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henwilsonmd · 1 year

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post 6x18: some out-of-order vignettes | ao3

4251 words

“Buck,” said Eddie, trying to school his face into something less fond and amused. “That’s my couch.”

Buck turned from where he’d been happily showing off the new piece of furniture he’d gotten with Natalia the day prior. “What?”

“The couch,” Eddie repeated, with a quirk of his eyebrow. “You bought my exact couch.”

“No,” Buck replied with a shake of his head. “No, it’s definitely different.”

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Eddie looked at it—a three-seater in dark blue, velvet-y fabric with square corners and deep seats to accommodate his long legs. They’d picked out some nice white decorative pillows for it, and it’s certainly brand-new looking, but—

“It’s totally the same.” Eddie gave up on hiding his smile.

Buck looked back to the couch, tilting his head to scrutinize it. After a moment, he sighed, planting his hands on his hips. “Ah, fuck. It’s totally the same.”

Eddie groaned, letting his head thump back onto the edge of the cot behind him. “The pain meds are definitely kicking in.”

“Well, good,” snarked Buck from a chair next to him, attention half-focused on his phone in his hands. “That’s what they’re supposed to do.”

Eddie sighed, long-suffering. “You too?”

“Yes, Eddie, me too.” Buck replied, thumbs flying as he tapped out something on the screen in his hands. Probably to Maddie. Probably about Chim. Who was probably okay. “Your ribs are fucking broken.”

“Yeah,” Eddie said, staring at the ceiling. “And I know what they feel like. I’m fine, there was—other stuff going on.” He thought about that paramedic from the 133 shining a penlight into Hen’s eyes, frowning like he didn’t like the results and going back in to do it again. He thought about the constant jitter of Buck’s leg next to him, the constant worry for Bobby and Chimney who’d taken the other two ambulances before the three of them had managed to squeeze into another cab. “Besides,” Eddie pulled himself back on track. “Did you even get checked out?” He leveled Buck with a look that he hoped had more energy behind it than he had left.

Buck shrugged, powering off his phone with a click. “I’m fine.”

“There’s blood all over your face,” Eddie pointed out.

“Hen cleaned most of it up already.”

“There was more?”

“That’s—Eddie, I’m fine,” Buck said, turning towards him. “I scraped up my cheek and bit my tongue when I fell, and, sure, I’ll be a little bruised, but I’m fine.”

“You lost consciousness,” Eddie pointed out, and he swallowed around a dry throat.

“How… how did you know that?” Buck stuttered in reply.

Eddie gave his own shrug, picking at the edge of the right kneepad on his turnout pants. “I didn’t pass out. I radioed right after I’d gotten my bearings, but no one answered. Then, like, thirty seconds later you must have woken up.”

Buck, for a moment, held Eddie’s gaze with something so unbelievably devastated, and guilty—like the thought of not being able to answer Eddie’s call was the worst possible thing that had happened that day. Then he flicked his eyes down to the floor. “Okay, s-so, like, thirty seconds. I’m fine, Eddie. Really.”

Eddie frowned, thinking about those thirty seconds—an unbearable weight on his back, a growing pain in his chest, and the clawing panic as he listened to the silence stretching out on the other side of the radio and fought the mounting urge to plead, I’m still alive, please, I’m still alive down here.

And then how he’d breathed a hugely painful sigh of relief when Buck finally asked for a headcount, how he’d fumbled into his pocket for his St. Christopher medal and prayed—something he hadn’t done since that awful week of the coma. Prayed that he’d come home safe to his son, but also that Buck would be careful—that he wouldn’t do something stupid and destructive and reckless to save any of them.

That heady rush of gratitude when Buck had sawed the doors open, taking off his safety goggles and assessing Eddie’s situation with a calculating, heavy gaze.

Next to him, Buck cleared his throat, shifting in the chair. “Anyway, you broke three ribs, man. Let the meds do their job.”

Eddie huffed a laugh, leaning back into the pillows behind him. “Trust me, they are.”

Eddie sipped his Diet Coke, beer off-limits because he was still taking the Tylenol threes. “So, you finally got a new couch.”

“I had a couch before,” Buck pointed out, a matching soda in his hand for solidarity. “Kameron just—y’know, gave birth all over it.”

“Yeah,” Eddie said, snorting a soft laugh. “That must have been wild.”

Buck chuckled. “The baby didn’t want to wait, I guess.”

“Impatient little guy,” Eddie said. “Must be those Buckley genes.”

“Hey,” Buck protested, pointing a finger. “I can be plenty patient.”

“Sure,” Eddie agreed placatingly, but be noticed how there seemed to be something more behind the mirth in Buck’s eyes—the plastic pieces at the edges of his smile. He fought the urge to say I told you so—mostly because it would have been childish, but also because Buck hadn’t asked for his opinion at any step of the way, and Eddie hadn’t offered.

Eddie decided to wait him out—usually the best course of action when it came to Buck. Eddie understood intimately how much time it could take to parse through a mess of feelings in your brain and formulate them into words that would make sense to another person. Usually, Eddie would sit quietly and sip his beer while watching Buck’s feelings play out on his unguarded face, and after a minute or two Buck would haltingly begin to explain what had been going on with him.

Eddie had tried to explain that to Maddie when they’d both been nearly sick with worry over Buck’s post-coma mental state. “He’ll come to you when he’s ready,” Eddie had said over the phone. “You can’t force him to talk about it.”

“Eddie, you don’t know him like I do,” Maddie had protested. “He shouldn’t be alone right now.”

And Eddie had opened his mouth to say no, actually, I know him better than you, I know him better than anyone, but—that’s not true, is it? Why would Eddie know Buck better than his own sister, who’s spent the entire thirty years of his life caring for him, when Eddie’s only had him for—what, five years? Then subtract all the things they didn’t talk to each other about and all the issues they’ve had, and—yeah, who is Eddie to say what’s best for Buck?

And then Buck had knocked on his door and passed out on his couch and Eddie had felt righteously vindicated in a way that he almost wanted to rub in Maddie’s face, which was kind of bitchy of him to think.

So, Buck sipped his soda next to Eddie on his new couch, a storm of emotions clear on his face, and Eddie waited him out because that’s what he does.

Buck let out a sigh, and Eddie thought, here it is, he’ll let me in, and then— “Want to watch the Dodgers game?”

Eddie blinked. “Um, sure.”

And Buck turned on the TV.

Doubt roiled in Eddie’s gut.

“What about Hen?” Eddie asked, Buck’s hand tight on his arm as he helped him into the passenger seat of the Jeep.

“Karen already took her home, she’s fine,” Buck replied easily, before he shut the door and rounded the front of the car.

He’d left when Eddie had been taken back for x-rays, taking an Uber back to the station to pick up his car so he could come back to get Eddie and drive them both home. Eddie absently wondered when he would get a chance to get his truck from the station parking lot.

Buck hopped into the driver’s seat, fitting his keys in the ignition but pausing before turning the engine. He fixed Eddie with a gentle, reassuring look. “Seriously, man, everyone’s fine. Athena’s with Bobby, Maddie’s with Chim, let’s go home.”

Eddie swallowed, biting the inside of his cheek as he thought about just how close literally every single one of them except Ravi had come to something far more serious than some hospital bills and time off work.

His gaze slid to Buck, who flashed him that small, soft, close-mouthed smile that Eddie rarely saw—the one that made his chest feel warm and gooey.

“Okay. Let’s go home.”

The Dodgers were losing, and Buck wasn’t talking about it. Eddie tried not to either of those things get to him.

During a commercial break, Buck got up to throw their empty pizza boxes away, waving Eddie off as he moved to help.

When he came back into the living room, he paused under the overhang of the loft, just staring at Eddie.

“What?” he asked, a bit self-conscious.

Buck huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “I can’t believe I bought your couch.”

Eddie snorted. “Don’t worry about it, man. It’s flattering. You think I have good taste.”

Buck raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know if that’s it. Half the furniture in your house is from Target.”

Eddie sputtered. “I—what’s wrong with Target furniture?”

Buck, lowering himself back onto the cushions next to Eddie, raised his hands in a show of innocence. “Nothing, man. I just—I don’t know if I would call it good taste.”

Having no comeback, Eddie just whacked him in the shoulder.

Buck laughed, playfully pushing his hand away. “Hey, c’mon, don’t start shit when I can’t retaliate.”

Eddie smirked. “Why? ‘Cause you know you can’t take me?”

“No,” Buck denied. “’Cause your ribs are still fucking broken.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “I’m fine, Buck.”

“Well.” Buck crossed his arms, turning back to the TV as the next inning started. “Forgive me for wanting to be careful.”

For a moment, Eddie considered saying hey, maybe we should talk about how I could’ve almost died again? But Buck clearly wasn’t in the mood to talk about the big things, and Eddie didn’t really want to think about that yet either, so he settled for bumping their shoulders together.

Buck leaned right back into him, and neither of them moved apart—the comforting warmth of the contact buzzing in Eddie’s brain like the alcohol he wasn’t drinking.

Eddie smiled down at his hands. “You like my couch,” he teased.

“Yeah, yeah,” Buck groused, slouching into the cushions as they watched a batter swing and miss yet again. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Are you sure you’re both alright?” Carla asked, a worried hand hovering over his elbow. “I caught some of the collapse on the news.”

Eddie flashed her a smile before turning to pour two glasses of water—one for him and one for Buck, who was off in Christopher’s room. “We’re okay,” he said. “A little banged up, but the doctors said I should be back to work in six weeks or less.”

Carla narrowed her eyes. “You better take that full six weeks.”

Eddie set the Brita down and met her gaze. “I’m fine, Carla. Really.”

She sighed, crossing her arms. “I just—I worry about you, Eddie. Okay? I know you’d rather I didn’t, but I can’t help it.”

Eddie ducked his head and smiled, a bit, filled with that familiar half-disbelief that people really do care about him. “I know it doesn’t look like it, but—I was lucky today. That nothing worse happened, that—that Buck was there to pull me out.”

Carla scoffed. “Of course he was. I don’t think luck had anything to do with that one.”

Eddie tried to fight the blush off his cheeks—he didn’t know what to do with that. Carla’s surety that Buck would save him come hell or high water. His own surety that Buck would be ripping open the doors of that camper van any second now.

When she realized he wasn’t going to say anything, Carla cleared her throat. “I should go. You up for a hug?”

“From you?” Eddie responded easily. “Always.”

Carla pulled him into a gentle-but-still-desperate embrace. “Okay, I’ll get out of your hair.” With a frown, she brought a hand up to ruffle the wilting mess on Eddie’s head. “Your dusty-ass hair. Take a shower, alright?”

Eddie laughed. “Alright, alright.”

“It’s a little early for a welcome back party, don’t you think?” Eddie said as Athena hugged him in greeting, Christopher heading off in search of the other kids.

��You and Bobby are headed back tomorrow,” Athena pointed out.

“Yeah, and Chimney’s not back for another two weeks.”

“And you best believe I’ll throw another party for him.”

Eddie laughed, before venturing further into the house to greet everyone else. His ribs had healed perfectly, barely a twinge when he’d thrown himself onto the couch in triumph yesterday. Which—speaking of, Eddie’s phone was burning a hole in his pocket and he was doing a very good job of ignoring that.

Or, he was, until a lull in conversation found him standing alone in the kitchen and pulling it out of his jeans. No texts. Which—of course, they’d agreed to go for coffee after his shift on Friday, why would she text him before that—but, still. Eddie was nervous. Sue him.

His thumbs hover over the keyboard for a moment while he debates if it’s too much of a desperate move to text Marisol before they even go on a date. Christopher would know.

“Who are you texting?” asked a voice, and Eddie fumbled to turn off his phone and shove it in his pocket before someone could see… what?

He looked up to see Buck smiling at his antics, a beer in hand.

“Oh, it’s you,” Eddie sighed, leaning against the counter.

Buck sidled over to join him, staring out the windows at the backyard where the party was in full swing. “Just me. Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s fine,” Eddie replied, for some reason hoping desperately that Buck wouldn’t ask him about—

“So,” Buck nudged an elbow into his arm. “Who were you texting?”

—fuck. Eddie wasn’t sure why this felt like something he didn’t want to tell Buck, to whom he tells everything, but… they don’t really talk about their girlfriends? It was always, always awkward, and it always left him with a sour taste in his mouth.

But, Eddie’s excited about this. Marisol probably won’t be the one, or whatever, but—still. Eddie was excited that his brain was finally in a place where he could think about opening up his life to someone and it wouldn’t send him into a panic attack that landed him in the ER.

And Buck asked.

And Eddie’s not in the habit of saying no to him.

“Um,” he started. “Do you remember Marisol? From the—”

“—yeah, yeah!” Buck cut him off. “So, you were texting her?” He raised his eyebrows, a knowing glint in his gaze.

Eddie blushed. “Yeah, uh… we’re going on a date?” he said quietly, a pit of dread or something similar opening in his gut.

Buck was quiet for a moment, and Eddie risked a glance at his face. He just caught the edge of something shocked and maybe fearful in his expression before it cleared and was replaced by one of those huge, sunny smiles.

“Eddie!” Buck exclaimed. “That’s great! Oh my god, man, this is awesome,” he enthused, slinging an arm around Eddie’s shoulders and squeezing him close.

“Yeah,” Eddie chuckled, still unsure why part of him felt sick with guilt.

“Hey, ever notice how we always start dating at the same time?”

“No, do we?” Eddie lied, thinking about how he’d agonized over making the call and kept telling himself Buck’s with Natalia now, you should do this.

Buck laughed again, before he jolted with surprise and turned to Eddie, excitedly slapping him on the arm. “Dude! We can go on double dates now!”

Eddie frowned. “We didn’t last time.”

Buck shrugged. “Well, you didn’t like Taylor, so I figured—”

“I liked Taylor,” Eddie protested.

Buck snorted. “Uh, no, you didn’t.”

Eddie tilted his head in a you-got-me face. “I kind of didn’t. I thought you didn’t notice.”

Buck dropped his arm around Eddie’s shoulders again, making Eddie huff out a breath. “Oh, Edmundo, I always notice.”

No you don’t, Eddie thought, and then he ignored that.

“But,” Buck continued, a hesitation in his voice. “You—you like Natalia, right?”

Eddie didn’t really know her at all, except for how excited she’d been about Buck’s death-that-didn’t-stick and how angry that had made him. “Yeah,” Eddie lied again. “She’s good for you. And she has good taste in couches.”

Buck laughed, relieved. “Good. So—we’ll do a double date, yeah? Me, you, Natalia, Marisol.”

Fuck, no. Eddie thought. That sounds awful.

“Yeah, sure,” Eddie said instead. “That sounds great.”

Eddie was in the kitchen, pre-heating the oven to heat up some frozen chicken tenders because he didn’t have the energy to cook anything else when he felt little arms wrap gently around his midsection. It hurt his ribs, but Eddie didn’t have the heart to dislodge his son—not when these hugs were becoming rarer and rarer each day.

“Hey, kid,” Eddie said, turning in the hold and dropping a hand onto Christopher’s head. “What’s up?”

Eddie had already seen him, when he popped his head into Christopher’s room to find him sitting with Buck, a careful hand brushing the wounds on the man’s cheek. The sight had made something massive and unknowable bloom inside Eddie’s broken chest, threatening to choke him. He’d tamped it down and hugged Chris hello before heading off to shower, but apparently that hadn’t been enough.

Chris looked up, propping his chin on Eddie’s sternum. “I’m glad you’re okay,” he said, a tightness in his voice betraying him.

Eddie smiled. “Me too.” Even though it sparked the ache in his side into a bona-fide pain, Eddie leaned over to drop a kiss onto Christopher’s head—something he barely tolerates anymore. “Hey, the doctors said I’d be good as new in six weeks. Think you can deal with having me around all the time for that long?”

Chris laughed, bright and happy, and Eddie’s heart sang. “I’ll try,” he joked, and then something clouded passed over his face. “Buck’s okay, too, right? His face is bloody.”

“Oh, buddy,” Eddie sighed. Usually, he would kneel down to meet Christopher’s gaze, but he settled for easing himself into a chair and ignoring the concerned look Chris was giving him. “Buck’s totally fine, he just got scraped up a little bit. And today was pretty—pretty scary. For both of us.” He swallowed down the urge to berate himself for telling his kid he was scared, and it seemed to be the right move, because Chris nodded along with wide, careful eyes.

Eddie sighed again, settling his hands on his son’s shoulders. “But—tell you what. Buck’s gonna stay with us tonight, and he’s pretty bad at taking care of himself, right?” Chris giggled at that, and Eddie smiled in response. “So you and I are gonna have to be sneaky about taking care of him tonight, okay?”

Eddie expected Chris to give another sweet smile, and maybe to offer some comfort so earnest and childlike in its innocence that it made everything in the world feel right again, so he wasn’t quite sure to do when Chris burst out into loud, raucous laughter.

“Okay, what’s so funny?” he said, playing at being annoyed.

“It’s just,” Chris managed through his massive smile. “That’s exactly what Buck said. About you!”

Eddie just blinked in response, and Chris fell into peals of laughter again. “Okay,” Eddie said with mock-offense. “Okay, I see how it is. Gang up on the injured guy, why don’t you.”

“Da-ad,” Chris whined, fixing him with a very grown-up look. “We just care about you.”

Eddie pursed his lips, that unknown emotion threatening to drown him again. “Yeah,” he said, more choked-up than he would like. “I know.”

A small hand covered his, and Eddie flipped his own over to give it a squeeze. “Why don’t you go put on the next episode of María, okay? We’ll translate for Buck.”

Chris smirked. “You mean you’ll translate for Buck.”

“Hey, don’t sell yourself short, kid,” Eddie offered as Chris disappeared into the living room.

And later, when they were all piled on the couch, Christopher giggling at Eddie’s half-assed translations and Buck protesting that he understands more Spanish than you think, guys, the newest dose of pain meds forced upon him by Buck making his head more than a bit fuzzy, Eddie thought to himself: I wish it could be like this forever.

Buck shouted in exaggerated outrage to make Chris laugh, gesturing at some ridiculous plot point playing out on the screen, and Eddie let that huge wave of feeling bowl him over—that world-ending, all-consuming love.

Just this. Forever.

“Hold on, let me get this straight,” Hen said, a hand raised to keep Eddie quiet. “He has this whole thing about his girlfriends being couches, and the couch he finally bought is your couch?”

Feeling somehow embarrassed, Eddie just nodded. Hen shared a smirk with Chimney, sitting on the lawn chair that Maddie hadn’t let him move from for the entire party.

“That’s like—almost romantic,” Chimney snorted.

“What?” Eddie said.

“He’s been looking for the perfect couch, but it was yours all along!” Chim crowed, and Hen dissolved into giggles. She was definitely more than a little drunk.

“It’s so sweet, Eddie, come on,” she needled.

“Well, sure, but—” Eddie sputtered. “—romantic? Come on, guys.”

“No, you—you come on.” Hen said around a hiccup. “You guys are—Buck and Eddie! Eddie and Buck!”

“Yeah,” Eddie replied with a frown. “And you guys are Hen and Chim.”

“Nah, no, no, no,” Chim said with a wagging finger. “It’s not the same.”

“How is it not the same?” Eddie threw his hands in the air, one hampered by the half-full bottle in his hand. “You guys are partners, just like us.”

“Yeah, but,” Hen said. “You guys are partners,” she explained, trying for some hand gesture that must have gotten lost in the all the alcohol and rush of the party because she just ended up clasping her hands together awkwardly.

“You guys are crazy,” Eddie said with a long-suffering shake of his head.

“And you’re crazy about Buck,” Hen said in an it’s-so-obvious whisper.

Eddie drew back. “What?”

“Hen—” Chimney started, a hand on her arm.

She shook him off. “No, I gotta—Eddie, you and Buck are like, perfect for each other. You love him, right?” Her eyes were wide and earnest behind her glasses.

“Of course I do,” Eddie said automatically.

Hen gestured emphatically, whacking Chim on the shoulder like this proved her point.

“Hen,” Eddie said gently. “Did you forget that I’m straight?”

Hen scowled, like she did not want to be reminded of this fact. “Okay, but like—if Buck was a girl, you would have asked him out by now. You’d be like—fucking married by now.”

Eddie opened his mouth to respond, but found his mind stuck on Hen’s words. If Buck was a girl. Him and Buck, married. Eddie felt far drunker than he should be off just one and a half beers.

“Eddie, ignore her,” Chim cut in.

Hen frowned. “I’m going to find Karen,” she declared.

Eddie watched her retreating form, unsticking his tongue from the roof of his mouth. “He’s my best friend,” he said belatedly.

“Eddie.” Chimney kicked his leg. “Ignore her, okay? She’s drunk.”

“Yeah, but—” Eddie started.

“Look,” Chim sighed. “We joke about you and Buck sometimes, okay?”

“You do?” Eddie asked.

“Little stuff,” Chimney assured. “Just, like, you’re each other’s favorite person and you’re missing what’s right in front of you, or whatever.”

Eddie opened his mouth to respond, to refute—what?—but Chim continued.

“But they’re just jokes, okay? We know you’re both straight. I mean, it’d be great if you weren’t, or whatever, but that’s not the world we live in.”

Eddie’s jaw closed with a click. He sipped his beer.

“He’s your best friend.” Eddie looked back to Chimney. “And that’s—” He seemed to search Eddie’s face for a moment. “That’s enough, right?”

Eddie swallows. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Exactly,” Chim agreed with an easy smile. “So, don’t worry about it, okay? She’s just drunk and forgot that we don’t make those jokes in front of you guys.”

Eddie nodded. “Right. Besides, Buck has a girlfriend, and—I have a date on Friday, so…”

“You have a date on Friday?” Chimney exclaimed. “That’s great!”

“Yeah,” Eddie agreed, voice flat.

Chimney clapped him on the forearm, unable to reach his shoulder from his sitting position. “Look, man, you’ll find that perfect girl-version of Buck out there, okay? I believe.”

Eddie chuckled. “Sure.”

He looked out to the party—his eyes immediately found Buck, head thrown back in laughter at something Athena had said. The string lights of the backyard made his styled curls shine with a honey-colored fire, his fingers curled carelessly around the neck of a beer bottle made Eddie’s mouth feel suddenly dry.

Just this. Just you, Eddie thought.

“You’re right,” he said to Chimney with a hollow smile. “I’ll find someone.”

#I'M BACK BABY #ofc i HAD to write a coda for this one come on #if this gets interaction i'll probably post on ao3 bc it's pretty long so i'll come back and edit this post if that's the case #anyway i have a LOT of wips that i'm planning on finishing and i want to be more active on here/make some friends #so drop a follow if you want to see any of that lol #anyway this was just a fun little thing that i hope y'all enjoy!#911 #911 fic #911 fanfic #911 6x18 #911 6x18 coda #writing #drabbles #even though it's not really a drabble i want it with the rest of my codas #evan buck buckley #eddie diaz #buddie

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leclercings · 1 month

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I'm Yours | Oscar Piastri

Genre: Fluff

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x Reader

Summary: When the thing with Oscar turns into more than a crush...

A/N: This is longer than I expected it to be!! Hope you guys enjoy it. Cheers to Oscar for a great performance so far in his home GP!

You smile at yourself in the mirror. You're wearing a little black dress with nothing left to imagination, teamed with black pumps and winged eyeliner.

Your signature look of the day is complete.

It's Lando’s birthday and a few people from the McLaren Team have been invited, including you, Y/N Brown, the CEO’s daughter.

You wonder... If your dad would've seen you wearing this dress he wouldn't have approved at all, but who needs permission?

And anyway, you have a certain hottie to impress.

You're riding along with your best friend from the team, Y/Bestfriend/N. All of you are staying in Las Vegas for the Grand Prix and Lando thought that throwing a birthday bash for his 24th would be fitting to boost the team spirits up.

There's a knock on the door. It's your best friend. She looks killer in her red dress, making you a little conscious and underdressed.

“Wow, Y/N. You look stunning.”

“Thanks love. You don't look too bad yourself,” you respond cheekily. “Have you booked the cab?”

“Yep,” she replies, popping the ‘p’. “It's ten minutes away.”

“Cool. ID check?”

Your best friend nods confidently as she skims through her purse. Her expression falters just as she realises that she's forgotten to get her ID. As always.

“Shit, I almost forgot. I'll get it.”

You laugh, taking your clutch and room key. You know how clumsy she is.

“I'll wait near the lifts.”

She walks towards her room and you go in the opposite direction, near the lifts.

You do a double take. Oscar is right there. You back away a little, hoping he hasn't seen you and just as you turn away you're interrupted by the Australian accent that you know too well.

“Hey there, Y/N.”

You freeze.

“H-hey,” you catch your breath.

Oscar gives you a onceover and your cheeks turn red.

“You look gorgeous.”

You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, your heart beating fast.

“Thanks,” you reply timidly and you hear footsteps approaching.

“Found it! Oh, hi Oscar.”

Your best friend joins you both. She gives you a teasing smile.

“Hi! All set?” Oscar asks, just as the lift door opens. Being the gentleman that he is, he gestures the ladies to go first.

“Yes,” she replies. “How are you going?”

“Lando's downstairs, waiting. We've a car on rent. Would you like to join us?”

Your best friend nods. You nudge her.

“We've a cab waiting,” you reply.

“It's not a big deal. Come, Y/N.”

You give in to his cute expression.

“I'll text Lando.”

Your best friend nudges you quite harshly, and you wince in pain.

“What was that for?” You whisper.

“Sorry, what?” Oscar turns around and asks.

“Nothing,” your best friend cuts in.

The lift door opens. The three of you walk to the front of the hotel. Lando is waiting at the gate.

“Happy birthday Lando,” you and your best friend wish him. He gives you both a lopsided smile.

“I hear that you'll be joining us?” Lando says, just as the driver brings the car.

Lando sits in the passenger seat. You, your best friend and Oscar decide to occupy the back seat. He opens the car door for you. “After you.”

You and your best friend sit inside and he follows. His warm body touches yours, and you shiver.

“Cold?” Oscar asks you. “Mate, turn the heat a little up.”

Lando does as instructed.

“Did y'all pregame?” Your best friends speaks, connecting her phone to the car's Bluetooth.

“We thought it'll be better to get sloshed at the nightclub.”

Your best friend nods in approval.

“It'll be a fun night,” she winks at Lando who's staring at her from the rear view mirror. He cackles, making you all laugh too.

“What should I play?” Your best friend opens Spotify.

“What about The Weeknd?” Lando replies, before turning the volume up.

“Oh come on, how typical,” you roll your eyes.

Oscar is looking outside, lost in thoughts.

“What would you recommend?” He suddenly turns to you.

“U-um,” your mind goes blank.

Your best friend nudges you yet again.

“Let's stick to The Weeknd, okay?” She breaks the silence.

Within half an hour, you reach the nightclub. It's crowded inside. And really humid.

Lando and Oscar being the perfect bodyguards, guide you all to the table that the McLaren team has booked.

“Hi!” Everyone cheers as you all enter.

You earn a few stares. Nobody has seen you like this- so sultry and seductive. It's a nice change from the usual, but one that makes you a little conscious as well.

Oscar says something but you can't hear it.

“What?” You shout at the top of your voice.

You struggle to hear his reply.

Something something… drink…

“I'm going to the bar to order!”

You look around to find Y/Bestfriend/N, but she's busy talking to the McLaren boys. Not wanting to disturb her, you make your way to the bar.

“One Pina Colada, please.”

The bartender nods, and starts preparing your drink.

Someone comes right next to you. You smell alcohol, and it makes you feel nauseous.

“Hi there, sexy. You look gorgeous.”

A guy, flat out drunk, tried to make a conversation with you. You ignore him.

“Oh come on, darling. Don't be a tease.”

You give him a stare. He smiles creepily.

“Let me pay for your drink, darling.”

He takes out his card and you shake your head.

“I'm good, thanks. Please leave me alone.”

You take your drink and try to walk back to where the McLaren team is, but he stops you, holding your hand.

“Is there a problem here?”

This surprises you. Oscar has made his way to the bar.

“Why don't you go back to the table, love? I'll deal with this.”

You give him a grateful smile. The man goes away.

“Thanks Oscar,” you tell him, sipping your drink.

“Anytime, Y/N.”

The drink is strong. Being a lightweight, you start getting a little tipsy.

“You good?” He asks you, and you nod.

“Would you like to go outside for a little bit? It's hot in here.” You fan yourself and he gives a positive response.

You both go outside, towards the hotel side of the nightclub.

“Thanks for helping me out there.” You tell him, acknowledging what he did.

“It's no big deal, Y/N. Anything for you.”

That makes you blush. The conviction with which he responds makes you feel special. You wonder what else can he do for you… but never mind.

“Shall we get back?” He motions, and you follow.

Hours pass by. Now you're standing in the middle of the dance floor with Lando and your best friend. Your gaze lands on Oscar who is intently watching you, his expression unreadable.

You beckon him. You're not like this usually, but the alcohol is giving you the confidence to do so.

Oscar, as if on cue, comes and starts dancing right next to you. You breathe in his musky cologne- which is as intoxicating as the alcohol itself.

You lick your lips and loosen up your hair. Oscar gulps, his gaze on your lips.

“Like what you see?” You tease him, inching in closer.

You can see so many emotions rising behind his eyes. He puts his hands around your waist, pulling you in.

“Love it,” he responds. His lips centimetres away and above yours.

You gasp at the proximity.

Maybe it's the alcohol, or maybe it's the adrenaline, maybe it's the heat of the moment, but he suddenly crashes his lips against yours.

You take a sharp breath in as his lips passionately kiss yours, before deciding to give in completely. His hands are firm on your back. Yours are in his hair, tousled.

You're confused. What is happening?

You pull away to catch your breath. He smiles at you, pressing his forehead against yours.

It might just be a kiss for him, but it means everything to you.

“Did we just-?” Before you can complete the sentence Oscar goes in for the second round.

Lando and your best friend cheer.

“Finally!” Your best friend squeals with happiness.

“Great job, mate.” Lando pats Oscar on the back.

Oscar is blushing, and so are you.

“I've always liked you, you know?” He whispers in your ear. “Be mine?”

Your heart is filled with joy. Of course you'd like to be his. You take a deep breath in and nod.

“I'm yours.”

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onestopfanficshop · 1 year

Text

könig headcanons

warnings: afab!reader, mentions of unprotected sex, oral sex, thigh riding and fucking, and an (accidentally) broken condom lol

A/N: this is so self indulgent LMFAO. can you believe i've had this sitting in my drafts for over three weeks? i hope y'all enjoy bc there's not enough content for this man fr! gif not mine :)

will use your fingers as a human fidget toy

he likes to rub his chin when he’s thinking real hard about something

loves grapes (green ones only, and they have to be cold)

the left corner of his nose constantly gets dry for whatever reason so he’s always needing to put extra lotion there

hums under his breath without realizing it and it's the cutest thing ever. especially if he’s alone with you, or if he’s just relaxed and in his element

he really loves to cook but he's too lazy to do the cleanup after he's done

has better than 20/20 eyesight; idk, i just feel deep in my soul that he does

if he's lying on his stomach and you start rubbing his back or scratching it, he'll literally melt it is the most relaxing thing in the world to him

his morning voice is super deep and raspy. i feel so strongly about this it just has to be true

is a snob about bread. he just likes a nice warm loaf of well baked bread okay?

when you first started dating, it would sometimes scare him when he would wake up in the middle of the night and see you lying there peacefully next to him; he had never shared a bed with someone else before so it took him a while to get used to it

but once he does he literally will treat you like a human body pillow. which sounds cute in theory but it's not 😭 like if you need to go pee in the middle of the night, good luck getting yourself untangled from him without waking him up (spoiler alert: it's not really possible to do bc he's the lightest sleeper on planet earth). you can either hold it or deal with a groggy and slightly grumpy könig the next day lolol

is the clingiest bf ever. if you let him, könig will sit on the floor next to you while you’re in the bath and hold your hand if you dangle it off the side of the tub while you watch a show together

speaking of baths this man hates taking them. he's never found a tub big enough to fit him so he just doesn't bother. he hates when his skin gets super wrinkly from being in water for too long anyways

loves to put a bunch of creamers and sweeteners in his coffee. the first time you took him to starbucks he was like a kid in a candy shop when you told him all the different flavored syrups that they had

doesn't like swimming; i mean he knows how to do it (bc of his job) but it's not his favorite thing to do. he feels like the water is always working against him lol

yeah he has social anxiety but when he's with you? especially once he gets comfy with you? yeah that's a different man entirely

like he loves to tease you constantly, is very cocky, and is super funny in a witty dry humor type of way

is absolutely the type of boyfriend to keep a joke going once he sees you're laughing really hard at it just so he can continue to hear your laugh :,)

know how to make jams from scratch for some reason; his favorites are peach and strawberry jam

one time he finished making a fresh batch of jams; you tied cute little ribbons around the jars and jokingly said you were "proud of the jams we made"

könig shaking his head because you didn't do shit except for stir a few times and sneak some tastes when you *thought* he wasn't looking (he's always looking)

buuuut he loves you so he plays along and tells you that you did amazing

makes fun of you if you like to watch cheesy or dumb shows but then 10 minutes later he's on the couch next to you, fully invested and asking you who the characters are and what's going on in the plot

is bad at sharing his food. even with you. he's more than happy to get you seconds but just don't touch his food, alright?

love language is 📢PHYSICAL TOUCH📢

followed by acts of service and quality time obviously. but yeah... the man is handsy. better get used to it

nsfw

first time you guys did it, it was awkward but in a really cute way. he was very, very nervous but also overly confident at the same time somehow? it was a potent mix

he'd watched porn before and gotten himself off but he didn't really know what to expect irl. he just knew that he wanted to make you feel good

when you tried to put one of the condoms you had on him, it broke. this man is huge so EVERY part of him is huge. like it just split clean in half 😭 and he turned bright red and started apologizing profusely

it was super intense up until that happened and you just started bursting into giggles which just made him grab your neck and kiss you to shut you up

that laughter turned into moaning real quick mhm

you eventually just told him to pull out and you would take a morning-after pill just in case; the prospect of fucking you without a condom made him more excited than he wanted to admit

has a ridiculous amount of stamina, we're talking three rounds at the absolute LEAST

LOVES thigh fucking and cannot get enough of it. especially since he can go for a lot of rounds, and if you tire more easily, he loves it as an alternative. something about cumming all over your thighs sends him into overdrive

speaking of thighs, thigh riding? oh yeah. that'll do it for him. that'll do it! his eyes would go so wide with awe at the fact that he could make you feel that good without doing anything. especially if you wrap your hands around his neck and you're so close to his face that your noses are touching; you're panting and trying your hardest not to moan loudly so no one else will hear? he's gonna fucking fall apart

whenever he's on top of you, he's infinitely careful to not put all of his weight own you, despite you telling him multiple times that you wouldn't mind and that you could handle it

dirty talk would get him flustered but at the same time, he'd have the stupidest grin on his face if you did it

if you wear lingerie he'll like- he'll literally die and go to heaven. especially the fancy ones with the garters and the stockings, even though he has absolutely zero clue how they work. like i'm imagining him sitting on the edge of the bed, you standing in front of him and staring right into his eyes as you guide his hands to the garters to take the stockings off (JUST GAVE MYSELF BUTTERFLIES LEMME RUN A LAP REAL QUICK)

okay i'm back where were we

i feel like what he does after you're done sort of depends on you. like if you get a huge burst of energy after sex and you wanna stay up and talk he will totally do it. but also if you're the type of person that immediately falls asleep after he'll go right to sleep with you

if he’s on top and you dig your fingers into his biceps he will bust right then and there. trust me.

THIS MAN EATS PUSSY FOR PLEASURE PERIOD. i will not accept any other truth. he’ll literally grind down into the sheets while he’s eating you out and has probably accidentally came a few times from doing so. he especially loves when your thighs squeeze around his head, and all the pretty little noises you make when he does it. as soon as he can tell you’re close he starts to give you the most intense eye contact while he’s doing it and it’ll probably send you over the edge

he loves being on top because he can cage you in and he has access to your neck to give it non-stop kisses and hickeys

but on the other hand he also loves it when you're on top; his hands will never leave your hips and he'll be gripping onto them like his life depends on it

when he cums, he cums hard and a lot. it's basically like a fountain... sometimes, when he does it while he's still inside of you, there'll be so much that it actually leaks out of you and onto the bed

was kind of self conscious about it and felt bad for making a mess until you told him it was nothing to be embarrassed about and it had actually turned you way on

for someone that doesn't prefer to talk all that much outside, this man is--whew. he is vocal like he is fucking paid to do it. especially when he's about to cum or if you're on top of him. this is a man that is not afraid to moan fr fr.

he's always asking you if you're okay and if what he's doing feels good to you. "is this alright?" is a sentence you've heard countless times and yet it still gives you goosebumps always

unspoken rule that if you're wearing his clothes you're gonna get fucked right then and there 😭 just accept it. könig seeing his SO in his clothes is always gonna do it for him!

#könig #könig cod #könig smut #könig hc #könig x reader #könig mw2 #könig x you #könig call of duty #onestopfanficshop

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lovelettersfromluna · 10 months

Text

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ Sweet Little Lies *ੈ✩‧₊˚

{Ellie Williams x Reader}

Summary: Being on tour with someone you’ve been ignoring for two months is hard…but doable

an: AHHHHHH!!! I am so excited to finally give you guys the second part of The Perfect Girl! I can confidently say that the vibe of this one has been so much fun to write and think about ideas for, and it makes me so happy that you’ve been enjoying it! This one is pretty short, im sorry but! the next part will be longer, fluffier and much smuttier hehe. Anyways, I hope you guys like this part too. 🖤 (Also yes I know I posted this before the poll was up but y'all saw how it was going im sorry I am an impatient woman)

Warnings: 18+!!! Eventual smut, Ellie is selfish point blank period, reader is extremely sad, some making out but doesn't lead to much, ANGST!!!!, this one is pretty short so not many warnings hehe. let me know if I missed anything pleaseeee.

Part 1 can be read here!

The rest of the tour was…rough.

After the night at the club, the silent treatment that you had for Ellie had gone from simply ignoring her, to pretending like she didn’t even exist.

Shows were awkward, practice was awkward, being in a fucking band with her was awkward. Not to mention the very noticeable divide that it put between you and the other members.

The entire situation made it hard to talk to anyone. It made you feel extremely isolated, because you had convinced yourself that no one could possibly understand, especially not the other two men in your band, so you barely spoke to anyone.

In return of that, the other members found it hard to talk to Ellie. Because ever since you had pulled away, things were just no longer the same.

The late nights hanging out in someone’s hotel room stopped, partying after shows were done without you, and the only times anyone truly ever saw you was when you had to perform. When you were done, you’d quietly go back to your hotel room to sulk.

The tour ended that way, with you silently pulling all of your things from the back of the tour bus once you had returned home and catching a cab back to your apartment in the city, going against the tradition that you all had done every time when coming back home, which was going to your favorite local bar and trying to out drink each other before stumbling home in the cold.

So now, you were home, still ignoring everyone.

It was hard for you. Because the girl you’ve looked up to for so long, wanted for so long, had said such mean things about you. And you weren’t an idiot, because never for a second did you ever think that Ellie could ever want you the way that you wanted her, even when you were wrapped up in her arms at night, or when she whispered stupid jokes in your ear whenever you were sad, her lips ghosting over your skin, you never once thought that you could have her. Because you weren’t a kid with a great big imagination, with hopes and dreams that you’d one day be swept off of your feet by her.

You knew deep down that it would never work out, and you were okay with that. You had long accepted that your love was unrequited, and as much as it hurt you to see her date girls she’d only known for a few weeks, and fuck countless groupies every night, you never let it get to you.

But hearing her say what she said, hearing those words fall from her pretty lips….it was like something was eating you from the inside out, and the love that you had for Ellie couldn’t outweigh the pain that she brought you.

And you couldn’t fucking do it anymore.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

The decision you had made didn’t come without heartache. You cried, you screamed, you threw things, ruining your room entirely, your rage and sadness burned you so deeply, because in all of this you still blamed yourself, and not her.

It had been almost a month since you got back from tour, and you could count on your hands how many times you left your apartment. Dylan and Charlie came by the visit a few times, and their apologetic smiles somehow pissed you off even further, because it made you feel small and frail, like you’d never be able to come back from this on your own.

You appreciated them, and you enjoyed the times they were around because it gave you an out from thinking about Ellie.

But all good things would come to an end.

That’s how you found yourself at Dylan’s apartment. He was shocked when you showed up, having not seen you outside of your apartment in who knows how long.

He knew that whatever it was you were there for, was serious.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Ellie felt like she was seeing red.

She slammed the door to her car once she arrived at your apartment building, her nostrils flaring as she breathed hard. She couldn’t even stop for a moment to think about what she was doing, or if you’d even be home.

But after her phone call with Dylan, she didn’t care. She needed to see you.

After tour had ended, she had found her way to your place a few times. The first time she had a bouquet of red roses gripped between her hand, which after 10 minutes of standing outside your door, she took home and threw in the trash. The second time she came by with a box of cookies from your favorite bakery, which she ended up angrily shoving into Charlie’s chest when she came back home and he was at her apartment waiting for her to teach him a new guitar riff. The third time she simply slipped a hand written note under your door about how sorry she was, which you had promptly ripped up once you saw the small ‘from: Ellie :’)’ written on the front.

That was the last time she had showed up, figuring that you’d come around whenever you had cooled down from the entire situation. What she didn’t expect though, was for it to go on for months after tour had ended.

But she was done, she was over this and she was over you ignoring her.

She knocked on your door loudly, staring knuckles banging on the wood of your front door, making you frown as the loud noise echoed throughout your apartment. You sighed, opening the door harshly.

“I told you I didn’t want one of your fucking pamphlets! If you don’t leave I’m calling the fucking-“ your words were cut off, eyes going wide as you looked up and caught eye of Ellie.

A very angry Ellie.

You sighed tiredly, already trying to close the door on her. “Go home Ellie…” you mumbled out. But her palm was pressing against your door and stopping you from closing it on her.

“You’re quitting the fucking band?” Her voice is harsh, and her words make you freeze as you stop pushing your door closed.

You figured word would’ve gotten out sooner or later…you just preferred later rather than sooner.

You let out a sigh, one of your hands coming up to tuck a strand of your hair back before you give her a half shrug. “I told Dylan not to tell you until the end of the month..” you mumble out, your eyes staring at your sock clad feet.

The second you confirm it, you’re confirming Ellie’s greatest nightmare, and she’s pushing past you and walking into your apartment before you can even tell her that you don’t want her in that, and that she needed to leave.

There’s no use in fighting her, because she’s already there and she’s clearly very pissed off, so you simply close your door behind you and lock it. You figure that if this is the last conversation you’ll have with Ellie, it might as well be this one.

Ellie is pacing back and forth in your small living room, hands in her hips as she tries to get a grip of everything that she’s learned within the past few hours. She wants it to be a lie, she wanted to come to your apartment and have you tell her it was all a prank, and she’d finally hear that pretty laugh of yours when you too made up and cuddled on your couch.

But you weren’t, you weren’t giving Ellie any of that and it made her feel even more pissed off.

“Ellie…” you mumbled softly, reaching out and trying to grab her arm gently, trying to calm the girl down so you could explain.

Ellie pulled her arm away the second you tried reaching out for her. The soft tone of yours was all she had wanted for the last three months, hearing the way you’d soothe her when she became too consumed in her feelings.

But Ellie felt betrayed, she felt like she was being left behind, like you were throwing her away and leaving her like everyone else did.

You were abandoning her.

“No! Are you fucking kidding me? You don’t talk to me for three months and the first thing I hear about you doesn’t even come directly from you? You didn’t even have the fucking decency to sit us down and tell all of us…you told Dylan and you had him deliver your message to us like he’s your fucking bitch” she spat.

You knew she was mad, you knew she��d come to your apartment in a rage when she found out. You had prepared for it, you prepared for all the nasty things Ellie would say to you.

But you didn’t expect any of this..

You inhaled deeply, trying your best not to let her words affect you.

“Look, Ellie…I just…it took me a long time to figure out what I needed to do to feel better. I don’t…it just isn’t working for me anymore-“ she cut you off, her hurtful words coming back with a vengeance.

“Bull fucking shit.” She spits out, and her tone is enough to make you flinch. Her words are cutting into you just like they had that night in her hotel room, and you’re trying to find something in you to not lose your fucking mind right now.

“You’re leaving because of me, because of something I said. You’re…you’re leaving behind something fucking amazing because I hurt your feelings. I don’t know how many times I have to say it! But I’m fucking sorry! Okay? I feel awful for what I said and I wish I could take it back but I can’t, and I’m sorry, but you’re being weak for leaving because of it” she yells out.

And everything stops….because all you can hear from anything shes just said…

Is that you, are weak.

And it’s like some sort of fucking phenomenon or something, because you suddenly feel like you’re being transported to that night, and you’re standing behind a wall, listening to Ellie laugh about how…how fucking unwanted you are.

And you don’t hold back anymore. You’re done holding back.

“Yes Ellie, are you even listening to yourself right now? Have you for one fucking second not been a selfish asshole to think about how any of this has affected me?” Your voice is tired, and it sounds like you’ve been internally fighting with yourself to keep these words inside.

“You hurt me Ellie! If you’re so sorry you said those things, then why did you fucking say them? Is it so hard to just say you don’t see me that way? To be a sensible human fucking being and not trying to dig me into a deeper hole than you already fucking have?” Your voice is growing louder and louder, and you’re slowly closing the space between the both of you as you shout at her.

When you’re right in front of her, your chest almost pressed against hers, your voice is quiet, and it almost sounds like you’re whispering to her for a moment.

“I never once believed that you could ever want me…but saying the things that you said about me, and then sabotaging me whenever I’m trying to live my fucking life…I can’t do it anymore Ellie…I can’t be around you anymore..”

Ellie almost fucking whimpers, because the tone of your voice is nearly enough to bring her to tears.

You aren’t even fighting anymore, you’re just tired. You’re practically begging her to let you go because she’s just held you in her hands for too long, never giving you the chance to grow and become something more than what you are.

Ellie feels it, just by the look in your eyes, she can feel that this will be the last chance she has to tell you, to come clean and stop lying to herself and to you.

Shes being given one last chance, so she knows she can’t mess it up.

“I’m in love with you.” She deadpans.

You roll your eyes, walking away from the girl. You had no time for games, and that surely meant Ellie falsely confessing her love for you just to keep you in the band.

You nodded your head towards your door as you watched her. “Nice try Ellie. I’m sure you’ll be able to charm some other girl enough to replace me as lead singer by the end of the month. It’s time for you to go” you sigh out.

And Ellie is practically whining as she makes her way over to you, towering over you as she pleads.

“I…I’m not lying…fuck id never lie about this. Leave the band if you want, I don’t care, I just…” she grabs your hand, bringing it up to lay over her heart as she sighs “I need you to know how sorry I am..and how I feel about you…” she sighs out.

Your eyebrows were furrowed as you looked down at your hand pressed against her chest, rolling your eyes as you used the placement to push her away from you.

“Ellie, cut it out. Seriously. I heard what you said about me, I heard all of it. Im not your type, remember? I look like a kicked puppy everytime you’re with another girl” you sighed out as you pushed past her, walking off into your living room before plopping onto the couch with a loud huff.

Ellie was groaning softly, hearing her own words being relayed to her in your voice made her heart break even more than it had before. She followed behind you, sitting on the couch and reaching for you.

“I..I didn’t mean any of that! I panicked!” her words catch your attention, but she groans when she sees the unamused look you’re giving her.

“I swear…just…” She tried, pleading for just a bit of your time before she was getting on her knees in front of you, pushing your legs apart so that her body was pressed against the edge of the couch, and you had no choice but to look at her.

“I’m an idiot, okay? The last thing I wanted was for Charlie and Dylan to tease me about having a massive fucking crush on you…I just…you’re too good for me, I’m not…I know that you deserve better than me…but I can’t help the way I feel about you. It eats away at me at night and it makes it hard to sleep and it doesn’t stop unless you’re around” She rambled, her eyebrows knitted together as she spoke.

Her closeness made your cheeks burn red, and you tried to keep your face down because you knew the longer you’d look into her eyes, the easier it would be for her to make you fold. You frowned as you shook your head, and before you could even speak, she was already talking.

“Please…please I’m so sorry baby…it’s killing me…not being with you is fucking killing me. I’ll leave the band, I’ll pack up and you can find a new guitarist to take my place just..” her words died down, and her fingers were placed gently under your chin to force you to look at her, and you almost lost your breath because..

Ellie was crying.

And not only was Ellie crying, but Ellie was crying for you.

Her green eyes were rimmed red, and her eyelashes were clumping together, and your insides twisted because all you wanted to do was to hold her, pull her into your chest and tell her that it was okay, that you were okay, and that you could be together.

But you couldn’t. Not after what she did.

“Ellie I…I can’t…” you mumbled softly. You opened your mouth to explain further, but you found that you couldn’t speak.

Because Ellie’s like were pressed firmly against yours.

Her long fingers were cupping either side of your face, keeping you close as her lips moved against yours. You gasped softly, trying to break away from her, but she used it as an opportunity to slip her tongue into your mouth, and from that point on, you melted into her completely.

You moaned softly, and Ellie was already pushing you back to lay against the couch, her body hovering over yours as she kissed you so deeply, so passionately, you could feel all of the love she had for you seeping into your mouth.

It felt amazing, having you pressed up against her, whining into her mouth and breathlessly begging for more. It was like every dream Ellie had ever had of you was finally coming true…

But she couldn’t shake the sinking feeling that came with it.

If this is what Ellie had always wanted, why was it that she felt like she was doing something wrong? Why did it loom over her like a dark cloud, soaking into her core and making her feel terrible about doing this to you…distracting you from everything she’s done with sweet kisses and breathy moans.

She wanted it…god she wanted it more than anything

But this wasn’t right.

She furrowed her eyebrows as she gripped your waist, moaning softly as she pulled away from you. You frown in confusion, staring up at her and searching for what might be wrong, what you had done to make her stop.

“What? What is it Els?” And Ellie swears she’s never heard something so sweet, the nickname you had for her like the sweetest melody she’d ever heard.

She sighed, gently pulling away from you as she shook her head. “This isn’t right…” she mumbled softly. She sits down across from you, her legs spread with her elbows resting on her knees, hunched over a bit.

You frown as you watch her, sitting up and adjusting your tank top, suddenly feeling extremely exposed underneath the girls presence. “Do you…not want me?” You mumble softly. Ellie’s eyes are nearly bulging out of her head as she quickly turns to you, grabbing your face and pulling you close as she shakes her head quickly.

“No! God no I….you’re everything I’ve ever dreamed of angel…it’s just…” she sighs, her voice raspy before she starts again. “This isn’t how this is supposed to go…you’re worth so much more than what I’ve given to you…I’ve been mean, and selfish and...And I come here expecting you to just forgive me and...and give yourself to me and...it isn't right.." She sighs out. You pout softly as you listen to her, and you are suddenly remembering all of the things that Ellie said, and you can't help but agree that the wounds are still fresh.

She notices how deep in thought you are, and she uses her strong hands to grip your thighs and pull you so you're straddling her lap. She licks her lips, her hands toying with the plush skin of your thighs as you both stay there for a moment, before she breaks the silence.

"Im not going to convince you that you need to stay in the band...if you really want to leave, thats your decision..but..." She sighs softly.

"Let me prove to you that you're what I want...give me one chance to do this the right way, and I promise princess...you won't regret it.." Her voice is raspy, and it reminds you of all the times she would talk to you while you both laid in bed together and you couldn't sleep. It reminds you of all the times Ellie called you on the phone in the middle night, too high and too needy, just so she could hear your voice.

And it reminds you of how in love you are with Ellie Williams..

Your hands slowly go to rest on her shoulders, your fingers toying with the ends of her hair at the nape of her neck, and you can swear you can see the girl visibly glow the second you give her a nod. In an instant, she's pulling you closer and pressing kisses to your neck, in spots that she knows you're extremely ticklish at. You nudge her gently to stop before you both settle down.

"Thank you angel...I promise...I'll do right by you.." She mumbles softly, her pretty green eyes staring at your plush lips before she leans in, pressing the softest, most gentle kiss to them, almost as if she were afraid she'd break you all over again.

#ellie williams #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x you #ellie tlou #ellie x y/n #ellie the last of us #ellie x you

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runningfrom2am · 5 months

Note

Hi, how’s your day been going? Hoping it was amazing. I just saw your post about needing inspo for Coriolanus fics! I’m not sure if you are taking requests but if you are Could you maybe do a touch-starved Coryo fic? Something fluffy/angsty where Coryo can finally fulfill those needs and be himself and vulnerable with the reader. Thanks!

as long as you need me - c.s

pairing: coryo x fem!reader

wc: 1.7k

tags/warnings: fluff, hurt/comfort, he just needs you and you just want to help.

requests (currently closed- feel free to send whatever but it will be a while before I get to them!)

nav / coriolanus snow masterlist

a/n: ahhh thank you for sending this in! it was so fun to write like stopppp i just want to give him a hug omg. also thought i'd post this to hold y'all off until i post the next part of LTPF. anyway, enjoy!

You had a very stable grasp of the limits of your relationship. What was appropriate, and what was not. You were quite shy, and Coryo always carried himself with a high level of decorum. You would eat together at lunch, and he would walk you home most days. The weekends, your study dates, were always your favourite. He was significantly more relaxed, but you could still tell he was just a little tightly wound. By now, you've just learned that's who he is. Not overly affectionate, but he cares for you and you care for him.

"I can't stay late today, I'm sorry." You said, genuinely feeling bad for having to turn down the request. In your junior year, you started tutoring for younger grades at the academy and it is something you thoroughly enjoyed.

"I have a test tomorrow! Why can't you stay? Just for a few minutes- I just have a couple of questions." The first year, Aelia whined.

"My boyfriend is supposed to walk me home and he has a tight schedule, but I'll tell you what, I can meet you in the library in the morning before class. That way it will still be fresh in your mind, yeah?" You grinned, and she seemed satisfied as you agreed on a time, not knowing that a few of the girls in your grade were listening in.

"Y/N," Clemensia decided to approach you as Aelia walked off, Arachne and Livia following close behind. "Did I catch you telling someone that you have a boyfriend? Did I hear that right?"

"Oh, well, yes." You answered sheepishly, gathering your things to put in your bag before your next class.

"Really?" Livia chimed in, and you just nodded. "Okay, well, spill. Who is it? Do I know him?"

"Um..." You looked around, deciding what to say. You weren't necessarily keeping it a secret, but you just hadn't felt the need to tell anyone you went to school with. "It's Coriolanus. Snow." You cleared your throat, unsure why you even added his last name. It's not like the name Coriolanus was abundantly common.

"Shut up." Clemensia laughed slightly, eyes widening at you. "You're joking, right?"

"No... We've been together for almost seven months now."

"I just... wow. We had no idea. Seven months! I feel like I've never seen the two of you get closer than two feet apart." You weren't sure whether to interpret this response as teasing or genuine shock- so you just gave them an awkward smile and a small nod before walking away.

At the time, you had never considered how your lack of affection in public could be confusing to people- not that it mattered. Rumors had spread quickly after that, which was to be expected when Livia and Arachne were involved. However, PDA just wasn't your thing. General displays of affection weren't really your thing, either. Both of you always had a lot going on, and having been together for almost a year by now, you knew that you loved him and he loved you. You didn't have to prove it to each other or to anyone, there was no pressure for anything to change. On your end, anyway.

Coryo, on the other hand, was feeling something shift. Leading up to the reaping and more importantly, to the prize. You both were in the running, being in the top twenty-four of your class, and you had no doubt that Coryo was a shoo-in, but you didn't know how extremely anxious it was making him. The now constant thrumming of his heartbeat in his chest and his shaky hands were always less around you, and he can only dream of how much better it would be if he could just hold you.

These days, he'd wake up expecting you in his arms due to a particularly calming dream only to be disappointed. He respected you a great amount and wouldn't want to push your boundaries, however unspoken. Still, he wasn't sure how much longer he could go about his day-to-day without testing his theory that holding you could cure his fears, or at least let him forget about them for only a moment. He would happily take just a second of peace.

Coriolanus usually greeted you outside of your unshared classes, seeing that you tended to stay a few minutes late to ask questions or polish off your notes. He couldn't wait to see you, he needed to.

"Coryo." You smile, walking out of your lecture hall to see him waiting.

"Hi, Love. How was class?" Your boyfriend greets you, joining you on your walk towards the exit of the school.

"It was good. Though, I find the topic of the rebellion kind of redundant at this point." You say, books tucked against your chest under folded arms. "Is it not too soon to discuss it in a history class? I mean, I literally remember what it was like to live in a bomb shelter."

Your joke seemingly lands on deaf ears as he just hums, placing a hand on your lower back to guide you out of the building. This wasn't totally unusual, but with the way he was pushing you, albeit gently, was telling you that something was wrong.

"Is everything okay?" You ask him, looking up at the boy next to you as you reach the bottom of the academy's front steps.

"Fine." Coryo nods, attempting a reassuring smile that he isn't aware falls short.

"Okay, well... If you want to talk about anything, I'm here for you, you know. Always."

"I know. Thank you, Love." He drops his hand from your back to hold your free one, turning in the direction of your apartment.

The next afternoon, you're in the same class, one of the rare ones you don't share with Coryo, taking down notes from the lecture when there's a knock on the door, followed by it creaking open. You pay no mind, taking the opportunity to catch up on everything written on the board.

"May I borrow Y/N, please?" Your boyfriend's voice is scratchy and shakey in a way unfamiliar sounding to you, making your head snap up. You'd never seen him cry before. "Only for a moment."

Your teacher dismisses you, likely on account of your and Coriolanus's mutually spotless records and his red-rimmed eyes. Clearly, you were needed urgently. You leave your bag and your books, ignoring the whistles and heckling of some of your classmates as you rush to the door.

Coryo had reached his breaking point. He was writing his third paper of the week, unable to focus on that and get his mind off of how unlikely it was he would get the prize if the Dean had any say. Sitting in the library, the world had started turning around him. People were talking, laughing, even, and he couldn't take it anymore. The floodgates opened and he had rushed out of the room. He couldn't go home, his attendance would be affected and he'd be throwing away the prize most definitely. He had nowhere to go, except for to you.

You close the door behind yourself, thankful that the hallway is completely deserted during class time. "Hey, what's going on?" You ask, and before you can get a good look at him he's pulling you into a crushing hug, shaking around you.

You're shocked for a moment, pulling yourself out of your head to hug him back. Whatever is bothering him must be bad. He'd hugged you before, but never like this. "Hey, it's okay..." You whisper, rubbing his back. "Let's go outside for a second, yeah? Get some air?" You offer, gently prying yourself from his grasp to look at him.

Coryo can't speak, overtaken completely by the tears flowing down his cheeks and the anxiety flooding every inch of his body. He feels like he could be sick, all he knew that he needed was you. He just nods, trying to regain his composure, if only for the couple of minutes it takes to get outside.

"Okay. Let's go." You smile, trying not to show how worried you are as you wrap an arm around his back, still holding him close to you as if he has a broken ankle and you have to carry him. So far, his theory was proving to be correct. Just having you at his side was calming to him, and mentally he's cursing himself for not voicing his fears to you before they broke him.

As soon as the door of the rarely used back exit to the school is closed, he's essentially collapsing onto the ground, tucking his knees up to his chest and crying into his hands. You're quick to join him, draping an arm over his back and trying to grab one of his hands to hold. Your brow is knit with worry, rubbing his shoulder as he allows you to take one of his shaking hands. "Coryo..." You say softly, trying to get him to look at you but he won't. "What's happening? Talk to me, you can trust me. I just want to help."

He sniffles, looking up at you. "What is it?" You ask again, hoping to prompt any kind of information out of him. When he doesn't answer, you curve your approach to yes or no questions, hopefully, to make it easier on him. "Is someone hurt? Is it Grandma'am? Did something happen?"

He shakes his head slightly with every question, once again avoiding your eyes as he looks down at the ground, occasionally trying to cough out the knot in his throat.

"...Do you want to talk? Or do you just need a hug?" You realize, leaning in so he would look at you again.

He pulls you closer, wrapping both his arms around you awkwardly due to the way you are both sitting. "Just need you here." He mumbles, hardly audible as he buries his face in your shoulder and neck.

Relieved to hear his voice again, you place a hand on his hair and on his back, holding him tight. "I'm here, Coryo. As long as you need me."

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#tbosas #tbosas fic #thg series #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus fanfiction #coryo snow #coryo x reader #snow lands on top #the hunger games #tom blyth

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here2bbtstrash · 1 year

Text

sunday (explicit)

genre: straight-up smut baybey, i did it y'all i wrote a pwp again

pairing: seokjin x reader

summary: you got your boyfriend exactly what he wanted for his birthday.

word count: 5k

contains: explicit sexual content~*~ say it with me: BRAT 👏 TAMER 👏 SEOKJIN 👏 established relationship, reader is uhhh 😬 Extremely bratty lmao, jin takes care of that, BDSM dynamics (mention of safewords and hand signals but neither are used!), reader gets spanked with a belt oop 🤭, fingering/a lil bit of eating it from the back, orgasm denial, big dick jin 😏, praise kink, mouth/throat fucking, a bit of breathplay, begging and apologizing, oh yeah she cries... like.... kind of a lot 🥲 there's a dacryphilia moment in there too (~*~add a little spice~*~), unprotected sex but they're in love it's fine, lots of subspace at the end, use of a vibrator, overstimulation, she comes.... idek how many times, and a smidge of aftercare 🫠 also i promise there's no food play, you'll get why the cake's there at the end ok lmao

A/N: a day late and a dollar short but hey that's my mental health rn 🫡 this was fun!!! always nice to dust off the ol' pwp muscles and frankly i've been itching to write proper BDSM for a bit now. sometimes you just wanna get the shit beat out of you lovingly and that's valid and sexy ya know. anyway feel free to silently skip this one if it's not for you!! and i know i'm gonna get a comment on it so 🙄 i used his korean age on purpose lmao 🙄 yes i can count and yes i know their system is changing~ ANYWAY i sincerely hope you enjoy babes and that you all had a lovely seokjin day 🥺 i loooove y'all !!! 💜

thank you to @haliiimede for beta reading and being my soulmate 🥺

read on AO3!

~*~

The slam of the front door tells you that your plan for today has worked perfectly.

Standing in front of the full length mirror in your bedroom, you adjust a final strap on your bralette, then quickly scramble to pull your clothes back on. You attempt to keep your expression innocent as you slip down the hallway to greet your boyfriend.

Before you can even make it, you hear the unmistakable pop of a wine bottle being uncorked, and you enter the kitchen just in time to see Seokjin leaning up against the counter with a glass of white in hand. He doesn’t look particularly pleased to see you.

“Hi baby,” you say, sweet as can be. “Can I have a glass?”

A muscle works in his jaw as he looks you over, and the expression on his face already has a flame licking in the pit of your stomach.

“That's all you have to say?” he finally answers.

You blink up at him, feigning ignorance. Your heartbeat has started to race behind your ribs, sensing imminent danger— the good kind.

“I haven't heard from you all day today,” he tries again.

You shrug. “I was still sleeping when you left this morning, and then, I don't know. I was doing things. Does it matter?” If Seokjin wasn’t already pissed, you know your last question will get him. You turn away to busy yourself with retrieving a wine glass so he can’t see the smile you’re trying to bite back.

The tone of his voice makes you freeze, glass in hand. “I don't recall saying you could have any.”

Your lower lip juts out automatically, and you do your best to steady your breathing without making it apparent. Even your voice comes out a little shaky. “But we always share.”

The silence in the kitchen feels deafening, punctuated by the soft tap of Seokjin setting his glass on the counter. You mirror him, swallowing hard as he steps in to close the distance between you. It never gets any less exciting to have him tower over you, big and broad-shouldered, tall enough that you have to look up through your lashes to meet his gaze. A dull ache starts to pulse between your legs.

“Do you know what today is?”

You lick your lips and try to speak. “Sunday?”

It’s like you barely get the word out before he’s gripping your jaw with one large hand, and you can feel your heartbeat in your throat. Anticipation buzzes through your body, all the way down to your toes, as he forces your chin up.

“Anything else?” His voice sounds like a warning.

Your mouth pulls into a grin beneath his grasp, one you can’t quite manage to keep innocent. “Oh, Seokjin, is it your birthday? I knew I was forgetting something. Oops.”

“Fucking brat.”

All at once Seokjin locks an arm around your hips, and you let out a shrill squeak as your feet leave the floor entirely when he outright slings you over his shoulder. This is, of course, exactly what you’d hoped for, but you struggle a little in his grip nonetheless. All part of the fun.

You’d left the bedroom door cracked on your way out to greet him, and he takes the opportunity to kick it back open. A shiver runs up your spine at the sight, and then you hit the bed hard enough to knock the breath out of your lungs.

You push up onto your hands as you sit up, slightly dizzy.

“That hurt, Seokjin,” you whine, but you both know you don’t mean it. You have agreed-upon methods of telling him when he’s really hurting you in a way that doesn’t feel good: safewords, even hand signals for when you’re rendered non-verbal. Anything said that isn’t one of those is just you running your mouth on purpose, winding him up. Like now. “You’re being so dramatic.”

“And you’ve got a fucking attitude today,” he snaps. “Is this really how you want to do this? On my fucking birthday?”

You blink up at him with the same sweet smile. “What if I told you I got you a present?”

This seems to surprise him a little, and he pauses, like he doesn’t quite buy it. “A present, huh?”

“Mm-hmm.” You nod as you get to your feet. “Let me unwrap it for you.”

Taking your time with it, you peel off your sweatshirt and leggings to reveal the lingerie you pulled on as he was coming home. It’s a soft pink set with a floral design, thin straps, and romantic lace, and you happen to think it does wonders for your curves.

“What do you think?”

You can see the hungry gleam in Seokjin's eyes even as he scoffs, feigning disinterest. “Oh, this is my present? A disrespectful brat that I have to teach a lesson? I should rip this shit off.”

“Hey, this was expensive!” you snap, and he arches an eyebrow as if to give you a final chance to behave. It just makes you want to push him that much further.

You step closer, allowing a perfect line of sight to your tits that threaten to spill out of their confinements, and you soften your voice when you speak again. “What, you don’t forgive me, Seokjin?”

The corner of his mouth just barely ticks up. “You know the rules. Forgiveness is earned.”

He reaches a hand down to undo the buckle of his belt, and your nipples are suddenly painfully hard against the lace fabric. You can’t remember the last time he used his belt. Fuck, he’s really mad.

“Bend over.”

You huff a sigh as you drape yourself over the edge of the bed, and his hands are already on your ass. He makes a low noise of appreciation as his fingertips dig into your supple skin, pressing firm enough to make you wince. He's not being gentle, and you don’t want him to be.

Your eyes flutter closed in enjoyment of being manhandled like this, and you get so lost in it that it takes you a second to realize Seokjin has asked you a question. By then it’s already too late.

He gives a warning slap to your ass as he repeats himself. “I said, how old am I?”

You peek over your shoulder, wiggling your ass against the flat of his palm, only for him to smack you hard over your left cheek. You bite back a whimper, not wanting to give him the satisfaction.

“I don't know,” you lie, blinking up at him. “You’re so old now, it’s hard to remember.”

In one swift move, he yanks his belt out from around his waist, and you swallow hard as you watch him fold it over in his hands.

“Then why don’t you fucking count for me.”

The belt cracks down over your ass, and you flinch at the first real rush of pain. It takes you a second to regain focus, your brain still buzzing from the hit, and then his words come back to you.

“One.”

“So you are capable of listening, huh?”

Another hit, equally as hard on the other side, and you grit your teeth.

“Two.”

“Aw, where’d that smart mouth go? Not so chatty now?” Seokjin cracks the belt again, and you can barely get the word three out before four is being delivered just as harshly. You squeeze your eyes shut and try to breathe. He's really hitting hard tonight.

“Four,” you gasp, and you hear Seokjin exhale a dark laugh above you.

“Better toughen up, sweetheart. We’ve got a long way to go.” Another hit in the same spot, this one enough to really sting.

“Five.”

“You know, since I'm so old.”

The next blow he delivers is so hard, the word comes out as a cry of pain. “Six!”

You flatten your pelvis down against the sheets, as if in an attempt to hide from the beating, but there’s nowhere to go. The extra pressure makes you feel how hard your clit has started to throb from your punishment. You bury your face in the crook of your elbow, your hips jerking reflexively as you moan through seven, eight, nine.

Every muscle in your body seizes taut as you prepare for ten, trying to encourage yourself to breathe through it, though all you can get out right now are shallow gasps for air. I can take this, you tell yourself, I can take this.

But it doesn’t come. You’re pulled so tight you think you might snap, and you manage to lift your head up from your arms to look back at Seokjin.

“There she is,” he says, and the soft tone of his voice in no way influences how hard he brings the belt down over your ass.

“Ten!” you groan, and the sharp bite of pain over your already raw skin nearly brings tears to your eyes. And he’s not even halfway done.

It’s all you can do now to remember what number you’re on, especially as Seokjin continues to allow torturously long pauses between his hits. He'll wait just long enough that your heartbeat starts to slow, teasing the thin length of the belt up the backs of your thighs, sometimes even with a laugh.

But it’s not relief: the waiting keeps every inch of you on edge, all wound up with anticipation of the next dose of pain, so tense you’re not sure you’re breathing.

You’ve hardly choked out fourteen when you flinch at a brush of contact, the warm touch of skin where you were expecting the crack of leather. Letting your forehead drop against the bed, you pant like you’ve just run a marathon as Seokjin's hand moves over your abused flesh, groping and massaging as he did before. You can’t tell if it’s been minutes or hours since then, but his touch is grounding, calming, even when his fingers sink into your fresh bruises with enough force to make you whimper.

You can feel the way the seam of your panties sticks to your center now, and you can only imagine that they must be entirely soaked through, your slickness already starting to paint the crux of your thighs. With a soft whine of need, you spread your legs a little wider in search of anything but more pain.

“What do you think?” Seokjin's voice is dark when he speaks, thick with lust. The thought of him straining hard against his pants has you practically drooling on the mattress. You want nothing more than that cock stretching you open right now. “Starting to learn your lesson?”

As much as the rational part of you appreciates the check-in, you can’t ignore the new rush of rebellion that surges up at the question. What, does he think you need him to go easy? Does he think you’re not tough enough, that you can’t take everything he’s willing to give you?

You push up to look over your shoulder at him again, your jaw set firm. “No.”

Anger flashes over his face, but he can’t quite hide his smile. “Then I guess I can stop holding back.”

Shit, he was—? You don’t get the opportunity to finish that thought before the loop of his belt is whizzing through the air, and the impact it makes against your ass hits so hard, you momentarily see stars. “Fuck!”

“That's not a fucking number.”

“Fifteen,” you gasp, dropping limp against the bed like a ragdoll, breathless with relief that you didn’t lose track. “Fifteen.”

“The brat can count,” Seokjin remarks, and then he delivers sixteen just as hard and your whole body spasms from the pain as you choke out the number. “If only you knew how old I was, you might have some idea of how much longer I have to beat your ass.”

Your eyes are really starting to well up now, but you force yourself to keep breathing, to focus on his words. It might be coded to fit the scene, but it’s a clear reminder nonetheless: you’re more than halfway. You can do this.

By twenty, the tears have started to spill down your face, but Seokjin knows you well enough to know the scene doesn’t stop unless you call a safeword. He trusts you to know your own limits, and you do. But fuck, he can really test them sometimes. You’re dying for him to touch you, fuck you, do anything but keep fucking beating you. It’s taking everything in you to keep going, your feet kicking helplessly each time he brings the belt down over your tender backside. He hasn’t lightened the weight of his hits up even in the slightest. If anything, they’re only getting worse.

“Twenty-one,” you breathe. You only have ten hits left, and you’ve already gotten through ten hits twice now. You can do this.

“Twenty-two.” You tell yourself not to fight it.

“Twenty-three.” Just give into the pain.

“Twenty-four.” Submit.

Your shoulders heave with sobs as the twenty-fifth strike finally, finally breaks your last resolve. You press your face into the mattress; you’re crying so hard you can scarcely breathe. Even though your body keeps flinching with the reflexive animal reaction to try and get away from the pain, your mind has fully accepted your punishment, all the fight gone out of you.

It’s like someone else is counting for you now, so much so that you don’t even realize what number Seokjin is on until the words leave your mouth.

“Thirty-one.”

You hear the jingle and thud of the belt hitting the floor, and then his gentle hands are encouraging your legs to spread apart. The brush of his fingers over your aching core is sweet, overwhelming relief from the pain still coursing through your system. You’d think it’d be enough to make you cry, if you weren’t already.

“Good girl,” he says softly, and that small praise alone has you floating straight up to the ceiling.

His hands move quickly to pull your panties down and off, and you work to get your breathing back under control, letting your sobs dissolve into sniffling gulps. You whimper when his palms slip under your hips, encouraging you up onto your knees. Your body shivers all over as you try to hold yourself up, to be good, and then you feel Seokjin slip two fingers into your drenched center.

“Oh my god,” you groan as he starts to rub diligently at the ridges of your front wall, his free hand gripping your ass to spread you open. His touch in both places at once, pressing down on fresh swollen bruises and curling up into the sweetest part of you, it’s so good. It reminds you why you willingly give yourself over to this man, the one you love so much, the only one who can make you feel like this. You’re so turned on from the mix of pleasure and pain, you might be close to blacking out.

The bed creaks as he shifts a little, and then he replaces his fingers with his mouth, and you keen. You bury your sounds in the crook of your elbow as his tongue plunges into you, and he snakes a hand between your legs to rub slow circles over your clit. Your mind is reeling; you can barely manage to speak.

“S-Seokjin,” you gasp. “You’re g-gonna, ngh, gonna make me—”

He pulls off just enough to mutter, “You better fucking ask first.”

You swear he ups the intensity on purpose when his mouth returns to your pussy, as if to drag you that much closer to the edge. His thumb is working so perfectly at your clit, you can feel your thighs starting to shake as you writhe back against him. “Can I— can I please come, Seokjin? Pleaseplease, please?”

“No.”

His voice is firm, unbothered, and paired with the painful loss of his touch all at once. A strangled sob of frustration escapes you as you collapse against the bed, exhausted from holding yourself up and from your denied release.

“Not yet,” Seokjin continues. “Not until you’ve learned to be a little more obedient.”

His strong hand closes over your bicep, and he easily flips you over onto your back, causing you to hiss at the graze of your sore flesh against the sheets. Your lower lip trembles, your eyes threatening tears as you stare up at him, but you stay quiet.

“Be a good girl,” Seokjin says, dragging one finger up the column of your throat. You willingly tip your head back for him as a shiver rolls through you. “Let me fuck this smart mouth, then I’ll make you come as many times as you can handle. Okay?”

When you nod softly, he hauls you up to your feet. “Get on your knees.”

You do as he says, sitting back on your heels and watching as he works his pants and boxers down to free his cock. He’s thick and long, flushed dark and dripping hard. Big enough that you go slightly cross-eyed trying to take him in. Your cunt clenches desperately at his size, at how badly you need all of him inside you, bottoming out into you again and again.

But even moreso, you want to be good.

“Mouth open,” Seokjin instructs, and you comply, letting your tongue loll out for him as he tangles a hand in your hair.

He guides himself between your lips, and your eyes roll back at the weight of him on your tongue, the feeling of your jaw stretching open to fit him. He’s so fucking big, it’s uncomfortable, but you do your best to breathe around him and give into it.

Trying to hold still, hands placed sweetly on your thighs because you know he likes it that way, you blink up at Seokjin as he starts to thrust into your mouth. You can taste the salt of his precum as his length drags along your tongue, and you fight back the urge to gag when the tip of his cock nudges into the back wall of your throat. He groans softly as he rubs himself there, his grip on your hair tightening until the pain stings your scalp. Your eyes start to water as you try to keep yourself from choking.

“Fuck,” he hisses when he pulls out, saliva stringing in thick strands from your mouth to the head of his cock. He squeezes at the base of it, eyes glazed dark with lust, and you take in as much air as you can, the cool rush painful where your throat is sore from the stretch of him.

You sit up taller as if to ask for more.

Seokjin’s gaze meets yours as the hand on his cock guides it back toward you, but he doesn’t slip back into your mouth. His eyes are fixated hungrily on your face as he drags the head of his dick down over your bottom lip, teasing it around your mouth and along your cheeks, clearly enjoying that he can do whatever he wants with you.

Your pulse drums loudly in your ears as you sit there, mouth open, and take it. The whole lower half of your face must be slick with spit and precum now, given how easily he glides across your skin, and then you’re hit with the heavy thud of him smacking his cock once, twice, three times against your flat, willing tongue.

“Are you done being a brat now?” he prompts, and you can feel drool spilling down your chin as you nod, his cock still weighing heavy on your outstretched tongue. He slips it in a little further, just past the ring of your lips.

“Gonna be a good girl for me?”

A soft whine escapes around his girth filling your mouth. You nod again, desperate, and then he hits the back of your throat with enough force to make you gag noisily. Your body shudders beneath him, and you try to keep it together.

“Learned your fucking lesson?”

Tears start to sting at the corners of your eyes as he keeps sliding himself into your mouth, the head of his cock dipping down into the tight clutch of your throat, as far as he can go until your nose is flush with his abdomen. You can’t make another sound, your mouth crammed too full, but you do your best to nod even as you lose the ability to keep breathing.

Seokjin’s thumb brushes over the bulge in your throat, and you know what he wants. Tears slip down your cheeks as you squeeze your eyes shut and swallow around him, and he rewards you with an unabashed moan that lights up everything inside you.

“That’s it. You look so good when you cry on my cock,” he rasps, his hand closing over your throat as you swallow again.

You can feel yourself starting to get light headed from lack of oxygen as more tears stream down your face, but the praise spurs you on. You want it too much, it makes you eager to please at any cost, despite the dizzying surge of adrenaline, despite the way your throat is spasming painfully now. You’ll pass out with his cock down your throat, if that’s what it takes.

He pulls out all at once, and the rush of air you heave in is like broken glass against your raw throat. You fall forward, your palms just barely catching you from landing directly onto your face, and you can’t do anything for a moment but breathe in ragged, shaky gasps. Tears are still welling up in your eyes, dripping down onto the carpet beneath you.

Your world tilts as Seokjin easily scoops you up in his arms just to drop you onto the bed, flat on your back. There’s still the dull ache of the bruises he beat into your ass, but it’s like someone’s turned the volume down on it. All your physical sensations seem distant, like they’re happening to someone else, even the dull ache thudding between your legs, a desperate desire to come that was only made worse by being used as your boyfriend’s fucktoy.

Your eyes flutter closed as his hands slip up your body to undo your lacy bralette and peel it off of you, and you don’t fight it.

“Hey, hey. Look at me.” Seokjin's voice pulls you back from the edge, and you fight to open your eyes again. He's hovering over you, fully stripped now, his brow creased slightly with concern. “Stay with me a little bit longer, okay?” His tone is still serious, and you sniff softly as you nod.

He slips a palm encouragingly under your thigh and you do the rest, so out of body that it’s like you weigh nothing at all as you pull your knees up to effectively bend yourself in half for him. He practically growls at the sight of you spread for him so willingly, presenting a cunt swollen with need, painted glossy with arousal.

You watch through heavy-lidded eyes as he kneels up on the bed, and then his thick cock is grinding over you, dragged right up your center. The feeling of finally being touched where you need it most has you exhaling a moan of relief.

“Is this what you want?” Seokjin's breath is hot on your neck and chased by the scrape of his teeth, earning another noise of pleasure from you. Your clit throbs as he rolls the head of his dick over it, up and down, slow teasing.

“Yes,” you manage to gasp. Your voice comes out a little broken from your scraped-up throat. “Yes, please. Please fuck me, please, want it so bad.”

“Which do you want more?”

You’re so gone, choking on whimpers and whines, that his hand closes over your throat to make you focus on the rest of his question. The look on his face is so dark, it sends a shiver down your spine.

“My dick, or my forgiveness?”

Tears spring to your eyes immediately as an overwhelming wave of emotions floods through you. There isn’t a doubt in your mind what your answer is, you don’t even have to pause to consider it. As badly as you want, need him to fuck you, the thought of Seokjin discarding you when he’s finished, still upset, not kissing every inch of your skin, not praising you for being so good… you can’t bear it.

“Your forgiveness,” you sob, doing your best to keep breathing despite his hand around your throat. “Please, please, please forgive me. I'm so sorry. I just wanna be good, wanna be good for you, I don't need anything else.”

You can see his face soften even through the tears that blur your vision. “There she is,” he murmurs, and then he tips his head down to brush his lips over yours. The warm touch of his mouth is all the reward you could ever ask for, and he sucks sweetly on your bottom lip before pulling back.

“Good answer, babygirl.”

Before you can even process what’s happening, he’s fucking the whole of his thick cock into you, and you can only keen as he stretches you wide enough to fit all of him. Your walls are immediately trembling tight to him from how edged close you’ve been all night.

“Thank you,” you moan, your head dropping back against the pillow. A gasp rips through you as he bottoms out, your spine arching when the crown of his cock presses firmly on your cervix. “Thank you, oh fuck.”

“Yeah,” Seokjin purrs, his mouth against your collarbone. You think he might be sucking a mark into your skin, but it’s already getting hard to tell what’s happening. “You always take it so well after I beat the brat out of you. Let go now, baby. You’ve earned it.”

You’re grateful for the permission, because you’re not sure you could stay tethered any longer if you tried. Not when he’s splitting you open, thrusting hard and deep because he knows you can take it, with a cock fat enough to light up every sweet spot in you at once. Your eyes roll back as you start to float, so out of it that you barely even notice a faint buzzing sound until you realize Seokjin is pressing your vibrator down against your swollen, aching clit.

Fuck, when did he even grab it off the nightstand?

You’re vaguely aware of someone moaning, but it doesn’t even feel like you. You’ve given up entirely to it now, a sweet surrender to this all-encompassing pleasure. It’s so good, too good, it slips you out of your mind and body alike, like he’s fucking your brain right out of your skull.

“That’s it, come on my cock,” Seokjin groans, and fuck, you are, you’re coming hard enough to drench his cock with every pulse of your needy cunt. “Such a good girl.”

He doesn't even pull the toy off to give you a moment of recovery, just keeps it nestled between your folds as he pounds into you. Your hips shudder violently as you coast out of your first climax and straight into another one.

It all starts to blur together now, wave after wave of orgasm washing over you until you’re drowning in it. You come and come and come until it feels like you’re melting into the bed, pinned through by this massive cock and the endless mind-numbing buzz on your clit. You can distantly tell that you’ve soaked a wet spot into the sheets beneath you, that your thighs and even the muscles of your ass are shaking from overstimulation.

“S-S-Seokjin.” It takes you three tries to get his name out, and you’re still not really sure if you said it until the toy switches off. The humming sensation is still reverberating through your body even in the absence of it, enough to make you tremble all over as he picks up the pace.

“Gonna fucking— fill you up,” Seokjin grunts, voice thick with effort, and then his cock twitches at the very back of you, buried deep as it can go, pulsing heavy as he paints you with rope after rope of his release.

You’re still not here, not really, not when he pulls out with a heavy sigh, when the cum starts to drool down your legs, when he drops onto the mattress beside you and pulls you into him. It comes back to you in pieces: you’re shivering all over, breathing hard, your face is wet— fuck, when were you crying?

It takes you several moments to realize Seokjin is murmuring in your ear, that his fingers are carding through your hair, his breath ghosting over your skin. “Just breathe, baby. Did so well, it’s over now. You’re safe.”

As the post-scene comedown settles into your bones, you bury your face into his shoulder, trying to breathe through the myriad of emotions and chemicals flooding your system. He pulls the blanket up over your chest, and the warmth of it and his body help to gently bring you down from the high.

You don’t know how long you lay like that until you finally manage to squeak out a question. “Y-you’re not really mad, right?”

Seokjin laughs gently as he presses a kiss to your hairline. “No, baby. I know you didn’t really forget. The birthday cake in the fridge kinda gave it away.”

The words take a second to hit you, and then a dazed giggle bubbles up in your chest. It’s like you’re floating as you start to laugh, your face still pressed into Seokjin’s skin, and you can feel the rumble of him laughing too. It didn’t even occur to you that he would’ve seen the fucking cake when he grabbed himself a bottle of wine.

“Oh,” is all you can think to say, and you keep giggling as his lips move over the line of your jaw, trailing kisses.

“You’re cute when you’re trying to get punished,” he says softly. “It's part of why I love you. You’re my perfect little brat. And this was the perfect gift, seriously.”

A warm glow blooms in your chest at the praise, and you sigh happily as you curl up against his side. “Can we eat cake in bed?”

Seokjin leans down to brush his mouth over yours, sweetly adoring. “Anything you want.”

#seokjin smut #seokjin x reader #seokjin x y/n #bts smut #bts x reader #bts fanfic #💜 happy seokjin day 💜

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thinkingaboutjaedyn · 4 months

Note

Hi! Love your writing!

Would you be able to write an aitana bonmati fic? Where the reader and aitana have been together for a while, but the reader is always jokingly flirting with her? Thank you!

lovely jokester ( aitana bonmati x reader )

prompt: your favorite pastime is to make flirty jokes towards your girlfriend

author notes: thank you! i hope you like this and it's what you wanted. tbh this fic is shorter than i wanted it to be but i wanted to post it anyways. enjoy!

you and aitana have been together for almost three years now. being with her has been one of the best relationships you ever had and very fun considering you two both play for barcelona. however you love to keep aitana on her toes. playing harmless pranks on her, saying obviously untrue things to try to trick her, and much more.

your favorite thing is do is definitely make corny flirty jokes towards the spainard. she always acts like she hates it, especially infront of other people, but you and her both know that she loves that part of you.

everyone was changing in the locker room, conversing with each other when you decide to strike once again. smirking as you look at aitana from across the room. she could feel your eyes on her (she knew by heart how you looked at her) but didn't think much of it. you had just pranked her yesterday so it wouldn't make sense to prank her again. you're a prankster, not evil.

good thing you weren't about to prank her. just show your girlfriend some love. you (try to) quietly sneak up behind aitana. she obviously can hear your footsteps even over the conversation between y'all's teammates. still the spainish player continues to slip her jersey on. laughing softly once you hug her from behind. planting a kiss on her cheek. "hola hermosa" you smile mischievously at her. aitana turns her a bit to look at you, with you two's foreheads touching. "hola bebe, what are you doing?" she says quietly.

you smile at her with that little mischievous smile you always do before pulling a prank on her. before she can even react you say (loud enough for the whole locker room to hear), "did it hurt when you fell from heaven?"

aitana bursts out laughing, pushing you away gently. half of your teammates laugh as well and the other half just groan. you see alexia roll her eyes as she walks out. aitana had pushed you right into lucy's arms. "you're so.." your girlfriend roll her eyes in mock displeasure. you would respond with something snarky, but lucy had you in a headlock.

"i'm tired of you and those cringey pick-up lines" lucy says as she messes up your hair. "i am too" claudia says as she pasts by you and lucy to leave the locker room. you gasp out as the rest of your teammates agree. including your girlfriend.

"why is everyone ganging up on me?" you say as lucy lets you go. she also heads out of the locker room. leaving just aitana and you in the room. your girlfriend comes over to you, giving you a short kiss on the lips. smiling once she pulls away, "yes, it did hurt, amor."

you give her a cocky smirk as she lets go of you and leave out of the room. one win for you and those horrible jokes.

you and aitana were enjoying a lazy saturday, cuddling in y'all's bed. aitana has her face nuzzled in your neck with your arms around her waist but of course you had to break up the simple domesticity by making another flirty joke.

"you know, amor..." you say in that tone aitana knows way too well. she groans as she tries to place her hand over your mouth. as an effort to silence you, but to no use as you hold her wrist and stop her. "i'm so glad your father came in your mother. without them i wouldn't have my beautiful girlfriend" you say before bursting out laughing.

your girlfriend gets her wrist out of your grip as you laugh even louder. she punches you in the shoulder, groaning. "just shut up.." the spainish players rolls up off of you and grabs her phone. starting to scroll to find her mother's contact. "and i am totally telling her you said that," she says.

"wait! don't! i'm sorry, please don't tell" you playfully beg as you try to reach for aitana's phone. she slaps your hands away. "c'mon, if you tell than i won't be the favorite girlfriend in law anymore" you whine as you stop trying to be a phone thief.

"should had thought about that before you decided to make that stupid joke" aitana says as she puts her phone up to her ear. very ready to tell her mother exactly what you said.

sometimes your jokes backfire and this is one of those times. one loss for you and one win for aitana.

#aitana bonmati x reader #aitana bonmati #woso x reader #woso fanfics #barca femeni

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non-stop-imagines · 6 months

Text

Cute

From this request 💖🤭

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Black Fem Content Creator!Reader (@/brinathedoll on ig faceclaim)

Summary: In which Charles thinks you're really cute and it gets annoying.

Word Count: ~10.4k words

Warning: Smut (p in v), face fucking, Hard!Dom Charles (bet that's a surprise), fingering, corruption kink (my best attempt), tummy bulge, "slut" being used a couple times, squirting, breeding kink towards the end, outfits, Twitter environment, mean comments, online translator French, ruining clothing, Minors DNI!!! 18+

A/N: It's 🏎️ anon's turn! 🥳 You have no idea how much I wanted to get to this one. Y'all already know how much I love Charles and this is my first smutty fic for him. I'm living the dream. 🤩 This one was fun, and the request was very helpful, very detailed it was a fic on its own! 🤣😚 Anyway hope you all enjoy. Thank you 🏎️ anon for your patience! I hope it lives up to your amazing idea! Love you all bbys!!! 💖💛💖💛💖

Translations: d'accord, mon amour=okay, my love;Putain de morveux=Fucking brat;Mon petit ange impatient=my eager little angel;Vous comprenez?=Do you understand?; Mon petit ange désordonné.=My messy little angel; Baise-moi=Fuck me; Mon parfait petit ange=My perfect little angel

Masterlist

______♥______

lyttleagnelyn

Liked by carlossainz55 and 268,307 others

lyttleagnelyn 🌸°~♥Life with Charlie¹⁶♥~°🌸

View all 204 comments

charlesleclerc A perfect life if I say so myself 🥰

user1 🌸🩷🌸🩷

user2 You can see the obsession in his eyes 😍

lilymhe Cuties 🥰🪷🩷🌸

>lyttleagnelyn You and Alex are the blueprint 😚

user3 I need another clothing haul bc these outfits are so cute I CANT-

>lyttleagnelyn How about with a special guest? 👀

>user3 YES TF ❗❗

scuderiaferrari Petition for Charles' next special helmet to have rabbit ears on it 📜

>lyttleagnelyn I would happily help design it 🥰🐰

>charlesleclerc And I would happily wear it

>user6 If your your gonna DNF, you can at least look cute while doing it ☺️🌸🪷🐰

user4 That emo boys shirt is killing me cause you have the softest man in the world 😭

>lyttleagnelyn He tries his best 😔😭

user5 Charles.jpg in the works

>charlesleclerc I'm afraid those aren't for the public eye 😗

>lyttleagnelyn Charlie why??? 😭

>user5 Yes, Charlie why? 😭😭😭😭

>charlesleclerc They're just too cute for anyone else but me, mon ange

"Thank you for doing this with me, baby. It'll be fun, I promise." You practically bounce around the excessive light pinkness of your filming room as you finish prepping everything for your video. Charles insisted that he created this room for you when you moved in with him months prior. "You need a room you feel comfortable in, mon ange." Is what he said when you tried to protest it, not wanting to take over his space, but here you were, getting ready to film on your pretty pink dedicated office.

"I don't doubt it, Mon ange." Charles sat in your computer chair, hugging to him a Hello Kitty plushie that originally sat close to it, watching you move around, waiting for you to start filming. "If it's anything like the makeup video, I know it'll be fun." He loved watching you in your element, around your things. He would paint his entire apartment pink if it meant he could see the smile you had and that sparkle in your eyes 24/7.

"You just liked the attention you got from that one." You walk over to him and fluff his hair bit before leaning down for a quick peck on the lips. "I have to give it to you, you knew your stuff."

"When your girlfriend takes as long as you do to get ready, you get curious." He's reluctant to release his arm that he wrapped around your waist when you approached him but he eventually does, letting his hand fall back to the plush in his lap when you head back over to the camera.

"Okay, ready?" You look back towards Charles, ready to press record on the tripod in front of you.

"Yep, ready." He gives you a thumbs up, now starting to twist in the rotating chair, still holding on to the stuffed animal. His eyes possessively surveyed you as you began your video.

"Heeelllooo my little lovelies, welcome back to another video. If your new here, hi, my name is Yn. I am here today with a very special guest making his first physical appearance on my channel, my loving and very trusting boyfriend, Charles. Aka Scuderia Ferrari Formula One driver Charles Leclerc." You beam, and playfully jog back to your computer chair, standing behind him and placing your chin on his head.

"Hello everyone." He doesn't even try to match your enthusiasm, going with his usual enthusiastic tone, because he knew from experience that no normal human being has as much energy as you do at any given moment.

"So if you noticed that I described my Charlie here as a very trusting boyfriend, it was because, unlike you all who know what this video will be, he does not. Charles just blindly agreed to joining me today. So, you want to know what I'm gonna have you do today?" You head was now next his, turned to the side so you were looking at his side profile which soon became a full view of his face where he gave you a quick kiss before answering.

"I would like to know, yes." He chuckled out his words and let an eye crinkling smile grow on his face.

"You, my love, are going to be rating some outfits for me made up of clothes that I already had and some stuff I just bought." You drape your arms over his shoulders, your full attention on him and his on you, you feeling warm under the excessively adoring eyes.

"Okay, that's interesting. So, like, on a scale of 1-10?" Charles seems to search for something in your face, a possible flicker of uncertainty that comes with ideas you have in instances where you liked the idea but the follow through made you too uncomfortable. This was not one of those times as you nod sprightly with gleaming eyes.

"Mhmm. If it's okay with you, of course. I kinda blindly roped you into this." Your smile drops slightly and one of your hands begin to swipe at Charles' over grown hair as you awaited his answer.

"If it's okay with you, it's definitely okay with me, mon ange. I like seeing your cute little outfits anyway." The eye crinkling smile was back on his face as you attacked his cheek with rapid-fire kisses, leaving light lip gloss marks.

"Thank you, baby! You're the best!" You press on last kiss you his lips and then plant yourself between the him and the camera to finish your intro. "Alrighty, let's not waste anymore time and get this started, shall we?" You turn to look at Charles catching him deep in thought, straight faced shifting jaw and darkened eyes. "I'll be right back with the first outfit, okay? You talk to the people." You disappear into the walk-in closet in the room to change, leaving Charles to do as told. Talk to the people.

"This is no different than when she usually comes home after shopping. I will happily stop whatever I am doing and watch her try on her new clothes." He looks away from the camera to take a brief gander around the room, knowing that you be able to edit the silent bits out later. His eyes roamed the light pink walls of the room, plastered in various equally pink posters, the white computer desk against the wall perpendicular to the bedroom door and a well organized pile of plushies on the other side of the room. The closest door to the right of the desk held an adorablely decorated mirror that directly faced the Classic Rose pink colored canopy bed that Charles also insisted was put in here for various reasons: being able to take naps, for example, when you wore yourself out from editing or other content related work that you would always throw your entire self into. There were, of course, less savory reasons that bed was in this room in that exact spot, but luckily the twist of the closest door knob brought him back to the reality and prepared him to see your first look.

"Okay, outfit number one. There will be about 10 by the way." You give that message to both your boyfriend and the camera before going back to posing and turning around so you whole outfit can be seen. You turn to face the camera to give your spiel on where each item was from whether it was part of the haul or you previously had it. Charles eyes moved up the back of you taking in how well the jeans fit your butt, how your shirt bunched up in the middle to show your midriff, giving your belly ring the backdrop it needs to be shown off against your brown skin. But none of those details caught his eye like the thin pink ribbon that was wrapped around your ponytail, bringing back that sense of innocence to the outfit that he enjoyed. Once you were done you turned to face Charles. "What do you think, baby?"

"You look very, very cute, Mon ange." You gleefully spin in another circle so he is able to get one more good look at the entire outfit.

"Mercí. So, on a scale of 1-10, what would you rate it?" You absentmindedly alternate a mild hyperextension of you knees as you waited for an answer.

"Erhm, I would rate it an 8." He says this with an emphasized tone that was very specific to him, pausing at certain words and elongating the "an".

"Okay...why an 8?" You walk into the hand that he lowly held out, ending up standing between his legs but standing to the side so the camera could see him, his fingers scaling over your exposed lower back.

"Uhh, again you look very cute, but it's a bit, uh, edgier that your other outfits. Also, you feel more comfortable in skirts than pants, no?" That gauging look was on his face, hoping that he had his facts straight and wasn't making a crude misjudgement.

"That's true, but these jeans made my butt look great, so I made an exception." You leave Charles' vicinity and move to your mirror to get a glimpse for yourself.

"That is true. The jeans fit you very well. That entire outfit fits you very well." His hands go back to squeezing the plush that he honestly forgotten was in his grasp when you walked out of arms length.

"Thank you." You bend over the slight bit to give him a short kiss, his thumb and ring finger needlessly propping up your chin. "Okay, next outfit!"

After another few minutes where Charles sat alone, reminiscing about the first outfit, you came out of your closet in the second outfit. "Okay, outfit number two."

The boy was stunned. He literally sat silent, jaw basically on the floor as he looked you up and down. "That is a 10. Hands down." He spoke with the utmost seriousness, making you feel a bit shy but also even more confident in the outfit that just felt completely you.

"That was quick. I didn't even get to talk to the people yet." You took a step closer to him letting the hand that he held out hold onto your thigh, fingers running over the pink fishnet stockings you had on.

"Oh, yes. Go do that." He shoots you away and you make quick work of explaining your outfit, wanting to hear why he was so swift in rating the outfit a 10.

"Okay, now why a 10?" You settle into his lap this time, plucking the plush from his lap and gently placing it on the floor.

"Well I love the pink. Pink is definitely your color." He pulls you closer to him as he examined your outfit a bit more. "The lace on your shirt, the uh-cor-um" He waves his hand around his own shirt, trying to remember the name of the type of shirt you had on that he has heard a number of times.

"Corset?" You remind him, your hands gravitating to his hair as they always do

"Oui! Yes, corset. The lace on it it beautiful. And I really like the stockings and the lace on those, too. This outfit really does make you glow." Your heart speeds up from how tenderly he says the last statement. His voice was a bit lower and more gruff, coaxing you into deep languid kisses until you remembered that the camera was still there, recording everything.

"Geez, your really trying to make me have to work at editing this thing huh?" You smack his chest and hand back the Hello Kitty plush that he accepts unhesitatingly, chuckling at your frantic realization.

"I have no idea what you are talking about." An adorable laugh is laced through his voice as he watches you disappear into the closet to change into your next outfit.

The rest of the video goes on basically in the same order: You come out in the outfit, give where each piece is from, and then turn to get Charles rating which was accompanied by various cheek warming praises ("You look absolutely adorable, Mon ange.", "That is perfect for you, baby.", "How are you so cute?"). After the last outfit, though, you had a small surprise for him.

"Okay, so I know I said 10 outfits, but I have one last thing I wanted to try on for you guys..." You spoke to the camera quickly then rushed off toward your closet, stopping and looking at Charles for a moment. "You're gonna like this one." And then as you did 10 times before, you disappeared behind the door, leaving Charles still holding the plush and racking his brain as to what this last outfit might be. A few minutes later, you open the door a crack. "So, I know that summer is nearly done, but there were so many swimsuits on sale so I knew I would've been crazy not to get at least one sooo..." You carefully step out of the closet with small steps, not yet passing the door for the camera to be able to see you. "You like it?" You bring pink acrylic nail to your teeth as you wait for an answer from, a now gawking, Charles.

"I-that-aaa-bwow. Ah, yes. I do like it. Alot." His eyes slowly move down your body, eyes obviously lingering on each piece of the bikini you had on. The lace trim that followed the curve of your boobs, the pink plaid and strawberry detailing. This then led to his eyes trailing down your exposed brown skin, shining against the pink like it always does, down your stomach, stopping briefly at your belly ring and then finishing down your legs, mind going to what's between them. He now finds a use for the Hello Kitty plush, clasping it to his lap to hide the major hard-on producing. He then cuts his eyes to the camera, remembering what he was there for, and cuts his eyes again, this time for the purpose of nonverbally asking "Are you okay with wearing that on camera?"

"Oh, it's fine, baby. I want to show them." You finally emerge from the closet to give a full view of yourself to the camera, going on to explain where the swimsuit is from and the details you like about it. Charles tuned every single word out now that he had a prolonged view of the backside on the ensemble, finally being able to see how great your ass looked, but it was a miniscule detail that really caught his eye. The thin pink ribbon that still held your hair in a ponytail. Your playful innocence flooding back to his vision of you in his mind, offseting the... provocative style of the girly patterned bikini. He clutched tighter to the plush in his lap.

"So, yeah. I just really liked it...and as you can see by the blank stare, Charles really likes it as well. It's different, huh? The fit of it is a bit sexier than my other ones, right?" You turn to Charles to ask the question and saunter into his arms, beginning to mess with his hair again just to see your decorated nails run through it.

"Sure, you could say that. But, um, I do really like you in it. It's very cute on you." He grins up at you with adoring eyes and gestures with his lips to request a kiss from you which you grant.

"Thank you. Now let me go put on some real clothes and I will be back to close out the video." You bound to the closet again after speaking to the camera. Charles sat patiently, the image of you in that bikini burned in his brain.

_________

"That was fun." Charles said as he finally got up from the computer chair, stretching out his limbs and carefully replacing Hello Kitty in the spot he plucked her from initially.

"Yay! I'm glad you had fun. I enjoyed it. You know how much I like trying out new outfit inspos." You unhook the camera from the tripod and briefly make sure at least something recorded.

"Inspos?" He stops his wandering about the room to inquire about the unfamiliar word.

"Short for inspiration, baby." You set the camera down and walk over Charles, wrapping your arms around his torso and resting your chin on his chest.

"Ah. Yes, I do know how much you like trying on new clothes. And you looked adorable in each and every one. Especially that swimming suit." You giggle at yet another compliment and prop up onto your tip toes to accept the kiss he was craning his neck to give you.

"Thank you. For that and for doing the video." You hug close to him, getting a comforting huff of his cologne while his hand runs up and down your back.

"De rien, mon ange. Anything for you." He presses one more kiss to the top of your head, your vanilla scent strong enough to taste and thin pink ribbon in your hair still teasing him.

"Okay, you may go. Go do whatever Charles does while I edit, okay?" You wave him off toward the door and make your way to your desk, sitting criss cross on your computer chair.

"Okay, okay." He heads to the door to exit but turns to you, your back to him, already clicking through everything to begin editing. His eyes traced the pink ribbon that followed the gentle curve of your ponytail. That fucking ribbon. "Make sure you take a break, Mon ange. We can watch a movie or something."

"Okay!" You call back, waving him away. He giggled, shaking his head and closing the door most of the way. He had to distract himself. Every single outfit you tried on drove him crazy, the contrast the girlish pink ribbon added to each progressively provocative outfit, and the bikini, that drove him over the edge.

"Fuck it." Charles detoured into the bathroom and closed the door, pushing down his sweatpants just enough to release his cock from confinement, precum already beaded on the tip. Immediately he began stroking, providing the much needed friction to relieve the arousal that manifested. "Mon petit ange innocent, you drive my fucking crazy..."

_____

lyttleagnelyn

Liked by lilymhe and 230,739 others

lyttleagnelyn A 10 in some 8s and 9s 🌸🪷🌸

(Go watch my new video and this will make sense. And to see the only outfit that was ranked a 10. Link in bio🩷)

View all 279 comments

user7 IT GIRL 🩷

charlesleclerc You should've showed them all 😚

>lyttleagnelyn Then they wouldn't have a reason to go watch the video 🥺

>charlesleclerc To watch your cuteness in action is reason enough

joris__trouche Next vid you pick out Charles' outfit 👀

>user8 Now here is a man of the people

>user9 You're saying that like Charles wouldn't absolutely love it 🥹

user10 It needs to be said that polar bear outfit is highly underrated

>user11 TURN IT UP 🎛️

lewishamilton 🩷😊

>lyttleagnelyn Thanks Lew 😚

>user12 I didn't know I need this friendship until this very moment and I will not accept anything less

user13 I don't know why but I love that she brings this style to the paddock bc them fits are starting to get boring 🩷

__________

"Open your legs wider, Mon ange, so you can see your pretty little pussy in the mirror." Your eyes connected with his in the reflection of your pink themed mirror on your closet. The image was a completely lewd contrast to the back drop, you fully nude, legs splayed open, Charles' jean clad legs encircling yours and his arms, covered in the sleeves of his sweatshirt, leading to hands that were defiling you in their own ways. One was wrapped around your upper body, fondling your breast as the other caressed your upper thigh, drawing ever so close to your core.

"Like this?" He watched you in the mirror as you adjusted your legs, lazily rubbing at your clit as he instructed you to do earlier.

"Yes, perfect. Look at how cute you look." He presses his mouth to your hair, keeping his face there and allowing the thin pink ribbon he tied around your already up ponytail to tickle his face.

"Charles, I don't know how much longer..." Your hand starts to slow down drastically, almost stopping, but a firm grip on your wrist from Charles keeps the movement going.

"C'mon, amour. I know you can do better than this." His presses a couple kisses to your hair and then notches his head in the crook of your neck, eyes switching between your actual hand rubbing circles on your cute swollen cunt, and the reflection smiling back at him from the closet door. His other hand quickly swats 2 slaps to your tit, creating small shocked whimpers from you that he finds great amusement in. "Also, you know what to call me, Mon ange."

"Daddy, I don't know if I can do it again." Your hand got pressed into your clit some more, making slow but strong circles that make you whimper on repeat.

"I know you can give me one more, Mon ange." You concede and keep rubbing, the achy, over sensitivity making you lull your head back. You didn't notice that your eyes had been squeezed shut until they flutter open, relieving your eyelids of the strain and giving you a dreamy view of Charles, his eyes trained on the addictingly obscene reflection in the mirror. Unfortunately, the early comments from your video began ringing in your ears, taunting you, so you decide to test the waters.

"Nooo, what about you? I can give you one?" You effeciently remove your hand from his grasp and attempt to clumsily reach into his belted jean. He watched for a moment, charmed by your novice attempt at trying to get him off yourself, but just as easily as you had removed your hand, your wrist was being gripped again, this time with out the allowance of reach to his torso. You whine, defeated. He was your boyfriend. That's what boyfriends wanted their girlfriends to do, right? "I just want to make you feel good..."

"Making you feel good makes me feel good, Mon amour." He slowly guides your hand back to your clit starting the agonizingly slow, ineffective rub on your clit again. "But, if you really want to make me feel good, amour, you will make a mess for me, just like I know you can."

"But I don't think I can cum again..." Your hand keeps rubbing, but now the ache of your overused clit coupled with your bubbling frustration were already hard at work dampening your arousal. Seeing Charles in the mirror, his tongue swirling around his middle and ring finger is the only thing that seems to keep one last drop of sexual intrigue.

"I know, Mon ange. That's okay, because I am going to help you. You just have to keep your eyes on the mirror, d'accord, mon amour? And do not stop rubbing your cute swollen clit." He takes the two fingers, now lubricated with saliva, and rubs them over your slit before pushing both appendages inside you. The whimper you let out was choked, brain torn between annoyance and the painful pleasure you were feeling. You didn't want him to think that this would make you forget what just happened, but it was enough to make you forget for now. His fingers set an agonizingly slow pace at first, pulling all the way out and rubbing your arousal over your pussy lips and inner thighs, then plunging back in. He knew exactly how to curl his fingers, exactly how much pressure to place on the bumpy membrane of your g-spot, and the exact speed he has to move his fingers to get to the end he wanted. Honestly, he could've done this from the beginning. One and done. But he has felt a shift in your mood, so he wanted to show you how much he loved you in the way he believed he knew best. "Look at yourself, Mon ange. Look at how adorable your face is." He kisses along your cheek bone, eyes continuously fixated on the reflection.

"Daddy..." Your hand jolts from your clit to Charles wrist when his fingers abruptly speed up and you begin to feel pressure build in your pelvis, a gesture which he clicks his tongue at before using the hand that was still abusing your nipples to pluck it from his arm and motions for you to continue rub your clit.

"Squirt for me, Mon ange. Show me how messy my cute little girl can get. Ruin the sheets, I can get you pretty new ones." He kisses along your shoulder, reveling in the pornographic sounds and faces you made. He watched as you stare at yourself in the pink, Sanrio character covered mirror, unable to hide exactly how good you felt. You couldn't say anymore words, only whimpers, whines, and any other sexual sounding high-pitched noise bubbles from your chest as Charles brutally fucked you with his fingers at a blistering pace. Your vision gets spotty as the familiar sensation floods over you, pun intended. Charles' fingers continue as liquid sprays from you, legs straightening out and shaking as the convulsions of your third orgasm of the night take over your body, liquid flowing from you pooling at your butt, flowing around the blockage to get to Charles' jeans.

"See, Mon ange? I knew you could do it. You did so good for me." His fingers, now removed, traced languid shapes along the inside of your thigh, his other hand that never left your chest now sliding up to your neck, guiding your face upward so could proceed with a messy, rushed make out. You were nearly unconscious, still coming down from your high. "Let's get you cleaned up." You felt yourself being picked up bridal style, arms reflexively wrapping around your boyfriend's neck, face nestled into his shoulder. Your brain slowly became less clouded as you were carried to the bathroom, a reminder of your boyfriend's unwillingness to have you touch him, and how everyone may just be right...

_______

It's only been a week since you posted the video and already it's your most viewed, most liked video. The comments have been raving. So many positive things to say about your outfits and how much people can tell Charles loves you from the way he speaks to you and looks at you. But those weren't the ones that were plastered all over your mind. "Absolutely nothing about any of these outfits are sexy...", "How is Charles able to date this girl when she dresses like a child...", "I am failing to see what she has that Charlotte or Alex didn't have that makes Charles want to be with her...". It was literally only a handful of comments, but each one of them cut you like a knife, and had you laying on the living room couch, cuddled up to your boyfriend, questioning the security of your almost year long relationship.

Your head was resting comfortably on Charles' thigh, his hand moving along your right arm, caressing the flesh gently with his finger tips. You were in some of your favorite pajamas, but as the harsh comments continued to coil around your brain, you could feel yourself physically curling in, becoming increasingly self conscious of your style choices to the point where you were questioning what you wore in the comfort of your own home.

"Are you cold, Mon ange?" Charles pulls the plush pink blanket you kept on the back of the couch down and covers your body, rubbing his entire hand up and down your arm to relieve you from your suspected coldness.

"Baby, what did you think about Alex dressed? Or Charlotte? Did you like their styles?" You don't look at him, you knew you would cry upon eye contact. You could feel his body tense up at the mention of his exes, but he goes on to respond anyway.

"Hm? Why do you ask, Mon amour?" You could feel his eyes boring into the side of your head. He wanted you to look at him. He wanted to see the emotion your eyes gave away so he could gauge where the inquiry was coming from.

"Oh, I- uh...you know. Just wondering. We haven't really talked about your exes." You hope the answer was enough to curb his curiosity, feeling relieved when you feel his hand continue to move again and the vibration though his body as a low hum goes through him as he thinks.

"Uh, well. I guess their styles worked for them. Their personalities. They both were, um, quite, ehh, reserved." He removes his hand from your arm to scratch the side of his nose and then quickly replaced it.

"Would you say you preferred how they acted?" Fuck stealth, you wanted answers.

"Now, I wouldn't say that. Again it just kind of fit them. I can't really imagine them acting differently. Like you personality fits you. Your cute and, uh, bright and the clothes you wear are just as cute and bright." Your subconscious could here the pride in his voice when he made his point, but your forebrain just heard that word. Cute.

"But did you find their personalities more attractive? Like...sexier, or whatever?" You knew you over stepped when you feel his body tighten up again.

"Mon amour, what are these questions?" He chuckled to diffuse his tension, but he still added this moment to a mental list he was making of ways you seem to be second guessing yourself.

"Nevermind, it's stupid." You cuddle into his leg again, giving up on trying to get a clear answer on what Charles really thinks about you. Still he goes on to answer an unasked question.

"Mon ange, I love you, okay? I think you are absolutely perfect the way you are." His hand on your arm moved to your cheek, a singular digit turning your head toward him so he could kiss you. He was telling the complete truth. He loved you more than he could've ever fathomed. His eyes wandered over your face, how your brown skin and eyes glowed in the light of the television. You always just seemed to glow.

"Thank you, baby. I love you, too." You gave the obligatory answer that obviously held truth, but you couldnt help but let the negativity continue to echo through your head. As the night went, the program on the TV became static as you began to formulate a plan to make yourself undeniably irresistible to your boyfriend. Step one: Ditch the cute.

"Mon ange? Are almost ready? We have to get going soon." Charles paces in the foyer of the Belgian hotel suite, typing out a message to his trainer that you two were heading down. He does stop for a moment, glancing toward the bathroom, adding another thing to his mental list of how you've been acting differently. You're mood has been off, much quieter and reserved, and he made another mental note when he realized you haven't talked about video ideas recently. Your outfits have been drained of the pretty pinks and whites and instead have been replaced by dark blues browns and blacks. Piggybacking off of that, it's always taken you some time to get ready makeup wise, but it's also been taking forever for you to get dressed, like you had to force yourself into these new, reserved outfits.

"Yeah, I'm ready..." You were hesitant to leave the bathroom. You worked hard to convince yourself that what you were wearing wasn't much different than what you usually wore. Sure the fully brown jumpsuit was technically darker than the primarily pink outfit staring at you from the floor...and you did prefer a skirt to pants...but this was still an outfit that you would be expected to wear. The addition of the cream colored cropped zip up added the softness to the outfit that allowed you to feel as comfortable as your possibly could. So after taking a deep breath and mentally coach yourself through nonchalantly exiting the bedroom, you approach Charles who breaks away from his thoughts and immediately notices the difference in your wardrobe.

"You look nice." He makes no move to leave the hotel room, wide eyes scaling your appearance.

"You didn't sound very confident about that." You finish applying a clear lip gloss in the mirror on the wall and then look up through your lashes at Charles and his unmoving body. Your heart rate increases as his uncertain tone replays in your head.

"Oh, no amour. You look adorable, really. Your outfits never fail to look beautiful. It's just...it's a bit darker than usual. I'm not used to seeing you in brown. It looks very pretty on you." No smile manifests on his face, instead a wide eyed look that signified that his entire focus was on you, but you still felt the sincerity behind his compliment. But "pretty" and "beautiful" still rang through your head like the most annoying bells ever. The only words that he used to describe how you looked in the skin tight brown bodysuit.

"Thank you, Charlie." You lift yourself up a bit on your tip toes to give Charles a peck on the lips, which he had a delayed reaction to, puckering when your lips had already made contact with his, like his mind was somewhere else. That was further obvious when he stayed stand there, squinting at you, running his "Yn's been acting different" list through his brain. "We should get going..."

"Oh! Yes! Sorry, mon ange. Let's go." He jolted out of his trance, suddenly back in the present where he had to start getting mentally ready for a singular practice session before going into qualifying. And there you were, following close behind, grabbing Charles hand that had reached out for you like a heat-seeking missile.

__________

You decide, for the practice session at least, that you were going to sit up in as private of an area of the Paddock Club you could find. You didn't have the energy to hear anymore "You look different but still cute!" compliments. You knew they all meant well, and they were all only mildly annoying. Kika said it in excitement, asking where you got the jumpsuit from. Daniel came up to give you hug, telling you that you looked "really cute today." Lewis' complimented your outfit, but he also asked how you were doing, dipping his head so he could look you in the eyes as you confirmed that you were fine.

In a normal situation, you would've loved this amount of attention, but when your mind has been flipping through painful past memories where people doubted anything you did and told you that you wouldn't get anywhere dressing the way you did, the last thing you wanted to hear was anyone else saying that you "still looked cute". Yes, you were fully aware that you got to this point in your life, viral video, and thriving YouTube channel and the hottest, most supportive boyfriend on the planet by embracing this aesthetic that allowed you to essentially just be truly and unapologetically you, but what if that cup was running out? What if people were initially pulled in because of the aesthetic, but expected you to change eventually? What if that was what Charles was thinking?

You had already found an empty table in an unfounded corner of the large open room, a large white wall with a TV screen on it, partitioning you from the rest of the room, giving you the moment of soliace you needed. You even briefly closed you eyes to take a deep breath and ground yourself, and it was working until you heard heels clicking toward you. The quiet attempt at retreating is what finally made you open your eyes.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I saw you and was about to come say hi, but then I saw you trying to...meditate or something..." It was Lily.

"You can sit, you know..." You giggle at the fact that she was still standing, but your small smile falls a bit when you see her eyes moving around your appearance.

"Oh, yeah. I like the look, by the way. It's-" You interrupt her words by with a quick "stop" hand gesture that seemed to stop her words and her motions, making her freeze mid-sit.

"If you say 'cute', I am going to rip every piece of hair that I have in this claw clip out." The look you gave Lily made her hesitantly finish sitting, and rethink her compliment.

"You look...nice. Good. Great. Am I getting close?" She places a comforting hand on your shoulder, rubbing gently when you let your head fall onto the back of your hands on the table.

"You're fine. These past few weeks have been...a lot." Lily's hand doesn't move, even when you lift your head enough to turn and look at her.

"What? Your video?" You listlessly lift the rest of your body up from the table and turn to her, not making eye contact and instead messing with your nails, the only part of your outfit that actually fully expressed you.

"Yeah, technically. I never expected it to do that well, but there have been comments..." You look out the window in front you when you hear the approaching cars and let your eyes try too hard to track each car that goes by.

"All I have seen were rave reviews about your outfits and how in love Charles is with you." Her hand is finally removed from your person after her comment, reaching in her clutch that was placed on the table and pulling out her phone.

"Yeah. I guess those are the majority, but there have been other ones...meaner ones..." You trail off into your own thoughts while more cars roared by, continuing to speak when you have the prolonged feeling of Lily's eyes on you, waiting to see where you were going with it. "Lily, how often does Alex say you look sexy in something?"

"I-uh-woah. You caught me off guard there, um..." She stopped to seriously consider your question. "I guess kinda often. Mainly when he can tell I'm excited about an outfit or it's, like, a special occasion. Why?"

"Charles has only ever said I was "cute". Or "pretty". Or "beautiful". Never sexy. Not even if I try to lead him into saying it." You turn around for a moment to check where Charles stood on the practice session leaderboard and how much time was left. "I honestly have no idea if Charles thinks I'm sexy."

"Oh, honey. I'm sure he does." Her fingernails went to caressing up and down your back as she turned all of her focus towards you while Alex goes 3rd fastest.

"A boyfriend that finds his girlfriend sexy would want to, like, fuck her 24/7, right?" You whispered the obscenity as to not attract unwanted attention, but you still asked the question in search of some well needed validation.

"I mean, in theory, I guess. But everyone's relationship is different." She continues to move her hand over your back and you push some of the longer hair from your bangs out of your face.

"Lily, we've been dating for almost a year now, and we've never actually...done it." It felt almost embarrassing to admit it. Everyone talks about how in love you and Charles are but you two have yet to take that step to show your intimate devotion to each other, sans the other things you guys have done you guys have done.

"Maybe he just doesn't feel like it has been the right time. He must have his reasons." You appreciated Lily's optimism.

"Like I'm just too cute to fuck. He doesn't want to defile me." This was the first joke you've made about the situation, and laughing about it felt so good. But you still needed answers, and your question just gave you some direction. "Maybe that's it. What could I wear to make Charles think I'm sexy enough to fuck?"

"I didn't expect to have this conversation when I woke up today. Um...something you can wear?" She took a moment to think and you could see the light bulb in her head switch on. "Lingerie! That's literally 'being sexy 101'. Something hot and lacey. And probably in a darker color, really lay it in thick. He's already obsessed with you, that'll make sure he can't keep his hands off of you."

"Lily, you genius!" You exclaimed, catching her off guard again, this time by throwing your arms around her neck and giving her a couple of light, glossy pecks to the cheek.

"Anything to help." You were already typing away at your phone, nearly vibrating with excitement, imagining Charles reaction. Another round of car roaring traveled by, but the speed of those machines had nothing on that of your scrolling thumbs.

___________

You stood in the overwhelming yet soothing pink of your filming room, admiring yourself in your new lingerie set. Well trying to. It looked really good on you but you couldn't wrap your head around how there aren't more complaints about how itchy the lace is.

"Well, Yn, when the point is to have it taken off of you, the comfort of the fabric doesn't matter, does it?" You chastise yourself, checking out the back one last time, squirming from the uncomfortable g-string underwear. "Okay, let's do this." You take a deep breath and shake out any last minute jitters before calling out to your boyfriend. "Charlie, could you come here?"

"Coming, mon ange." His voice was far off in the distance, but it still made your heart jump up into your mouth and then travel down into your stomach. You look at yourself in the mirror again, trying to ground yourself, but then you heard his footsteps and you gave up on calming yourself down. This was a special moment, nerves are normal and should be expected. "What's up...oh my..."

You were trapped under Charles' stare. Wide eyed, his tongue darting out to usher his bottom lips into his mouth. But then his eyebrows scrunched together and his jaw shifted, so you had to speak to break the nerve racking tension. "You like it?" You wanted to be a bit sexier, but in preparation for this, you only put effort into finding the lingerie. Acting sexy was still foreign to you.

"Uh, yeah. You-you look beautiful, Mon amour. You look beautiful in everything." He walks towards you, eyes dancing over your figure as he reaches for your hands to pull you into him but moving his hands to the sides of your face when you wrap your arms around his torso.

"Just beautiful?" You voice was high trying to coax the right words from him.

"You look absolutely amazing, Mon ange. It's just, you seem uncomfortable." You twist your head like a confuse me puppy. Yeah, you were uncomfortable, but comfort wasn't the point.

"I just wanted to try something different. For you." You unwrap your arms from his waist and rub them up and down his chest.

"Oh, you didn't have to do this for me. I adore you in the cute little underwears you normally wear." That was a last straw for you. That word has been the bane of your existence for the past three weeks. To the point where you haven't even wanted to be around your stuff, which made you even more stressed. You haven't been around your comfort items or felt comfortable enough to film again, so this was you last chance at trying to feel like yourself again and it was blown by a singular word.

"'Cute'. Is that all you can fucking say about me. That I'm cute?" You had pulled away from Charles and placed your hands on your hips.

"Mon amour, I don't understand. Why are you angry?" Truthfully he wishes he was still holding you. He liked to feel your skins under his fingertips. But he instead crosses his arms, watching you pace angrily around the room. His brain couldn't think straight as he watches different parts of your body bounce as you walked.

"Well let's see? The word 'sexy' apparently isn't a part of your vocabulary when it comes to me. Because you refuse to fuck me." You counted out your grievances on your fingers, adjusting the itchy ass bra you had on that pissed you off even more.

"Amour, we definitely have-" Charles attempts to employ a calming tone to try and diffuse your anger, but it was a futile effort.

"Charles, your tongue and fingers do not count." The death glare you gave would've been enough to scare him off in a normal situation, but your temper tantrum was making him just as mad as you already were. "I even had the bright idea that maybe if I acted and dressed like Alex, or Charlotte, or even fucking Giada, that you would maybe want to fuck me. Boy was I wrong!"

"Okay, stop!" And you did. Stopped in your tracks. You turn to face Charles, arms crossed so your boobs were further smashed together in your lacey bra. "I don't know why you keep talking about my exes, but that is going to stop. There is absolutely nothing about them that made me more attracted to them or made me want to...fuck them more than you." It was his turn now to pace in frustration. His hands run through his hair as he tries to block the visual of you in your skimpy lingerie from running through his mind. "You want the truth, Mon amour? I think about fucking you all the time. I think about the noises you'd make, and how cute-yes, cute- you'd look while I fuck you senseless. When you look really cute, like when you have that little pink ribbon in your hair, I think about how you'd look with my cock in your mouth, your pretty eyes looking up at me. Your perfect makeup ruined because of me."

"Wait, so all this 'cute' stuff is just your way of saying you think I'm sexy?" You still had your arms crossed but you were looking up at him innocently, now feeling a bit guilty about being so frustrated with him for the past few weeks.

"Oui, Mon ange. Exactly." He takes a couple of slow steps to walk across the room to you, placing his large hands on the sides of your hair, bring your forehead to him for a kiss. "I think you are extremely sexy. Cute just fits you better. And it doesn't mean that I want to fuck you any less. Now, let's get you out of that and into something you can be more comfortable in..." There's a chuckle in his words as he tries to guide you to your wardrobe, but you don't budge. He should've stopped while he was ahead.

"Wait, no. First, I'm not taking this off. Second, if how I dress hasn't stopped you, than why haven't we fucked?" You take a step back, stopping and standing with your hip flared out and your head defiantly cocked to the side.

"You know what? If that's what you want, fine. Fine! Putain de morveux." He whispered the French to himself as he removed his shirt in a swift smooth motion. Him succumbing to your pleas and attitude was a shock, literally having you frozen in your spot, wide eyed with a small grin growing on your face. "Mon petit ange impatient, you have no idea what you've gotten yourself into." He approaches your frozen frame, almost angrily examining the dark lace fabric that barely covered your body. "This has to come off."

"Oh-Hey wait-!" The rip to the bra made you want to cry, and honestly you had no idea why. You wanted it off. It was fucking itchy.

"Don't cry. I'll get you something just like it, only...cuter." He was obviously taunting you now, a dark glint in his eyes as gave you a devioua grin, daring you to retaliate. But you stay silent, only looking up at him through your eyelashes, eyebrows furrowed. "What? No argument?" One of his hands begin to travel up your stomach to your breast, his rings scrapping over your nipple when his thumb was done running over the nub. Your curiosity reigned supreme as you watched his hand grope you body, and even still you had little warning when his hand rushed up to your neck, lodging right underneath you jaw, applying a small amount of pressure. The location of his hand forced you to look at him, eyes already dazed. "I'm gonna fucking ruin you, Mon ange. That's what you want, huh?" You nod, head still trying to wrap around the mood shift in the room. "Answer me." The pressure on your trachea increases slightly.

"Yes, Daddy." You whine out, the high pitch sounding raspy from the squeeze on your windpipe.

"Non, until you learn how to act, it is Sir. Vous comprenez?" You go to nod, but your neck received a warning squeeze.

"Yes sir!" You quickly corrected yourself, taking deep gulps of air when you're released.

"Bon." He goes back to eyeing you, face blank sans the shifting of his jaw while he thought. "On your knees." Your brows furrow in reaction to the command, initially confused but following directions anyway, slowly falling down to your knees. Charles bends over, capturing you chin between his thumb and forefinger and tilting your face up to look at at him. A grin flashes onto his face and you being to reciprocate the gesture when a his hand applies a stinging slap to your left cheek. "If I tell you to do something, do it immediately. Okay?" The grin stays on his face, unwavering. The fact the he was holding such a calm face after such an offense made your heart race, and unexpectedly sparked a bit of arousal in you, causing you to feel wetness begging to pool between your thighs.

"Yes sir." You sit back into your heels as you answer, eyes still watching his eyes darken, a pout on your face.

"You're a quick learner." His finger gives the bottom of your chin a couple of taps and then one tap on the side as his focus turns to the thin pink ribbon lazily sprawled out on your desk. You head follows his movements as he saunters over to the desk, plucks the ribbon from it, and saunters back over to you, standing behind you. A shiver runs down your spine as his fingers gather up your hair and tie the ribbon as tight as possible around the ponytail he created. "This will be helpful for me and you, Mon ange." His words vibrate through your whole body, his warm breath tickling your ear. When he's done he stands back up and walks back around to stand in front of you, the bends down to run his hands down your triceps to pull your arms out in front of you after previously resting on your lap. He continues on to hook your fingers on the waistband of his sweatpants and his underwear. "Take them off for me, mon amour." Learning from the previous instruction experience, you didn't hesitate with pulling at his pants, brain curious about what will follow. It wouldn't have been the first time you've seen Charles' dick, it just would've been the first time your focus was solely on it, so your excessive eagerness caused a lack of awareness and you were shocked to say the least when it hits you in the face. You flinch away from the appendage initially, but take him in your hand, semi-hard and pink tip glistening with the slightest bit of pre-cum. "You're little face was so adorable just then, mon ange. A little bit larger than you expected?"

He was. You had only seen him in passing. While he was changing or getting out of the shower, and when you did see him he was mostly soft, so seeing him up close, and seeing that as he grew harder from being under your observant gaze he was almost as long as your forearm, it was intimidating. "Yeah. Quite a bit bigger."

"Open your mouth. Stick your tonuge." Your mouth only begins to form the word why when your receive another harsh slap to your face. "Let's try this again. Open your mouth...and stick out your tongue." You do so immediately, looking up at him with a tear rolling down your face from the sting on your cheek that he wipes away with his thumb. "If you want me to fuck you like the little slut you are being, you should know that sluts do what they are told." His thumb continues to gently caress your tingling cheek, but towards the end of his statement he begins to stroke himself slowly, dangerously close to your tongue. "Open a little wider, mon amour." You do as best as you can, your jaw already feeling sore and it hasn't even been a minute.

You try your best to not flinch when Charles guides himself into your mouth, but you didn't have to worry about it because once he felt he was in enough, he brought his right hand down to grab onto you ribboned ponytail to force his cock the rest of the way down your throat. Once your nose hit his pelvis he pulled back on your hair to remove your mouth from him, you making the most obscene gaging noise as he does so. A string of slobber momentarily connects you with the head of his cock before it drops of onto your chin and Charles swears it's the cutest thing he ever saw. "Let's see what your pretty throat can do, mon ange." His dick approaches your mouth again and on instinct you open your mouth, looking up at him as the pushes in, the thick vein that ran down his shaft gliding along your tongue.

The moment his dick hit the back of your throat, more tears began to fall from your eyes, but when you briefly look down, you saw that he still had a bit more of him to stuff down your throat before he reaches the depth he did before. Once he does finish stuffing your mouth, nose at his pelvis again, you rapidly tap at his thighs, making him pull out again. "Yes?" The way he asked way condescending, using the grip he had on your ponytail to make you look up at him. You were quite the sight. Mascara starting to run down your face and your lips and chin glistening from slobber.

"I couldn't breathe." Your whine was raspy and you could stop blinking your eyes as they burned from the mixture of tears and mascara.

"Oh, ma Cherie, focus on breathing through your your nose, okay?" You nod your head and then dutifully reopen your mouth allowing Charles to slide into your mouth again. You do as instructed, trying to focus on breathing through your nose, but soon that became more difficult as he employed his hips in getting his dick down your throat. The sound of your gagging and the sloppy sound of saliva spilling from your mouth with each thrust were a supplemental driving force in bringing him closer to cumming. For you, his grunts and groans, his praises ("You're mouth feels so nice, amour" "You look so cute like this, mon petit ange désordonné."), and the small glimpse you get of your head being forced up and down his cock in your pink framed mirror all did their part in making your pussy so wet that the juices started soaking through the dark fabric of the panties you still had on. You didn't realize that you were zoning out, having to use little brain power as your throat was being used, until he abruptly pulled out, yanking your head to make you look at him again, face more fucked out than before and he hasn't even fucked you properly yet.

"You have no idea how much I wanted to cum down your throat, but I still have to give mon petit ange what she was whining for." He releases your hair and finally steps out of his pants in order to walk over to your pile of stuffed animals. "Ass in the air for me, Mon amour. And here, for your head." He tossed the same Hello Kitty plushie that used to hide his boner during the YouTube video to you and you absentmindedly do as told, enjoying the idea of giving your upper body a break. The way you positioned yourself had you facing the mirror on the closet, so Charles was able to see your tired messy face laying on the plush Sanrio character as he got behind you and pulled the black thong you still had on to the side revealing and sliding his fingers through your already slick folds. You flinch and whimper when the callous pads of his index and middle fingers graze and briefly rub your clit. "Tell me what you want, amour. Use your words."

"Want you to fuck me, sir." You were near falling asleep from the surprising amount of energy that was exerted having your throat used by Charles, but you were still determined to get what you wanted from this entire endeavor.

"Just wanted to check." He removes his fingers from your clit and adds what juices he did gather from you to his cock that was still slick from your mouth. He the line himself up with your entrance that was fully exposed for him and with little to no warning begins to push inside you. He still knew better than to rush it, slowly pushing himself past your folds, but not stopping until he filled you to the hilt. "You're so fucking tight, mon ange. Baise-moi."

"Wait, Charles. You're-I-" He wasn't all the way in when you began talking but once he's finished pushing inside you, you let out the most guttural groan he has ever heard from you. But you still comitted the grave offense of not calling him the right name, so the hard smack you received on your ass brought back the high pitched whine he's heard time and time again. "Sir! Sorry, sir!"

"It's okay, mon amour. I know it was an accident." He has yet to attempt to move, the grip your pussy had on him made him briefly question if it was even possible, but before he tried he bent down as much as he could to get as close to your ear as possible. "I gonna fuck you like the little slut you want to be. Give mon petit ange exactly what she wants." Your ponytail had flared out over you face, so Charles reached to move your hair out of your face before straightening his back again and griping your ass firmly to finally back his hips out and thrust inside you again. You let out similar groans after each slow thrust he gives, whimpering after a while and wiggling your hips a bit to see if you were able to make how full Charles had you feeling more comfortable.

"You feel so deep. I think I feel you in my tummy..." Everything you said came out whiney as you cuddled your head into the plush beneath it. You were completely oblivious to the curiosity you just sparked in your boyfriend, that is until you feel his arm reach across just above your breasts to lift you up so your back was pressed against his chest, now getting the clearest view of yourself being fucked in the pink decorated mirror.

"Let me see." He hitched his hips into you and his eyes couldn't believe what he saw. "Mon amour, look," He moved his right arm underneath your breasts so he could use his left hand to make you look at yourself in the mirror. He pulled out and thrusted into you again and so you could watch as his dick pressed into your stomach, making the bottom of your tummy poke out slightly. "You can see me in your tummy. That is adorable, mon amour!" It was like this sight flipped on another switch in his brain, a switch adjacent to the one that has made him act so cruel. His thrusts became quicker as he reached for your hand to place on top of the disappearing and reappearing bulge. "Keep you hand there amour, I want you to feel how well I'm fucking you."

"Yes, sir." You moan out as best you could, working to make sure your hand doesn't get knocked from it spot. Charles adjusts his arms so that he had a firm grip on you and a hand that could easily reach your clit. Immediately upon beginning to rub, you start to whine and whimper like when you were close to coming when he fingered you or ate you out. In fact, he knew these specific moans meant he would have to brace for a mess.

"Are you gonna cum for me, amour? Make a mess all over your pretty pink room?" His warm breath and thick accent turned your brain to mush, so all you could do to answer was nod, but you felt his grip around you tighten after you do, your only indication that you did something wrong. "Oh, mon ange. If you want to be a good little slut for me, you have wait for me to tell you when to cum. Now you have to wait for me."

You wanted to cry. All the other times he was cruel to you in this fashion it was at least after you got to orgasm a couple times. But denial was an entirely different beast that had tears running down your face as wordless whines erupt from your chest.

"Amour, you feel so good around me. I could fuck you forever. I can't believe I was missing this." You both were in your own worlds, so as he spoke and rambled on about how good it felt to fuck you and how cute and dazed you looked, you brain turned it into white noise, trying hard to focus on the instruction that Charles gave you. You wanted so desperately to be good for him.

"I'm gonna cum, amour. Cum so deep inside you. Make that tummy bulge stay for a while. My first time fucking you and I get to fuck a baby in you." He became progressively less coherent, and surprisingly more french, the closer he got to cumming, and the combination of the warm feeling of cum spurting inside of you and the quick movement of Charles' fingers on your clit that came with his reaction brought you over your prophesized edge, the a mixture of squirt and cum coating your thighs. Charles keeps his firm grip on you as you ride out your shaking orgasm, still coming down from his own high, sprinkling kisses along the side of your neck and whispering praises in both English and French. "You are so perfect for me amour. Mon parfait petit ange."

"I love you, Daddy." You reach back and tangle you fingers in his hair to bring him in for a sloppy kiss, face still messy from the start of the evening.

"I love you too, mon ange. I'll, uh, make more of an effort to tell you you're sexy more often." He maneuvers himself to be able to lift you up into a bridal hold, giving you a small peck on the forehead.

"You don't have to. Cute is just fine. I promise not to be so much of a brat." You wrap your arms around his neck and lean in for a near make out session, giving a few deep kisses that allowed you to tangle your tongue with his.

"I like when you're a little bratty. It is actually very adorable, because you don't do it very well." He chuckles while bracing for a couple of slaps on the chest from you.

"Oh, also, the, uh, baby thing...were you serious?" He began to finally make his way to the bathroom as you inquired about the words he said during his orgasm rambling.

"I guess we'll see, won't we?" This time he stifles his chuckle but doesn't conceal the large grin that grows on his face at your shocked face, kissing the crease between your brows. "Come, mon ange. Let's get you cleaned up."

#formula 1 #black reader #f1 imagines #formula 1 x black!reader #f1 x black!reader #request #charles leclerc fanfiction #charles leclerc scenario #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x black!reader #charles leclerc smut #f1 smut #f1 imagine #f1 smau

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elysianeclipxe · 1 year

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secret soft boy revealed | enhypen sunghoon

warnings: insults towards build a bear, sunghoon being a judgemental bitch /hj, irony or like little hypocritical (not that bad i swear), also like mega soft hoonie

genre/au: fluff, boyfriend!sunghoon au

word count: 1.4k

summary: build-a-bear is a cliche and old thing that couple do. only lame people would go there to build a bear when it's obviously easier to just buy one.. so tell me why THE Park Sunghoon just so happens to be there, enjoying the fact that he's building a bear... whipped af

sidenote: pls don't question where my mind's at these days, idk either. like this idea legit just popped outta nowhere and has been stuck for like a week. i had to do it, i had to so deal with it. sunghoon's cute like this anyway, also hoping he isn't super ooc in this, i tried my best y'all

Sunghoon is a man with a lot of pride. That pride slowly increased as the years went by and never stopped to fall. It rose from ice skating, it rose from his fangirls at college, and it definitely rose when and as he dates you. But right now, his pride is easily being challenged by a stuffed animal store. What exactly is he looking at right now?

“Ya! What the fuck is this nightmare of a store?” He felt his feet halt at the sight of the -what’s a nice way to describe it- childish looking store. Well that’s way better compared to what he did say. His eyes are wide and figure is just frozen cause he definitely did not see this as part of his day when he said that you could take him anywhere.

“What do you mean? It’s build-a-bear, it’s cute.” You replied in a questioning tone. You tug at his arm trying to pull him inside the store but it gets progressively harder as if he doesn’t want to go in.

“It looks stupid.” You knew it, this wasn’t the ideal place to go to.

You frown at his response and let go of his hand with a huff, “you look stupid. If you really don’t wanna go in then I won’t force you to. I just thought it would be fun to do together.” Maybe you should’ve picked a different place for the two of you to go to instead of something so immature. You probably look like such a childish significant other in his eyes right now. Great…

He looked over at you and felt his figure slump at your down state. Was this build-a-bear thing such a bad thing that he would shut it down before even trying it? For others, maybe. But for you, no way. He likes you too much for that. So he lifted your chin and forced a smile, “I want to do it, just don’t expect me to be too into it. Just want you to have fun.”

“REALLY HOONIE!? You’re serious about this, promise?” With a slight nod of his head, you beamed your smile at him and excitedly dragged him into the store. This’ll be fun, right?

Oh boy were you soooo right! You and Sunghoon had only entered the workshop around 15 minutes ago and anyone can obviously see how much you’re enjoying it so far, but what you didn’t expect was to see your boyfriend enjoying just as much as you. Maybe even a little bit more. The way he paid so much attention to the worker who explained what to do first since you were both first time build-a-bear makers, or maybe how he said how you two should surprise each other with your build-a-bear and see who made a better one like it was a competition. Nevertheless, you agreed to his proposition.

So here you are, looking around the store trying to find a design you think would be best. Frogs, nope. Bunnies, cute but no. Unicorns, why. Everything seemed so basic and incomplete until there, your build-a-bear chilling on the second shelf. A little penguin.

Awwww, it’s so cute! It kinda looks like Sunghoon. My ice prince and my ice related animal, makes sense

“You are way too cute not to get! Come on, let’s go get you all plush and personalised.” You happily walk over to the worker and move onto the next step, the worker instructing you to do this silly but amusing heart warming ceremony for your almost stuffed penguin. Rubbing the plastic heart between your hands and giving the heart a wish for your plush was one of the most entertaining things to do. Screw being childish, this was terrific and you didn’t care. And it seems as though your boyfriend doesn’t care either since he comes rushing over to you with an unstuffed bear and a huge grin on his face.

“I FOUND IT!! I found the perfect one to get, a classic with my personal touch. I am definitely winning this!” He confidently handed it to the worker and worked on his heart warming ceremony. A serious look on his face as he warmed up the plastic heart in his hands, rubbing it on the fully stuffed animal to create memories, promising to care for his new build-a-bear, and sealing that promise with a kiss.

HE’S SO CUTE OMG!! HOON YOU ARE SO CUTE LIKE THIS, STUPID MY ASS, YOU ARE THE SOFTEST BOYFRIEND EVER

After everything was done, the workers placed the hearts in each stuffed animal and closed them up before handing them to you. You both thanked them before looking at each other with determination in both of your eyes. “Sorry Hoonie, but I think I won this one. I got a penguin while you got a basic bear.”

He loudly gasped at your words, hands over his heart before placing the bear’s paw over their heart. “How could you? My bear is not basic! He is a classic with a customised scarf as a personal accessory. I for sure won this challenge, step down babe.”

“How does adding a scarf make it that much better, Hoon?”

He froze. “Hoon?” He bit his lip and turned his head to the side, not noticing that his cheeks and ears began to turn the lightest shade of red. “Hoon~, wanna answer me?” You teasingly ask him, closing the distance between the two of you. “Please..”

“IgavehimasimilarscarftotheoneIgaveyouwhenwestarteddatingandiputourinitialsonthescarfaswell…” Sunghoon said quickly, squeezing his eyes shut. This is embarrassing, too embarrassing for him.

“Sunghoon, I understand nothing from that. Could you repeat it again, a little slower this time?”

“Ishhhhh, okay. I gave him a similar scarf to the one I gave you when we started dating and I put our initials on the scarf as well…” His blush deepened to the point he started covering his face with his hands. You bit your lip in pure amusement and happiness.

Yep, I’m right. My boyfriend is the cutest thing ever, I love him so much

“Can I see?” He hurriedly nodded and pushed the bear in your direction. The classic brown bear with a different colour for the heart shaped paws and the scarf that did indeed have both of your initials in it. PSH <3 Y/N. You could feel your heart melt at the sight of something so simple yet weirdly touching. This man is too much for your heart. “You win, Hoonie. I-I don’t think I can beat this.”

He peeked out of the gaps between his fingers, “really?” He saw your nod and your shy smile and started smirking at you all smug like. “You really like it, huh?”

You push his face away and begin to walk towards the counter to pay for the build-a-bears, “don’t get too cocky, Park Sunghoon!” He followed after you with a loud laugh. “Oh yeah, what do you think we should name them?”

“Tofu for the penguin and Mapo for the bear?”

“Like mapo tofu, the dish? Just why?”

“Because mapo tofu is two parts that make a great dish together, just like how you and I make a great couple together and plus we made these build-a-bears together… also I’m kind of craving some mapo tofu right now.” You slapped his shoulder and chuckled at his dorky analogy. Mapo and Tofu, kind of cute.

“Hoon, do you still want to buy them some clothes?”

“Nah, I’m kind of tired. Spent too much time trying to win the competition. We can just buy them clothes next time if we want to and order some takeout at home..” He handed over his credit card and waited for the cashier to place the stuffed animals in the bags before heading out the store with you.

“So there’s a next time?” You cheekily grinned at him. You can see that shy smile that only shows when he’s admitting to something he judged too quickly but enjoyed.

“Maybe… It wasn’t so bad going to build-a-bear with you.” He wasn’t lying, it was pretty entertaining. Especially since he saw just how happy you looked while getting your penguin. It wasn’t so much that building a bear was fun but more on how fun it was to be with you. Okay, he’s lying a bit. Maybe building his own bear was pretty fun. But he won’t admit it. Cause who would ever think that the so-called ice prince would be so into building a bear?

I hope you all enjoyed reading this random fic, I'm hoping it was okay. All support is very much appreciated <;33

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nataliesfirefly · 2 months

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You and I Walk a Fragile Line - Farleigh Start x F!Reader - Part 3

a/n: omg thanks again for all the love on the last two parts! i'm probably going to make a masterlist to make all the parts more accessible <3 i feel so special when i see y'all's comments so don't be afraid to share your thoughts! this chapter is a little shorter but only because that's just how the events are playing out! btw, this one starts out with a flashback, it can be a lil confusing hehe but anyways enjoy! (also none of these are proofread LMAO so ignore mistakes)

part 1, part 2, part 4

word count: 3.0k words

warnings: ANGSTTT, language, drugs, alcohol, smoking

It was finally time to depart from your first summer at Saltburn. School was going to start in a week, and you wanted to spend some time relaxing at home before the chaos of your penultimate year in secondary school.

The summer had been a wild yet fun time. You had so much freedom to do whatever you pleased, and you didn’t really know how to spend your time, since you were usually so focused on your academics.

You warmed up to the Catton family quite a lot. You understood you didn’t really fit in, but it was nice to pretend you did. Elspeth had even gifted you one of her old necklaces that probably would have paid for a car if you had sold it.

You and Venetia spent countless hours together; by the poolside, in your rooms, doing each other's nails or makeup, and playing tennis. Although she was a few years older than you, she was like the sister you never had.

As for Felix, your friendship only grew. You were thankful for him, for being so kind to you and welcoming you into a world you had never known before.

And Farleigh. Your relationship with him was… complicated. One moment, you would hurl stupid and immature insults at each other, and the next, you would be having a peaceful conversation. But the latter usually only occured when you were alone with him, which didn’t happen often. He let his guard down when he wasn’t around his family, which you found strange, but you never questioned it.

You were going to miss this place. You had to return to your normal, everyday life as a student with a normal house and normal parents.

“We’re going to miss you dearly, love. We hope you visit again next year,” Elspeth remarked as you all sat around the breakfast table on the patio.

“Yeah. Felix, invite her again,” Venetia nudged her brother as she whispered loudly. Felix grinned and looked at you from across the table.

“So, what’s been your favorite part about your stay?” Elspeth questioned, leaning forward with curiosity.

“Honestly, I can’t even pick. It’s all been amazing. Really.” You said. You meant every single word. But you could’ve actually picked a favorite part, you just didn’t want to admit what, or who it was.

A while later, you were standing at the large front doors with your packed bags in your hands.

Venetia embraced you tightly and you dropped your bags so you could hug her back. “See you next year, hopefully,” She said with a smile after releasing you.

“Yeah. See you.” You nodded and then looked over to Felix who was now also coming in for a hug.

“Bye, mate. I’ll see you at school, alright?” He patted your back as he pulled away and you smiled with a nod.

Farleigh stood farther away, watching the goodbyes at a distance. You stared him down, trying to will him to come over.

“Bye.” He simply said, expressionless. “Bye, Farleigh,” You smiled softly at him. You weren’t sure when the next time you would see him would be. He blinked at you and held your gaze before you turned away as Duncan was opening the doors for you.

“Your cab is waiting outside the gates, miss,” He informed you. You nodded and picked up your bags.

~~~

2 YEARS LATER

It was your first evening at Oxford. You had just arrived and gotten most of your things unpacked, and then you and Felix were headed to the dining hall.

You remembered a few months ago when Felix told you Farleigh would be going to Oxford as well. You didn’t really know what you thought about this. Part of you was interested in seeing him in a different setting, not just at Saltburn during your summer holiday. Was he nicer to people at school? Did he even care about schoolwork?

“I told Farleigh to sit with us,” Felix mentioned as you walked next to him. You nodded. “Okay. How has he been?” You asked. You knew better than to care about him, since the feeling was clearly unrequited. You don’t think he would care if you died a sudden death.

But it was harmless, and only in a friendship kind of way. Or whatever complicated relationship you two had.

“Good, I think,” Felix said. “You know, his mom went to Oxford. In a way, he’ll be able to connect with her. By being here, I mean.” He explained. You could tell it was his attempt at being philosophical. You just nodded and pretended to follow what he was saying.

You both walked into the large dining hall, mini lamps placed on top of the long tables to light the dim, high-ceilinged room.

You found some empty seats and sat down. A few minutes later, Felix had already spotted Farleigh and was waving for him to come over. You followed Felix’s line of sight and saw Farleigh’s familiar coiled hair, and it seemed that maybe he had let it grow a bit longer than usual.

He was actually smiling for once, and it was such a rare sight you had to blink to make sure you weren’t hallucinating.

“Hey,” He grinned as he took the seat on the other side of you, pulling it closer to the table.

You had seen Farleigh earlier this month when you were still at Saltburn, but for some reason, he looked different. Like he grew up, or something. You couldn’t put your finger on what had changed, though.

Sure, he had recently turned 18, shortly before you did. But the whole aura radiating from Farleigh felt different and more mature. Or maybe it was the new designer clothes you had noticed, or the new necklaces and rings he was sporting.

“Hi,” You smiled. You realized you must have been staring, and you quickly glanced away to survey the rest of the students filing into the hall.

You spaced out during the small talk and stared into space, pondering how your first day would go tomorrow.

“Are you going to the party tonight?” Felix nudged you. You glanced up. “Uhh… What party?” You hated seeming clueless, but when it came to this kind of thing, you were.

“You know, to welcome all the first years. Us.” He nodded as if to gesture to everyone else.

“Oh. Right. I don’t know, I want to get some good sleep before tomorrow.” You replied while inspecting your nails and picking away at them.

That statement was half true, half not. You did want to get some well-needed rest, but you were also just terrified of parties and large social gatherings. You could be awkward sometimes, and you were scared of what a real college party would include. Drugs, alcohol… It made you uncomfortable to think about.

“C’mon, please? For me?” Felix gave you the puppy eyes and you sighed. “It’ll be fun,” He reassured you. You looked over to Farleigh. “Are you going?” You asked him.

He looked offended by your question. “Duh,” He answered. You didn’t know why it mattered if he was going or not.

“Ughhh, fine.” You rolled your eyes and facepalmed. Felix grinned brightly. “Yesss,” He whispered.

You couldn’t deny that you were having a good time at the party. You made a few new friends and you were gaining some confidence.

The only problem was that Felix promised you he would stay with you the whole time, since he knew how weary you were with even going in the first place.

And where was he? Nowhere to be seen. You guessed he had run off with some girl already. Hell, within the first ten minutes of you three entering the function, about four girls were already up on him, desperately flirting and twirling their hair.

You were standing in a dark corner when you saw Farleigh approaching you. He had a glass bottle of beer in each of his hands.

“Hey, you want one?” He offered you one of the beers. You were bored out of your mind, so you shrugged and took it. The glass felt nice and cold against your hand.

“Have you seen Felix?” Your eyes darted around nervously. Farleigh shook his head. “Nope. Saw him leaving with some red-head chick, though.” He raised his eyebrows up and down which made you laugh.

He moved to stand next to you against the wall, observing the neon-lit dance floor. “Are you enjoying yourself?” He peered down at you.

You shrugged. “I guess? I’d rather be inside sleeping, though.” He groaned. “You’re so boring. You know why you’re not having fun, right?” He leaned down slightly. You shook your head. “No, enlighten me.”

“You’re not high enough,” He said, a smirk forming on his face. “Farleigh. I’m not gonna get high with you.” You scoffed and took a swig of your beer, wincing a bit at the taste.

“Some guy was giving out joints. It’s weed,” He explained, drawing a small plastic bag of rolled joints out of his pocket.

“Yeah, I’m not gonna just smoke weed from some random guy.” You blew a strand of hair out of your face.

“They’re legit, I swear.” He leaned down to your height and whispered, “I already tried one.”

You shook your head again. “I don’t smoke, you know that.” He stood up straight.

“Just try it. Look, I’m not dead yet. See?” He twirled around and you giggled. “C’mon, we can go out here.” He nodded to the side door.

You just wanted him to stop bothering you, so you let out a sigh. “Okay, fine. Let’s go.” He excitedly spun on his heel and led you both over to the door before holding it open for you.

You stepped into the warm and dense air of the night, glancing around nervously like you might get caught by someone. But who are you kidding, pretty much everyone here smokes and probably does worse.

“Okay. I’ll light it for you. Do you wanna share it?” He asked, pulling out his lighter and flicking it on.

“Yeah.” You didn’t want the commitment of having it all to yourself. He lit the joint and you watched him take a hit. He made eye contact with you the whole time. It seemed simple enough— a short inhale and then exhale.

“You try,” He handed you the joint and you eyed it suspiciously before putting it to your lips. You took maybe too long of a hit and immediately began coughing, smoke billowing out of your mouth.

“Woah, easy..” Farleigh chuckled at your reaction and you felt his hand on the small of your back as you tried to catch your breath.

“You make it look so easy,” You cleared your throat and looked up at him with watery eyes. He smiled smugly at your words.

“Just takes practice,” He told you casually. “Smoking weed is something I’d rather not practice.” Farleigh laughed at your remark and took the joint to take another hit.

“Do you like Felix?” The question came out of the blue and you turned to him.

“What do you mean…?” You lifted an eyebrow as he passed the joint to you. He leaned up against the wall and crossed his arms.

“Like, do you actually enjoy your friendship with him?” He asked. You actually considered the question for a long moment.

“Well, he’s like… the only close friend I have,” You said hesitantly. “I continue to be friends with him because I don’t have a reason not to,” You explained before taking a small hit from the joint.

“And you like the wealth and title that comes with him, yeah?” Farleigh’s words hung in the silence. You knew he was being too nice. It was too good to be true.

“Yeah, I like the summers at Saltburn, but that’s not the reason why I’m friends with him.” Or was it? No. You refused to let yourself get gaslighted by Farleigh. But you began to question your reasoning when you said it out loud.

“I mean, what else does he have to offer?” Farleigh asked as you exhaled the smoke. Why was he suddenly turning against Felix? You thought Farleigh loved Felix. Maybe you had it all wrong.

“He’s nice to me,” You flashed him a glare and he stared back at you, drilling his gaze into yours. “I’m nice to you.” He said in a harsher tone.

“When you want to be,” You shot back, pressing the joint to your lips again, staring out into the darkness.

“What do you have against Felix, anyway?” You broke the short moment of silence and turned to face him.

“Nothing. Forget I ever said anything,” He raised his arms up as if to defend himself. “No, you can’t say weird shit like that and then expect me not to question it,” You handed the joint back to him and headed for the door to go back in. You planned on drinking as much alcohol as possible to show him that you don’t need him to teach you how to have fun.

“Do you even know how to get back to your dorm?” He asked, his brows furrowed. “What do you care?” You scowled at him before going back inside.

Sooner or later, you had downed your whole bottle of beer and then you were doing shots with some random group of girls. You didn’t remember the rest of that night, but at least you ended up in your bed by the morning, even if you had a horrible hangover.

~~~

Sunlight creeps through the window and knocks impatiently on your eyelids. You groan and sit up, opening your eyes to the bright sunrise shining through your curtains,

Memories of yesterday flood back to you. Your drama with Felix, the car ride and visit to your parents with Farleigh, and telling Venetia all about it when you got back.

Felix didn’t get back from London until late last night, so you were waiting to talk to him today.

You don’t want problems between the two of you, but sometimes he’s just so ignorant and out of touch.

A little while after breakfast, you make your way to Felix’s room. He seemed hungover during breakfast, so you wonder if this is going to turn out well.

You hesitate before knocking. “Come in,” He calls. You twist the doorknob and carefully enter. His expression softens slightly at the sight of you. He’s sitting on the edge of his bed with a book in his hands.

“Hey. Can we talk?” You ask quietly. He nods, setting the book down.

“Look, I’m sorry about yesterday. I was in a mood, and I shouldn’t have said those things to you.” Felix starts before you can.

“Okay. But you know why I was mad, right?” You don’t want it to be that easy for him.

You can see the gears turning in his head. “Erm… because I couldn’t give you a ride?” He looks up at you, and you can’t tell if he’s playing dumb or not.

“No, it wasn’t just that. It’s the principle of it, Felix.” You shake your head. “The principle of what?” He asks, standing up.

“It just seems a lot like you care more about your popularity than you care about your best friend,” You explain, your voice shaking a bit. You don’t really like confrontation.

“No, that’s not true. I just-“

“Yes, it is. Ever since we got to Oxford. It’s always been this way. Leaving me alone at parties to go fuck some random girl, or multiple, for that matter.” Your voice is raised now and you can feel the anger rushing through your veins. All the things you’ve always wanted to say, but couldn’t.

“You know what, you should be thankful I even became your friend. Look what I’ve given you.” He gestures to what you’re assuming is the estate as a whole.

You scoff and laugh at his statement. “What you’ve given me? Are you kidding?! I’m not some stray animal off the street, Felix. I’m not homeless. I have parents. I have a home.” You feel tears welling up in your eyes already and that lump in your throat starting to form.

“Then why are you here?” This is the first time you’ve ever heard Felix really raise his voice. You both freeze in the silence and let his words hang in the air.

“You want me to leave? I can leave,” The tears are now falling down your cheeks as you blink. “No, wait-“

But it’s too late. You’re already storming out of his room and back to yours, which is just down the hall.

You see Farleigh standing near the end of the hallway, trying to eavesdrop. He notices your tears and is immediately heading over to you.

You try to get into your room and lock the door before Farleigh can get to you, but you fail.

He guides you into your room, his hand pressed against your back firmly before closing the door with his free hand.

He embraces you in a gentle yet tight hug as you continue to sob. He rests his chin on your head and smooths some of your hair out. He holds you and lets you cry.

Farleigh was right about him. Felix thought he saved you from a horrible life. In reality, you would be fine without him. He was just a simple addition to your life.

You hardly realize the intimate moment that you’re in with Farleigh right now until your sobbing subsides.

You push away from him slightly, hands on his chest as you gaze up at him. You sniffle. “I got stuff on your shirt,” You laugh weakly and point at the wet spot on his shirt.

“It’s okay.” His arms return to his side and you find yourself missing the comfort of his arms around you and embracing you.

“Did you hear what he said?” You ask, wiping your eyes and sniffing again.

“Yeah. Yeah, I did.” He nods. “Are you going to say I told you so?” You smile softly as you wipe the rest of your tears away.

“Do you want me to say I told you so?” He grins down at you, his brown eyes bright with amusement. You shake your head. “No way.” You both laugh, and you think you’ll be okay.

#farleigh saltburn #farleigh start x reader #saltburn #farleigh start #farleigh x you #farleigh x reader

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campingwiththecharmings · 2 months

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Can't Hold Back

AN: Hey y'all! This is kind of an unofficial sequel to Down Time, in the sense that I was thinking of while writing but made no actual references to it lol. ANYWAY. This was written for @triplefrontier-anniversary! Hope y’all enjoy 🥰

(Un-beta’d)

You can’t go on like this, having him but not having him. You want more, you deserve more…

Rated: M+ (this is smut so, i mean, you’ve been warned?) Words: 1,554 Pairing: Santiago “Pope” Garcia x F!Reader Warnings: Very light on the plot here lol, friends (who are secretly in love with each other) with benefits, p in v, a smidge of angst then cliche fluffy fluff (please let me know if i missed anything). AO3

——————

Santiago fucks into you, his thrusts slow and deep, his body draped over yours as you cling to him, your bottom lip caught between your teeth as you try to stifle your moans. He buries his face in your neck, muffling his groan as he loses himself in your warmth. He mouths at you, his tongue dragging over your sweat-slicked skin before coming to rest just below your ear.

“Feel so good, cariño,” he slurs, his voice low and raspy. “Feels like heaven when I’m inside you.”

Your cunt clenches at his words and he grunts, his movements stuttering slightly. Your chest heaves in an effort to stay quiet, knowing your friends are sleeping just on the other side of the thin walls of your shared vacation rental. They didn’t know about you and Santi, didn’t know that you’d been secretly fucking for months, didn’t know that you were head-over-heels in love with him.

To be fair though, Santi didn’t know that last bit either.

Your arrangement had been fun when it started, had scratched the proverbial itch, but as time had gone on, you’d started to want more. The sex was great, but you hated when it ended. Not just because it was over, but because one of you always left. That had been part of the arrangement: no staying the night. So you didn’t, he didn’t, and you ignore that ache you feel in your chest every time he rolls off your bed and starts putting on his clothes, ignore the queasiness that roils in your belly when he leans in and kisses the side of your head gently in goodbye, ignore the way your heart cracks as the door to your apartment clicks shut and you’re left in silence, alone.

You’d been planning to tell him, tell him that you couldn’t do this anymore, that you wanted (needed) more, more with him…but then he’d started kissing you and every other thought had flown right out the window. So here you were, writhing in pleasure beneath him as he played your body like a well-loved instrument, willing yourself to stay quiet so as to not alert the rest of your friend group. You shiver, his lips brushing your ear as he whispers the filthiest things. The sound of his voice, coupled with his words, pushes you higher and higher, and you whimper softly as you near the edge, your cunt fluttering around his cock.

Santi shushes you gently, pulling back a little to watch you, his dark eyes heavy and blown wide with lust. Your gaze locks with his, and you swallow hard to keep your moans at bay, your lips parting and releasing a soft, strangled sound. He pulls his lip between his teeth, nostrils flaring as he breathes hard through his nose, his body moving steadily over you.

As you watch him, the moonlight illuminating him from behind like an angel, you’re struck with the urge to cry. No, not just cry, full on sob. You can’t go on like this, having him but not having him. You want more, you deserve more…but you’re worried. Worried about how ending this will affect your friendship, that you’ll have to put up with seeing him date other women (or worse, that he won’t care when you start dating). You want to be present, be in the moment, want to enjoy yourself if this really is to be the last time. Even so, you can’t stop the tears as they slide down your cheeks, can’t stop the weight pressing on your chest, can’t stop the fracturing of your heart. A strange combination of euphoria and sorrow war within you, and you can’t do much more than ride it out, can’t do much more than cling to him like it’s the last time you’ll ever hold him (because it likely is).

He must notice your crying because he suddenly leans in, whispering comforting words that don’t really register in your brain as he kisses away your tears. He presses his forehead to yours, pushing you closer and closer to your peak, grinding his hips into yours and making you see stars.

You whimper softly as you come, your body shaking, eyes fluttering shut as the pleasure washes over you. Santiago leans in, smothering his moans in your neck as you squeeze him, pulling him closer to the edge until his body stiffens, his sticky warmth coating your inner walls. The urge to wrap yourself around him, to keep him with you, keep him inside you, is so strong, but you resist, knowing it won’t make a difference.

Santi pulls back, smiling softly as he gazes down at you. You try to smile back, thankful for the darkness of the room as it means he can’t see the tears that are still leaking from the corners of your eyes. He swipes his thumbs over your cheeks and pauses, his lips twitching down when he feels the wetness there.

“Estás bien, cariño?” he whispers, his eyes quickly darting over your face. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

You shake your head, willing your tears to stop falling.

“I’m okay,” you say, forcing a smile, “Just emotional, I guess.”

He grunts, and you can tell he’s not buying it. You never were very good at lying.

You do your best not to look at him for too long, knowing the longer he looks, the more likely it is that he’ll see, see it all, everything you’re trying to hide, trying to bury. Just when you think he’s going to let it go, you feel his hand cup your cheek.

“Look at me,” he whispers, his breath fanning across your cheek.

You try not to, really you do but, when it comes to Santi, you just can’t help yourself.

Your resolve crumbles the moment your eyes meet his, the words you’ve held back all these months spilling from between your lips like water from a broken dam. Tears blur your vision so much that you can’t really tell what effect your words are having on him, but you suppose that it doesn’t really matter in the end. You can feel yourself spiraling, your chest heaving with barely suppressed sobs, when Santi’s finger presses against your lips halts your descent.

“Did…you just say you loved me?” he asks softly, his voice and face unreadable.

Icy dread slices through you at the question. Had you said that? That you loved him? You don’t remember, but you must’ve, right? You panic, stuttering as you try to explain, your brain racing a million miles per hour as you search for the right words…but it turns out you don’t need them.

Santiago stops your lips again, this time with his own.

You’ve kissed him a thousand times before now but, somehow this time it’s different, this time it feels different. He takes his time, his kiss somehow both gentle and deep, like he’s pouring everything he has into it. He pulls away before you can kiss him back, a faint glimmer of something unfamiliar shining in his eyes when he meets yours again.

“I love you too,” he rasps, smiling down at you softly.

Your eyes widen a little, searching for the truth of his words in the darkness. “You do?”

He chuckles, caressing your cheeks with his thumbs. “I do.”

You exhale sharply, a relieved laugh slipping from between your lips before you can stop it. You clap your hand over your mouth in surprise as Santiago’s smile widens, his eyes shining. You spend the next few hours wrapped in each other’s arms, talking about everything and nothing, content to just be.

You wake hours later to the sun streaming in through the windows and Santiago’s warmth at your back, your still-naked bodies tangled in the sheets and blankets. His arms are wrapped loosely around you, his face pressed into the back of your neck, and you can’t help the mix of relief and giddiness you feel knowing it wasn’t all some crazy fever dream. Your eye lashes flutter as sleep tries to call you back, the warm tendrils reaching for you, pulling gently—

Until the sound of someone clearing their throat drags you back to full consciousness.

Your head snaps toward the sound, your widened eyes meeting amused blue ones.

Santi stirs behind you, sighing softly as he presses a kiss against the base of your neck and rasps, “Morning.”

“Mornin’,” Benny responds, a smug smile on his lips as he takes in the sight of the two of you tangled in each other.

You feel Santi pause briefly before turning to meet his gaze.

“Breakfast is gettin’ cold,” Benny continues, suggestively pumping his eyebrows as he backs out of the room, leaving the door wide open.

Benny walks back to the kitchen, his footsteps thunking loudly against the wooden floor of the house as he calls out something about the other guys owing him a hundred dollars.

Santi snorts behind you, pushing his face against your shoulder as he dissolves into laughter, and you can’t help but follow suit.

“Guess we should go deal with that,” you chuckle, looking over your shoulder at him.

He smiles, his eyes shining with laughter as he leans in and presses a kiss to your lips. “Guess we should, cariño.”

If you enjoyed this, please let me know! I appreciate every single reblog and/or comment. Thank you. 💖

🌟 Masterlist 🌟

i am no longer doing a taglist. please follow @charmingupdates for updates and turn on notifications.

#santiago garcia x reader #santiago garcia x you #santiago pope garcia x reader #santiago pope garcia x you #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier fic #santiago garcia smut #santiago pope garcia smut #triple frontier write-a-thon #triple frontier anniversary #my fic

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aphroditesbaby1616 · 1 month

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Allspice (c.b oneshot)

♡ O.S Inspo: Forever & Always - Fearless (TV) ; "Was I out of line, did I say something way too honest, made you run and hide like a scared little boy?" ♡ Pairing : CarmyxAFAB Reader as little physical description possible | She/Her pronouns used, NO use of Y/N :)

♡ Summary: You have a very successful Culinary Review blog, the social media manager of one of your new hometown restaurants 'The Bear' has been dying to get you out to try their food. But since the EC is a bit of an overzealous competitor, you end up having to go back for round 2- you end up having a delicious dinner, and a free show.

♡ W/C: 4,381

♡ Posted Date: 03/18/24

♡ A/N: FIRST THING: I am HORRIDDDD at writing Claire- I'm much better at writing Carmy cause were alot more similar- so this Claire isn't gonna be CRAZY canon, but I think she got the job done. Anyway- EEEEEP!!! Here is my VERY FIRST ONE SHOT EVER!! Inspired by my amazing, wonderful, PRECIOUS FLOWER @daysofyellowroses that can be found here :) AAAAA!!! My precious Rose I hope you enjoy this, It could ABSOLUTELY have a part 2 if y'all like it. I ended it here cause I'm sooo wordy and I didn't want it to turn in to a multi-chap. fic by mistake...but ofc if y'all want more just tell me and ill get RIGHT TO WORK!!! I really hope this comes off how I saw it in my head. There's no smut/sexy stuff, just mutual pining and flirty teasing, I hope thats ok!! aaa here we goooo!!! Enjoy <3

♡ Warnings for BTC: Swearing, Drinking alcohol (Literally it LOL)

➵ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 ♡

Being a Food Critic wasn’t an easy gig, as much as people wanted to believe it’s simply going to famous restaurants, trying their most popular dishes- and giving your opinion, it was much more then that.

Each and every aspect of the restaurant was under your review, from the second you walked in the door, you were judging everything. From the atmosphere, to the music, to the decor, to the comfortability of the furniture all of it, was to meet your expectations if the owner of the establishment wanted a good review.

Today was finally the day you'd review one of the restaurants that had sent 3 requests for you to feature a review of them on your blog.

The Bear. Interesting name, you thought.

With the rugged name- you’d assumed a more millennial hipster-New American vibe. But when you’d arrived- you were quite…impressed? That instead of leaning into that all too common aesthetic, it was more of a classy, comfortable vibe.

They’d not even had bear art, anything of the sort. It was pure comfort, mixed with subtle class. The kind that spoke to the cost of the dishes- but wasn’t in your face obnoxious. The only ‘Bear’ was the little golden bear embossed into the leather menu you’d been handed when seated at the table.

The way you did your reviews was…a tad unusual - some chefs in the industry called it ‘unfair’ but you called it…the fairest things could be. Instead of telling them when you’d be swinging by for a review since where’s the fun in that you’d call, make a reservation under some random name, and they’d know you’d accepted their offer when the review had been posted on your blog.

It felt most honest and fair because you were one of the most renowned food critics in the country right now. If they knew you were coming- any EC with a brain would spend the night before your arrival, prepping the entire restaurant and staff - assuring they’d be on their best behavior to try and squeeze a higher grade out of you.

But you were just a reader once upon a time, years ago- when you realized in culinary school that the making of the art didn’t interest you, it was the observing. Food wasn’t just about taste, but rather the whole experience. And if every famous food critic you’d taken interest in back in the day- never got a true experience due to their notability? You’d never have gotten into this field. So, you were most keen on keeping things fair.

A woman with mousey brown hair comes up to your table, dressed in the typical waitress slacks and black button up shirt. “Hello! Welcome to The Bear. My name is Sam, have you dined with us before?” she asks.

You sit up in your chair, peeling your eyes from the menu. You give her a small kind smile “I haven’t” you replied, urging her to continue her script.

“Well welcome in, we're so happy you chose to spend your evening with us. So for our menu” she opens it in front of you. “Here” she points “are our wine options, fabulous selection this month. Then we have draft beers right next to it. On the following page” she points “all of our craft cocktails, then this,” she points in the bottom corner.

“Our house cocktail - Just called The Bear. It’s wonderful, if you like old fashions you’ll love this - made with Bearface Triple Oak Whiskey.” She said and you nod.

“That please. That’s what I’ll start with” you said and she nodded.

“I’ll get that right in. But quickly, just so you’re aware” she flipped the page and pointed.

“These - are the dishes of the month. Each crafted by one of our two head chefs, they change monthly so if something calls to you I recommend you try- because it won’t be back” she said. You raised your eyebrows a bit in surprise and nod.

“Thank you” you said and she gives a nod before heading off to the bar to put in your drink order before heading off to tend to other tables in your section.

Having an alternating menu intrigued you, for such a high end establishment- one with a Michelin star at that- implementing such a menu would consistently have their star at risk. One dish, one app, one drink- that was not up to par and it would be revoked. You guessed the owners of this place liked living on the edge, as if being in this industry wasn’t already being constantly on edge.

You gaze over the menu, the Chilean Seabass sounded like a fair assessment. Seafood was quite difficult to get right, especially in the springtime before peak season, and you’d be able to judge the consistency of the chopping and such because there was a fresh tomato corn salad that came with it. That was your rule when you came to judge restaurants, one main course, and one dessert.

You’d felt like the main courses were the true stars of the show anyhow, and it would be unfair to muck up your palate with an app that was usually something easy to get right (since they were usually fried, covered in cheese, or some kind of carb). And the dessert usually showed the restaurant's creativity, which you loved to see, so 2 dishes was your max.

The waitress returns with the cocktail, setting it down with a napkin under it. “Here you are, now- have you decided on a starter?” She questioned and you shook your head.

“Straight to the good stuff, I’d like the Chilean Sea Bass please. And for dessert,” you flick the page and your eyes settle on the words savory cannoli - hmm, imaginative indeed. “And uh- The Michael Cannoli?” You said, shutting the menu and handing it to her.

She nods with a smile, jotting down the order into her notepad before taking the menu and holding it to her chest. “That will be out soon as possible. Enjoy your drink” she said and headed back to the kitchen.

You sit back sipping the cocktail and humming. She was right, much like an old fashioned, but floral notes. Almost…chamomile? Yes! That was it. Very interesting.

You slipped your iPad out of your bag, opening up your journaling app and grabbing the pencil out of the little sleeve. You quickly snapped a picture with your phone of the drink, airdropping it to yourself and adding it into the entry and writing;

‘To start; ‘The Bear’ house cocktail- initial thoughts ; not too sweet, strong (but not overpowering), chamomile? Some kind of herbal tea flower’

You take another sip, letting the flavors sit on your tongue a moment before swallowing. “Mmm!” You hum to yourself, finally realizing where the herby taste beneath the chamomile was coming from that gave it that oaky piney taste.

‘Angostura bitters- will confirm!!’ You wrote just as someone approaches your table. You look up to see a man, short brown hair, stubble. He was smiling, holding a plate.

“Hello! Here we have Arancini with our house-made pesto, courtesy of Executive Chef Carmen” he placed the dish in front of you next to your iPad. Your eyebrows furrowed slightly, looking up at him, scarcel confused.

“Wrong table” you murmured, thumbing the dish back in his direction lightly. He cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Nope- ah, he- he said this table.” He replied. It did smell fantastic, and any other day you’d never deny delicious, deep fried balls of risotto dipped in smooth, decedent pesto- but you’re working right now and it’s not fair.

“Well, you can tell him” you lifted the dish, offering it back. “I have a system. And I’m unsure how he realized that I’m coming here, tonight, but I dislike cheaters. And he should know if he’s read my blog- I don’t muck up my palate with grease before I try the main course.” The plate was so close to him now it was nearly digging into his chest.

He nodded quickly, taking the plate without another word and briskly walking back to the kitchen. You sat back in your seat with a slight scoff.

He thinks he can win you over just like that? How did he even know you would be here?

You picked up your pencil once again, adding a note.

For the chef; Arancini smelt delicious. Didn’t order it, so I didn’t taste it . Presentation wise; 7/10. Pesto looked like it was spooned in the dish a tad bit messy to me.

You smiled to yourself, you knew he’d read the final review once it was posted. And since he wanted to be a little cheater and get a overall higher score since he was trying to weasel you into trying extra dishes- you’d kick his ego down a few extra pegs for fun.

You sat, nursing your drink, adding extra little notes here and there, as well as editing a blog post about Ghost Kitchens you’d been working on and how they were ruining the mobile order industry on the side. You were so engrossed in the work, that you hadn’t even realized someone had approached your table until they cleared their throat awkwardly.

Your gaze slowly travels up, seeing a blue apron covering a white shirt, tattooed hands holding- your meal? Your eyes flicker up to his piercing blue ones. “Chilean Sea Bass” he sets it in front of you. You snort a laugh.

“Hm.” You look around before back at him “These people” you motion to the restaurant. “Other patrons. Which meals of theirs did you bring out- Chef?” You accentuate the last word, it was all too uncommon for a chef to personally bring a meal out to a table.

You swore even in the ambient lighting, his cheeks flushed slightly. “You- uh- you declined, my Arancini. Why?” He asked, holding his hands behind his back, the position making his already toned and tattooed arms appear more muscular. It makes him all the more impressive he has all these tattoos and still made it in this industry. I can only imagine the shit he got for them.

You raise your eyebrows in surprise at his boldness. “Because that’s Cheating. Mr.Berzatto. I’d assume you know my work well. Considering you know what I look like, so- why try to cheat? You know how I feel about appetizers. It’s a scapegoat.” You shrugged, locking your iPad when you realized he’d been peeking at the notes.

“Messy” his eyes narrow. He scoffs a bit, alluding to the note you’d written a short while prior “Messy?” He asks again, you laugh a bit.

“Mmhmm! Oh, was it you chef? Wow…I mean- now that I think about it” you shook your head, now just messing with him since you see how much he was dying to impress you. “I could’ve sworn- the pesto it just..was too loose. Overblended maybe? That’s why it was impossible to plate without making a mess.” You shrugged, cutting up your fish carefully and spreading the vegetables with your knife to observe the cohesivity of the cuts.

He scoffs, “too- too loose?! W-y’know what. No. No. It- you’re gonna try it.” He demands and you look up at him, nearly laughing at the seriousness of his tone.

“That depends. Bring me a pesto worth trying and I’ll think about it. Now” you wave him off casually “I can’t work with the chef over my shoulder. So- Shoo chef don’t bother me” you teased and he shook his head.

“Game on.” He muttered, heading back to the kitchen.

You smiled to yourself, the Arancini absolutely isn’t going into the review. But you’ll humor his ego by trying it.

You cut the fish thoroughly, checking the texture and the evenness of the seasonings slathered on the skin, writing little notes as you go along. The cuts of the vegetables were pristine. Nearly perfect. The only misshapen pieces were clearly cosmetic defects of the vegetable. The chef that cut these was immaculate with a knife.

When you took your first bite, you nearly moaned. The fish was buttery, the skin was crispy, slightly spicy, tangy, the flesh melted in your mouth. The risotto was so cheesy and buttery and wonderful. You could eat this meal every night for the rest of your life and never get sick of it. It was the best Sea bass you’d ever tasted.

You opened your iPad again, jotting down notes about the flavors, the mouth feel, all the usual points you hit in your review.

This meal is a 9.2 out of 10.

You write at the bottom. Very fair score, you never had rated something as a 10. Something being a 10 would be- you don’t even know what it would be. But it would be what the score says, perfection. And while this dish was wonderful, and very very good- it was not perfect. At least to your heavily trained palate.

You finished what you wanted out of the meal, pushing the plate to the side and not soon after, Carmen was back at your table. He placed the plate in front of you, 3 perfectly circular Arancini discs were placed equal distance on the plate, and truly beautiful pesto, sat in the dish alongside it. It frankly was immaculately plated.

“Unbroken pesto. Sorry again, about the last one.” He said, watching you carefully. You hum as you grab your fork, splitting one of the discs and digging out some of the risotto.

“Could be firmer.” You said, eyes flicking to his. He nods, clearing his throat a bit.

“It’s not- uh- it’s”

“Fresh” you finished for him, raising your brows and he nods. “So- since you’re frying it. You cook it for about..a minute- maybe forty seconds less than you usually would.” You said, daintily taking the bite off your fork.

“Heard..” he nodded, waiting for your reaction. You hummed a bit.

“Great balance of parm and butter though. I’ll give you that. Neither overpowers the other, that’s hard to do considering the notes” you added, cutting up the crust and tasting it.

“Mm-“ you scrunch your nose and his face visibly drops. “Mm-mm…no- not peanut oil…why would you do that? It totally overpowers the breadcrumb with this like…cheapy taste. I’d say it would be way better if you fried it in sunflower oil” you added, digging out more of the risotto and dipping it in the pesto before having a bite and humming.

“This though” you point at the little dish of green sauce with your fork. “This is great.” You add and he nods.

“Ok-yeah…ok…” he nods, rubbing his hand over his chin. “Thank y’for trying it.” He said and you nod.

“I’ll be back for a fair assessment. I think I’ll pass on the cannoli tonight, and just get the bill. Thank you” you slipped your pencil in the case before putting your iPad in your bag and holding your hands on the table in front of you.

“Y-y’re coming back” he said, sounding slightly surprised.

You shrugged “well- you clearly want a full review based on your behavior tonight, Chef. So I’ll humor you. I won’t tell you when of course, so just pray that it’s a day like today-“ you paused, looking around. “Where things seem to be running…alright.” You sat back in your chair casually with a small smile.

“I look forward to your review.” He gave a nod and headed back to the kitchen.

It was 3 weeks before you’d decided to return back to The Bear spring had quickly turned to early summer, and you thought you’d given enough time for your little conversation with the head chef to slip his mind.

It was 9:20, 40 minutes before closing. You did promise to come back at a random time, and no time is more random then a Friday night less than an hour before the kitchen closed.

You pulled open the door, stepped in and headed up to the host stand where the same man that originally offered you the Arancini stood. “The picky critic returns.” He said, tapping his pen against the reservation book absentmindedly.

“She does” you smiled a bit.

“Well lucky f’you cousin said you get a table any time, right this way” he leads you to a booth near the back, where you had a perfect view of the restaurant. Much cozier then before, right next to the doors of the kitchen where you could hear the back of house crew buzzing about.

“Same cocktail as last time?” He asked and you raised your brows in slight surprise as you sit.

“No waitress?” You asked, getting comfortable and setting your iPad down next to the empty plate.

“She’ll be over, just figured a friendly offer couldn’t hurt” he said with a small smirk.

You roll your eyes playfully. “House cocktail please, and thank you. But don’t count on kindness boosting your hospitality score-“ you stop, realizing he never gave you his name.

“Richie” he said, sticking his hand out to shake.

“Richie.” You repeat, giving him your firm professional shake.

“House cocktail comin’ up” he said and headed back to the bar. You mulled over the menu, lemon chicken picatta, that sounded like a perfect dish to judge this time around.

A few minutes later, Richie returns, setting the glass down in front of you. “Waitress should be by momentarily, enjoy your meal” he said, heading back to the host stand.

A bit after the waitress came to take your order, the restaurant had begun to die down. You were going to be the last person served tonight it looked like, since in 5 minutes they would stop seating people.

You added additional notes to your section about the cocktail, getting a better photo of it for your blog when you hear a bit of commotion up front.

You look up, to see a woman with curled brown hair in navy blue scrubs, her hands on her hips, talking with Richie with a frustrated look. There were tears in her eyes, you couldn’t help but tune in to their conversation.

“Richie, please let me see him- he- he hasn’t said anything and I…I just need to hear him say it to my face. Please!” She begs, tears were streaming down her face now.

Richie looks around nervously, tugging her to the side so they weren’t standing right in front of the host stand. You lean over just a bit- not so much it would be noticeable, but enough your nosy ears could continue to pick up what was being said.

“Claire. You shouldn’t be here…I’m sorry- he told me-he said that..that you can’t come here anymore. It’s too much and he will apologize when he can find the words. But he can’t. So please before he sees you. Leave” he said softly, attempting to soothingly rub her arm and she jerks away like his touch burned her skin.

“Fuck you, Richie. Get him. Now. I’m not working on his time anymore. This is my time now. I’ve waited around enough for him. I’m done waiting. Either get him yourself? Or I swear to god I’ll go in that kitchen and embarrass the fucking shit out of him” she hissed.

Your eyebrows raised, shit. Whoever fucked her over should at least be warned.

He snorts, clearly amused before stepping back and raising his arms in defeat. “Have at it ClaireBear.” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “You think he’s gonna take kindly to you startin’ w’him in his house? Be my guest.” He shrugged, going back over to the host stand.

And then it clicked. She’s here for Carmen.

She laughed dryly, sarcastically, like a woman who’d had it. “You think I’m scared? Richie? You think I’m scared of little Carmy who couldn’t even check out a library book by himself? mm?” She goads him, arms crossed, chest heaving with rage.

His head snaps back to look at her, brows raised in shock. “Kid- I really think you should go calm the fuck down, because Y’re not gonna like the way that this conversation ends w’him- at all.”

And with that, she shoves open the kitchen door. You couldn’t just sit there and not watch- this was the juiciest drama you’d ever been privy to in person, and this means he’s single. You slightly curse yourself for being so giddy that this means the sexy chef would likely be on the market.

Your foot catches the door before it closes, leaning against the frame. She storms in, eyes frantically darting over the kitchen.

“Carmen.” She barks, the entire kitchen stops moving and looks at her, as if they were in shock and awe someone would ever raise their voice to him in such a way.

He rounds the corner, holding a pan of focaccia dough that he nearly drops at the sight of her. He blinks a few times, squeezing his eyes shut as if she’d disappear when he opened them again.

“The fuck are you-“ his eyes meet yours, his face going pale quickly, he looked white as a sheet. “Leave.” He orders her, slamming the dough down on the counter.

“Leave?!” She laughs coldly, “you’re gonna tell me to leave?! You’re a fucking pussy Carmen. A pussy. Y’know- it was charity giving you a chance. Pity work.” She spits and you blink a few times, taken aback by such harsh words.

Is she serious? She thinks anyone could believe dating a super hot, ripped, talented, chef prodigy - that was charity work in any sense of the word?

He scoffs, “Charity?” He chuckled dryly. “Claire- you begged me to fuckin’ be with you! You-you-y’re a fuckin gnat! Claire! You- all you do is-is fuckin’-” he runs his hand through his hair, his chest heaving in anger, “You dont know me, Claire! Alright? There- And I-I-I don’t want you i’m-i’m sorry-”

She laughed, shaking her head, tears streaming down her face. “You-” she whispered, her chest shaking with a sob. “You- fucker- I- I gave you a chance…” she whispered and gripped her wrist sadly. “I- I was there for you, Carmen- when no one else could fucking stand you.” she croaked.

“And I never asked for you too- please- just…leave me alone-” he shook his head. “Leave. Please…just-pretend we never happened, it was a mistake, Claire.” he breathed, clearly utterly defeated, and It sounded like he’d told this girl these same words multiple times.

“M-Mikey would be sick- Carmy, he’d- he’d hate who you’ve become…” she said meekly, and with that- something behind his eyes snapped.

“Claire I’m not DOING THIS I SAID GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY FUCKIN’ RESTAURANT. WERE OVER. YOU ARE NOTHING TO ME! YOU MEAN NOTHING CLAIRE!” He roars, the veins in his neck popping out, angrily and aggressively pointing to the door. “OUT. get the fuck out. G-get out, b-before I-I-I fuckin- holy fuck” he finds his composure once more, even though his breath was still ragged from his outburst, flicking his hand next to him his entire body trembling with panic.

She looks to her left and right, she’s not that-

Your thoughts were quickly proven wrong, when you see she was stupid enough to grab a pan off the stove to whip at him.

“Aht!” the spanish woman standing a few paces to the right said, quickly grabbing the arm with the pan and twisting it behind her back. “Drop it.” she hissed.

Carmen looks between the two of them, utterly in shock. “Y-y’were gonna hit me?” He asked her, face twisting in rage. “Fuck you. Fuck you Claire.” He seethed, taking the pan from his employees grasp and tossing it in the sink with a loud clatter.

“Get the fuck out” you told her, grabbing her from the handle of the woman who’d stopped the assault, shoving her towards the kitchen door and into the front of the restaurant. “Y’re a fuckin crazy bitch.” You laughed dryly, giving her a hard shove for good measure.

“Oh and who are you” she straightened herself out, pushing her bag up on her shoulder. “Doesn’t matter. Glad to see that Carmy still needs someone to protect him. I’ll gladly give up that spot.” she said, causing you to laugh.

“Oh my god- you are pathetic. He just spelt it clear as day sweetheart- you are over. O-v-e-r. He doesn’t want you babe! And no, he doesn’t need my protection- I was enjoying dinner and apparently a show until you went batshit bitch.” You snip, plopping back down at your booth.

She scoffed “he doesn’t want anyone. The only thing he wants - is to remain miserable. Good fucking luck, whoever you are.” She said before stomping out.

“Yo she was really gonna throw somethin?” Richie asked as he walked over. Thankfully, it was just you, him, and the bartender in the front of the restaurant.

You nod “thankfully she didn’t realize I was there- Carmen would have had a nasty burn, and a concussion.” You said, taking a large sip of your drink.

Carmen comes out, eyes meeting yours immediately. “Fuck- I- don’t worry y’re meal is comped and don’t…don’t worry about a review, i’m sorry- I-I guess it wasn't in the cards f’r us to be featured on y’r blog... I’m really so sorry… Shes- ah..” he rubs his arm nervously, trying to find the words.

“A woman scorned” You teased, and he snorts a laugh, nodding a bit.

“Hell hath no fury, right?” He joked, sighing a bit. “It’s uh…it’s my fault I guess…I uh- I should’ve dealt with that…I've been putting it off” he said and you nod a bit.

“You off the clock?” you looked at your phone for the time, 10:07.

“Shit- fuck- sorry- I’m so sorry- give me like- I was making y’r food…and then-” you shook your head, stopping him.

“No- No…I was uh-Asking to see if you maybe wanted to..have a drink with me? Not-not like…professionally…” you shrugged, stirring your half full cocktail with the bar straw that floated in it.

“Sure- uh…sure- I’d like that lemme..lemme go change, i’ll be right out” he nodded, heading back into the kitchen.

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allysunny · 4 months

Text

New Year's Kiss | Nanami Kento x Fem!Reader

ˡᵒᵛᵉˡʸ ⁿᵃⁿᵃᵐᶦ ᵃʳᵗ ᵇʸ ᵈᵒⁿᵍ ᵉʳᶻʰᵃⁿ

Synopsys: You and your husband Nanami were invited to the Jujutsu High New Year party. You love him, and he loves you, and he's sure as hell going to let you know when he kisses you at midnight.

Words: 3.8k

Warnings: Fluff! Good old-fashioned tooth-rotting fluff, established relationship, suggestive themes (but nothing explicit), Nanami is an amazing husband as always, cw: Gojo Satoru, not proofread. If I'm missing anything, please let me know.

A/N: Hey everyone!! I realised I hadn't written anything for Christmas or New Years, and I was kind of sad about that. I might still post something Christmas related after this, just not sure which fandom I'll do it for.

Anyways this is something short I decided to write for y'all because I missed writing for Nanami so, so much, and he was the perfect person for this trope. I also had a lot of fun writing Yuji, Megumi and Nobara (you'll spot a few easter eggs from the JJK Official Fanbook!), they're all very fun.

I hope you guys enjoy it! I had a great time writing this!

“Yes, and he also had this weird mop of hair on top of his head – if you added a black streak, I’m pretty sure he could’ve been emo. He used to style it like this –“ Gojo went on making gestures with his hands, pushing his hair aside to form a quick side part. “And it’d be all over his eyes. And he always had this look of utter boredom on his face, quite like the one he has now, and – “

“Satoru, that’s enough.” Nanami sighed next to you, interrupting his coworker.

“Awww, but she deserves to know the total nerd she’s married to! You might be one good-looking hunk of meat right now, but I still remember the days when you were just a scrawny little boy who had never felt the touch of a woman.” Gojo went on with a huge grin, turning to you.

“Alright, that’s it. We’re getting something to drink.” Nanami gently took your hand and led you away from Gojo, who started to chase after you, rambling about your “former emo man”, but eventually gave up and searched for someone else to bother.

You chuckled into your hand and looked up at your husband, whose face was contorted in an expression of annoyance – you were far too familiar with that look, which graced his features whenever he came home from overtime missions, or any of his coworkers were involved. But you were also familiar with that same look fading away as soon as you give him some attention. Your husband is, deep down, first and foremost, a domestic man.

“A side part, Kento?” you smiled, releasing his hand momentarily only to hold onto his arm.

“Must we really discuss my questionable hairstyle choices right now?” he sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose, which only amused you further.

You knew Jujutsu High’s New Year party would be a tough invitation for your husband to accept.

“Darling, I deal with them every day. Why would I willingly be with them on the last day of the year as well?” He said, taking off his glasses, an action he often did when tired. “All I want is to stay at home with my beautiful wife, cook some of her favourite dishes, and watch the fireworks from our backyard.” Unfortunately, no matter how many kisses he gave you, he couldn’t convince you to stay in.

“I want to meet your friends, Kento.”

“They’re hardly my friends,” he grumbled. “And you know them already.”

“Hardly. I want to meet the people you work with. You’ve met mine. What’s so wrong with that? Besides, it’s a party. I know it’s not really your thing, but there’ll be food and drinks, and it’d give us a reason to dress up.” Was your plead.

“We can dress up at home –“

“It’s not the same.” You pouted, placing both of your hands on his cheeks, forcing him to bend down and look you in the eye. “Please? It’ll be fun, I promise. And if anyone’s being too annoying, we can leave and cook up something at home. How does that sound? Please, Kento. Pretty please? It’s been a while since I’ve seen you in a tux. I really like you in tuxes, you know…” Your hand dropped to his shirt and fiddled with its collar as you gave him you best seductive look. You knew your little games stirred him up often – that smart mouth of yours had landed you in trouble quite a few times (although you never complained), and you were counting on it to help you out right now.

Nanami only sighed and dropped his head in defeat.

“Fine.”

“Ah! Yay!”

“But we’ll leave if anyone crosses the line.”

“Deal!”

“And I’m bringing something of my own. Who knows what food they’re going to serve in there.”

“Alright, deal. I’ll help.”

With this said, he quickly bent over, hands coming to hold the back of your thighs and lifting you up. Your legs instinctively locked around his waist, and you laughed loudly, still cupping his cheeks.

“But I deserve compensation. Now, and then.” He murmured against your lips and swallowed your giggles as he kissed you deeply. Nanami would do anything to hear the sound of your laughter.

You held onto him tightly and he led you to the bedroom. The compensation was his, but you can’t say you didn’t enjoy it as well.

Which brings you to the present.

“Come on, cheer up. It’s just Satoru, he’ll get his hands on a cupcake or follow a pretty girl outside and leave us two alone.” You offered him a smile, but instead of returning you one of his own, his eye twitched slightly.

“Satoru. Sounds pretty friendly to me.”

The expression on his face was enough to make you break into a fit of laughter. Nanami was not usually a jealous man. He trusted you immensely and had never doubted your loyalty and love for him. But when it came to Satoru Gojo, he could get almost childish. “I don’t like how he looks at you, as if he could crack you, steal you away from me. He’s far too arrogant for his own good” he had revealed to you once after you’d ran into him at the supermarket. You could only smile and kiss him gently, promising there was nothing to worry about. No cocky white-haired man would ever take you away from him.

“Kento, come on. Don’t tell me you’re jealous.” The word hung off your lips with a tint of amusement to it, and he scoffed, looking away as pink coated his pale cheeks.

“I’m not jealous. I just don’t like – “

“How he looks at me. Yeah, yeah. I’ve heard all that before.” Tugging on his arm, you made him turn in your direction, completely facing you. You ran a hand through his jaw and grasped his own, kissing his wedding band with such delicacy, it was almost surreal. “It was friendly, you’re right. Because that’s all Satoru and I will ever be. Friends. Hell – I can’t deal with him for more than 20 minutes straight. I’m not sure that’s very friendly.” This earned a chuckle from him.

“And there’s no need for you to be jealous. I chose you, didn’t I?” you smiled, and Kento’s hand slid from yours to cup your cheek.

“And I still can’t believe it. You’re my dream come true. I love you.” He pulled you towards him, but before your lips could touch, a cheerful voice could be heard calling out your name from across the room.

"Hello! Ah, Nanami-san! Good evening!” Itadori Yuji exclaimed with a smile, fiddling with his dress shirt to make it appear smoother.

You gave your husband an apologetic smile and turned to the young boy. You loved Yuji. You’d met him a few times, and quickly became very fond of the pink haired student. He had no one, no parents, no relatives, no family, so you sort of made it your unofficial job to look after him. He looked up to Kento an awful lot, and clearly saw you as a mother figure. In fact, he’d once even called you “mom” while asking for some salt when he was over for dinner one night. His cheeks had become pink, and he mumbled out a string of apologies before you just chuckled and said it was fine.

The boy wasn’t your own, but you treated him like he was.

Nobara and Megumi followed behind him, so you offered them a polite wave as well. The trio was always together, and although he fought hard to keep up his professional and cold exterior at work, you knew how proud Nanami was of his students. A big ball of mush he was, you knew that for sure.

“Hello there, you two. How are you enjoying the party?” you asked, knowing Nanami would prefer to keep to the sidelines.

“Oh, we’re having a great time!” Yuji replied with a bright smile. He lifted his hands, both holding onto two fried chicken pieces. “Have you tried the fried chicken? It’s to die for, although I’m sure Nanami-san could it better.”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, that’s disgusting,” Nobara chimed in with a sigh. “Nanami-san, your red bean buns are incredible! Inumaki’s had like – what? Five, so far? He’s stopped saying tuna and will only say anpan, it’s incredible.”

The kids laughed and you laughed along with them.

“Thank you, Nobara. I’m glad you and the others liked them.” Nanami replied cordially. He still had trouble finding that balance between being a teacher and talking to his students outside of class – after all, he wasn’t as reckless as Gojo who behaved like an adult instead of a teacher. Discipline was needed in an educational setting. But you’d also taught him he needed to loosen up a bit, and he was sure trying his best.

“If you want to, I can give you the recipe. It’s fairly easy.” Was that a smile?

“Oh, really? Thank you so much, Nanami-san! I can’t wait to try it at home!”

While Nanami and Nobara discussed a few of the dishes being served, Megumi took the opportunity to silently approach you.

“Nanami-san?” he asked, and it took you a while to understand he was referring to you instead of your husband.

“Oh, hello there Megumi. How are you?” you offered him a sweet smile which he shyly reciprocated. Megumi was the quieter of the three, and you could see how much Nanami saw himself in his demeanour. It was fun to see how alike they could be, even if Megumi had been raised by loud and extravagant Satoru Gojo.

“I’m fine, thank you. I’m really enjoying the poetry book you let me borrow.”

“Oh!” you nodded. You knew him to be an avid reader, and since he liked mostly non-fiction, you decided to share some of your books with him. He was currently reading your favourite poetry book.

“I didn’t think it would be my type, but the way the author crafts imagery with his words, it’s just…” Megumi shrugged, trying to find the right words. “It’s fantastic.”

“Which poem are you on?”

“Last one I read was the one about the moon? The moon and the mountain?”

“Ah, yes! That’s Kento’s favourite,” you smiled again, glancing to make sure all was okay with your husband. He seemed to be deep in conversation with both Yuji and Nobara and your heart got all warm and fuzzy. “I like the one about the birds and the sea. I think it’s near the end though, so it might take a while for you to reach it.”

“Birds and sea. Got it.” Megumi nodded. “I’m having a hard time finishing it, actually. I’ve gone back and reread some of the poems I liked so far a few times. They calm me down. I don’t want to finish it and put it down.”

You gave him a quizzical look, then shrugged.

“You can keep it then.”

Megumi looked up, eyes wide in surprise.

“Wait – what?”

“Yeah! I mean, if you’re liking it so much, you can keep it.”

“But – Nanami-san, it’s your book.”

“And it has helped me a lot back when I needed it. Now it seems like you need it more than me.” You replied nonchalantly. It was true. That poetry book had helped you some dark times, but now it was time to pass the torch to someone else. Megumi was a very sweet kid, and very bright too. You knew he’d take good care of it.

“Wow, I… I don’t know what to say.” He mumbled. “That’s very kind of you, Nanami-san, but I can’t take it. It’s yours.”

“And now I’m giving it to you. So, it’s yours. Think of it as a New Year gift. Alright?”

Megumi smiled and nodded.

“Thank you.”

Just as you were about to reply, your husband gently held you by the waist and pulled you close to him. You got the hint, and decided to help him out.

“Well guys, it was great chatting with you three,” you said, smiling at them. “Kento and I are going to grab something to eat and then probably find a place to watch the fireworks.”

They nodded in understanding – they knew how Nanami was when it came to other people and didn’t want to bother him any further. Especially when he seemed to be so at ease with his wife. They thanked you two profusely before walking away, leaving you with your husband.

“They love you,” he said, turning you to face him and taking one of your hands in his.

“Well, I love them too. They’re great kids.”

“Yeah. That, they are.” You could tell Nanami’s eyes were gleaming with pride, and you hid a cheeky smile. You turned on your heels and walked towards the tables full of food, pulling him along with you.

“How about we get something to eat? I’m starving, and really want to try some of that fried chicken!”

The rest of the evening went well. It went excellently, in fact.

You got to meet Jujutsu High’s faculty, Masamichi Yaga and Shoko Ieiri (whom you’d run into a few times already), eat some nice food and exchange pleasantries with people your husband knew.

After a while, you two decided to retire to a calmer corner, since you knew how small his social battery was. And you couldn’t lie – you wanted your husband to yourself for just a few minutes. He looked far too handsome in that sweater of his (for a man who wears suits so often, seeing him so casually did things to you). Your tux idea was quickly discarded once Gojo announced that it was going to be something more casual instead of a formal party, but Nanami made sure to promise you he’d wear one for you soon.

You chatted for a while. About the party, about his coworkers, about his job and yours. When you first started dating Nanami, he was working as a salaryman, but that didn’t quite make him happy. He was all about being efficient and making money, but you could tell he was miserable at that 9-5 job of his. That’s when he quit and became a “high school teacher”. After a few months, he laid out the truth. Told you about cursed spirits, about what he truly did. It was hard to take in at first, and part of you thought he was insane, but it eventually sunk in.

Suddenly, the chattering around you two got louder and louder, and people started walking towards the doors.

“It’s 10 minutes to midnight! Everyone, let’s go outside!” Someone shouted and you took it as your clue to do the same. Nanami held your hand and led you outside, quickly finding a quiet spot among the trees that, while secretive, still allowed you a nice vision of the night sky, and the place where you presumed the fireworks would be in.

“Thank you for coming, Ken.” You told him, enjoying the intimacy the trees provided you two with. “I know you’d much rather be at home.”

“Nonsense. You know all I want is to be with you. I’ll be fine as long as I’m by your side.” He said, dropping his head to kiss your forehead. Your cheeks heat up. Even after all these years, a simple gesture as a forehead kiss could make you melt inside. You loved this man with your whole being, and you felt nothing but lucky and happy in this moment.

“I promise to make it up to you when we get home. Start the New Year on a good note,” you murmured, hands trailing the neckline of his dark blue sweater. Nanami dropped his head lower and whispered into your head.

“Oh, I’ll make sure you will. You might’ve forgotten, but I was promised compensation on two occasions…” His voice sent a shiver down your spine, and you clutched his shirt while letting out a shaky breath. The effect this man on you was crazy – something worth studying, because just his words could make you lightheaded.

A few meters away, you could hear people start to cheer and yell.

“5 minutes to midnight!”

You smiled.

“You know Kento, those kids really do look up to you. I think you’re their favourite teacher.”

“Hm.”

“I’m serious. You’re all cold and distant on the outside, but I know you have a soft spot for them. I see it in the way you look at Yuji.”

Nanami looked away, but not before you could see something like grief briefly flash through his eyes.

“He… He reminds me of Haibara.” He said, voice soft and low.

You knew about Haibara Yu, your husband’s best friend when he was younger. He’d told you about him once. How he was so lively and full of energy, how he could become friends with anyone instantly. How he couldn’t save him in the end. Even if you didn’t know him, it was clear the young pink haired boy would remind Nanami of his best friend.

You placed a reassuring hand on his bicep. “Hey,” you mumbled. “I bet he’s really proud of you.”

Nanami sighed and nodded.

“I just… wish he was here to see it.”

You smiled sadly, and took both of his arms on your hands, forcing him to turn to you. When he refused to meet his gaze, you held his face, forcing him to look into your eyes.

“Hey. He is. Can’t you feel him? He’s right here with us. And he’ll always be here.” You touched his chest, right above where his heart would be. Nanami looked down and wiped a tear that had fallen down his cheek.

“I love you. So much. You’re the light of my life, and I’m so grateful to have you by my side.” He whispered, kissing your hands.

“I love you too, Kento. More than you could know.”

“Thirty seconds to midnight!”

“I’ve really enjoyed this past year,” you smiled, taking his hand, and giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Me too.” He replied.

“Ten!” Everyone cheered in unison.

“We truly did make some incredible memories together.”

“Nine!”

“And next year, we’ll make much more.” Nanami assured you. This time, it was him who squeezed your hand.

“Eight!”

You walked, taking Nanami by the hand with you. Your spot was nice, and you were sure you’d have a nice view of the fireworks, but better safe than sorry.

“Seven!”

When you two found another place you were comfortable with, he stood by your side, hand carefully wrapped around your waist. The trees were no longer hiding you two, and you could see just how many people were outside.

“Six!”

You grinned. What an amazing year it’d been.

“Five!”

Nanami squeezed your waist reassuringly. He loved you. So much.

“Four!”

A year had passed.

“Three!”

A year full of memories. Laughter, tears. Good and bad moments. Memorable and forgettable. It had been an incredible year for sure.

“Two!”

You were certain the next one would be too. As long as you had your husband by your side.

“One!”

“Happy New Year!” Everyone exclaimed, and suddenly, the sky burst into a hundred different colours.

Brilliant bursts of deep blues, radiant reds and shimmering golds painted the night sky, each explosion echoing in the distance. The symphony of loud booms was accompanied by the sounds of students and teachers alike cheering, yelling, and talking. The bursts of light illuminated the darkness, casting a fleeting glow on their faces and brightened the figures of those jumping around and expressing their joy.

You could only stare at the beautiful display in front of you. Swirling patterns and vivid colours painted an ever-changing masterpiece in the black canvas of the sky, turning into sparkling glitters before fading away gracefully.

Meanwhile, Nanami turned to look at you, taking you in. The lights contrasted on your face, and your eyes seemed to shine as you looked in wonder at the fireworks before you. How could he get so lucky? A beautiful, intelligent, kind, and caring woman. You were the whole package. And you had decided to love him and only him.

You caught him staring at you and giggled, but before you could open your mouth to speak, he’d done it first.

“I love you.”

You chuckled and furrowed your eyebrows. Still, he wouldn’t allow you to speak just yet.

“I want these to be the first words I tell you this year. I want these to be the first words I tell you every morning when we wake up, and every night before we go to sleep. I want these to be the words I tell you when I get home from a tiring day, or when I’ve achieved something I’m proud of. Thing is – I love you. Darling, I love you so much. And I want to say this as many times as I can. You are the greatest gift I could’ve ever asked for. You’ve saved me. I was empty before I met you. You’ve brought so much joy into my life, and nurtured my heart back to health, something I thought was impossible after I had witnessed so much death and loss.” Nanami took both of your hands, and you could see his eyes were sparkling with tears.

“What I’m trying to say is – I love you. I’m a better man when I’m with you. You make me a better person. I want these to be the first words I tell you this year, tomorrow morning, tomorrow night, and whenever I can. I will tell you how much I love you until the end of time, because you are everything to me.”

You looked at him through tear-filled eyes. After such a heartfelt confession, you didn’t know what to say. You didn’t think any words could ever express just how deeply you loved Nanami Kento. No words would ever be able to capture your feelings, and just how far you would go for this man.

So instead, you let your actions speak for you.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pulled him down to you, kissing him. He was quick to reciprocate, tongue coming up to trace your lips, which you gladly parted. His hands were resting on your waist and bringing you impossibly closer to him. You poured your heart out in this kiss, letting it tell your husband all you knew words couldn’t.

And by the way he was kissing you back, you knew he understood.

After a while, you two parted for air.

Chuckling, you moved his blonde locks out of his face so you could look into his beautiful hazel eyes.

“I love you, Nanami Kento. I would walk to the end of the world for you. I don’t think any words can describe what you mean to me, but I promise to try. And if words aren’t enough, then I’ll show it to you, every single day, for as long as I live.”

Nanami brushed a strand of hair from your face, and kissed you once again, this time softly, as if you were sealing a secret promise.

Maybe you were.

“Happy New Year, my love.”

“Happy New Year, Kento.”

A/N: And that's it! I hope you guys enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Nanami deserves the absolute best. I wish you all an amazing year, and I hope you have an incredible day!

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148 notes · View notes

auteurdelabre · 5 months

Text

Code Broken (Chapter 2) Mean!Joel x f!reader

rating: explicit, 18+ mdni

summary: "Keep looking at me," he insists from between your thighs. His eyes are stormy, looking up the length of your body. You don't know what penetrates you deeper, his tongue or his dark, glittering gaze.

You only wanted to pull a silly prank on your neighbor, Joel. Who could have seen it ending up like this?

[AU where Joel Miller ends up in Jackson City by himself.]

warnings/tags: Extremely dubious consent, oral sex [f receiving], Joel is bad at feelings, Mean Joel, Dirty Talk

word count: 5.1k

a/n: Y'all, this whole series is pretty depraved (from my perspective) and much darker than my normal stuff. I wanted it as a challenge and I had a lot of fun doing the series, there's 5 parts so I hope you enjoy it. Comments and the like really make my day. xx

masterlist

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Chapter 2: House of the Rising Sun

Its months later, the beginning of fall in Jackson city. The homes are decorated with paper cut outs of black cats and witches. Streamers of orange and black curve around the poles of the canteen. Pumpkins are carved and placed on doorsteps in preparation for next week.

It's your favorite time of year here. The time after the oppressive heat of the summer yet before the blankets of snow that overstay their welcome a little longer each year. It's the time when you pull out your favorite knitted scarf and go for long walks within the expanse of the community.

Trish is getting married to one of the butchers in town. He's shy but quick to smile with white blonde hair that falls into his eyes.

As with most celebrations the entire community is invited and involved in some way. You're making the dress. The girls from work are joyfully putting together decorations, citing that these will be even nicer than the ones done for Tommy and Maria's wedding party. The event is still months away but you want it to be perfect. Trish means so much to you.

You have a basket overflowing with multicoloured foliage to decorate your home but when you notice a pale yellow groundsel amongst the sleeping earth you stop. You bend down and pluck the flower, marvelling at the softness of its plush petals. Under your fingertips they feel like the gentle lips of a lover.

The sudden, intrusive thought that comes with that unbidden thought causes you to scowl, crumpling the delicate flower in your fist. You drop its crushed body to the ground as you continue on your walk.

You know with the encroaching cold weather you'll have a lot to mend at the office tomorrow. Pants, jackets, curtains, blankets. You're never in need of something to do, that's for certain and you like that. You like a purpose, you like seeing people walk by in your knitted scarves or patched jeans. It gives you a satisfaction that just surviving from place to place for years never could.

You like the people you work with, they always invite you for a drink at the end of the week as if the job you all do is such a strain. As if you don't all work half a day, mending and darning around the circular table over coffee and laughter, taking turns using the sewing machine for the bigger projects.

It's at your job where you'd first met Trish who was bringing in a stack of fabric she hoped could be turned into curtains. She was one of the teachers of the younger kids, desperate to bring some color into the drab classroom she'd been given. You'd been new, shy and Trish had taken you under her wing. She had always looked out for you, always supported you.

It's why you want her wedding to be as perfect as possible. You know she would just borrow some nice dress a neighbor owns instead of getting one made by you. You know she wouldn't ask for the work you’re putting into her dress, but you do it anyway. Those extra touches mean something to you and to her.

The dress is far and above the hardest thing you've ever made. Designed it, sewn it, and cried in frustration over it.

When a pile of old lace had been brought in to the sewing room you'd squealed with delight and claimed a bit for yourself. It would be the perfect accent to the dress, only the lace is yellowed with age. You've tried a few home remedies but nothing gives it that snow white color you need. You'll need a bit of bleach.

It's that thought in mind that sets you off early the next day, your scarf wrapped loosely around your neck, your cheeks pink from the wind. You're heading for the general store before going to work, hoping you can find what you need.

The slanted wood roof comes readily into view just off the main square. You come at the start of every week to the general shop with its tall ceilings and solid shelves to see what can be salvaged for clothing or other textile needs.

Everything non perishable that gets salvaged in travels comes through the main building and sorted. Fabric, paper, soap, shoelaces just to name a few. Some of the older folks spend a few days but divvying up where each item goes - kitchen, stables, general shop.

You push the green door open, the familiar tinkle of the bell ringing overhead to announce your arrival.

"Here for fabric if any came in last week," you say with a smile to Ralph, one of the folks who mind the shop day to day. He's sitting on a stool near the side of the space reading an old paperback. He gives you a warm smile, showing off the whitest teeth you've ever seen.

"Just got a box yesterday."

He pops off his stool, the recent page of the paperback dog-eared for later reading. Looking at the yellowed pages you think back to the lace soaking in your sink at home.

"Oh and bleach if you have any extra. Just a little."

Bleach is a hot commodity here, used for everything from cleaning to drinking water if there's a need for it. But Ralph knows you wouldn't ask if it wasn't important.

"Might have a small container of it in the back. Gimme a second."

Your eyes drift to the back of the shop as he says this. "I'll browse for a bit, then."

"New ones in the lower right," he laughs while he heads to the storage in the back room, calling out to you from the space. "Lucky you came today, had a few people asking for extra fabric for the kids costumes last week."

"Really?" you ask, but you're not really listening to his reply. Your eyes are already going to the back of the shop that leads into the little lending library.

It's modest, barely bigger than an elevator but its shelves go to the ceiling and are weighted down with books. You've read almost all of them. This space is where books come to live, be read, returned, traded. It's one of your favorite places in your small world.

You step into this sanctum, greeted by the scent of aged pages and feel your heart skip a beat. It always feels so good to be here, to be surrounded by so many topics and worlds. These are world's you'll only see in the written word, a world with no outbreak, a world bigger than Jackson City.

Ralph asks you about your plans for today as you browse and you answer distractedly, dropping to a knee when you see a book you've never seen before in the lower right, just like Ralph said.

Jane Eyre.

You skim the back and read the summary: haunted mansions, an orphaned heroine, a brooding romantic lead? You decide this will be a good read for tonight in front of the fire.

You right yourself as the tinkle of the shop door sounds behind you. Something in the air changes, an electricity that you can't explain. It's like the world expands and contracts all at once and then suddenly you just know.

It's him.

"Morning Joel," Ralph says cheerfully.

"Mornin'."

The rumble of his voice is unmistakable. You'd know it even if you hadn't heard his name. That low rasp of Texas twang in the richness of his timbre. Your pulse skyrockets, the world growing quiet under the sound of your heartbeat.

Immediately you're moving to the far shelves, ducking your head and trying to regulate your breathing. Boxes are stacked at one end, meaning the odds of him sneaking up on you are minimal.

"Need help finding anything?" Ralph asks helpfully.

"Nah," Joel replies in that quiet, even way of his. "I know where the shampoo is."

His boots shuffle over the grainy floor, slow and deliberate. You haven't seen him yet which means he hasn't seen you. There's a chance you can just slip out unnoticed. You place the book on the shelf next to you beside the canned peaches. You'll come back for it tomorrow. Right now you need to get out as quickly and quietly as possible.

Despite living next door to him, in the past few months you've managed to stay off Joel's radar. After that horrible experience in his house you've gone to great lengths to avoid him. You go early to work during the week, you don't go to the movie nights anymore, you'd never been a big rider but now you don't even go near the stables.

Sometimes you might see him in the crowd during a meal but you're always able to avoid him, to duck away before his cold eyes land on you.

But here now? There are three of you in the shop. It's still early, most folks aren't even at their jobs yet.

You see the top of Joel's head over the shelving, his dark waves gliding until he finds what he's looking for in the hair care section. You catch yourself thinking of his hands massaging the shampoo into his scalp, his head tilted back under the water of the shower, rivulets of ---

Stop it.

"Here ya go," Ralph calls your name from the front of the shop. "All packed and ready to go."

You see Joel's head snap in your direction as your called and you press your forehead against the cool shelf in frustration. So much for getting out unseen. You take a beat, gathering your courage and your focus.

It's simple. Joel's on the other side of the shop. You'll just dart over to Ralph, grab the bag and go back to work. It's simple. You'll be fine. You won't look back.

Then you see it out of your peripherals.

Two dark brown boots stopping at the end of your aisle with a gentle scrape. You can't go backwards, the boxes behind you form a cardboard wall. The only way out is through, past the man with the wide shoulders and strong hands. Past the man who gave you so much only to immediately take it away.

He hasn't moved, hasn't said anything. You don't dare make eye contact with him. Your face flushes red, your head ducking as you shoulder past him. He makes no attempt to stand or shift back so it's easier for you. He just takes up space at the end of that aisle and you can feel him watching you maneuver past him, desperate not to touch him.

He lets you pass without issue. You think you're safe until you feel the back of his hand brushing your knuckles as you pass by. It's gentle, a ghost of a touch. You're not even sure it happened; a part of you is convinced you imagined it. But you don't slow, you don't look back, don't want to see if he's watching you.

You don't care even if he is.

Fuck him.

You mumble a thanks to Ralph, taking the heavy bag swiftly and rushing out of the shop. You're only steps away when you hear the door to the shop tinkle open and Joel's voice calling you by name.

You instinctively pause in the street, your eyes blown wide at the gravelled sound. But you don't turn to face him; you don't even tilt your head to show you've heard. But he knows you have all the same, his distinctive footfalls coming in your direction until he's standing front of you. Your eyes remain on the ground, on his boots.

He says your name again, this time softly. You didn't even realize he knew it. You refuse to look him in the eyes and decide his chin will do. He's so close you can see the spot he missed shaving just under his jaw.

He extends his full hand. "You forgot this."

You look down to see Jane Eyre, the book you'd been about to purchase, the one next to the peaches in his grip. How had he known it was yours? Your eyes swim over the cover before glancing back to his chin.

You have so much you want to say to him and none of it is kind. You want to scream at him for treating you so poorly. Want to punch him across the jaw for calling you pretty eyes and making you believe it. You want to shove and berate him until he confesses why he did it, why he went warm and then turned so cold. But you know you won't because there's a large chance you don't want to hear the answer.

He hates you. He was using you. He was fucking with you after you fucked with him.

Your hair stirs in the wind, twisting and knotting in it. You say nothing when Joel's right hand comes to touch a wayward strand, smoothing it between his fingers and if testing it. The shock of his nearness is broken by this gentle action and you take a large step backwards, your hair jerking out from between his fingers.

"That's not mine," you mumble motioning to the book.

Before he can say anything else you've turned and jogged off in the direction of your job, your heart smacking harshly against your ribs with each step.

///

In your house that evening with lace soaking in the bleach solution you pull on a sweater and pour yourself a cup of tea. When the tea is prepared you go to the fire with your teacup and a distant look on your face. You wish you had that new book but grab something else from your shelf instead.

It's the photo album, the one non necessity your mother brought with you from place to place. The only sentimental item that shows there was a time when the world wasn't on fire.

When you first got to Jackson city you looked at it every night. You spoke aloud to your favorite photograph of your mother, the one where she's laughing at the beach while the two of you build a sandcastle.

Now that it's been a few years since you arrived here you only look at it once in a while. It used to make you happy and bring you comfort when you first got here. Now when you look at the photos of your childhood all you can feel is robbed.

No prom. No college. No career as a graphic designer. No sweet sixteen party like the one you'd been planning when the world went to shit.

The day you'd come home from school to see your neighbor writhing in her front yard, tendrils peeking out of her mouth and straining for sunlight. That had been the day your mom had packed you up and . . .

You don't like to think about it. You thumb through the photos until you get to the second to last grainy image. The photograph that brings tears to your eyes and a pounding of your heart.

You close the album.

You drain your teacup; shuffle to put it in the sink. You peek at the partially submerged lace and smile. The bleach solution worked perfectly. The lace, once yellowed with age is now a beautiful white. It'll look perfect on what you've done so far with the dress.

You rinse the lace before placing it into a bowl of lukewarm water to sit in overnight and then head upstairs feeling warm but not contented.

You get to the bedroom and change into your nightdress, yawning. You feel strange, keyed up. Today has you feeling off kilter and you know it's because of your interaction with Joel Miller this morning.

You glance at the window that faces his house. It's propped open slightly to let the breeze in. You like the crisp air of Jackson city at this time of year. There is music playing faintly, The House of the Rising Sun. You draw slowly over to the window, bathed in the blue of the light. A cursory glanced tells you all the lights are off in Joel's home. He’s either asleep without turning off his record player or he’s out and left it on by accident. You’d bet money on the former.

You go to close the window when your eyes fall to something placed on the ledge of the windowsill. Your heart hammers when you realize what it is.

Jane Eyre.

The book you'd left with Joel Miller.

You frown, gripping the book and righting yourself. Still frowning you crawl under the sheets, your eyes scanning the book’s cover but not really paying attention. Joel obviously did this. Was it a message? A warning that he could enter your home at any time? Was it an apology for how he treated you?

You turn off the light, falling into a restless sleep.

Its hours later when you sense something isn't right.

There is a creak behind you and a hand is over your mouth, stilling and silencing you. Immediately you panic, flailing under the bed sheets.

"Don't scream."

Its him.

You know that if his hand wasn't over your mouth you would be. You'd be screaming shrilly in his face trying to wrench free of his grip. As it is, now that you know it's him you feel the panic subside, but only minutely.

"Don’t scream,” he repeats.

You nod, staring up at him in the darkness. He removes his large hand then he steps back, still staring down at you. You stare at him for what feels like an eternity before speaking.

"What are you doing here? In my room?"

"Fair is fair," Joel counters placidly. "You broke into my place, I break into yours."

You don't know what to say to that. This whole situation is so surreal. Joel is in your bedroom, standing at the side of your bed staring down at you with that familiar, heavy gaze. His frown deepens but his irises remain unreadable in the shadows.

“Why’d you run from me this mornin’?”

You sigh, rising to a seated position in the bed, bringing the blanket up with you. You never take your eyes off Joel as you do this, and he doesn't hide the way his eyes are sliding along your body.

You motion for him to take a seat on the edge of your bed, near your feet. Instead he comes closer, sitting inches away from your hip with his right leg crooked in your direction. The bed creaks under him and you glance down at his knee, so close to you. The coverlet of your bed, a delicate pale blue, is a stark contrast against the dark stonewash of his jeans. Your eyes move from his knee back to his face.

He's waiting for you to explain with his brows raised. You swallow finding your mouth impossibly dry. After a beat you manage a shaky reply, a half shrug.

“I dunno.”

There is a cleave between you, as wide a chasm if it physically existed. You hold tight to the blankets, not releasing them. You stare at your fingers gripping the fabric tightly.

“You do so.”

He leaves the words hanging there in the semi darkness.

You make a gentle sound of surprise when his hand tugs the blanket down out of your hands. His eyes drink you in, shivering in your nightdress. Is it from the chill or from Joel's gaze? You're not sure.

"The way . . . Last time," you utter quietly. The shame of that last interlude is still a stain on your mind, a humiliation you've replayed a thousand times. "Why?"

"I couldn't control myself," Joel explains without hesitation, his gaze dipping to the collar of your nightgown. "Just like I don't think I can control myself now."

You absolutely loathe the thrill that goes through you at those words. You despise that the low rasp of his voice and the soulful eyes combine to make your entire body throb. You wonder if Joel can tell, if he can sense the way your pulse has started tripping into a gallop.

But you need to say it. Need to explain that it wasn't okay how things ended last time. You keep your eyes on the blanket between you.

"You made me feel," you search for the words, glancing from him so you can think clearly. "Used."

There is a pause, a clearing of his throat. His voice drops a bit.

"I'm not a good man."

If you thought he was looking for sympathy that belief is erased when you look to see his challenging gaze fixed on you.

You search his face, looking for doubt or for pain or for something he's trying to hide and you see it all there barely hidden in his eyes. You muse that one day you'll learn more of his secrets, but for now you're content to wait.

You'll wait for his secrets, but not for his touch. You move up onto your palms and with a short crawl you close the gap between you. He sits still, watching you approach in measured breaths.

You press your lips to the side of his neck, knowing that kissing his mouth would ruin you. It would make it so much harder if Joel turns cold again. Instead you'll enjoy the quiet groan it elicits from him vibrating against your lips.

You move back, looking at him from under your hair in a way you hope communicates that he has permission to continue. There is a moment where he looks unsure, as if he’s fighting an inner battle. But then with a low growl he pushes forward, crawling over you and pressing you back until you're lying under him, your knees pressing into his sides. His body is heavy on yours but you don't want it any other way.

He's kissing your throat, wild open mouthed things that make you keen. His hips grind against yours as he kisses and nibbles. You feel the bulge grow in his jeans and this makes you groanw wantonly. When one large hand goes to cup your breast through your flimsy nightgown you whimper.

Then he's stopped, holding himself above you and breathing raggedly.

"I'm not a good man," Joel repeats. And now you see the hesitation in his eyes, in the way he looks at you.

You take his hand, still wrapped around your breast and slide it downward. He lets you do this silently, allowing you to move his wide palm down over your tummy, your pelvis and then finally . . . Over the soaking gusset of your panties.

"I don't need you to be good," you sigh.

This is all the encouragement he needs. His hand jerks your panties to the side, so desperate to continue touching you his finger begins sliding along your damp slit. It’s a short tease. You hiss as one of his fingers curls inside your cunt abruptly, the slick allowing him to slide in with ease. You jolt at the intrusion, your fingers flexing into his shoulders.

He stares down at you, your eyes creaking open to watch him. His face is neutral save for the way his dark eyes stay on your mouth. His fingers curl, coax, pleasure. His thumb taps your swollen bud and you give a strangled whimper. It feels so fucking good.

Your hand is at his belt buckle, preparing to undo it when his free hand bats yours away.

"We've done enough for me," Joel murmurs as his hands go to the waist of your panties, dragging them down slowly. They glide over your legs, the fabric leaving goosebumps in its wake as it trails down your body and is then tossed onto the floor.

You're lying back on your elbows watching this when he pushes you back into the bed. He follows you, kissing your collar with a dizzying softness. You arch as his mouth moves down your body, his hands teasing and grazing you everywhere until you feel about to unravel.

You give a ragged breath as he kisses you, just below your navel. Your skin twitches at the sensation of his facial hair rasping against the smooth flesh of your abdomen before he pulls back. Your eyes crack open to see he’s still fully dressed, not even palming himself through his jeans.

Instead he’s gripping your ankles and with a soft pull he brings you to the edge of the bed before he moves between the vee off your thighs. His eyes linger along your lower half, a tongue coming to trail the seam of his lips. His intent is clear. He's not going to stop at kissing your belly.

You draw your knees together, anxious. You're nervous. You know what he wants but you've never had a man do this before. You don't know what to expect and Joel seems to sense your hesitation. Much like your first time he's serious, all business. Warm calloused hands are on both your knees.

"Open for me."

It seems he feels most comfortable when he's in control giving orders. You can imagine that's how he survived outside the walls of Jackson City.

The blunted tips of his fingers dig into your flesh, a silent way to prompt you. You'll feel so exposed like that though, in front of Joel Miller of all people. He's so serious, so intimidating. And he's looking down at you as if he wants to consume you whole.

"Open."

His voice is a low purr, and his fingertips start to move in slow circles over your kneecap, gentle and stirring. You know you're absolutely soaked, probably dripping onto the blanket under you.

You swallow before you allow your thighs to fall open for him. His eyes dart down to your slick cunt, the trembling of your body, the way you're looking up at him with a look of fear and deep need.

You aren't expecting the almost pained look that crosses his serious features, the slack of his mouth as he hits his knees on the wood floor beside the bed.

"Fuck," Joel moans, his hands coming to grip the blanket on either side of you. "I need a taste."

Without ceremony he's gripping your thighs and moved his mouth between your legs, a flat tongue slipping between your slit. Immediately you arch back, the sensation fucking divine. Your head hits the pillow so quickly you see stars.

He holds fast to you, even when you begin to wriggle. He’s making soft groaning noises, kissing you, licking you there. You feel helpless to stop from opening your eyes and looking down the length of your body. The sight of Joel Miller between your thighs makes you moan,

You aren’t expecting Joel’s eyes to be open, fixed on your face as he tastes you. You expect him to look away, caught, but he doesn’t. If anything his gaze pierces you and he begins fucking you with his tongue. You had no idea it was possible.

You wish you could say you held out, that you were in control. But soon, too soon, you feel the warmth in your lower belly start to spread. As if he can sense it, Joel's mouth drags from your cunt to begin pressing soft kisses to your inner thighs.

You give a sound that is both pleading and desperate. Joel lets out of soft rumbling chuckle that you can feel grazing against your cunt.

"So impatient," he rumbles, huffing warm air against your exposed clit.

You let out a shuddering exhale. He's holding you with one arm over your abdomen; the second snaking is way between your thighs. His fingers comes to circle your clit as his lips move back between your legs, working together to bring you to the edge. Your head falls back sharply and you try to hold yourself back from bucking into Joel's greedy mouth.

"Keep looking at me," he insists from between your thighs. His eyes are stormy, looking up the length of your body as he tastes you. You don't know what penetrates you deeper, his tongue or his dark, glittering gaze.

"That's she is" he croons, his lips pressing sweet open mouthed kisses to your cunt. His fingers are removed and now it’s just him, his talented mouth pulling you deeper into the pleasure you can’t hide from. But it’s almost too much, the pleasure frightening you and you move to inch back from him.

His grip is steel and instead of his arm banding across your waist, he moves to your hips, holding you in place. His tongue is flicking now, causing choked noises to emit from you. Your entire body is trembling, and now Joel’s tongue laves your swollen clit.

"Give it to me," Joel groans. "I need it."

You arch up off the bed, your hands groping the blanket for purchase. You can feel yourself rocking into his mouth, your fists holding tight to the blanket on either side of you as you begin to give short, rasping cries as you stare at him.

"Give into it," Joel demands. "Come on my fucking tongue, pretty eyes."

Pretty eyes.

There it is.

You feel a cascading pleasure move through your limbs like water. Subtle at first, but then it spreads so quickly, so different than orgasms you’ve ever experienced. More potent, flooding the length of your body. The sensation is so overwhelming that you jerk at the waist, a loud wail of release echoing within your bedroom as you tremor against Joel’s waiting mouth.

You fall back, your eyes on the ceiling as you come down from your high breathing raggedly. You feel Joel’s warm hands slide down your waist, dragging along your legs until they reach your ankles. That's where they lift off, the warmth of his touch gone. Normally you would raise up, you would make some attempt at conversation. But this is Joel Miller and something tells you he doesn't care for it.

You know he won’t say goodbye. He won’t even acknowledge that he’s made you come so spectacularly you’re ruined for any future encounter. But when you finally raise your head and see your empty room you don’t feel as alone.

The book, Jane Eyre, sits on your side table.

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