by the team leader.

— Are you okay, my love?

— Yes, I was just thinking.

— What were you thinking about?

Elisabeth pursed her lips, hesitating for a few seconds.

— Whether our child will enjoy my company.

Toto raised an eyebrow.

— Liesl, it’s our child. Of course he will enjoy your company, you are his mother.

— But he might find me too boring and not want anything to do with me.

A giggle escaped the team principal's lips.

— Are you listening to what you're saying?

— Am I wrong?

— Yes!  — Toto exclaimed — You've never been so wrong in your life.

— But I…

He adjusted himself on the couch and placed his hands on her face.

— You are incredible, Elisabeth. You are smart, witty, funny and, above all, loving. You will be a wonderful mother to our baby and I am absolutely sure that he or she will not find you boring or will not want your company.

The words filled her eyes with tears.

— And you? — she stammered.

— Are you asking if I enjoy your company? — Toto returned the question with a smile — Know that, if I didn't enjoy your company, I wouldn't have asked you that question in the office.

Elisabeth blinked.

— Which one?

Taking her right hand, the team principal lifted it until it was between them.

— The one who put this ring on your finger.

Looking at the diamond, a small smile appeared on Elisabeth's lips.

— Can you promise me something? — she asked softly.

— Anything.

— Don’t leave me alone.

It was Toto's turn to smile.

— Not even if you want to, Liesl. I promise you, my love.

#wlffog #formula 1 fic #f1 fic #toto wolff #formula 1 fanfic #f1 fanfic #scwlff #f1 x oc #toto wolff x oc #formula 1 x oc #formula one x oc #toto wolff fanfic #formula one fanfic

[piratefishmama]

Steve very smoothly taking the reins at a gay club when Eddie "i've been here SO many times just follow my lead" Munson deer in headlights it the second he's thrown into the deep end of dancing sweaty bodies, loud non-metal music and opportunity for actual queer interaction on a Fruity Four weekend out in Indy.

Steve guiding him onto the dance floor, helping him to loosen up a little, gently reminding Eddie to keep his eyes on him whenever someone gets a little too close and

Oh yeah, Steve hasnt actually come out to anyone yet, he's just there as the 'token straight guy', he hasnt really thought too hard about it just yet, although maybe he should because Eddie does have such pretty plush lips and those big brown eyes are staring at him like he's goddamn hypnotized--

an Nancy an Robin are watching from the bar placing bets on how long it'll take them to disappear into the smoking area to make out against a wall.

#steddie #shenanigans #STEVE JUST #TAKING CARE OF A VERY OUT OF HIS ELEMENT EDDIE #EDDIE KNOWS BARS #HE KNOWS LOUD MUSIC #BUT HE'S RARELY IN /THAT/ KIND OF PLACE #WHERE HE CAN SWAY WITH ANOTHER MAN #PRESS UP REAL CLOSE AND JUST /FEEL/ EVERYTHING #and it's STEVE doing that for him #help him #or dont hes fine

[headphonemouse]

Nothing in my life has ever tasted as good as how I imagine cartoon meat that looks like this tastes

#talking tag #orv groundrat meat and yanaspleta stem #literally the only type of meat they eat in one piece #it's funny how in orv when kdj makes bbq skewers they all look like this but when yjh makes skeweres they look like normal ass skewers with #vegetables and everything #it's yjh the only person who has any culinary sense? the real answer is no. kdj is actually capable in the kitchen. the funnier answer is #that yjh was so fed up with being the only person in the universe to have taste buds and maybe a normal sized mouth that he spent an entire #regression turn learning how to perfect his cooking [this part at least is canon] just so he could convince at least one of his companions #to raise their standards and stop eating barely-chopped‚ unseasoned‚ straight off the bone monster meat #i think yjh would refuse to eat an apple unless it was peeled and sliced into cubes with little toothpicks #he wouldnt touch a sandwich until you passed it through a panini press #maybe it has something to do with diligence and intentionally putting effort into something often overlooked #its a lot of effort to cook delicious meals when the world is quite literally falling apart and reshaping itself but in a situation where #he doesnt even have control over his own death‚ he can only treat what he does have control over with the utmost diligence #cooking and eating good‚ healthy‚ SAFE food is something that is entirely his‚ i think #he doesnt need it to survive like fighting. its not a relic of his past that has lost its application like gaming. its a routine‚ a ritual #repeated daily #something that you do every day and by continuing to do it you create things that are more and more enjoyable. something that makes people #smile and feel satiated. something that gets everyone to sit close and share the joy of a single moment. a single meal #is it possible to get tired of that after repeating it so many times? every day? every day every month every year every turn #why doesnt he eat food made by other people? #because its not delicious #and the dumplings? #those were made by someone he loved. someone he loved put their time into mizing the filling and shaping the dough #someone he loves wants him to be safe and fed. and offered him dumplings that they made #was it delicious?

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ 4:08 AM — GOJO SATORU.

contents. fluff, established relationships, sleepy n cuddly toru :(, just needed to write this to cope with the 236 manga leaks i guess. i just love him tons sobs i need him happy and loved and peaceful

“hey,” you poke satoru’s chest, hearing a low groan rumble under your cheek, “toru?”

“hmm?” oh. he sounds a little tired—maybe you should let him sleep.

“you awake?” you ask anyway.

“am now,” he mumbles—well, he’s already awake, so you might as well indulge in it now. “need somethin’, sweetheart?”

“jus’ missed you is all,” you pout—that makes him grin despite the way he yawns, all wide and smooth even as he fights the sleep in his eyes. you feel just a bit guilty, reaching to cup his cheek and running a thumb over his eyelid carefully.

“yeah?” he chuckles quietly, “‘m right here. you still miss me?”

“yeah,” you whisper, “always miss you. even when you’re right here.”

satoru’s grinning into your cheek as he leans down and presses a wet kiss to the skin—he can’t possibly be mad that you’ve woken him so late. he can’t be mad when it’s you, and it’s him, and it’s each other.

sleep can wait, there’s always time for that later. but there’s never a moment where he wants to risk counting on later when it comes to you.

“what’d you miss about me?” he hums, nibbling on your earlobe as his head buries into your neck. you shift, letting his body tuck against yours as your arms wrap around him—he feels safe like this, somehow. infinity doesn’t make him feel nearly as secure as the way your arms do, tight and warm and made just for holding him.

“dunno,” you murmur, “everything.”

“love me that much?” he asks cheekily, “me sleeping right beside you isn’t enough?”

“no,” you huff, “you can’t pay attention to me in your sleep.”

“my needy baby,” he snickers, rubbing circles into the small of your back with his large palm. he’s warm against you—you can feel the rhythm of his heart as it beats against your body. he’s pressed so close to you, that not even air can slip through the cracks.

truthfully, you don’t know why you wake satoru. you don’t know why you can’t sleep—you just know that you need him. here. now. always. forever. more and more and more and even more.

“toru?” you ask quietly, making him hum as his eyes droop back shut slowly—he must really be tired.

you stare at him fondly, stroking his hair as he sighs happily at the feeling. and then you press a kiss to his forehead, to his cheek, to the corner of his eyes where they crinkle when he smiles, and to those lips of his that always find yours no matter how long it takes.

he always comes back to you. always. he never won’t—that much you trust.

“got somethin’ on your mind, baby?” he asks slowly, voice thick with sleep. you giggle, scratching at his scalp as he smiles lightly.

he dozing off—you watch him, hopelessly endeared.

“i love you,” you whisper, “need you to know that. love you so, so much. kay?”

he cracks an eye open—stares at you like you’re the reason his heart ever started beating, like you’re the only one that could ever command it to stop. every inch of his face is laced with love so gentle, you can see the way it makes his skin glow.

you love him. you’re sure he loves you. that’s all you need to know it’ll be fine. everything else is an afterthought—just as long as you have satoru.

“woke me just to confess your love for me?” he gasps, “you’re down bad. real, real bad. i must be a super handsome, totally awesome boyfriend. i do try,” he says cheekily.

you giggle, rolling your eyes as you pinch his cheek.

“be humble, you jerk,” you say exasperatedly.

it sounds more like you’re in love. too much fondness slipping into your voice that it might make your teeth hurt from how sweet. satoru’s always had a sweet tooth, though—he accepts your love graciously, like it’s never too much.

if fact, it might just not be enough. he needs more, more, more.

“can’t,” he says slowly, yawning again, “you waking me up just to love me is a bit ego boosting.”

“this was a mistake,” you scoff—its playful, it’s fond. it sounds like deeply falling headfirst.

“aw c’mon,” he pouts—and then he’s brushing his lips against your neck a he clings closer to you, curling into your body with his six-foot-something stature as you pull the blanket tighter around him, “love you too. what was it you said again? oh, right—so, so much.”

“good,” you hum, nodding in satisfaction. “you better.”

“i do,” he chuckles, “can i sleep now? or are we gonna start talking about all the things we love about each other? cause i can stay up to listen to that, of course.”

“go to sleep, you idiot,” you scoff.

he grins. you press one last kiss to his forehead as you count the soft breaths he takes while he falls back asleep.

you love him—it’s all you ever want to do.

i cried while writing this and i cried thinking about the leaks and i cried while reading the leaks and i cried and cried and i’m tired of crying. gege when i catch you gege 🔫

#teepods.writings #drabbles. #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo fluff #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru fluff #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen fluff

[slvttyplum]

after getting into a heated argument with suguru and wanting to make him jealous, you posted the most suggestive pictures, he and it worked like a charm.

no texts, no calls; just post on post, and suguru gets angrier by the second. his hand is gripping the phone so hard that his knuckles are turning white.

he couldn’t give in, though; he knew what you were trying to do, and he wasn’t having it; he was just going to watch from the sidelines and let it die over—that was until you blocked him.

you saw that he was lurking on your stories and watching everything you did, so you stopped that shit real quick, blocking his ass.

that’s when suguru has smoke blowing from his ears and couldn’t deal with it anymore, throwing his phone down and driving to your house.

banging on the door and rattling the doorknob, you walk to your door with nothing but shorts and a cami top.

suguru wastes no time throwing you over his shoulder, closes the door, and walks to your room, throwing you on the bed.

a smirk on your face the whole time his hands were roaming your body, this is exactly what you wanted. you wanted him to break so that he could fuck that attitude out of you.

“what’s going on? hm? why are you posting that shit?” his hands tugging on your shorts, throwing them beside the bed, and doing the same to your panties.

“you tell me.” and that threw him over the edge, taking your legs and turning you over to your stomach, taking his hands and putting one hand on your stomach and the other on your hips, pressing his bulge onto your ass.

“you wanna act like a slut? i’m going to treat you like one.” and that’s exactly what he did, pulling down his sweats and briefs, lining himself up with your entrance, and wasting no

time to slam into you.

a yelp from your mouth quickly turning into a moan as your back arches, his dick already finding your sweet spot, your thighs going weak.

“uhn, uhn, keep your position.” his hand that was previously on your stomach is going up to the arch of your back and pressing into it as he slams into you again.

another moan sliding past your lips as you feel him stretch your arm walls out. not expecting it to feel this overwhelming so fast. you reach your arm back to push him back, but he takes your wrist, then reaches down to grab your other one, pulling them back and pushing into you.

“fuck suguru! i can’t.” your voice is whiny as your back arches from the overwhelming amount of pleasure pouring down on you.

he pulls your arm back more as he slams into you again, but this time harder. you can feel the tip of his dick kissing your sweet spot each time.

“get louder if you really want me to stop.” letting go of your wrist and placing his hands on your ass, gripping your flesh.

each thrust getting harder and faster, so your voice erupts into high volume as you repeatedly moan, mumbling to yourself.

“please, baby, i can’t.” a low laugh coming from his mouth as he raises his hand off your ass and comes back down to place a hard slap.

the slap makes your back arch more, and that’s when you feel his tip press into your sweet spot like never before, your walls clenching around his length and your body jolting.

a long moan sliding out of your mouth, and your eyes squinting. suguru quickly pulled out and took his hand off your ass and put it around his dick, teasing your folds as fluids came out.

“ohhhh look at that.” your voice is going quiet from how exhausted you were already, and suguru is hunching over you and placing a kiss on your cheek.

“i’m not done.”

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujustsu kaisen x reader #x reader #jjk suguru #jjk geto #jujutsu suguru #getou suguru x y/n #getou suguru x you #suguru geto smut #getou suguru x reader #jujutsu kaisen suguru #geto suguru #jujutsu geto #geto x you #geto smut #geto x reader #geto x y/n

[witchwyfe]

karma is my boyfriend - rc

pairing - (non-canon) Rafe Cameron x female reader

précis - a lil princess treatment from rafe :)

content/warnings - mentions of alcohol/alcohol consumption, fluff,

word count - 673

"Rafe, Rafe!?" You're spinning around, looking for your boyfriend until suddenly you whirl around and bump into a broad chest.

"Hey!" You gasp, until you look up and see his face. "Oh! Hi baby!" You coo, reaching up to cup his cheeks. 

"Hi sweet girl." He smiles, running his thumb along your cheekbone. 

You greet him happily, leaning in to his touch. "Did you get my drink?" You wonder, suddenly remembering why he left you in the first place.

"Hmm, sure did." He nods, handing you an ice water rather than the vodka redbull you'd requested.

You don't seem to notice though, slipping the paper straw into your mouth and slurping it down happily.

"We gonna dance s'more?" You wonder, straw between your lips.

"We can't, baby," He says, smoothing a hand down the back of your head. "They're closing."

"Nooo!" You groan, throwing your head back.

"I know, I know," He soothes. "But we can go home and get some snacks and watch a show...?" He offers.

"Okay!" You're smiling once again, digging your fingers into his tee shirt.

"Finish your drink and we'll go home, kay?" 

You nod, bypassing the straw and tipping the rest of the water into your mouth, before handing your empty glass to Rafe.

You're not even that drunk, really just a little past tipsy but you're fine with letting Rafe handle everything and take care of you.

Suddenly his jacket is being draped over your shoulders, coupled with a soft kiss to the top of your head. 

"Thank you." You simper. You slide your arms into the sleeves and blink up at your boyfriend.

"Ready?"

"Ready."

You lead him out of the bar, arms shoved into the pockets of his jacket, while he has your little purse slung over his shoulder, your phone, his phone, and the keys all in one hand.

"How much farther?" You ask a few moments later, looking back at him.

"Not too much," He frowns looking out at the street. When the two of you arrived at the club, hours before, he'd had to park his car somewhat far due to the lack of space. "Your feet hurting, baby?"

You shrug a shoulder. "Yeah." You nod. "But it's just till the car then I'll take my shoes off."

"C'mere," He says, shoving both of your phones into his pocket.

"What?" You wonder, turning to give him a coy smile.

Your sweet boyfriend kneels down on the dirty sidewalk, taking your ankle into his hands so he can unbuckle your heel. You're flustered beyond words, heat rising on your cheeks while Rafe's rough palm softly works your foot out of your strappy shoe. 

"Stand on my foot babe, so I can take your other shoe off." He says, running his hand up your calf. 

Once both of your heels are dangling from his hand, he scoops you into his arms, bridal style.

"Are you sure, Rafe?" You wonder softly. "I feel bad, you don't--"

"You have nothing to feel bad about." He assures, lips at your temple. "Just let me take you to the car, okay gorgeous?"

"Okay." You hum happily, relaxing in his hold.

Your arms are sling around your neck and you have easy access to his neck if you strain a little--and you do--at least five times on the way to the car, so you can kiss his neck.

He pretends like he's not flustered by it, but you can see the rosy glow of his cheeks from the street lamps, the harsh light making him appear ethereal and you have to shut your eyes for a second to remember he's real.

You’re still in a fond trance when he uses one hand to open the car door and gently deposit you into the passenger seat. He buckles your seatbelt and tugs on it, before pressing a kiss to your temple. 

“Love you,” You croon, leaning back against the seat to look at him. 

“Love you so much more.” He promises. “C’mere angel, gimme a kiss.”

© witchwyfe 2024. absolutely no reposting, translating, or modifying, even with credit.

#mine #my work #my writing #witchwyfe #witchwyfe writing #rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron oneshot #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron fluff #outer banks fanfiction #cw alchohol mention

[l1tw1ck]

stepdad who gets off on being recorded

bottom ftm stepdad x top amab reader

think: gallagher hsr, joel miller, miguel o'hara, enji todoroki, etc

cw: afab language, voyeurism, creampie

When you got home early the last thing you were expecting was to hear the moans of your stepdad, let alone seeing him record himself. You couldn't ignore this, it's impossible to pry your eyes away from him through the crack of the door.

He stares at the tripod in front of him, slowly fucking himself with a thick and clear dildo. He's only wearing a button up, the buttons undone in a way to show off his big and hairy chest. You palm your boner and watch as his plump pussy sucks in the fake dick, covering it with his juicy slick. He picks up the pace and throws his head back, filling the room with even dirtier sounds. He moans your name, causing you to pause. "Gon- gonna squirt f'you~" He bites his lip. You remain still and stare at him, completely mesmerized. He squirts, just as he promised. He takes out the dildo and places it next to him. You feel your cock begging to be freed and take the dildo's place. You open up the door and he jumps in shock. "You- you're home early.." He says sheepishly.

"I had no idea that you were such a slut." You smirk, walking towards him. "You like recording yourself? Imagining your stepson fucking your slutty pussy while you whore yourself out in front of a camera?"

He nods, trembling.

"You want the real thing though, don't you?" You unbuckle your belt. He lets out a desperate whimper, cunt throbbing as he sees your hard cock in all its glory. You take his phone and position it so that it records his entire body and slap his pussy with your cock, making him twitch. You steadily inch your cock inside his warmth. "You're tight." You groan, watching his pussy swallow you with a hot and wet hug.

☆

Your stepdad cries out in pleasure, his head pressed against the pillow as you plow into him. The gaze of both you and his camera making it all the more pleasurable. He moans your name. "Clo- close~!"

"Gonna squirt for me again, baby?" You grin, stroking his t-dick.

"Ye- yes!" He tries to say something else but gets interrupted by his orgasm, clear liquid soaking your cock.

Your thrusts become uneven, his tight walls squeezing you encourages your cock to release everything it has inside him. Your cum floods his insides, causing your stepdad to have a small orgasm. You point the camera at his pussy and slowly pull out. You feel yourself getting hard again as you watch your cum flow out of his hole. He's so sexy.

#wicks🕯️shorts #top male reader #male reader #amab reader #tw stepcest #ftm character #sub character #afab character #dom male reader #sub male character

[queenie-the-court-jester]

you'll be back.

Yandere rockstar x reader

A/n: this was very rushed so I'll fix it later, but please enjoy! 🌺

Tw: dub con turns to non con, breeding kink, obsessive behavior, yandere ex boyfriend, very minor angst

🎸you hated him. Hated his guts, his handsome looks, the way he'd wrap his arm around your waist as if you were still dating. His spotless dark skin you were so envious of, that dumb charismatic smile. You hated it. Why did he do this to you? Always running back and begging you to let him stay for a while. And you'd let him. Why? You didn't know

🔥 Maxine knew. It's because you still loved him. He knew you did. Why else would you let him climb into your bed and hold you close? Why else would you let him kiss your lips? Why else would you let him undress you slowly with so much love

🎸he was a mess for you, no matter how many fans he had, they could never replace you. All the girls he slept with after your breakup? None of them compared. He loved you more than his love for the life he had. But if he did, why did he pick it over you?

🔥 highschool sweethearts, well, up until you both graduated and he started a band. They were small, but slowly grew in the following year. Having multiple companies reach out in hopes of striking a record deal. Soon, nightly Melodies came to be.

🎸you forgot his bandmates names, they weren't really important to you since they didn't bother trying to know their leaders lover. Good riddance you say. You never liked how that drummer kept staring at him.. not to mention his fans were psychopaths. Harassing you online and sometimes even in real life. He didn't even care after you'd complain about it

🔥you were eachother's first time, first everything. So ofcourse it hurt when you finally confronted him after he skipped your date night for the 10th time that month. He never had time for you anymore, brushing you off in favor of hanging out with his "friends"

"just calm down babe geez.. it's not that big of a deal.."

"not that big huh? Well then, if you care so little about actually being a good boyfriend, consider yourself single."

🎸you left him to stare at you in shock as you packed your bags, he tried stopping you. Begging you to stay, blocking the door, standing behind your car as you tried driving away. He promised he could change. But you knew otherwise. You were done

🔥months later, he stalks your socials and keeps sending you gifts. All until you start to crumble and let him in slowly. He knew you wouldn't last long. His reputation and band be damned. All he wanted was you.

🔞you could only stare at him, unsure as he kissed the valley between your breasts and trailed lower, hands rubbing up and down your sides. You could feel his dick press against your leg, your clothing scattered all over the bedroom floor

"there there pretty baby.. let me take care of you hm? Such a good girl.. want me to fuck this pretty pussy as a reward? Hm?"

🔞he slowly pushes the tip inside after teasing you relentlessly for what seemed like hours. Letting out Little groans as he slipped in inch by inch. Praising you for taking him so well, cutting himself off and letting out a lewd gasp after he felt you squeeze him

🔞 he starts off slow and steady, he doesn't last long as he's practically fucking you into the bed. Crying out tears of euphoria at the feeling of you sucking him in deeper, the tip bullying your cervix

"f-uuuckkk pretty ma', hah.. I don't think I can last long- a-ah!"

🔞he refuses to stop after cumming inside you once. Babbling something about knocking you up and filling you up with his children. Gathering some sense of clarity you tried begging him to stop, but he clamped a hand over your mouth. Pinning you down and angling your hips higher. Blue eyes staring down at you with manic glee

🔞drool drips down his chest as he pants and groans, he only stops until he's fully drained and each touch of his skin makes his hips spasm. Pulling you flush against him he practically purrs, nuzzling his face into your chest. You couldn't help but wince at the cold feeling of his lip piercings rub against your bare skin. Tiredly reaching a hand up to play with his dark curly hair

🔞you better hope the test comes back positive, because if it doesn't he'll just keep going every night until you're swollen with his child. This may dampen his image a bit but he couldn't care less. Staring fondly at your tummy and the ring on your finger. He was holding your hand as you both Walked into an important event, He couldn't wait to introduce you to everyone as his wife!

#yandere x reader #yandere x darling #queenie writes #queenie ocs #ocs #yandere #yandere male #yandere male x reader #male yandere #Yandere oc x reader #Yandere oc #yandere oc x you #yandere oc x y/n #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere fic #Maxine the rockstar #Yandere smut #yandere writing #yandere x you #Yandere rockstar x reader #Yandere ex boyfriend x reader

[pucksandpower]

Changing Lanes

Charles Leclerc x Horner!Reader

Summary: Charles Leclerc always thought he would spend the rest of his career racing in red. But you make him see that he deserves better than false promises and unrequited love

“Took you long enough,” you say, lounging casually on the small leather couch in Charles’ driver’s room, your fingertips tracing intricate patterns on the cushion beside you.

Charles raises an eyebrow, letting out a dry laugh as he kicks off his shoes. “Every single time I see you, Y/N, you always have something to say.”

You linger on him. “Is it my fault you had to chat with the entire paddock before coming here?”

He smirks, crossing the room. “It’s called being polite. Something you could learn from.”

“Polite?” You scoff, feigning innocence. “Oh, like how Ferrari celebrated that P3 like it was a win? That kind of polite?”

Charles stiffens but he keeps his cool. “We take what we can get.”

You tilt your head, eyes narrowing. “Starting on pole and settling for P3? Charles, you deserve better.”

“I know,” he sighs, avoiding your gaze. “But this is racing. Sometimes it just doesn’t go your way.”

You lean in closer, your voice dropping an octave. “It could, though. If you were with a team that actually valued you, that gave you a car worthy of your talent.”

He looks up, meeting your gaze with a challenge. “You mean Red Bull?”

A coy smile plays on your lips. “It’s not a secret that Dad wants you. And imagine … you, in a competitive car, and me, right by your side as your race engineer.”

Charles’ eyes dart to your lips then back up to your eyes. “Tempting,” he murmurs, leaning in just a fraction closer. “But is this for the team or for you?”

“Can’t it be both?” You whisper back.

His breath hitches and he pulls back slightly. “This isn’t just about racing, is it?”

You hesitate. “I see how they treat you. How they let you down time and time again. But with us ... with me ... it would be different.”

He looks conflicted. “It’s not that simple.”

“Why not?” You press. “With Red Bull, you’d have support, a competitive car, and … me.”

Charles sighs, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not just about what happens on track. It’s about the politics, the contracts, the media ... it’s all complicated.”

“You make it sound like an impossible puzzle,” you say, tracing circles on his wrist. You gaze locks with his, trying to convey everything you feel.

“It might be.”

You lean in, lips just inches from his. “Then let’s solve it together.”

He hesitates, searching your eyes. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Y/N.”

You smirk, confidence oozing from every pore. “Isn’t that what racing’s all about?”

Charles chuckles softly, the tension in the room slowly melting away. “You always have an answer for everything.”

“It’s the Horner in me,” you retort with a smug smile. “Besides, aren’t you tired of being just another pawn in Ferrari’s game?”

“It’s not easy. To just switch teams, to give up on something you’ve worked for your entire life.”

You reach up, tucking a stray lock of hair behind his ear. “Who says you’re giving up? You’d be making a choice. A choice to be somewhere you’re valued. Somewhere you have a real shot at the championship. With people who truly care about you and actions that reflect that.”

He closes his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. “It’s not just about the racing. There are so many other factors.”

“Like what?”

He opens his eyes, meeting yours. “Like us.”

You blink, taken aback. “What do you mean?”

“If I come to Red Bull … if I work with you … it changes everything. Our relationship. Our dynamic. Everything.”

You take a moment, absorbing his words. “We can handle it. We’re strong enough.”

He gives you a sad smile. “I wish I had your confidence.”

You cup his cheek, your thumb stroking his skin. “You have me. Together, we can face anything.”

Charles looks at you for a long moment, his emotions raw and exposed. Finally, he speaks. “I’ll think about it. But whatever I decide … know that it’s not just about racing. I refuse to give you up.”

“Just promise me one thing.”

He raises an eyebrow. “What?”

You lean in, your lips brushing his ear. “Never settle for less than you deserve.”

He smiles, capturing your lips in a soft, lingering kiss. “Same goes for you, Y/N Horner.”

***

“I still can’t believe they forgot to remove the radiator blank,” you murmur, your fingers softly tracing patterns on Charles’ bare chest as he lies next to you in his São Paulo hotel. The dim light from the bedside lamp paints soft shadows on his face, emphasizing the frustration in his eyes.

Charles sighs heavily, turning his head to look at you. “Neither can I. Another race, another issue. I don’t even know why I’m surprised anymore.”

You lean in closer, lips brushing against his ear. “You don’t deserve this, Charles. You’re better than this. Better than them.”

He chuckles humorlessly, eyes closing. “It seems like it’s one thing after another.”

“Come to Red Bull,” you whisper, fingertips dancing down his arm. “You know it’s the right move.”

He opens his eyes, looking deep into yours. “Y/N, we talked about this.”

You press a gentle kiss on his jaw, speaking against his skin. “Hear me out. If McLaren overtakes Ferrari in the Constructors’ standings, you can activate your exit clause. You could leave them, Charles.”

Charles swallows hard, feeling the warmth of your breath on his neck. “And if they don’t?”

“Then we’ll buy you out,” you say confidently, trailing kisses down his collarbone. “Dad’s already spoken about it. We want you. I want you.”

Charles’ breath catches as your hands explore his torso but he tries to focus. “Equal status with Max?”

“Of course,” you assure him, pressing your body flush against his. “You and Max, racing side by side. Just think of the possibilities.”

He groans, both from your touch and the tempting offer. “A car designed by Adrian Newey ...”

You nod, “With plenty of oversteer, just how you like it. No more one-sided compromises.”

He laughs softly. “You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you?”

You smirk, lips hovering over his. “Always. And instead of Xavi, you’d hear my voice on the other end of the radio, guiding you, supporting you.”

Charles captures your lips with his, deepening the kiss before pulling back. “You’re making it very hard to think.”

“That’s the point,” you whisper with a playful grin, your hands tugging at his waistband.

He bites his lip, trying to resist your charms. “But Y/N ... it’s not just about the racing. It’s ... it’s us. What happens to us?”

You cup his cheek, gazing deep into his eyes. “We fight together, we win together. Every podium, every championship, we celebrate together.”

He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. “You make it sound so perfect.”

“It can be,” you promise, pressing soft kisses on his eyelids. “With Red Bull, you’d have everything you’ve ever dreamed of. And me.”

Charles smiles, caressing your cheek. “You’re very persuasive, you know?”

You grin. “It’s one of my many talents.”

He chuckles, capturing your lips once more. “I’ll think about it.”

“Whatever you decide, I’ll still be by your side.”

He smiles, pulling you closer. “I know. And that’s what makes this decision so hard.”

***

“Absolutely unbelievable,” your father mutters, watching the replay of Ferrari’s disastrous double stack. “You would think they’ve never done a pit stop before.”

You nod, equally shocked. But your attention shifts as the familiar figure of your favorite Monegasque storms into the Red Bull garage, his helmet still on and visor obscuring his face. You can feel the fury emanating from him.

“Charles?” You question hesitantly.

He doesn’t respond to you but instead turns to your father, “Christian, can we talk? Now. Somewhere private.”

Christian looks taken aback by the intensity in Charles’ voice but nods. “Of course.”

Charles glances at you. “You too, Y/N. Please.”

You follow, the weight of the moment heavy on your shoulders. Once inside the small office, Charles finally removes his helmet, revealing eyes red from restrained tears. He takes a moment, collecting himself before he speaks.

“I can’t do this anymore,” Charles exhales. “Every single time I think they’ve hit rock bottom, they find a new low. Today was the last straw.”

You approach him, gently placing a hand on his arm. “Charles, I’m so sorry.”

Your father is equally sympathetic. “That was hard to watch. I can’t even imagine what it felt like.”

Charles closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. “It’s not just today. It’s everything. I gave them everything. I wanted to win with them. For my father. For Jules.”

You swallow hard, emotions swirling. “They would be so incredibly proud of you. No matter what.”

He blinks back tears, voice strained. “I wanted to drive that red car to the top for them. But I can’t keep sacrificing myself for a team that clearly does not value me in return.”

Your father speaks up, “Charles, if you’re thinking of a change ... Red Bull is ready to welcome you with open arms.”

Charles looks up, locking eyes with him. “I know. And as much as Ferrari has been my dream, my home, I can’t do this anymore. I want to be with a team that values me. I want to join Red Bull.”

You’re taken aback by his sudden declaration but the look in his eyes tells you that he’s made up his mind. “Charles,” you whisper, stepping closer. “Are you absolutely sure?”

“It’s hard,” he admits. “But this is where my heart is telling me to go.”

Your father gives the two of you a moment, leaving the office to give you privacy.

Charles takes a shaky breath, pulling you close. “I never imagined leaving Ferrari. But after everything, I know it’s the right decision.”

You wrap your arms around him, resting your forehead against his. “They will be so proud of you, Charles. No matter what colors you wear or what car you drive.”

He smiles weakly. “Thank you. I really needed to hear that.”

You pull back slightly, searching his eyes. “This is a big step. I don’t want you to regret anything. Are you still sure?”

He nods, determination in his gaze. “More than I’ve ever been.”

You smile, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Then welcome to Red Bull.”

***

“I have to tell Ferrari,” Charles straightens, determination evident in his eyes. “I just need to get it over with. Will you come with me?”

“Of course.“

Charles grabs your hand, pulling you towards his driver’s room. “Wait here,” he says, going in and returning moments later with his Ferrari jacket. He places it over your Red Bull team polo, attempting to keep your allegiance concealed for now. You both then proceed to the debrief room where the Ferrari team is waiting.

Fred Vasseur begins his speech the moment you both enter, “This wasn’t how we wanted to end the year but looking ahead to next season—”

Charles cuts him off, “Actually, there won’t be a next season. Not for me.”

The room falls into a tense silence, all eyes on the driver who has given them his heart and soul.

“What do you mean?”

Charles takes a deep breath, “I’ve decided to leave Ferrari.”

Gasps fill the room. Fred’s eyes land on you, finally noticing the Red Bull logo peeking out from under the jacket you’re borrowing. “And you bring her, of all people, here to tell us this?”

Charles squares his shoulders. “Y/N is here because I asked her to be. This decision is mine and mine alone.”

Xavi stands up, “After everything we’ve done for you! This is how you repay us?”

You can’t hold back any longer. “Everything you’ve done? You mean the countless strategy mistakes, the endless car issues, the complete lack of support?”

Another team member cuts in, “This is not your place, Y/N!”

“It is today,” you retort. “I’m here to support my new driver.”

Charles’ voice shakes but he speaks with conviction, “I gave everything for this team. I bled Ferrari red. But I can’t keep doing this. Not when it’s clear that my effort and commitment is not matched in return.”

Fred’s voice softens. “Charles, we’ve had our challenges but we can overcome them together.”

Charles shakes his head, tears threatening to spill. “I’ve made up my mind. I’m joining Red Bull. My manager will send over the necessary legal paperwork as soon as possible.”

The room is filled with murmurs, disbelief evident on every face. Charles takes one last look around, his eyes filled with pain, and turns to leave.

You follow closely, feeling the weight of every step as you exit the debrief room.

The second you’re around the corner, Charles breaks down. He rests his forehead against the wall, tears rolling down his face silently. “I didn’t ... I didn’t think it would hurt this much.”

You pull him close and try to find the right words. “It was never going to be easy. But you did what you had to. For yourself. For your future.”

He turns to look at you, eyes red-rimmed but determined. “I just wanted to make them proud.”

You cup his cheek, wiping away a tear with your thumb. “They would be proud of you. Not for the badge you wear or the car you drive but for the man you’ve become.”

Charles takes a shaky breath, pulling you into a tight embrace. The two of you stand there for a moment, finding solace in each other’s presence.

When he finally pulls away, he manages a weak smile. “Thank you. For standing by me.”

You squeeze his hand. “Always.”

***

***

***

Charles stands in front of the massive two-story trophy wall at the Red Bull Racing factory in Milton Keynes, eyes wide with wonder. “Ferrari would never do something so ... gaudy.”

You smirk, sidling up next to him. “And yet, you love it.”

“I do,” he laughs. “It’s … different.”

You lean in, whispering conspiratorially, “Well, Ferrari hasn’t had all that much to exhibit in the last two decades. Not for lack of trying from the drivers, of course.”

He playfully nudges you with his elbow, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Cheeky.”

The two of you walk further into the factory. “So,” Charles draws out, “I was wondering if you could recommend a good real estate agent in the area.”

You raise an eyebrow in confusion. “Why would you need an agent when I have a perfectly good apartment we can share?”

“Really? Are you sure? I just … I wasn’t sure if you would want that and I don’t want to pressure you.”

You roll your eyes affectionately. “Of course I do, Charles. It’s not even a question.”

He smiles, the weight of the decision to move seeming a little lighter now. “Thank you.”

You wink, taking his hand. “Come on, let me show you around.”

As you guide him through the factory, he’s like a kid in a candy store, eyes wide with wonder and curiosity. “This place is incredible,” he murmurs, running a hand along a piece of machinery.

You grin, pulling him towards the simulator room. “Wait until you see this.”

He steps inside, eyes immediately drawn to the impressive simulator setup. “Wow.”

You gesture for him to sit down, watching as he takes a seat, adjusting the settings. “Ready for your first sim run in the RB20?”

He nods eagerly, “Let’s do it.”

As he starts the simulation, you watch closely, monitoring the data and providing feedback. The two of you work seamlessly together, the connection between race engineer and driver already forming and growing.

After several runs, Charles steps out of the simulator, a huge grin on his face. “That was incredible! The car feels amazing.”

You smile. “I’m glad you think so. The team has put a lot of work into it.”

He pulls you into a hug, burying his face in your hair. “I can’t wait to get on track with you on the other side of the radio.”

You pull back, looking into his eyes. “Me too. We’re going to do great things together. I know it.”

He nods. “I know we will too.”

***

“I have to admit,” Charles says, eyes scanning the paddock, “I’m thankful that Mercedes and McLaren are between our motorhome and Ferrari’s. Makes things less ... awkward.”

You glance towards the distant red of the mobile Ferrari building, understanding the sentiment. “Must be weird being so close and yet so far.”

He nods, a hint of melancholy in his gaze as he looks at the place he called home for so long. “It’s bittersweet.”

Pulling him from his thoughts, you nudge him playfully. “Come on, Mr. Pole-Sitter. We have a race to prep for.”

Charles smirks, playfully rolling his eyes. “Always so professional, Miss Horner.”

You grin. “Only when it counts.”

The atmosphere in the Red Bull garage is electric. Mechanics and engineers hustle around, getting everything ready. The RB20 sits gleaming, waiting for its moment to shine.

Charles adjusts his gloves, taking a deep breath. “Feels different,” he admits, looking at you. “Being here, in this car, with this team. But a good kind of different.”

You lean in, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. “You’ve got this. It’s just another race.”

He smiles. “Easy for you to say. You’re not the one in the hot seat.”

“True, but I’ll be with you every step of the way. Just listen to my voice and trust me.”

“I always do.”

As he gets into the car, you lean in closer to his helmet, your lips touching it’s hard shell. “And Charles? Stay safe out there.”

He looks at you and winks. “I’ll come back to you.”

The race begins with a burst of energy. Charles takes off from pole, holding his position as the field jockeys for placement behind him.

“Good start,” you say through the radio, your voice calm and composed. “Keep it steady.”

“Copy.”

The race is intense, with Charles and Max battling for the lead, their cars dancing on the edge of perfection. The radio chatter between the two of you flows naturally, filled with technical details, strategy adjustments, and the occasional personal quip.

“Feeling the heat from Max?” You tease after a particularly close call between the two Red Bulls.

Charles laughs breathlessly. “Just keeping things interesting for the fans.”

The race continues at a blistering pace, with Charles and Max pushing each other to the limit. But through it all, Charles remains in the lead, with you guiding him from the pit wall.

“Final lap,” you inform. “Bring it home.”

He nods, pushing the car to its limit. The cheers of the crowd grow louder as he crosses the finish line, securing his first victory with Red Bull.

“Amazing job, Charles! I knew you could do it!”

He lets out a whoop of joy. “Yes! Thank you, team. Thank you, Y/N. I couldn’t have done it without you all.”

The two of you celebrate the victory, and as the rose water sprays and the cheers of the crowd fill the air, you know that this is just the beginning of an incredible journey together.

***

“You’re sure about the medium tyres, Y/N?” Charles asks nervously as he looks at the other cars lining up. “Everyone else is starting on softs.”

You nod confidently, tapping the race strategy on your clipboard. “Yes. The upside of using the mediums is it gives us flexibility. We can extend our first stint if needed, especially with possible rain on the forecast. While everyone else has to pit early for hards and then again for inters when the rain starts, we’ll only have to pit once. Trust me.”

He inhales deeply, trying to quell the unease bubbling inside. “I do trust you. It’s just ... Ferrari ... the strategies there ...”

“I know,” you interrupt softly, understanding the trauma and distrust years with Ferrari had instilled in him. “But this isn’t Ferrari. It’s Red Bull and we work differently. I’ve got your back.”

“Alright,” he looks into your eyes, finding assurance and conviction there, “let’s do this.”

The race begins, and Charles holds his ground well on the medium tyres, though the drivers running softs initially show quicker pace. But as predicted, the clouds soon darken and the threat of rain becomes increasingly evident.

“Stay focused,” you guide through the radio. “Remember the plan.”

He pushes on, expertly handling the streets of Monaco. The cars around him begin to lose grip and one by one they dive into the pits for hard tyres.

Charles keeps lapping. He moves up the order.

“You’re doing great,” you encourage. “Stick to the plan. We’re right on schedule.”

However, as the first raindrops begin to fall, panic sets in among the other teams on the grid. Those who just pitted for hard tyres are forced to pit again for intermediate tyres, losing precious time.

“Now,” you command, “Box this lap.”

He follows your instruction, driving into the pits, and with a flawless stop by his Red Bull crew, re-emerges in the lead.

The rain continues but Charles navigates the treacherous streets of Monaco expertly, maintaining his lead. When the chequered flag waves, it’s Charles who crosses the line first and finally claims victory at his home Grand Prix.

Tears of joy and relief pour from Charles’ eyes as he takes in the moment. “Thank you,” he says over the radio, voice choked with emotion. “I can’t believe it. We did it in Monaco!”

You smile, tears in your own eyes. “We did. I told you to trust me, didn’t I?”

He laughs, the sound full of pure joy. “You did. And I’m so glad I did. Thank you for everything.”

As he steps out of the car and jumps on its nose, arms spread wide, the crowd roars in approval, their prince finally crowned in his home race.

Then he rushes to the barriers and jumps into the cheering crowd of dark blue waiting for him. When his sweaty lips find yours surrounded by the celebrating Red Bull team, you take a moment to whisper a promise, “This is just the beginning. It will only get better from here.”

***

The season flies by in a blur of champagne showers. Heading into the Italian Grand Prix, Charles find himself leading the Drivers’ Championship with Max nipping at his heels.

“I’m not sure I can do this,” Charles confesses, staring out at the Autodromo Nazionale Monza. “This was home. I don’t know how they will react now that I’m no longer wearing red.”

You rest a reassuring hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. “Many fans support the driver, not just the color he wears.”

He takes a deep breath and looks over the crowd. “The Tifosi are different. They bleed Ferrari red. I’m afraid they will see me only as a traitor.”

“You gave them your all,” you counter. “They’ve seen the struggles. They know why you left. They understand. Trust in them and in yourself.”

As the two of you make your way towards the paddock, the familiar chorus of cheers fills the air. But instead of the jeers and boos he feared, a chant begins to rise among the crowd of red: “Charles! Charles! Charles!”

Charles stops in his tracks. “They’re ... they’re cheering for me.”

You nod, a smile playing on your lips. “Told you.”

He’s soon swarmed by a group of fans, all clamoring for autographs, photos, and just a moment of his time. It’s clear that the bond between Charles and the Tifosi remains unbroken.

An older fan steps forward, his Ferrari cap worn with age. “You are still Il Predestinato. We wish it ended differently but we have eyes. We watched the races. We know why you left. No matter what team you drive for, you always have our hearts.”

Charles blinks back tears, deeply touched. “Grazie,” he whispers and claps the fan’s weathered hands in thanks.

Another fan, a young girl with a homemade sign that reads Once a Tifosi, Always a Tifosi, shyly approaches. “We still love you, Charles,” she says.

He kneels down to give her a gentle hug. “Thank you,” he murmurs, taking off his Red Bull cap and placing it on her head.

As the day goes on, the support from the Tifosi only grows. They cheer for him during practice, during qualifying, and every time he appears in front of the stands.

It’s clear that the bond between Charles and the Tifosi is as strong as ever.

That evening, as the two of you sit in the garage looking over data, Charles reflects on his day. “I was so afraid,” he admits. “Afraid of being rejected, of losing their love. But today ... today was incredible.”

You close the analytics. “The Tifosi love you. Not because of the car you drive or the colors you wear but because of who you are. Just like I do.”

He nods slowly. “It’s overwhelming. Monza has always been special to me. To feel this level of love and support ... it’s more than I ever expected.”

You lean closer, resting your head on his shoulder. “They see your passion. They see how much you give on and off the track. Anyone who does not love and respect you for that needs to reconsider.”

He exhales slowly, “I just ... I wanted to make them proud, to win for them in red and bring glory back to Maranello. But knowing they still support me no matter what ... it means everything.”

You look up into his eyes. “And they always will. Because they know you always gave and will continue to give your best. They love you because they are loved in return.”

He laughs, pulling you into a tight hug. “Thank you,” he murmurs into your hair. “For always being my rock, especially in moments like these.”

“Now let’s go out there tomorrow and win.”

***

“Vegas, baby!” Charles shouts, swinging an arm around your shoulders, both of you holding champagne glasses that have been refilled one too many times.

You giggle, distinctly feeling all of the alcohol you’ve consumed. “We won! We did it!”

Charles laughs, pulling you closer. “We did! And do you know what people do when they’re in love and win in Vegas?”

You think about it for a moment, a mischievous glint appearing in your eyes. “Get ... married?”

Charles nods enthusiastically. “Exactly! Y/N Horner, will you marry me tonight?”

You don’t hesitate, “Hell yes!”

The two of you, in your drunken stupor, begin your mission to find a wedding chapel. However, before you can get very far, Max spots you and quickly catches on to what you’re planning.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Max exclaims, grabbing Charles by the shoulder. “Where do you think you’re going with Y/N?”

Charles replies with a sloppy grin, “To make her Mrs. Leclerc!”

Max bursts into laughter, trying to play the voice of reason. “Mate, as much fun as that sounds, I think you might want to sleep on that idea.”

But you’re not having it. “No, Max! We’re in love and it’s Vegas. We’re doing it!”

Before the conversation can escalate further, your father joins the fray, looking both amused and concerned. “What on earth is going on here?”

Max chuckles, “Your daughter and Charles here have some ... ambitious plans for the evening.”

You pout and stumble slightly, “Daddy, we want to get married! Right now!”

Your father’s eyebrows shoot up. “Married? Tonight? Seriously?”

Charles nods with absolute seriousness, though his precarious swaying contradicts his tone. “Christian, I love your daughter. And we won. In Vegas. So ... wedding?”

Your father places a firm hand on his driver’s shoulder. “Listen, Charles, I have no doubt about your feelings for Y/N. But my baby girl deserves the world. When and if you ever decide to propose, I expect you to get down on one knee, stone-cold sober, and ask her properly.”

Charles blinks, processing the words. “But ... Vegas?”

You laugh and go to hug your father, almost falling over in the process. “He’s right. Let’s just enjoy tonight. And if we still feel like getting married in the morning, we can discuss it then.”

Max smirks, “Trust me, you’ll thank us in the morning. If you can even remember this conversation, that is.”

***

“Charles,” you begin, your voice echoing in his helmet, “The team has made the call. You and Max are free to race. No team orders.”

There’s a pause on the other end. “Understood. May the best man win.”

The tension in the garage skyrockets as soon as the lights go out. It’s evident that this is going to be an epic battle from the very first turn. Max and Charles swap places multiple times, pushing their cars to the very edge of their limits.

“Breathe,” you remind him calmly as the laps go by, “Don’t loose sight of the race as a whole. There’s a championship at stake.”

The entire race is a blur of overtakes, pit strategies, and nail-biting moments. The two Red Bull cars battle wheel-to-wheel lap after lap. One side of the garage against the other.

Coming into the final laps, Charles is right on Max’s tail — the championship hanging in the balance between them.

You know there’s not much you can do to guide him anymore … it’s all up to Charles.

“Last lap,” you try to sound composed despite the pounding of your heart. “You can do this.”

The cheers and gasps of the crowd are deafening as Charles makes his move, taking the inside line and overtaking Max on the penultimate turn.

“Push now! Just a few more corners.”

As Charles crosses the finish line, the enormity of the moment crashes over both of you.

“Charles Leclerc,” you scream over the radio as tears stream down your face, “you are the World Champion!”

“Yeeeesssss! Yes! Yes! I ... I can’t believe it. This is ... thank you, everyone. To the entire Red Bull team, you’ve given me the chance to chase and achieve my dreams. To my friends, my family, to every single person who’s been by my side, believed in me, and supported me … thank you. And Y/N, you’ve been my rock and my oxygen. Without you, this wouldn’t have been possible. Thank you! Thank you. Thank you so much!”

***

“Whew! That was a lot of rose water!” Charles laughs, wiping the bubbly liquid from his eyes.

You chuckle and try to wring out your hair. “You didn’t have to drench me, you know!”

Charles grins cheekily. “It’s a special occasion, after all. Both of us on this podium? It’s a dream!”

Then suddenly, he turns serious and signals to his brother in the crowd below, who throws him a small leather box. Charles catches it and promptly lowers himself down on one knee in front of you, making the crowd fall into a stunned silence.

“I tried this in Vegas,” he starts with a laugh, “But I might have been too drunk and missed a few pretty important steps.”

Charles takes a deep breath and his eyes lock onto yours, saying everything that words would never be sufficient to. “Y/N, being on this podium with you, winning the World Championship, it’s the pinnacle of my career. But what we have ... it’s the pinnacle of my life. I can’t imagine going on this journey with anyone else, facing the highs, the lows, the in-betweens. Will you marry me?”

Tears flow steadily down your cheeks and you nod with a fervor that would make bobbleheads jealous, “Yes! There’s no one else I’d want to spend forever with.”

The crowd erupts into cheers and applause, the deafening roar echoing around the Yas Marina Circuit. Max gives a loud whistle, his face lit up with a big grin next to you on the podium stage.

Charles rises to his feet and pulls you close, attacking your lips as the crowd goes wild.

“Promise me we won’t head to a chapel right after this race?” You joke, sniffling and giggling at the same time.

Charles laughs, looking slightly sheepish. “I promise, mainly because I’m too young to die and your father would definitely kill me if I even thought about pulling the stunt we tried in Vegas again. You deserve a fairytale wedding.”

You press your face against his chest, feeling the rhythm of his heartbeat as fireworks explode overhead. “All I need for my fairytale is you.”

#f1 imagine #f1 #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #f1 x reader #f1 x you #charles leclerc #cl16 #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc blurb #f1 fluff #f1 blurb #f1 one shot #f1 x y/n #f1 drabble #f1 fandom #f1blr #f1 x female reader #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x y/n #scuderia ferrari #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc drabble

[rafeysdoll]

what would rafe think if u get a build a bear with his name on its shirt !! n record his voice for the lil heart in it ૮꒰ྀི -᷄ -᷅ ꒱ྀིა

he would probably think its stupid but :(

honestly i think he’d like it in the sense he likes being needed by you, you know? and reader having a whole tiny clone of him would make him go crazy a bit after the initial shock

when you eagerly lead him into your bedroom after he comes back from a business trip he has a completely different idea. that same eagerness transferring to him for a whole different reason, smirking to himself at how excited you were.

you open your door and quickly drag him to your frilly bed, giggling to yourself. “close your eyes please, i have a surprise!”

rafe closes his eyes, already imagining you in some new cute getup. one that would ultimately end up torn up and discarded on your floor.

“okay, open!” you squeal.

he peeks, thrown off guard when he sees you holding a light brown teddy bear — fully clothed might he add — wearing a mini polo shirt he swears he has somewhere in his own closet, small letters that spell his name engraved in the middle.

“it’s you!”

“me?”

“yeahh, look, press his hand!” you smile, lifting his hand and guiding it to the fluffy bear paw. when rafe squeezes it lightly he quickly tenses up a bit when he hears his own voice say — ‘hi baby. love you.’

“w-what the fuck?” he whispers to himself, caught off guard completely. you pout, ears starting to burn with embarrassment. maybe this was a bad idea.

he looks up at you with bewilderment, quickly shaking his head when he sees your pitiful expression. “no, no i-i didn’t mean it like that baby. just- just confused me. has my.. uh voice and everything.. how did it do that?” he asks, staring at the stuffed animal with wide eyes.

“from build a bear.. saved one of your voice memos,” you mewl bashfully — unable to meet his gaze.

“that’s.. that’s real cute baby.” he reassures, standing up and kissing your cheek. “you.. don’t think it’s weird or stupid?” you frown, hugging the plush to your chest.

he shakes his head, making you smile again. “good! now when i miss you i’ll have this!” you beam, giving it a small hug before placing it on your bed.

it made his heart feel tight and warm — sinking into the feeling of being needed. it was addicting, to say the least.

he smirks, kissing your lips softly. “mm, the real things right here with you right now though, so uh.. why- why don’t you show me how much you missed me, yeah? must’ve missed me a lot huh baby? even got a mini clone of me and everything.” he speaks softly, totally contradicting from the way he was trying to lightly pick at you.

but you loved it, always having your stomach fill with butterflies with the way he was able to make ‘mean’ so deliciously sweet.

#anon #rafe ౨ৎ #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe obx #rafe x reader #rafe x you #rafe outer banks #rafe smut #rafe imagine #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe fanfic #rafe fic #rafe cameron fic #drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey smut #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey fanfic #drew starkey fanfiction #outerbanks smut #outerbanks imagine #outerbanks x reader #outerbanks fic #rafe cameron thoughts

[missjellyhead]

HEADCANON | slashers favorite sex positions | fem!reader

Inclui Brahms Heelshire, Billy Lenz, Bubba Sawyer, Otis Diftwood, RZ!Michael Myers

note: uh... hey? I got excited about this one. And thank you for 100 followers! :D

Warnings: nsfw.

BRAHMS HEELSHIRE

Cowgirl.

Brahms is spoiled.

He doesn't want to take the slightest effort.

He just likes to lie back against the pillows, hold your thighs tightly, and let you move as you please. As long as he comes, everything is fine.

Brahms whimpers so needily, eyes closed as you ride on his cock.

When he's close to coming, he thrusts his hips up desperately, seeking his own pleasure.

If you allow him to take control, he'll moan loudly and fuck you until you can barely support your own weight and fall onto his furry chest.

But if you stop him, just wanting to tease him a little, he will whimper and stubbornly try to move.

You can punish him for being such a naughty and greedy boy, and Brahms will be begging for your touch like a puppy.

BILLY LENZ

Accepts anything. He just wants to fuck you senseless. But when you turn 69--

Hearing and feeling you gagging against his cock as he just devours your pussy is perfect.

And Billy is definitely addicted to his pussy.

Could eat you for hours and hours like a starving man. He never gets tired.

Billy also loves doggy style.

He'll throw you onto the bed as soon as he gets a chance to come out of the attic, and he'll fuck you hard and sloppy from behind until he comes.

In fact, after he cums, he keeps moving.

He super stimulates you without even realizing it, focusing only on himself.

He's noisy. Very noisy.

And it doesn't care if the sorority house is full or empty. As long as it's just the two of you in the room, he's in for some fun.

But it usually comes out of the attic during the night.

Good luck explaining to the other sorority girls what those late-night sounds were.

Speaking of the attic, he loves to fuck you in there too.

It's dusty and musty smelling, but Billy feels safe there.

He has you up against the wall, chest pressed against your back, and makes you practically scream with pleasure.

Anyway, he really loves many positions and it's hard to choose a favorite.

BUBBA SAWYER

I believe Bubba is a little shy about sex, although he is quite excited.

But he's afraid he can't satisfy you, and he's afraid you won't find his body attractive.

So it takes him a while to feel comfortable having sex with you.

And when that happens, you have to guide Bubba and teach him what to do.

If you are as inexperienced as he is, you will learn together and it will be nice and fun.

And when he has enough knowledge, has experienced enough positions, one of his favorites will be cowgirl.

He likes you to have control over him and do what gives you the most pleasure. It's also amazing that he has such a beautiful girl jumping on his dick. Bubba almost can't believe it's real.

And he loves to see your breasts bouncing. If he gets the chance, he'll have your nipples trapped between his lips as you ride his fat cock.

If he's not holding the sheets between his fingers, then he'll have his hands on your hips.

It will leave fingerprints because he squeezed you so hard.

It wasn't on purpose, honestly. He'll apologize later, fearing you'll get angry.

And if you tie his wrists to the headboard and sit on his face, he'll freak out.

Do it. He loves to please you.

Is kinda sloppy about eating pussy but so excited. Hope you don't mind the amount of saliva.

(And if you want to return the favor, pegging this man. He'll moan so needy~).

OTIS DRIFTWOOD

I honestly think Otis is a disgusting man. With a lot of fetishes, and a lot of boner, and a lot of time left to fuck you to exhaustion.

And speaking of fetishes, Otis has foot fetishes. Your foot, specifically.

It's not like he's going to masturbate looking at your feet or anything.

He just likes to pay special attention to his feet as he pushes against her sensitive, wet pussy.

And honestly, he doesn't even care if it makes you uncomfortable or not. Just take his dick and let him play with your body as he wants and as much as he wants.

So he likes to have you lying in bed, legs up, shins over his shoulders. That way he can just pull his legs forward and play with his feet. It will kiss and lick them while looking into your eyes.

Also likes to have you on all fours.

Shake your ass and Otis will be inside you in a few milliseconds.

Will spank your ass and pull your hair, pushing your face into the sheets.

(If you let him fuck your ass, he'll get you in every possible position. He gets wild).

And it will degrade you badly, all the time. (Does this outside of sex too).

RZ!MICHAEL MYERS

He'll make you lie face down on the bed, then he'll lean over you, put an arm around your neck and fuck you deep.

He's not really choking you unless you ask him to.

He likes how he looks bigger on top of you. Even if you are close to his height, he definitely has more muscles than you.

Michael isn't very vocal, but he lets out little grunts and his breathing becomes ragged as he rolls his hips against your ass.

He also likes to have you leaning over any surface that may be: kitchen table, countertops, coffee table in the living room.

That's because he likes to watch your cock disappear into your pussy, feel your legs shake as you try to get used to the size.

If he is particularly lazy that day, spoon position. It's still deep and strong, but slow.

The important thing is that he makes you come deliciously and he comes deep inside you.

(Loves to fuck you against the wall. Put one leg on his shoulder and let him stick his tongue in you. He'll hold your hips, not letting you dominate the situation. Michael likes to be in power, especially when he's making you feel squirm).

Sorry for any spelling mistakes, English is not my first language

#slasher x s/o #slasher x y/n #slasher x reader #leatherface x reader #slashers #bubba sawyer x reader #billy lenz x reader #otis driftwood x reader #rz myers x reader #rz michael myers #rz michael myers x reader #michael myers x reader #brahms heelsire x reader #brahms heelshire x reader #brahms x y/n #bubba sawyer x you

[forcemeanakin]

Anakin Skywalker: A headboard gripper

WARNING: Nsfw content !!! Content: p in v sex, cream pie, dirty talk. A headboard was, in fact, hurt during the production of this drabble. Not proofread and written in the middle of the night after uni classes lol.

shoutout to my friend Emma for asking me this incredible question and fueling my drained mind to write something <3

Ofc he is a headboard gripper!

Using it as leverage to fuck deeper into you, yes sir

But I think he would use it specifically to get you full of him

He's strong af and he has the Force... this? yeah, this is to assert dominance

You're already stuffed by his thick cock, but he needs more: he wants to drown every single one of your senses, until the only thing you could do is feel him, taste him, see him.

Hazy vision, your sweaty body sticky and pressed to his. Hair out of line and all over your face. You're the most wonderful mess he has ever seen.

You borderline sound like a porn star, whimpering so high and loud, moaning his name because that's the only thing you could remember.

Legs wrapped around his waist, your ankles pushing his fit butt so he thrusts harder. Your boobs are bouncing to the rhythm of his hips and he takes the opportunity to rest his face in between them.

You crave more, your spongy walls convulsing around him in the hope to milk him for all of his worth.

Who is he to deny you your orgasm... any longer than he already has?

"You close, baby?" He pants, flexing his arms while he lowers his head to lick the drool off the corner of your mouth.

"Mmph-" You roll your eyes, so into the sub space of your mind to answer a real word. "Ani..." You indulge his desire to hear your voice, just for a bit.

"Yeah, my baby's close. Clenching around me like a vice." He hums half a groan, half a moan. "Tell me what you want, baby. Tell me what you want and I'll give it to you."

"I-I-" You whine when he reangles to hit your G-spot better. "I want more!" You cry out loud, clasping his shoulders to survive the hellish pace he had set.

"More what, pretty girl?" He cocks a narcissistic eyebrow, looking down at your pathetic face.

And that's when he does it. Stretching his arm over his head, he grips the headboard of the shaking bed and hammers faster into you. And now he is everything you can see. Just like he wanted.

He knows the view of his abs curling as his hips buck forward drove you crazy every time. If it wasn't because you indeed love to see his chiseled torso, you would have already shut him up.

"More cock!" You quiver underneath him, completely in trance with the sight of a drip of sweat falling from his pecs and his toned bicep tensing at the effort. Veins popping to show off his strength. "More you." You moan in the low.

Side note: I also think Anakin has broken a shit ton of headboards, specially when he is gripping them with his mechanical hand.

He just can't measure his strength !!!!

Also he would totally be like: "want me to fix that?", MID FUCK AND PANTING LIKE THE SLUT HE IS

and yeah ofc he repairs what he broke

except for your pussy

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