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leclsrc · 1 year

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you know it ✴︎ cl16

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

word count: 7k

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

nsfw warnings under the cut!

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

title from this. i love u guys im so sleepy

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

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

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

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

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

“You are such an asshole.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

“Charles Leclerc,” he says blankly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I mean, a bit!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

Hopefully is the reply. He smiles the whole day.

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Define fuck,” he says, voice rough.

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

It’s time he get a little creative.

—

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

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

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

“Fixing my hair.”

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

“Wh—I don’t—”

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

“It’s nobody,” he lies.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“See anything nice on the paddock?”

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

“Did you get a picture with Max?”

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

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

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

“Lewis.”

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

“Pierre.”

“Horribly French, but… smash.”

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

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

He smirks. “Are you?”

“I really am,” you hum.

“Are you staying long? All weekend?”

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

“Wine?”

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

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

“Pizza?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

Abu Dhabi is a son of a bitch.

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

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

He drives himself to P2 behind Max, eyes shut.

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

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

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

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

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

So he revs faster, and the rest descends into—

Absolute fucking chaos.

—

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

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

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

—

“Hey there, champ.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You take too long,” you groan.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good?”

You nod. So good, give me more.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Aww,” you tease.

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

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

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

“Yeah,” he says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?”

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

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

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kentoberry · 2 years

Text

MON CHERI. — toji fushiguro.

ABOUT: toji knows the horrors of the zen'in clan, and offers something a little more than comfort to naoya's wife.

NOTES: naoya is in his early 20s and toji is in his late 20s. set before toji leaves the clan. i wrote a lot of this while spaced out on pain meds so... yeah LOL

CWS: sub fem reader, some canon divergence, cheating, arranged marriage, toxic relationships, breeding, dubcon, impregnation, controlling behaviour (from naoya), hymen breaking, implied v*rginity loss, p*ssy inspection, misogyny, car s*x, fingering, thigh riding, overuse of pet names, slight hand f3tish, spit, choking mention, dirty talk.

well, that’s one way to get back at the zen’in clan.

you’d been betrothed to naoya zen’in before you could even pronounce the word “engagement”, as the elders from your respective clans thought that it would be beneficial in a political sense. you were raised to understand that this was how things must be, and that there was no backing out. it wasn’t until your wedding day that you finally met naoya, having spent your days as a little girl dreaming that as you walked down the aisle, you’d be taking steps towards your prince charming. oh, how wrong you were.

naoya was an absolute asshole from the very beginning. he even instructed the officiant at your wedding to “get this over with” as soon as possible, and barely even made eye contact with you throughout the ceremony. your heart shattered into a billion tiny pieces, but you grinned and beared it. you knew that there was a chance that you’d be stuck in a loveless marriage, and that was now your reality.

the first night that you spent together, your new husband’s first question to you was regarding your abilities to bear a child. not whether or not you wanted one, but rather when you would be able to get pregnant. he wanted to secure an heir, which would thus secure his position in the clan. naoya truly didn’t care about you, his only goal was to breed a baby into your fertile cunt.

hell, he even poked and prodded at your pussy, satisfied only when you winced and a small trail of blood followed. the man hadn’t truly believed that you were a virgin, all modern women were cockhungry whores to him, so he resorted to inspecting your hymen himself. in naoya’s eyes, your body now belonged to him.

fast forward to your six month anniversary. you barely left the estate. naoya ensured that you be stuffed and bred full of his semen every night, the filthiest of names slipping past his lips as he degraded you and berated you for the fact that you weren’t yet carrying his child. you were nothing more than the man’s cumdump, following his every rule down to the detail. at events, he paraded you around as the perfect piece of arm candy, giving every attendee the impression that you were a happily married pair.

it was at one of these events that you’d been introduced to naoya’s cousin, who looked as though he didn’t want to be there anymore than you did. he introduced himself as toji, and wasted no time in talking shit about the clan that you had unknowingly married into. if naoya had cared enough to pay attention to you, he would have dragged you away from the other man. but he didn’t. instead, you spent majority of the evening listening to toji’s stories, promising him that you would do everything in your power to ensure a brighter future for the zen’in clan.

“but ya don’t have any power in y’r relationship, do ya, princess?”

you looked down to mask the heat that spread across your cheeks, such pet names feeling foreign to you. toji knew that he was right, and continued chatting away as he nursed his glass of alcohol.

“naoya’s always been a real piece of work. never fuckin’ treated a woman right in his life. always screamin’ at his maids to do everything for him, firing them if they made the slightest fuck-up. always felt sorry for the poor lass that would end up with ‘im. doubt he’s ever even made ya cum.”

the man took a moment to evaluate your expression, which only confirmed his prior assumption. he took pity on you, really. the rough spoken man knew the atrocities that the zen’ins were capable of, and the scar along his lip was evidence of such. feeling sorry, he resorted to what he knew best, hollering at the bartender for two more drinks, one for each of you.

“i, umm, i can’t drink,” you mumbled.

“don’t tell me he dictates what ya put in your body, darlin’. . .”

“no! no!” your voice was apologetic, as though you’d said something that you shouldn’t have. “it’s not like that; alcohol just isn’t good when you’re trying to conceive…”

toji scoffed. “you want to get knocked up by that man? you insane, princess?”

you sighed in defeat. “he wants a baby, so i need to have one. it’s what i’m supposed to do.”

your face depicted a sight that he knew all to well. toji put an arm over your shoulders slowly so as not to make you jump. he saw the tears that you worked to conceal, hand slowly rubbing your arm in attempt to soothe you.

“let’s get out of here. tell the cunt that you aren’t feeling too well; makes sense to be if he’s tryna put a kid in ya. i’ll take you home, maybe drive around a little if ya want. y’r a sweetheart, don’t let him ruin it, okay?”

you simply nodded, feeling strange that a zen’in was giving you a choice.

“i’ll go grab my jacket, and meet ya by the door. is that alright with you?”

again, you nodded. you smoothed out your outfit, once again putting on a brave face and seeking out your husband. it didn’t take too long to spot the blonde, pushing your way through seas of people to reach him. you kept your hand situated on your lower stomach, hoping that it helped to sell your fake story.

upon approaching him, you called his name though to no avail. it took tugging on his sleeve to finally gain his attention, which resulted in him turning to you with a disdainful expression. “what?” he queried coldly.

you began muttering about how you weren’t feeling too well and were needing to head home, but were cut off by him-

“speak up, woman. you’re wasting my time.”

you did just that, leaning closer to him so that he could hear you better.

“whatever.”

despite being used to naoya’s lack of human emotion, it still hurt. as though your wedding day was a knife being plunged into your stomach, and each insult was your husband twisting the weapon. there was no ‘stay safe, honey!’ or concern regarding how you were getting back to your room, he just liked that he controlled you enough that you felt the desire to inform him of your every move.

you kept your head low as you went to reunite with toji, who leant against the venue’s door frame, fiddling with the keys to his car in hand. mustering up a tiny smile, you greeted your knight in shining armour and headed out with him.

toji was quick to open the passenger side door of his vintage mustang, allowing you to get in with ease. such a simple act of chivalry made your heart flutter in a way that you knew it shouldn’t. the little girl who’d been suppressed inside of you for so long suddenly sprung back to life, making you feel like the raven haired man was your prince charming helping you into your bespoke carriage. you almost felt giddy, a feeling that grew overwhelming to the point that tears began to gather along your waterline.

in the meantime, toji had started the car’s engine and was ready to pull out of the parking lot of empty cars. he checked on his fuel gauge before looking over to you.

his drawled “everything alright, darlin’?” was the straw that broke the proverbial camel’s back. you began spilling your guts to the borderline stranger, detailing how unhappy your marriage to naoya made you and all of the shit that he put you through.

toji turned off the car, pulling your weeping form into his chest as he hushed you. he was a man of few words in that moment, instead doing his best to provide the comfort to you that had been absent during his own experiences with the harshness of the zen’in clan.

“i’m sorry,” he murmured, “it’s not your fault.”

you could have sworn the man was struggling to hold back his own tears as you finally looked up at him, though before you could fully discern his emotions, he placed a tender kiss to your forehead, mumbling that you didn’t deserve to be put through such trials and tribulations. you seemed a sweet soul.

the kiss, albeit innocent, flustered you. it was laced with a gentleness that you had never experienced. naoya was the only man that you had ever been intimate with, and he’d been the furthest from benevolent that one could be. it made you forget the ring on your left hand, instinctively tilting your chin up and pulling toji in for another kiss.

he hadn’t expected to feel your lips against his own. the smell of your expensive perfume overwhelmed him, feeling intoxicated by your touch. he wasted no time in deepening the kiss, grabbing your hips and encouraging you to straddle him in the driver’s seat.

upon pulling away for a brief moment to catch his breath, toji informed you of the tinted windows, promising that nobody would see whatever you both found yourselves getting up to.

with hair and makeup a mess, you found yourself grinding against his thigh in an attempt for some friction. the way that the hem of your dress had splayed over toji's lap meant that your cunt bordered on bare because of the sheer black lace that naoya ordered you wear. the material covering your slit was thin, the perfect opportunity for your husband to tear in two when he got impatient with the preparations required before fucking you.

there was an obvious wet patch soaking its way through the fabric, something that toji noticed after swiping two fingers against your clothed pussy.

"she's already drippin', doll," he growled, voice having dropped another octave. he slipped your panties aside, traipsing his digits along your dampened folds. afterwards, he placed his slick coated fingers into his mouth, groaning at the taste of you on his hand. "shit, darlin', y'r fuckin' heavenly."

before you could even make a sound, toji pulled you in for another kiss. you could taste the faint remnants of your arousal on his taste buds, making a move to pull back that would have been successful if not for his hand pressing against the back of your head, keeping you in place.

“sweetheart,” he grumbled, hot breath fanning the sensitive skin at the juncture of your neck and shoulder. “sure about this?”

you were quick to utter the affirmative, shortly followed by whimpering at the loss of contact as toji lifted you back into the passenger’s seat. he chuckled at the reaction, feeling lucky to have elicited such a reaction from you. switching the engine back on, the man began speeding out of the lot.

you were certain that you couldn’t wait a moment longer. perhaps it was the idea of doing something so taboo mixed with the anticipation that being with toji had already generated. your hand slipped underneath your dress, hiking the material up your thighs as you caressed the tender skin. your breath caught in your throat as your fingers ghosted over your clothed clit, whining at the sensation.

“can’t even wait f’me, princess?” toji smirked. instead of chiding you for such brattiness, he chose to indulge you, even moving his hand from the gearstick to peel away your underwear.

you could have sworn you heard him moan at the sight of your glistening cunt, not even caring that your arousal seeped onto his fine leather upholstery. all whilst keeping his composure with driving, he slipped a finger into your weeping folds and began to fuck you. in response, you simply gripped his arm. he took it as a sign that you were enjoying this, deciding upon adding another digit to your hole. with ease, he located the rough spot that made your toes curl, massaging circles into it as he began to stretch your pretty cunt open. with the way that you were practically creaming on his hand, he could truly tell how your husband had been neglecting your needs and desires.

as toji came into contact with a red light, he took a moment to halt the car and immediately provided you with his undivided attention. his first action was to roughly spit onto your pussy, using his thumb to spread his saliva and make a mess of your cunt. as possessive as it may seem, he wanted to taint your body in all the lewd ways that he could think of. you deserved to be his princess, not naoya’s pathetic little cumdump.

“play with y’r clit, doll,” he instructed, and you did just that. nay, you went above and beyond his instructions. you released his arm and began groping at your tits, allowing for them to spill over the neckline of your dress for better access. you played with your stiffening nipples, tweaking and tugging as your other hand made a beeline for your swollen clit, the pads of your fingers becoming coated in the concoction of your slick and toji’s spit.

toji briefly palmed the growing bulge in his pants before placing his hand back on the steering wheel. when he had to remove his hand from your cunt in order to shift gears, you considered teasing him about not driving something automatic in this day and age but were instead distracted by how fucking attractive his veiny hand looked wrapped around the piece of machinery. it only turned you on even more when you saw the shimmering of your arousal still coating his middle and ring finger. you couldn’t help but wonder how his hand would feel wrapped around your throat.

when he could spare a hand once again, toji’s fingers plunged back into your hole. due to the fact that you’d been brutally toying with your clit whilst indulging in such salacious ideas of the man, he could feel your walls flutter around him, indicating that you were likely close to an orgasm.

toji didn’t alter the speed of his movements, instead he resorted to using his words to attempt to tip you over the edge.

“‘s it, gonna cum all over my car, pretty thing? can’t even wait f’r my cock? bet you’re thinkin’ about me, aren’t ya, darlin’? want me to ruin ya, fuck ya like you wish that no good piece of shit you call a husband can’t. when we get home, i don’t think i’ll be satisfied ‘til i’ve destroyed that pretty little pussy on every fuckin’ surface i got. you’d like that, wouldn’t ya? cunt feels so good, can’t wait until my fat cock is buried deep in her, stretching the poor girl out until she’s creamin’ f’me.”

his words went straight to your core, though it was one final sentence that really tipped you over the edge.

“maybe i’ll do what he never could ‘nd put a baby in ya, princess,”

#🍑 ૮ • ﻌ • ა #toji smut #toji fushiguro smut #toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #naoya x reader #naoya zen'in x reader #naoya smut #naoya zenin smut #tojisluvrposts

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moonit3 · 5 months

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I see that request is open...

Sooo, i wonder what would happen if the reader/darling feels like something is wrong with Axel. Like, his personality felt almost fake. Like he did it as for the money,,,,

Bonus points if Axel actually about to ask the reader/darling to be his significant other! And reader/darling having moments of doubt which makes it harder for him to confess.

Like geee, i wonder why the reader/darling is like that- /sarcastic

another sequel for our boy axel! im glad that he receive some recognition as he is one of my favorite of the blog (о´∀`о) and today we have a continuation from the two previous segments.

A BREAK

➥ warnings/notices: yandere male, obsession, insecurity from reader’s part, angst (?), axel being insensitive sometimes, reader cries but nothing too much, not much yandere stuff on this.

➥ yandere! rent-a-boyfriend x gn! reader

➥ synopsis: after dating this new guys for a while, he makes a proposal that you might not accept.

➥ a/n: soooooooo this is quite short compared to my other projects (sorry anon…) as i had some struggles on writing this for some reason such as a temporary writing block, an incoming test and my insomnia. but no worries, i promise this one is a good one despite not having much yandere stuff on it, so enjoy it!

“do you want to make things official?”

“official?”

“yes, we should start dating real, without any contract between us.”

today was a little different than the usual dates with axel. instead of being you to call him to a date or send a text message to the enterprise that you wish to see him, he was the one who sent a voice mail to you, asking if you could meet him without needing to pay him.

at first, you believed that he just wanted to hang out with you as friends and maybe getting to know each other for real, but it seems he wants to take things further than you expected.

“you sure?” your finger began playing with each other, a way to calm yourself down and relax your mind with the words that came out of his lips. this wasn’t what you’ve planned for the day, but now you will have to endure axel for the afternoon. “i mean, i think things have been going well between the two of us like this…”

his eyes notice how nervous you’ve become and despite wanting to get close, to assure things will go well, axel just stay on his side of the bench. “you’re right, but don’t you think things will get better when we get together? like a real couple.” his hand moves to hold yours, but you move it away in the last second, making you getting further away from his touch. “what is wrong? you look more lost than usual, did something happened?”

you nodded. “i-it’s just that I’m scared of you leaving me.” the way your eyes seems to lose some sparkle when you speak makes axel’s heart drop. “i had a bad experience prior you and i don’t want this to happen again.”

right. you haven’t forgive that incident when you are dating the ‘first axel’ and it’s look that you won’t be forgotten about it anytime soon, specially as he had humiliated you in a intimate moment like that. but you don’t this ‘axel’ is the same one that broke your heart and he hopes to continue like this.

“yeah, there was that guy…” he fakes a smile, trying to keep his posture up and to not show any signs that he knows the subject more than you’ve told him before. “…he sounds like a horrible person from what you’ve said to me.”

“indeed. he was the worst.” he mentally agreed with you, back then, he had a terrible personality. “he was the worst human being, a horrible person and he deserves death.” oh. is that what you’ve thinking? killing him and trashing him? honestly, he can’t blame you.

as you continue to ramble about the fiasco of your first experience with the rent-a-boyfriend guy, axel caresses your hair. the thoughts inside his head are running wild, mostly of it are questioning himself if what he doing is right.

he is lying at you. pretending to be someone who he isn’t just to praise and protect you from his own actions that made you question if trusting someone is right or wrong, axel is responsible for making you crying numerous night. however, he doesn’t feel like to tell you the true.

when you ended your little speech of how terrible he was, a smile grows on your face when you look up to see his eyes. you look happier than usual now, compared to just a few minutes ago. are you going to say yes? take his words into consideration and be with him for real?

“can we stay like this? like, not a real couple for an extra time. im still not ready for a real relationship, axel.” you said, removing his hand away from your hair and hold it gently closer to your heart. “i do have feelings for you, but there are a lot of things that are making me feel trapped in the past, like i’m not ready to move on from it and you have been so distant in the recently days.”

so you did notice that. but how much do you truly know what he is hiding?

“i know that you have other clients other than me, but you are always looking at your phone when we are out together,” axel is making sure that you won’t receive another match from the app, resulting you on be his only. “and you don’t even reply to me when i ask something.” his voice keep failing as he didn’t got used to the lower tone.

he removes his hand away from yours, despite wanting to feel your touch on his skin. he needs to find an excuse, “i got busy with the enterprise asking me to help them at the financial sector.” is that a good one? “so they keep sending me multiple messages, but that is no excuse to my behavior in the recent dates we had.”

your lips curves into a smile when he said that, but it didn’t change the fact that you still suspicious of his behavior, you can feel something off. “i understand it, axel. but i think we should take a break.”

what?

“it will the best for us, axel.” you caressed his dark hair, smiling at his face. “i need to be by myself for a time, to get things back together and to prioritize my health as my work is getting harder in recently days. im sorry this might hurt you, but i really need to be alone—“

“it’s okay.” he smiled. “i know things have been hard to you and im going to be here to help you, at any distance.” his arms wrapped around your body, bringing you closer and leaving no other option than hugging him back.

your face rest on his chest, he can feel that you are crying against his shirt’s fabric, but axel doesn’t say nothing to ruin the moment. he knows that you have been working hard and even with you wanting space from him, axel will take care of you as he will keep his presence unknown to you in the future.

@moonit3 writings

#yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere x you #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere male #yandere writing #yandere headcanons #yandere male x reader #yandere man #yandere boy #yandere headcanon #yandere hcs #yandere x gender neutral reader #gender neutral y/n #gender neutral reader #gender neutral insert #my oc axel #➥·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ moon writings

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wandixx · 2 months

Text

Ghost of fries and Hero of cookies part 3

All work words count: 14 643

Words in this part: 3 056

Summary of whole work: Duke wasn't expecting to wake up from his quick rooftop nap to some meta kid with fries. He also wasn't expecting kid to stay

Danny asked Dani to stay safe while she was in Gotham. Where would she be safer than under the wing of local hero? And he looked like he needed bad day combo anyway

This part summary: Joker goons are in for an orange surprise and Duke does not like it in the slightest

Beta read by @audhumla-sailor though English is second language for both of us, so proceed with this in mind. I also know all of the charaters through fics alone, so probably ooc. Stay catious if it's something you don't like

First part, Previous part

trigger warnings: gun violence, panic attacks, dissociation, mentions of Joker gas and what it doeas to people (tell me if i missed something, I'll add it)

Duke was having quite a good day. His schoolwork finally got lighter and up until now nothing notable happen on his patrol. Obviously, couldn’t have Gotham without at least one mugging and bank and corner shop robbery. About the last thing, if it was chain store he would conveniently arrive too late to stop it and just follow up to make sure cashier didn’t get fired. He used to be intimately close with hardships of getting necessary supplies like food or gas masks while corporate assholes were trying to suck people dry. But it was family business so he actually had to step in. He did mention secure way of getting resources to would be robbers though. All in all, not so bad, pretty good day. As for now, he was swinging on grapple to meet with Dani, armed with healthy snack Alfred demanded he took for her when he got texted on his Signal-work-phoneTM. It meant important business 90% of the time, so he stopped to check it out. Other 10% were memes from Dani that usually were worth it anyway.

Got it in one, Hoopoe texted. He opened chat expecting funny video or something instead to be greeted by:

Dani: Hey Signal

Dani: Peple aint spossedf t get out f Arkham

Dani: Amirite?

His stomach dropped. He wished it was hypothetical question but he knew better than to believe such fantasies. Things didn’t go so well in Gotham, especially not with Hoopoe.

You: Yeah, your right. What’s up?

You: You’re*

Dani: Nerd

Dani: Whatre you’re thots on clowns

Dani: ?

His stomach officially landed at his feet and decided it wasn’t enough dropping and ended up on a street below. Even if Joker was still locked up, his goons being active were bad news.

You: Where are you?

You: Hoopoe, where are you?

Dani: Clm dow I ned to chek

Dani: I have ni ieda

Dani: The box building rod

Dani: roof*

Dani: Warehouse?

Dani: That the wors

Dani: I think

You: There are over 1000 warehouses in Gotham

Dani: Idk wht yu want me totll yu

Dani: Therere other warehous arond?

You: Okay

You: Check corners for symbol and number

Back in the day everyone other than Bruce decided to take part in a challenge to count all of the warehouses in Gotham manually. They each got their sector and graffiti spray to mark counted buildings. Later it kinda turned into a way of identifying them.

Dani: Red blb with too wite dots

Dani: #83

Okay, he wasn’t too far. He risked roof hopping and checking texts to make sure she didn’t try anything stu-

Dani: Im goin in

You: No!

You: Stay where you are!

You: Hoopoe!

Dani: Calm down worrywart

Dani: Jus wante ti get ab look

Dani: Invisible

Dani: M not dump

I doubt it

You entered building with Joker’s goons with no back-up or plan. It’s extremely dangerous

Dani: Yeah, yeah don care

Dani: 5 goons in clown masks

Dani: Maks idk wat of

Dani: Not northern hemisphere of sky for sure

Dani: Weird containter s

Dani: Ari smells funny

Dani: Giggly i guess

Dani: U prbl know better

You: Get out of there

You: NOW!

You: Try not breathing it in

Dani: K

Dani: Ill stop brething then

You: GET OUT!

Dani: K

Dani: Why so agressive

Because Duke knew what Joker gas could do to person. He knew how it took wonderful people (like his parents) and left shells wand shadows of who they used to be. Because every gas release left him with panic attack. Because he knew it was more dangerous than even some vigilantes thought it was.

You: Wait until I get there

Dani: K

He almost tripped with how much he tried to speed up.

Dani was actually vibrating when he arrived but stayed quiet. Good. If she breathed in some Joker gas it wasn’t working dose yet. Duke had deep feeling not even Alfred’s cookies would be enough to deter her from entering. Offering her a granola bar he sat at the edge of the roof with bone deep sigh. Girl took snack eagerly, bouncing around like puppy high on caffeine.

“How about we take a note of this happening and get going? Other Bats are better equipped to deal with this,” They weren’t but he didn’t want Dani anywhere near this mess. He himself didn’t want to be anywhere near it either.

Kid got deadly still, staring at him as if she could read his deepest secrets if she looked hard enough.

“They’re scaring you” she whispered with strong feeling but Duke had trouble reading what feeling was it. He put his face in his hands for a moment. How was he even supposed to answer that?

“Joker is one of the most dangerous people in Gotham and these guys are working for him. They have guns. Of course I’m a little scared”

Judging by the face Dani made, she wanted to call him out on his bullshit but thought better of it. She floated to sit next to him, swallowing granola in few bites.

“My friend Johnny mentioned him,” she started between chewing ”he said ‘bastard murdered my baby bro Jay and Jay knew his way in fight, stay away from him Dani’. Normally Johnny isn’t so careful”

“All more reasons to leave it for others!” Duke almost shouted, hope growing in his chest. Maybe he could steer her away from it!

“He also told me to hit him if I happen to meet him. He would owe me ‘big one’ then. Do you think I could get ‘small one’ for couple of goons?!”

“Hoopoe no!”

Girl looked thoughtful and after over two weeks of working together he learned to fear this expression.

“Whatever you’re thinking, no. I’ll buy you biggest fries, just leave this–” he waved vaguely at the warehouse hoping it would get message across “–whole mess alone” There was lump in his throat.

Dani haven’t abandon whatever thought got her like that and nodded to herself few time. She drifted around a bit, shifted under her way too long cloak and finally settled with a soft smile.

“You’re scared… Terrified. You’re terrified of them,” she started calmly, like she would talk to a victim if she actually knew how to do it ”It’s okay. It’s great. Fear is what keeps humans alive,” she nodded as if she recounted something from textbook properly in front of the class “But I’m not scared and I fought people much stronger than them and I’m even better now thanks to you. If you’re so terrified, it means they need to be dealt with and it needs to be done fast. It’s okay,” her grin from soft turned devilish “I was itching for some fun fight anyway”

“Dani-”

“It’ll be quick, I promise,” she said, serious again “Don’t worry,” she stood up, saluted and fell through the roof, all too fast to react or not miss it with a blink. Frankly, it caught Duke so off guard he couldn’t even move for a few seconds after the whole ordeal anyway. He threw himself down to the nearest window as soon as he regained control over his body. His heart was stuck in his throat.

Dani tackled first goon with delighted giggle right when he crashed inside. He checked if his mask was secure on reflexes he plummeted towards the ground, moving his body to land safely on top of the shelf. Warehouses were weird place to fight. Easy to get vantage point like Duke just did but was also hard in a way. Little space made it hard to use wider streaks, easy get backed into corner. Annoying more than anything.

Dani’s wrestling match was so attention grabbing that nobody even looked at Duke, despite his far from subtle arrival. He threw himself forward when he caught telltale shine of the gun in one of goons hands. It was dumb move when Dani was so close to his ally, but who he was to criticize Joker goon’s live choices. It didn’t take Signal long to understand he wouldn’t make it on time. He had to but there was no-

Two gunshots rang in rapid succession split second before Duke got to the goon and, with swiftness granted only by adrenaline and fury people got when someone their got hurt, knocked man out cold. Before body could hit the ground he spun around to see the damage because Dani still refused to wear any armor and from this close goon would have to be Storm Trooper to miss her. Because she was most likely bleeding heavily. What if they hit something instantly lethal?

He faced a fight right in time to see Dani jumping at another goon also openly wielding a gun. He wanted to yell at her but bullets were fired before he got a chance. He looked for blood dripping from her torso while dodging another man barely taking his eyes off Dani.

“That wasn’t nice,” she sounded like she pouted! At being shot! “If I was anyone else I would be seriously hurt right now, you know?” her voice was somewhat off. Like it wasn’t quite made by her vocal cords but some awkward voice generator.

Before the appalled man could react, he got technically not too good right hook to the jaw. It was strong enough to make him unconscious and get quite loud creak out of his neck. Duke hoped Dani didn’t mess up the guy's spine. He was criminal but he didn’t deserve this type of treatment.

Duke focused back on his own fight when he made sure that girl wasn’t in immediate danger of dying. He dodged running goon again, who literally ran himself into the shelf because of that. Signal used his short confusion to hit him in the side of his neck, rendering the opponent unconscious. Okay, they made it, this was the last-

Another gunshot made his sped-up heart skip a beat. Lump in his throat suffocated him.

No, no, no, no, no-

“I shot you in the face!”

He looked her way ready to see unmoving body and red decorating concrete floor.

“There was a good quip for- oh right” she started cheerfully, entirely unharmed, before her face twisted into something actually demonic.

“Y̶o̸u̵r̵ ̶p̵e̶s̴k̶y̵ ̴l̷i̷t̶t̸l̶e̸ ̵b̷u̸l̴l̴e̶t̷s̵ ̴w̸o̴n̵'̸t̵ ̵h̶u̵r̶t̸ ̸m̷e̶, ₥ØⱤ₮₳Ⱡ₴”

She laughed in distinctly Dani way, all bright and joyful while also so not like herself, distorted and echoey it mage hairs at the back of his neck stand.

Duke froze when goon fired again and there was no way she dodged it. There was not enough space. She had to get shot. She got shot and he did nothing to stop it. A child got hurt because of him-

He looked at but hadn’t quite seen how Dani knocked out last goon and flew up to him. He heard her voice but words were impossible to understand over rush of blood in his ears. He could tell she was laughing. They should get out. Dani mentioned giggly smell in the air. It had to mean Joker gas. They needed to be out yesterday.

He stumbled a bit, forcing his leg to cooperate, half caring, half dragging girl to the nearest exit point. Fact that he could touch her and didn’t feel any blood was grounding a bit.

“-gnal, Signal are you okay? Your heart is beating weird,” Dani asked, sounding a bit scared for the first time today. Duke’s brain felt too fuzzy to care “Signal, you’re freaking out, calm down, please”

Light assaulted their eyes the moment they were out. Before he got fully used to it, he set girl in front of him and detached her cape. She may have squawked at this action but he didn’t care. She was shot, he needed to check her for injuries.

She got shot, she got shot, she got shot-

“Signal what-” he was clearly freaking her out “Oh. You think I’m hurt. I told you I could handle it. I’m fine. Signal I’m really fine. I have intangibility, bullets can’t hurt me. I’m fine Signal”

Duke wanted to make sure. Adrenaline or simple wish to not worry him could make her ignore something. He couldn’t let her. He made her turn maybe a little to roughly.

He wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if she bled out.

She was actually fine.

Relief hit him so strong he crumbled against the wall, his mind finally succumbing to the haze. It was fine. It was all actually fine.

He may have heard some yelling.

Next thing he registered was something tad too warm, almost burning his palms. His gloves did their job of protection well though. There was a herbal smell. Melissa, he registered after a moment. It took him some more time to realize that the source of the smell was in his hands. He had scathingly hot cup of melissa in his hands. He stared at a little bit squashed paper again trying to get used to the light. He didn’t even realize he closed his eyes. Sound of the paper bag made him look up where Dani, still without her cape, crouched few feet away from him.

“You back?” she asked cautiously. Duke wasn’t sure how to answer. He was and he wasn’t. His mouth didn’t work anyway. He shrugged, mindful of the cup in his hands. Blanket, he didn’t even know he was wrapped in, fell from one of his shoulders.

“I don’t know what happened but Jazz likes this tea when she needs to calm down. Though she usually needs to drink it to make it work,” Dani rambled, gesturing widely “You’re still breathing kinda funny, can you slow down? It’s not good for humans to breathe so fast. It doesn’t let good stuff from air get in your blood and travel around your body and it’s not healthy. I know, Jazz told me and she is really smart. She wants to be this doctor who stabs brain back into working. She had this smart word for it… Neurosurgeon, I think it’s this one. She said breathing like that is not good for brain so slow down? In for four, out for four? I don’t know, Signal, just calm down?”

Right, he still was hyperventilating. Duke focused on his lungs, forcing them to expand, trying to match up Dani’s slightly gasping breaths.

He really was freaking her out, wasn’t he?

Melissa was almost lukewarm by the time he was back in his body enough to drink it. It was sweet, a bit too much for his taste.

“You good now?” Dani asked and Duke nodded. He was as good as he could at the moment “Great, I didn’t want to leave you for too long so I don’t have BatBurger. I got cookies though. And I can go get it now”

“Don’t,” he caught her arm and squeezed, not sure why he did it himself.

“Huh?”

“Don’t go anywhere”

“Sure. Wanna cookie? I have chocolate chips and healthy, wheat ones”

“Chocolate”

“Okay” she nodded and fixed blanket on his arms. It was comfy. If Duke was firing on all cylinders, he would wonder where she got it.

“Don’t ever do it again”

“What is it though?”

“Jumping into danger like that”

“Oh, really? It wasn’t that dangerous, they were normal humans”

“They had Joker gas and guns”

“Intangibility means I can ignore bullets Signal, don’t be such worrywart. It’s bad for your health. What’s Joker gas?”

Question and the whole statement felt so surreal that Duke couldn’t help but laugh, choked and hysterical as it was. She didn’t know what Joker gas was. Worrying about her getting shot was bad for his health. He just had a panic attack and was comforted by a ten years old girl with cookies and melissa. What the fuck?

“Hey!” Dani pouted “Don’t laugh like that! Jazz always says that you shouldn’t laugh when someone doesn’t know something, just explain it to them! Signal!” she whined but the damn broke he couldn’t rear his hysteria back in “Alright, I’m Googling it”

She did as Duke’s laughter winded down. He was almost calm when she deemed her research enough.

“Alright, this is some nasty shit”

This sentence startled him into full silence. Dani was ten, swearing wasn’t something she did, like, ever. He must’ve scared her a lot.

“I’m fine though. I didn’t breathe it in. Did you? This laughter sounded a bit worrying to be honest”

“I’m okay, I had gas mask. People sometime laugh to release tension”

“Oh”

“Yeah. But you were in the building with it and didn’t have gas mask”

“I wasn’t breathing”

“You were talking”

“Our fucked up biology, as Danny likes to put it, means that one doesn’t mean another. I just don’t use it often because humans find it uncanny and my throat gets itchy after some time”

Something in Duke wanted to argue more but it was squashed but utter exhaustion that crashed him.

“Alright”

They sat for a long moment.

“Are you ready to patrol now?”

Duke would laugh again if he had any energy left.

“I think we should end for today. I would be useless like that”

“Okay, valid. You go home I’ll fly around a bit”

“No. You’re going home too. I don’t have enough emotional energy to worry about you getting into some mess like this again”

They stared at each other for a long moment before Dani looked away with angry huff.

“Okay. You’re worse than Danny, you know?”

“I don’t care. Go home and stay safe”

“You sure you will be alright if I go now? I can walk or fly you somewhere, not home if you don't want me to but maybe somewhere closer?”

“I’ll be fine. I can call my brother. Just go please”

“Sure. See you tomorrow, Signal. You were really brave today”

“Thank you, Hoopoe” If she answered, he didn’t hear her. He fumbled with his comm to turn it on with still shaky hands. Finally he managed and called a pick up in the form of Jason. It was great to have older brother who always had time like that. Even if it meant a lot of unnecessary questions about what happened Duke wasn’t up to answering it yet and threats of serious violence on his enemies.

Duke couldn't force himself to let go of the orange blanket. It was grounding.

Though Alfred made him hot chocolate with marshmallows. He wouldn’t repeat today for that, but it certainly was nice accent.

*********

"Humouristic" summary of this part

Dani: Yo, there are goons here. Gonna investigate.

Duke: *quietly freaks out*

Random Joker's goons: *do normal goon things*

Dani: *attacks them* HAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Duke: Is this what minor heart attack feels like?

Goons: *start shooting*

Duke: Is this what major heart attack feels like?

Dani: Dude, you good? Here, get some tea, cookies and blanket

Dani, few hours later, texting: Hey Signal, remeber to bring back my cape tmrw

Duke, internally: Wait, this is her cape?

Duke, also texting: Wanna better one? Like Spoiler has?

Dani, somehow conveing Ghost Speak via text: Don't you dare

Thank you for reading this <3

Next part

#dpxdc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dp x dc #dani hangs out with duke #signal got new sidekick and he doesn't even know it yet #well that's not true anymore #signal got new sidekick and he starts to accept it #i don't have anything “funny” to put in the tags for this part #sorry guys #vibes aren't right #heads up #next part won't be fun prone too #more hurt/comfort territory #but then were back to fluff and fun #hoopoe's cape-shock blanket #wandixx writes #ghost of fries and hero of cookies #have a nice day dear stranger who got to this part

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lynnlovesspidahman · 9 months

Text

this is me trying.

peter parker x reader

part 2. || part 1.

masterlist.

warnings : angst, mentions of violence, swearing, lots of self-doubt (peter im sorry)

word count : 2.7k

summary : There’s always two sides to a story. An apology is put into place.

Peter felt like he was living three different lives at once.

Each taking so, so much energy every single day.

His job, an assistant for Dr. Octavius at Octavius Industries. He felt guilty for arriving late every day, and still somehow having a job.

Peter was smarter than Doc, they both knew that. So that meant he would be called to office very, very often.

Usually because of some mistake Doc had made while working on the new prototypes of prosthetic limbs.

But the pressure it brought could get to be too much sometimes. One small mistake could cost millions of lives — or dollars — if not noticed early enough.

But he knew it would help the world someday, in so many ways. The exhaustion was totally worth it.

Spider-Man. Peter had loved and genuinely enjoyed playing his alter-ego.

Constantly, day and night, he was out. Out saving people everywhere. Sure, his work wasn’t appreciated by everyone but it was 100% worth it — to him.

But Spider-Man came with considerable costs. His everlasting lack of sleep. Peter can’t remember the last time he really got his 8 hours. The bags under his eyes made that apparent enough.

The physicality of the job, how many times had he stopped a car with his bare hands? He lost count years ago.

The bruises, cuts, broken limbs, brought immense pain, even to Spider-Man. Sure, he can heal faster — a nights rest, a heating pad, and your some soup is more than enough — But that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

And the emotional weight it brought.

The crimes haven’t slowed, if anything they’ve gotten much more prominent all around the city.

The overwhelming amount of times he has to swing across New York to fight off large groups of thugs has become too much.

And honestly, he’s so sick of it.

And so, Peter stopped pulling his punches as much.

The guilt didn’t come until later.

He climbed through your apartment’s window after a long, long night of patrol.

You were sitting there — unaware of his presence— watching TV, all cuddled up on the corner of the couch with your mini Spidey plush.

“Hey, beautiful.” He called out to you.

“Holy shit-” You jumped and turned around to look at him. “You can’t just pop out of nowhere like that, you scared the hell out of me.”

You got up and walked towards him, “Was patrol okay?”

“Uh, yeah it was alright, kicked my ass tonight though. I’m worn out,” He stretched his arms above his head.

“Hm. Why?” You raised an eyebrow at him.

“Uhm, I mean I fought bad guys all night?” He scoffed, a stupid question, he thought.

“Or was it because you practically killed someone tonight?” You bluntly said.

You had taken a step away from him, like he was a danger to you too.

“They were a criminal!” He shrugged.

“Why does that matter? You can’t just completely take someone’s life away. That’s not who you are. Before you say you didn’t, you came real close to.” You stood your position.

It felt like you shot him straight in the heart.

He should’ve listened to you. But instead, he took a shot right back at you, a shot to kill.

“Again, they’re criminals. I’m sorry I had to calm things down somehow. I’m sorry I needed to do something to catch a break for once in my damn life. And you’re not exactly helping that.” He looked away from you. He felt ashamed.

You were right, he knew that, even then. But his pride couldn’t let him admit it.

“What is wrong with you? You love Spider-Man. And you always talk about how killing sickens you. You’ve changed, Peter.” You spat back at him.

He should’ve just ended it there, stopped the excessive violence, stopped the fight. Maybe then he wouldn’t have been in your kitchen on that faithful Tuesday.

It had been two days since that argument.

His almost perfect rep was officially ruined (Jameson had a field trip that day, too). The stress was at an all-time high.

He almost couldn’t handle it. He didn’t want to anymore.

He was still so angry at you for being right. Because you always were.

You were the one who kept him balanced, who took care of him no matter the time of day or night.

He hadn’t been back to your apartment since the fight, either.

But he would return to it after a tough night the day after. And the next.

And you forgave him, so fast (He took you to see the Barbie movie, paid for every snack and drink you could’ve wanted. It was indisputable on your end). The guilt from what Peter’s put you through has just stacked on and on.

Now he really couldn’t handle it anymore.

And so, there he was. Sat atop a random rooftop rethinking everything.

He debated his life. His three lives, more like. Which parts were worth it, and which weren’t. (It was really fucked up, who measures parts of their life in worth and just decides which to throw away?)

He couldn’t lose his job, how would he make money?

He couldn’t stop being Spider-Man, he knew that.

And there was you. The biggest and undoubtedly the most important part.

But you were also easy to throw away, he thought.

So much stress and time would be lifted off of his shoulders.

(Little did he know, it would be the complete opposite. His injuries didn’t heal all the way like they did when you took care of him. Every time he was hurt, it would linger for days at a time. He missed how much you’d worried for him. He really took you for granted.)

And so, he decided in the next couple of weeks, he would break it off.

And he did. On the Tuesday the following week.

He looks back on it — to this day — and realized everything he had said to you that evening, wasn’t directed at you. It was directed at himself.

Of course he enjoyed loving you. He didn’t enjoy being himself was what.

He needed to be his best for you because he couldn’t be with anything else. He failed at being the friendly and reliable Spider-man. Him and Doc didn’t get the grant they’d been needing for so long.

And when he did try to improve when you called him out that night, it just wasn’t enough.

He didn’t deserve you.

He took everything out on you, he didn’t mean a word he said. But you didn’t know that.

Peter never had an outlet to take anything out. He couldn’t leave you with every burden of his life, Doc and him weren’t that close, and May couldn’t know he was Spider-Man.

He snapped that Tuesday.

And there’s nothing more that he regrets in his entire life.

But he couldn’t burden you anymore. He wouldn’t.

He did nothing but keep you up late at night, hurt your feelings, and make you do everything for him.

Peter loved you. And he couldn’t let himself torture you like this.

So he forced himself to let you go. You would move on, anyways. He couldn’t.

He listened to every single one of the voicemails you sent.

Every. Single. One. He’s never heard you sound so down (Because of him, nonetheless).

It took so much out of him to not respond. More than what he had to give.

And after five weeks, he finally caved.

He texted you.

9:52 PM

Hey, beautiful.

You wouldn’t forgive him quick this time, he knew that. This time wasn’t just some fight. He tore your heart apart.

But he would work for your forgiveness, he swore to himself, God as his witness.

You read the message immediately. He knew you had gotten off of work, so it wasn’t completely abnormal.

But you didn’t respond. He checked his phone all night and the next morning (He was desperate for something, even if it was an angry text. He hated nothing more than you ignoring him).

So he texted you again. He just went straight for it this time, no holding back anymore.

1:16 PM

Can we meet up?? I think we can agree there’s still some loose ends we need to revisit, together.

Read 1:18 PM

He was patient this time. He tried stepping in your shoes, and it broke his heart. He couldn’t imagine you snapping on him like he had.

He couldn’t live if you were angry at him like he was at you. And if you weren’t going to respond again he was debating on just showing up to your apartment. Can’t ignore him that way.

2:12 PM

Y/N 💞 : “Loose ends” is a funny term. You mean when you randomly showed up to my apartment and broke up with me for the stupidest reason?

He cringed. This was a dumb decision.

2:12 PM

I know, trust me. I just want to talk. And explain myself.

Explain my biggest mistake. I’ve never regretted anything more than leaving you and taking the anger at myself onto you.

He debated on sending the message, but he didn’t.

You would just see it as him trying kiss your ass into forgiving him. It worked before.

2:14 PM

Y/N 💞 : Peter, why? Why are you only just know texting me? Why are you trying to meet up when you tore my heart into pieces? Why are you seeking forgiveness randomly?

Why are you asking such hard questions, he wanted to ask.

2:14 PM

Idk, I miss you?

I miss you and still love you. I regret that night so much.

Can you just hear me out? Please?

Nothing sounded right. But he just went for it, again. At this point, he was pacing across his rooftop, anxious for your response (If you even gave him one).

2:15 PM

Y/N 💞 : Peter, I swear. If you make me regret this, I’ll come for you. Worse than any enemy you’ve ever faced and ever will.

He laughed at that one. You wouldn’t —right?—

2:15 PM

I won’t, Y/N. I promise. Tomorrow, Micks at 3?

Read 2:16 PM

You left him on read, but he counted that as a success — you didn’t refuse his offer so.. —

He would come back from this. He has to.

Peter was late. Fuck him.

Why did you even give him your time of day anymore? This man could tear you apart and you still gave into his words.

3:13 PM

Peter 🕸️ : Babt, I’mso sotry. I got caugjt up with worl, I’m bloxks away I sqaer.

You could barely understand him, but you were used to his usually proper grammar slipping while he was swinging.

How dare he? How dare he beg you to come out here and he gets to show up late??

He practically busted the restaurant’s door open. He rushed to your table.

“Baby I-”

“No,” You interrupted. “You don’t get to call me that. Fuck you, asshole. You ask me to meet you and you show up late? Are you kidding me?” You crossed your arms and stood up from the booth you were sitting at.

“Y/N, I’m so, so sorry. I got caught up with Doc at work. Huuge internal wiring problem. I don’t even understand how he could’ve messed it up so badly,” He talked with his hands, he was so cute when he did that.

You took a step towards him, and slapped the shit out of his stupidly attractive face.

“You don’t get to break me and show up late when you wanted me here.” The tears were back. You were livid. You shoved your finger into his face as you scolded him.

“I know, I know. I keep fucking up and I’m sorry. Lets just sit down and let me explain everything. I promise you, it’s worth it.” He put his hands on both of your shoulders to keep you from leaving and tried to calm you down.

“Hands off,” You pulled his hands away from your shoulder and slumped back into the booth.

You wanted to go home.

“Okay, okay.” He sat down and stared at you.

“Well?” You waited, “Let’s hear this explanation,” You rolled your eyes.

“Well, uh-” He paused for a moment, “I don’t know how to start.”

You waited for him to continue, arms still crossed. You really didn’t want to hear him out.

“Do you remember when I almost beat the life outta that guy? Like a month ago or something?” He asked.

“Yeah.” You rolled your eyes again, not exactly a good moment to bring up.

“I feel like that’s where it started,”

“Mhm..” You nodded for him to keep going.

“I started slipping. I stopped pulling my punches and I was so stressed out every moment of my life. A-and one day I just got so sick of it,” He started choking up, you almost felt bad for him.

“So I sat down and tried to organize my life. I wanted to rid myself of stress and try to free up time for myself in order to y’know, rejuvenate.”

You sat there, you were expecting plain excuses. But it seemed he had something real going here.

“I couldn’t rid myself of my job — how else would I be able to live? — and obviously Spider-Man isn’t a choice. And there came you. The best and biggest part of my life.”

You raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue.

“I was stupid, I thought that by taking a break, I’d feel more free. And feel more.. well less stressed out. If I had something to myself then I would be better and feel okay? I don’t know.”

You narrowed your eyes at him.

“Don’t look at me like that, please. I was so overwhelmed with everything. I’ve been so behind on rent, and crime just never stops around here. Its like it raises more and more every week.”

“I thought-” He took a deep breath, “I thought that if I had one less chore — trust me you are not a chore to me — life would get easier.”

You’re guessing he tried to rephrase his words he said before, he’s almost repeating himself.

“But it didn’t. At all. I was in pain all the time — emotionally and physically — it didn’t help at all. I said I didn’t enjoy loving you. I lied. I didn’t enjoy loving myself- or being me.”

Your heart clenched for him. He hurt you so bad, but hearing how he truly felt made you slightly reconsider things.

“I didn’t enjoy the stress of my life, and I don’t have any outlet for my anger. And you forgave me so easily the last time we fought. And I guess I took advantage of that. I took all of the hate I had for myself onto you. I think that will forever be my biggest mistake.”

Your eyebrows scrunched.

“I love you. So much, Y/N. More than words can describe. I’ve never regretted anything more in my life and I can’t ever be away from you, again.”

“I broke it off thinking it would cause me less stress, but I understand now that it was you who took the pressure away. Being away from you, Y/N,” He laughed (At his own pain, seemingly). “I’ve never felt shittier in my life.”

Your tears flowed. Your expectations were well exceeded. He’s fucked up so much, but he makes up for it every time. And this time, it wasn’t done by kissing your ass and spoiling you, you recognized that.

“I can’t explain how sorry I am. I regret what I did to you that night so much. More than anything in the world. I just hope you can understand that.”

“I hope you can understand me.” He kept eye contact, his eyes were watery. “I know how complicated I can get,” He let out a breathy laugh.

“Pete.” You just about whispered his name.

“Yeah..?” He wiped his eyes on his sleeve before answering you.

“I forgive you.” You smiled, still crying from his well thought out (you had to give him credit) apology.

“Wait- Really?”

“Yeah. I do.”

He stood up and hugged you from across the table.

“But..”

“But..?” He repeated you, curiously. He let go of the hug to look you in the eyes.

“You’re gonna have to pay for the meal if you really want me back.”

He laughed.

“I love you.”

He grabbed your cheeks and pulled you in for a kiss. He’s never kissed you so hard.

Stunned, but pleasantly surprised, you sat there for a moment. Unsure of whether you should kiss him or not.

But you grabbed his collar and melted into the kiss.

No matter how hard he had broken you, his words brought you back to him.

And you wouldn’t regret it, you knew that.

part 2 is finished 🥹

just wanna explain a few things just in case:

peter is a lil ooc w the excessive violence and it’s not him to be like that but i feel like every body gets to that point where everything can be just too much. even spider-man.

i also feel like he needs a healthy outlet for his feelings, being spiderman, he’s constantly busy. not exactly easy to make friends. but also being spiderman, he doesn’t wanna leave y/n with all of his problems, he’s supposed to be the hero. so he bottles it all up. to the point where he just burst one day and took it out on her. (not good!!)

also i felt like him being a man, he’s going to feel insecure if y/n’s the one taking care of him all the time. he’s the man, it’s supposed to be the other way around, but it’s not. and that’s okay!! often times, old traditions still lies deep within all of us. men’s mental health matters too!! men can still feel insecure!! EVERYONE DOES. but that doesn’t mean we (as people) can take out our insecurities or anger at ourselves onto other people. most times, they don’t deserve the hate we bring onto ourselves.

that being said, not everyone can be perfect. (peter is a great example) we’re all going through something in life and are constantly being tested. but, the biggest thing is to always persevere no matter what. you’re never going to have more on your plate than you can handle. if you’re struggling, always remember to reach out to someone. a loved one, a professional, or even me. my dms are always open. i love you all. 🩷

anyways,

likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated!!

i hope you all enjoyed this story as much as i liked writing it 💗💗

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bluerosetarot · 3 months

Text

Everyone on Task Force 141 knew you had a date tonight since you'd been going on and on about it for the past week, so when you come back to base with puffy cheeks and eyes still red from crying a certain someone comes to comfort you.

Tags: female reader x Simon "Ghost" Riley, hurt/comfort, mild descriptions of violence (Simon wants to hurt whoever hurt you, after all), PIV rebound sex.

Tagging @the-californicationist because you wanted me to tag you once I posted this.

You hadn't been with the task force for long, but your presence had certainly had an impact on the team as a whole in the year and a half you'd been around. Being the youngest and shortest had earned you official "little sister" status despite the fact you could toss all of them around at hand to hand practice thanks to your lower center of gravity and aikido background, with the exception of Simon. That man was not only tall but was surprisingly flexible, which you took as a personal challenge.

"One of these days I'm going to topple you, Ghost." You'd all just come back from a sparring match and were sitting around a table enjoying your beverages of choice.

"Of course you will, sweet'eart." He'd smile behind his cuppa without looking at you, but you could see the slight wrinkles around the corners of his eyes. "An' one 'a these days Price'll start layin' golden eggs so we can all retire."

So imagine everyone's surprise when you mention you were seeing someone, a civvie you'd met on a dating app. You'd been gushing over your crush and hadn't noticed Soap playfully nudge Simon in his side or the glare the taller man gave him in return.

"Going out to see him on next leave, said he wanted to take me somewhere nice for dinner. And before any of you try anything I don't need backup, or shadowed, or anything else. I know we're all a little paranoid here but I'm a big girl, I can take care of myself."

"Not you we'd be worried about, luv." Gaz gave you a knowing smile before continuing. "We're worried about the poor guy getting folded like a pretzel if 'is 'ands go anywhere they shouldn't, y'know?"

It took you a few months before you could properly go on a date; a mission got in the way, but you promised your new beau that as soon as you got back from your classified trip you'd be all his. Whenever you could, you messaged him, even sending him a few spicy pictures over the course of your flirting.

When the special night finally came around, you snuck off to your quarters to put on a lovely little black dress and did your makeup as best you could. Taking a look at yourself in the mirror, you psyched yourself up and inwardly hoped that you wouldn't run into anyone on your way out. That hope was quickly dashed upon the rocks of reality when you nearly ran into the brick wall named Ghost as you left the washroom.

"Bloody Jesus, Ghost. Trying to give me a heart attack?"

His answer was to scoff under his mask and lean against the wall beside you, those brown eyes of his looking you over as he slowly shook his head.

"Got no place to 'ide a knife, gun, or anythin' else. Sure you don't need any backup, luv?"

"I appreciate your concern, LT, but I should be fine."

He backed away with a chuckle, not expecting your tone to be so dry and he held up his hands in an appeasing gesture.

"Roight, roight. Well, knock 'im dead, luv. But if you aren't back by midnight, we'll all assume you turned into a pumpkin 'an start a search party. Deal?"

"Deal."

Your date went a bit... less than stellar. When you arrived at the restaurant, he'd been nearly a half hour late and was dressed more casual than you, but you weren't used to being all dolled up either so you gave him the benefit of the doubt. Conversation was minimal with him mostly talking about himself as you sat there bored until he hit you with a bombshell.

"You're hot like this, but now that you're my girl you're going to have to give up this whole military thing."

You'd been about to take a bite of food and nearly dropped your fork from laughing at what you thought was a joke, but he just got irritated.

"I'm serious. You can't go wasting your prime childbearing years pretending to be an action hero."

"Excuse me?" You matched his tone, a bit of annoyance seeping into your words. "What happened to you going nuts over my career plans? How you said you always liked a 'girl in uniform'?"

"Uniforms are hot, but I figured once we met, you'd realize you wanted a nice civilian life and leave all that fantasy behind you."

"Uh-huh..." Flagging down your waiter, you asked for the check. "I'll take my half of the check, please. This date is over."

"You can't just fucking leave!"

"I can..." Giving your card to the waiter, you then locked eyes with your sad excuse for a date. "And I will. See? I'm doing it right now."

Once your tab had been taken care of, you made a beeline for the door with the guy chasing after you, yelling at you to change your mind. He made the mistake of trying to grab your wrist, and you managed an aikido move that brought him down to a knee.

"You don't get to touch me that way, got it?"

You'd leaned down to stare daggers into him, a look you'd perfected from watching Ghost, and your failed date nodded in fear as he got up and backed away.

Turning on your heel, you made it to your car and closed the door before slumping over your steering wheel with a sigh. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, a mixture of sadness and anger. Willing yourself to wait until you got back to base for a good cry, you started the car and headed back but couldn't help a few stray tears from rolling down your cheeks.

It was a little past 2300 when you got back to base and, to your disappointment, there were a few lights still on. You'd hoped to take your walk of shame without anyone noticing, but fate had other plans. You hadn't realized that everyone in 141 was worried for you and stayed up to wait for you to come home.

Which meant that you opened the door to the common area, and four sets of eyes instantly looked up at you. All of them taking note of your tear streaked makeup making you feel warm and nervous.

Soap was the first one to speak up, cutting the tension with a joke.

"Aye, lass, who we needin' to knife up for ya?"

Price sat to his right and gave him a very good "not now" look as you clenched your jaw in annoyance.

"Don't want to talk about it." You turned to the Captain and gave him a polite nod. "Heading to bed, sir."

Taking a thoughtful puff of his cigar, he returned your nod.

"Right, everyone here should do the same. Lights out, everyone."

Gaz and Soap reluctantly got up. You could read it plain as day on their faces they wanted to pepper you with a thousand questions, but stern looks from both Price and Ghost made them think twice, and they both wished you a good night and hurried off to their rooms. Price followed after them after giving you one final concerned glance before heading down the hall.

It was Ghost that put a comforting hand on your shoulder. He had a way of sneaking up on everyone even when he was in plain sight, and this situation was no different. You tried your best to compose yourself before meeting his gaze, but something in his eyes made you break down when your eyes met and you let out a soft sound somewhere between a cry and a whimper.

"Fucking christ, look at me. All bent out of shape over little more than a schoolyard crush."

"If 'e 'urt ya I know plenty a places to hide a body 'round 'ere."

Where Soap has been jovial, you could tell Ghost was serious, and you couldn't stop an involuntary shiver creep down your spine before shaking your head.

"Not worth the effort, Ghost. But I appreciate it. Damn chauvinist thought I'd get one look at him and want to stop all my work here and pop out babies."

That got a laugh from the larger man, a deep rumble in his chest.

"Th' public doesn't realize all tha' we do to keep the world spinnin', luv. If you 'ad never joined up with us, who knows 'ow our missions would've gone. You've been damn good at not only covering our sixes on multiple occasions but..."

He trailed off, catching himself before he said something further. But this only made you more curious since this was the most words you'd ever hear the man string together outside of mission briefings.

"But what?"

"But... christ this is a bit embarrassing but you remind all of us what we're fightin' for, y'know? You remind us that we aren't just killin' machines an' that we're 'uman. That we do this to protect 'umanity, outside and within. Y' deserve someone who understands tha', not some chav bloke who sees y' as just a baby factory."

The hand that was on your shoulder went up to smooth his short hair back as his eyes looked away from yours. You thanked whatever god was up there that he did because he didn't see the blush creeping into your cheeks.

"Uhh... th-thanks, Ghost."

Those eyes locked back onto yours, and you could see the telltale crinkle of wrinkles at the corners of his eyes that betrayed his smile.

"Y' can call me Simon, luv. Just between the two of us, yeah?"

"Yeah. I'll keep that in mind."

A heavy sigh left your lips, and you gave him a small smile.

"Simon. Think, uh... think you would want to join me for a bit tonight? It's been nice talking to someone who understands what's going on in my head."

That got an eyebrow raise from him, and he crossed his arms over his chest.

"Y' propositionin' your commanding officer now?"

His tone was low, tinted with humor, but his rough voice made it sound suggestive all the same. He left the question open, and it emboldened your reply.

"Well I need someone to really show me the difference between a "chav bloke" and a real man, don't I?"

With a look over his shoulder down the hall towards the barracks proper, no doubt making sure everyone else was already in bed, he nodded and gestured for you to lead the way.

"Ladies first, luv."

That earned him a playful punch in the arm, and you grabbed his hand in yours, leading him down the hall to your quarters.

Once inside your room with the door shut tight behind you, Simon was looming over you, pressing your body to the wall. In the dim light of your room you could barely see his eyes as they looked you over once more while his hand came up to cup your cheek.

"Y' sure about this, luv? Not that I mind bein' a rebound but I want to make sure y' really want this..."

He knew how to catch you off guard, that's for sure, and you gave him a reassuring nod. Your own hand reaching up to glide along his that caressed your face so gently, a welcome juxtaposition to his normally cold demeanor.

"Yeah, I'm sure. I'm actually glad that you, uh..."

Now it was your turn to stifle words better left unsaid, though those swallowed words turned into heat and crimson on your neck and cheeks as embarrassment kept you from saying what was really on your mind.

In truth you'd always had a "thing" for the big badass types, the "scary dogs", outcasts, loners, and Gho- Simon, you reminded yourself, ticked off all the boxes to pique your interest. He'd always given off just enough tidbits about himself, crumbs that you had devoured in the fire of your curiosity that only proved to stoke it into a further inferno. The date you'd gone on tonight? He was meant to be a distraction from the man you couldn't have had, shouldn't have been able to have, yet here he was gazing down into your very soul in your quarters.

"Glad? Glad for wha', luv?"

Simon had picked up on that thread you left dangling and you could hear the smirk in his voice as he pressed further. Both his body squeezing against you and his words pressing the opening he'd found.

"Glad y' got th' big, scary Ghost as y' own personal toy for th' night? Glad that you'll get to experience a real man in y' bed tonoight?"

Each word brought his face closer to yours and you watched as his hand slid from your cheek to his mask, pulling it down past his mouth and finally letting you see his face. Your mind went blank for a second as you took in his features for the brief moment he hovered in front of you before he buried his face in your neck to kiss the sensitive skin there.

The kiss was gentle, lips pressing to your jugular as your heart raced so fast you could swear he'd be able to feel your pulse through his lips. Even gentle as it was you couldn't stop the soft sound that escaped your own lips.

"Am I on the money, sweet'eart? You been 'oping I'd get jealous or somethin' like that?"

Teeth grazed against your neck and a jolt of pleasurable lightning raced down your spine.

"Well... between you an' me... I've been very jealous, luv. 'Ere I thought some young bloke was gonna steal you away from us, from me, before I got to show you 'ow I felt about you..."

As his lips and teeth continued to explore your neck his hand grabbed yours and brought it down to palm at his tented trousers, the size of him made you gasp involuntarily and you felt his low rumbling laughter deep in his chest.

"S-simon... I've never had someone so... so... big before."

"Don't worry, sweet'eart... I'll take my time and show you 'ow a true gentleman treats a lady like yourself."

Simon picked you up with ease, walking the few steps to the bed and setting you down on the edge. No sooner had your backside met the mattress he was hiking up that short black dress over your thighs to expose the matching black lace panties you had worn.

"You were plannin' on spoilin' that bloke tonight, weren't you, sweet'eart? Or, an' correct me if I'm wrong..."

His thick, calloused fingers pressed against your clothed slit, finding your nub and rubbing it through the scant cotton and lace as his eyes locked onto yours again.

"...Or were you 'opin' that 'e'd left you alone and that this exact scenario would 'appen, you comin' back to base wantin' me to 'elp you feel better?"

"F-fuck, Simon... I... ahh... that's n-not what I was hoping for at all..."

He rolled his eyes, not believing you, and slid the panties aside to slide one finger inside to entice a moan from you.

"Christ! Fine, yes, I.. I wanted my date to be you tonight... but how am I supposed to bring that up? Just walk up to you and say "hey, LT, how's about a shag tonight after supper?""

That earned you a second finger inside and another laugh.

"I knew y' were a brat at trainin' but damn am I glad you aren't a shrinkin' violet in the bedroom. Makes this more fun."

For what felt like an eternity he slowly widened you in preparation for his shaft. Simon was a patient man, for the most part, but those moans and sounds you were making for him and him alone were wearing down that patience. Still, he had promised to treat you like a proper lady and only when he could slide three fingers inside easily did he stop his work.

"Do us a favor and clean these off for me, luv. My mouth 'as more important things t' do."

Unceremoniously he slid his slickened fingers into your mouth, making you taste yourself as he leaned down to bury his face between your legs. That tongue of his quickly found your nub and circled around it, alternating between that and his lips puckering around it to suck on it. The fingers in your mouth did nothing to muffle the noises he was coaxing from you as your thighs clamped down on either side of his head. Somewhere in the back of your mind you were cognizant of putting too much pressure on him but it was quickly drowned out by your building climax.

Simon felt it building in you as well; the way your thighs got tighter around his head, the throbbing of your nub in his mouth, and the quivering of your slit. In the mess of it all your hands had come down to grip his short hair, tugging on it as if trying to pull him closer.

"Tha's it, luv, cum for me."

Barely above the haze of lust you registered Simon's command as you felt yourself come undone for him. Your own slick mixing with his spit to coat your inner thighs as he lapped greedily at everything you had to give him. Eventually your orgasm began to subside and you took notice of him standing up from where he had knelt. The sound of leather on denim was barely audible above your panting, followed by a zipper being pulled down. Craning your head up off the mattress you finally saw his full length in the dim light of the room as he slowly rutted against your womanhood.

"I think y' should be ready for this, luv. But I wanna hear y' say it. Tell me 'ow badly y' need this inside..."

"I... fuck..."

Word were hard to come by in your lust filled haze, biting your lower lip in concentration you finally were able to articulate the words.

"Take me, Simon! I want every inch of that inside me now!"

"Needy, aren't ya? Don't worry, I got exactly wha' y' need roight... here..."

On that last syllable he slid his full length inside of you in one fluid stroke. You could swear he crashed up against the back of your womb with how big he was and before you could cry out he locked his lips onto yours, stifling any sound you made.

You two lay there connected, Simon not moving until you were used to him, for a few brief moments before he pulled away from the kiss to gaze into your eyes. You gave him a wordless nod to reassure him you were okay before he started his thrusting in earnest. Slow, full strokes to make sure you felt every inch of his desire for you.

"Been 'oping to 'ave y' like this for awhile now, sweet'eart.. sure when y' first started up 'ere I was skeptical..."

Your brain was barely paying attention to his words, still shrouded in a fog of lust. Simon, on the other hand, was talking to take his mind off the pleasure you were giving him so he could last longer than a few pumps.

"But after I saw y' toss Gaz an' Soap around in 'and t' 'and I thought maybe y' were alroight after all..."

Now even Simon was barely registering his own words as his thrusts started to pick up the pace, chasing his own orgasm as he felt your body tense under him while your second climax built up inside you.

His hands went from your hips to your own hands, lacing both your fingers together as he held your hands above your head and leaned down to kiss you again. There was a bit more force, a bit more need behind this one and with a low growl he slammed his hips against yours one more time, burying himself deep as he emptied into you. Your own climax hitting at the same time made it feel like your walls were milking him dry.

Both of you were spent after that; a sweaty mess of half clothed bodies that clung to each other tightly. He didn't want to pull out but he wanted to lay you on the bed proper, opting to slide himself out from between your legs and gingerly place you on the bed before laying down next to you. Once he was settled in beside you, your hands wrapped around him in a loose embrace as you rested your cheek on his chest, feeling the slow rise and fall from his breath.

A heavy arm draped over you, pulling you in tightly as you both lay there in the dark. Simon was the first to break the silence, kissing the top of your head.

"May not 'ave been a proper date, sweet'eart. But I promise we'll 'ave one eventually. Now get some sleep, I'll be 'ere in the mornin'."

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #reader insert #hurt/comfort #rebound #cod mw2 #cod mwii #ghost cod #ghost #look i just got broken up with recently and wanted some comfort fic so i made my own

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enid-rhees · 11 months

Note

hi ! i was wondering if you could write something for maggie? maybe helping her take care of hershel when she’s busy leading hilltop🫶 im sorry if this is vague i just love your writing</3

hi anon !! don’t apologize and thank you so much :] !! i hope you enjoy !! i wasn’t sure if you wanted reader and Maggie to be in a relationship or not so i hope this is okay!

warnings: none except there’s like one paragraph that mentions Glenn’s death, other than that there are none!

A/N: hope you all enjoy this new story! if you’d like to request, all info is in pinned :) i have another request i am currently working on so that should be done either late tonight or tomorrow ! (Dead City is tomorrow !!!!)

it was busy today. with Maggie officially leading Hilltop, everyone was hard at work doing everything she asked. the community was great though, it was clear everyone preferred Maggie over Gregory.

she was doing an amazing job. you admired her from afar, watching her talk to everyone with a smile on her face.

you never doubted Maggie and her abilities. this was something that was made for her to do. you knew Hilltop was going to be great as long as she was in charge.

when she spotted you, a smile made its way to her face as she walked towards you, Hershel in her arms.

“hey, pretty.” she greeted. “hey,” you smiled back. “would you be able to take Hershel inside for a bit and keep him company? it’s getting busy out here, and i don’t want him in this heat for much longer.”

you took Hershel out of her arms, “of course. just in your office?” she nodded, “yeah. all his toys are in there.”

before you walked off, she stopped you. “thank you for doing this. really. it’s been really amazing having your help around here.” she told you.

you put a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it lightly. “you’re doing incredible work around here, Maggie. everything is coming into place. i’m happy to help in any way.”

she pressed a kiss to your head before you took off back into the building. you laid a blanket on the ground and set Hershel down on it.

you got down on the floor with him, picking up a little rattle toy. he giggled when you shook it, reaching for it. you smiled at how his face lit up.

he grabbed onto it, shaking it hard. “you like that toy?” you hummed, you received a noise in response. he then reached both his hands out to you again and whined. “oh, i see. you just wanna be held.”

you picked him up and placed him on your lap as he continued to play with the toy. “definitely got that from your mother.” you joked.

he continued to play with the toys surrounding him as you slowly rocked him side to side. after a while, he began to quietly cry.

you coo’d, “ah, i think it’s time for you to eat, little guy.” on Maggie’s desk sat a bottle. you stood up with him in your arms and grabbed the bottle.

as you brought it down he grabbed onto it and started to eat. you slowly walked around the room while he eat, reading the spines of books on shelves as you passed by them.

after a few minutes, you noticed Hershel had gone silent, you looked down, he was still holding the bottle, but he was now fast asleep.

you chuckled, carefully taking the bottle out of his hands to try not to wake him and setting it back down on the desk. he looked so peaceful in your arms.

Hershel had grown to be comfortable with you, ever since you and Maggie started to see each more often and you offering to stay with her in Hilltop. you were the one who took him anytime Maggie needed a small break.

you weren’t regretful of your decision either. leaving Alexandria might’ve been a huge change, but it was better for both Maggie and Hershel. you wanted everything to be close to perfect for them.

after Glenn’s death, you tried everything to be there for Maggie. driving her back and forth between Alexandria and Hilltop for ultrasound scans and just normal checkups, being the first person she would see in the morning asking if she needed anything.

you sat on the couch, closing your eyes as well as Hershel napped on your chest. before you could fully fall asleep, the door opened. Maggie walked in, making you smile.

she aww’d at the sight, moving to sit next to you. “he wore you out?” she asked with a laugh. “not really. the second he fell asleep i started getting tired too. he has like a special power with that.”

Maggie laughed again, admiring the sight of you two. “thank you again for helping out today.” she said softly. “it’s no problem, really. i’ll always be here to help.”

she planted a kiss to your cheek, laying her head on your shoulder. you looked down at her, “y’know if you want, all three of us could totally take a nap upstairs right now.”

she laughed again, “yeah. that sounds nice.”

#maggie rhee #maggie rhee x reader #maggie rhee x fem!reader #the walking dead #twd #the walking dead x reader #twd x reader

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pearlywritings · 1 year

Note

okay but can you imagine christmas shopping with the ragnvindr family???? the twins go from store to store trying to find the best gift for everyone (of course diluc wasn't grumpy as they started looking for gifts for uncle kaeya) THEY WOULD BE SO ADOREABLE ASHAKDSG BUT im not finished- IMAGINE DILUC TAKING KIDS TO A JEWELER (reader was suspicious but decided to not say anything about it) months ago diluc ordered a special charm bracelet for his wife: four beautiful charms decorated with red gems, each one is in different style and represents a family member IM NOT OKAY RN GOODBYE

I'm so sorry it took so long. I tried really hard, but the mood for a full fic just didn't strike, though I had so many ideas... So I decided to organize those in bulleted headcannons and show how I imagine the preparation for the New Year (since I believe it'll be more accurate for Teyvat than Christmas) would go. I hope you'd still enjoy!

The holiday is right around the corner

synopsis: just the Ragnvindr family spending their time getting ready for the New Year.

pairing and characters: Diluc x fem!reader, their twin sons Rufus and Lucas, Kaeya + his family and Dawn Winery maids are mentioned

tw: pure fluff, domestic moments, mention of pregnancy

word count: 1.3k+

Family AU Masterlist

The kids are very excited to visit Mondstadt and see the fair with their own eyes. It is officially their very first properly celebrated New Year, since last year they got so excited about snow, that they overdid their time playing outside and got sick.

They are six already, which they do not forget to brag occasionally to vendors, happily giggling when the young and elderly coo at how adorable the redhaired pair is. They have hundreds ideas and thousands things to see and choose from, and the both of them are determined to find the most perfect presents for everyone: their parents, their uncle and his family, the maids back at the winery and anyone else they deem a dear person to them shall receive their considerate gifts!

Diluc keeps a close eye on them, knowing perfectly well how energetic they are, walking from store to store, glancing into every booth they take interest in and helping them with their choice and payment. There is only one rule - the four of you go anywhere together. Your husband doesn’t want splitting this year and refuses to leave your side for long, always having his arm or his whole broad body to lean into, when you get too tired. Back during your first pregnancy you learned that arguing with him is a futile case, so you simply smile and let him support you whenever he feels like you need it.

Ah, yes, you are pregnant again! So technically this is the outing of five. You can feel the curious gazes cast on you by the passersby, but pay little attention to it, fully dedicated to spending the family time.

Somewhere along the way you bump into Kaeya, who greets you with a wide grin and crouches down to let his nephews latch onto him in a tight hug. As he is kept in that position, he tells you and Diluc how despite the holiday season beginning he still has much work to do and today he is assigned to patrolling around the fair. His wife found it a perfect opportunity to join him and go shopping. Sure, the man has his route, but the major part of it lies directly through the fair so it’s a win-win scenario. You laugh when he puts on the most dramatically assured facade and declares that surely his lovely girls use his moments of absence to buy something for him. Well, you do not doubt they do, it’s just the look on his face.

As you are chatting Diluc suddenly touches your cheek and tsks disapprovingly. Under your surprised gaze he looks at Kaeya and asks him to accompany you and the boys to Angel’s Share so you could rest and warm. Despite your sons’ protest, he insists and tells Kaeya he is allowed to order any drink on the house as a reward. He himself has one more thing to wrap up.

As his brother leaves with you leaning on his arm and ushering your sons to come along, Diluc quickly walks to Marjorie's jewelry shop and disappears inside. He had to admit, Kaeya’s appearance saved him extra hassle.

The bracelet shown to him is marvelous. Silver band would wrap perfectly around your wrist, loose enough to dangle prettily, yet not as much as to slide off of your hand. The small box next to it became home to four equally beautiful silver pieces, each one representing a member of the family. Upon Lucas’ suggestion all four were made in the shape of an owl with ruby shiny eyes, yet with distinguishing features. The one with open wings and a sword tightly clasped in its claws is undoubtedly your husband. If one looks closely they would be able to see a small carved sign on its chest matching the one on yours. Rufus’ owlet look especially fluffy, resembling the elder twin's love to walk around with untied hair, with also a small pendant wrapped around his neck and Lucas’ birdie has a book in its beak and a feather stuck out of its head. When Diluc is running his gloves fingers over the small masterpieces he thinks of adding one more maybe in a year, and his heart bursts with joy and so much love for you that it's hard to hide. Marjorie could swear she’s never seen the softer look on Master Diluc’s face before.

When Diluc joins you again, Kaeya is nowhere to be seen already and you three can be found on the second floor in one of the few guest rooms being in the tavern just in case. He makes a note to himself to thank Charles when he sees food and non-alcoholic beverages on the table, as the twins munch on their respective portions. You on the other hand are resting on the bed, with your coat and boots abandoned, waving at him and prompting him to ruffle his sons’ hair and then join you.

His gaze is so warm when his big hand presses against your stomach and gently rubs, while asking if you are alright to continue after the break. You want to assure him that you can, but your babies hear the conversation. They suddenly start begging to go home, because they want to help the maids decorate, but when they say that you can come back to the city tomorrow you know that they are doing it out of concern for you. And who are you to deny their genuine help?

When the carriage stops in front of the Winery, your boys don't wait long to swing the door open and jump out into the knee-high snowbanks, sprinting to the front doors of the manor. You don't even have time to reprimand them, sighing in defeat, when Hillie opens the door to let them in and yells to you that she’ll take care of their clothes. Diluc is the next one to jump out of the carriage, pointing at the bags to the approaching servant, and then effortlessly grabbing your waist to get you out as well.

The next couple of hours you watch from your rocking chair the most epic scenes in your life. How Rufus wraps tinsel around himself and gives the ends to Lucas as the reins, the two running around like a horse and a coachman. How the baubles get stolen and the maids have to chase their young masters to either get them back, or convince the boys to put those on the fir tree on their own. Or how Rufus ignores your warning and jumps into the box full of soft wadding which is to be used as fake snow on the branches and at the bottom of the tree all the while Lucas is happily sitting next to Moko, helping her with cutting snowflakes.

You leave the room only when Adelinde peeks out of the kitchen and asks if her Lady wants to assist with gingerbread decorating. This woman always knows what you want and need, especially now, with Ru and Lu completely absorbed with decorating and Diluc busy with completing the last papers of the year. He assured you there is going to be no work during the next few days, and that’s such a great relief.

You know that tomorrow it will start all over again. First the fair - kids do not shut up about going to the square before church after one of the younger maids mentioned the sisters singing carols and offering sweets - Rufus being particularly interested in seeing the ‘badass sister Rosaria’ Callie didn’t stop talking his ear off about. Ah, yes, you'll have to send the invitations to the Alberich family soon, to see if they'd like to come over to celebrate together. And then it’s going to be the bedroom decorating, more mess and more tapping of running feet, but you know you would not trade it for anything else, making this New Year for your family as special as any other after it.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #diluc x reader #diluc ragnvindr x reader #diluc x fem!reader #diluc ragnvindr #dadluc #genshin oc #genshin impact fluff #pearly family ah

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