#sorry for the title i hate myself too

[halfvalid]

Hiii! If its no trouble could I have a zoro and reader fic with the one bed trope? The others know about their crushes on each other so they force each other to share a room? Anyway they end up cuddling and its all cute (the others will tease them forever about it lol)?? Thankss

intertwined ribbons

ABOUT

alternate title: opla zoro makes my hated tropes less hated

rating: general audiences/teen & up

characters: live action!roronoa zoro | fem!reader | live action!nami | live action!straw hats ensemble

pairing: live action!roronoa zoro x fem!reader

word count: 4.9k

description: unbeknownst to you, your crush on zoro is reciprocated. the rest of the straw hats take it upon themselves to get you together by locking you in his bedroom overnight.

tags: strawhat!reader, only one bed, forced proximity, confessions, no use of 'y/n', nami is a true instigator, cuddling, soft zoro, humor

author's note: thank you so much for the request and i hope it meets your expectations!! fun fact i actually used to hate the 'only one bed' trope, so i decided to challenge myself in writing this. and i think it's one of my fave tropes now lol

(you have an inner spirit that helps you make decisions except it’s just nami.)

“I just think that maybe you should stop avoiding him,” Nami started. You bit your cheek, ignoring her as you tied up the last of the ship’s rigging into a careful knot. Nami had been going on for the past few minutes, and you’d zoned out exactly three seconds in, when the name Zoro had first been spoken. Because of this reason you weren’t really listening, so you blinked up at her in confusion. 

“Sorry? Who am I avoiding?” 

“You’re impossible,” Nami grumbled. “And you know exactly who I’m talking about.” Which, well, fair. The math added up: you heard the word Zoro, you stopped listening, Nami continued talking until she realized you’d stopped listening. “Especially since you’re, you know—” she gave you another look, eyes rolling over to stare dead into yours— “Avoiding him.” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you said innocently. Nami sighed, leaning over to tug the rope dangling from your hands out of your grip. You tried to reach back for it, but she didn’t let you. “Hey!” 

“Yes, you do. Face it. You’re avoiding Zoro.” 

You made a face at her. “I think there are ropes on the foredeck that I can attend to.” 

“No, there aren’t,” Nami answered. “Now stop changing the subject. There’s this wild concept called communication. It works wonders.” 

“Says you,” you muttered, though your arms crossed defensively across your chest. You noticed the action after a split-second and unwound your arms with a scowl. “Look, I just don’t see the point. And I haven’t been avoiding him.” 

You were, in fact, avoiding him. Ever since that dreadful night a week ago when Nami had gotten you tipsy and stuck her hand in your chest cavity fishing for secrets, you’d been avoiding him. The other girl was ridiculously good at prying truths out of you, and during the conversation, you’d accidentally spilled your crush on the Straw Hat crew’s resident swordsman. 

You’d managed to keep the secret for the months you’d been together, wherein the unfortunate feelings had developed, and you should’ve figured once somebody knew they wouldn’t leave you alone about it. Because Nami refused to talk about literally anything else. You’d expected this sort of behavior from Luffy, or maybe Sanji, but Nami? The world was more amatonormative than you'd thought. 

Nami cast you a look. “You’re blushing.” 

“Am not.”

“Are too. What’s the harm in talking to him?” Nami demanded, one hand on her hip as she stared you down. You gaped at her. 

“Um, literally everything? One, Zoro can’t talk about feelings or emotions for shit, so when he rejects me it’ll be in the most excruciating, offhand manner that will probably leave me at the bottom of a barrel of rum, two, after being rejected I’m going to have to leave the Straw Hats, three—”

Nami rolled her eyes, looking increasingly fed up with you. “For someone so obsessed with not telling our resident grass-headed swordsman about your feelings for him, you’re talking rather loudly.” 

You shut up, snapping your jaw closed with a glare. “Stop it,” you hissed. 

“Besides, who knows if he actually will reject you?” Nami turned to work on the next section of rigging, glancing over her shoulder at you. “You’re catastrophizing.” 

“I’m being realistic,” you snapped. “Okay, fine. He reciprocates my feelings. Then what? We date, we break up because all relationships eventually end, it becomes awkward, and—voila—I’ll have to leave the Straw Hats anyway. It’s a bad idea all around.” 

Nami just let out a huff of breath, the exhale laced with irritation. “Catastrophizing,” she repeated. 

“I am not—”

“Sure. Go help Sanji with dinner.” 

You gave her an exasperated look, but at this point Nami wasn’t paying attention anymore, so you stormed off into the underbelly of the Going Merry. Speak of the devil, apparently, because once you entered the kitchen you spotted not only Sanji occupying it but also Zoro. He was lounging at the table, swords strapped to his waist and a bottle of something he was nursing in hand. 

You averted your gaze from him, head running a million miles a minute. Had he noticed you’d been avoiding him? You’d tried to be furtive about it, but if Nami had noticed, maybe—

“Well, hello there,” Sanji called from where he was in the midst of dinner preparations. “Come to help?” 

“Nami sent me,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest. “I think she’s appointed herself queen of the Going Merry.” 

“Oh, she did that long ago,” Sanji chided. “You’re only noticing it now. Pick up a knife, then. I’d like some help dicing the carrots.” 

You stiffly moved over to the counter, ignoring Zoro as you went even as you felt his gaze following your figure. You picked up the first knife you found, positioning yourself in front of the cutting board to start dicing the vegetables already laid out for you. Abruptly, Zoro stood up. 

“Heading out,” he muttered. “Call me when dinner’s ready.” 

With that, he left the room, leaving you and Sanji to exchange looks. “He’s moody today,” you said. 

“Probably ‘cause you’ve been avoiding him.” 

You felt the familiar pinprick of a blush starting to warm your cheeks. “You too?” 

“You’re rather obvious about it,” Sanji said with a raised eyebrow. “But enough of that.” Weirdly enough, he didn’t seem to question why. There was no way Nami had told him, so you were left confused, but no matter. The point was that for now, you were safe. 

The hour dipped to evening, and soon the moon was glowing in the sky, a shining beacon of white amidst the ocean of stars and shimmering sea. You suppressed a yawn, busing the dishes from dinner as the rest of the crew got up from their respective seats to dissolve to their own rooms. Zoro had already retired for the night—if you were avoiding him, he seemed to be doing the exact same—so at least you didn’t have that to worry about. 

“Ah, wait,” Nami said, after you’d finished washing the dishes and was ready to head out. “Zoro wants to talk to you.” 

You jolted, glancing nervously around you before grabbing her wrist. “What did you do?” you hissed. Nami just laughed. 

“Calm down. I didn’t do anything.” Off your glare, she relented. “I promise. And I swear it’s not about feelings or emotions or whatever. Even though it’s obvious you’re avoiding him, you know Zoro wouldn’t say anything.” 

You were still suspicious, but you dropped your hand. “What, then?” 

Nami shrugged, tilting her chin up just so. “I guess you’re going to have to find out.” 

“I don’t trust you,” you muttered. There was that look in her eye, the one she got whenever she was thinking of something truly devious. Still, you couldn’t figure out what she was up to, so— “Fine, I’ll go to his room. Walk me.” 

Nami rolled her eyes, but she fell into step with you as you made your way across the ship. “You should bring it up to him, you know,” she started, but silenced after your sharp glare. “Okay, okay. I get the point. I’ll stop bothering you about it.” 

You stopped by the mouth of Zoro’s door. “Wait, really?” 

“Yes, really,” Nami said with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. She leaned against the wall beside the door, arms crossing over her chest. “I’ll leave you alone about Mr. Prince Charming over there. Knock.” 

“You can't call him Mr. Prince Charming,” you said, though you did knock. “Prince’ is already a title.” 

Nami gave you a look. “Okay, smart-ass.” 

The door creaked open before you could give your response, and you turned, heart pounding in your throat as Zoro stared down at you. His arm was propped up by the open doorway, the other hand still clutching the doorknob. “What.” 

“Um, Nami said that you wanted to talk—” you swiveled your head towards the other girl, but before you could finish your sentence, Nami was raising up your arm and unceremoniously shoving you into the room. 

You shrieked in surprise as you fell into Zoro’s figure, stumbling into him and causing him to lose his balance. Your head shot up in offense, only to see the gleam of a golden padlock in Nami’s hand before she was yanking the door closed.

A dull click echoed through the room. The only thing you could hear for a few seconds was your own heavy breathing and the sound of Zoro gathering himself.

“Did she just—” You gaped at the closed door. “Lock us in?” 

Zoro swiftly pushed past you, jiggling the doorknob for a few moments before giving up. Sure enough, Nami had sealed it with the padlock from the outside, so there was no possibility of either of you getting out of the room. You could vaguely hear sounds from the outside—dull thuds and scrapes—and watched as Zoro started banging on the door. 

“Nami,” he called, voice dangerously low. “Let us out.” 

“Sorry, Zoro!” Your jaw practically unhinged from your skull once you heard your captain’s familiar voice, all bright and cheerful like always. “We’re putting barrels in front of the door, so don’t even try breaking it down. Have a good night!” 

“Luffy? What are you—” Zoro’s knocking quickened in pace, his voice getting increasingly louder. There was no response from outside, though you could hear snickers that sounded suspiciously like Usopp. What was going on? 

You kicked into action, joining Zoro by the door and trying the door handle again. “Nami!” you yelled. 

Nami’s soft laugh came from outside. “Sorry!” she called. “We’ll let you out in the morning.”

You gaped at the door, only aware of Zoro’s gaze sliding down to you as you dropped your hand from the doorknob. There were some more tigers from outside, and then receding footsteps. Zoro tried knocking one last time, but it was evident that the rest of the crew had all but abandoned you. 

“Okay,” Zoro muttered, moving away from the door. “I need a drink.” 

You watched him move across the room, picking up a glass from his bedside table that was only slightly full. He knocked it back in one swallow, Adam’s apple bobbing with the motion. “Um, what now?” you asked uncomfortably. 

“Nothing. Whatever,” Zoro said, turning to glance over at you. After a moment’s thought, you noticed that he refused to look you in his eye—his gaze was firmly trained at a spot beside your head. He turned away, stripping off his sword scabbard and setting them on the floor. 

You glanced around nervously. Zoro’s room wasn’t that different from yours, really—less decorated, but the constitution was the same. There was the bed, a wardrobe, a desk with various paraphernalia across it, and a little couch in the corner too. “You can look through the closet for something to sleep in. I’ll take the chair.” 

The words didn’t register at first, and you were left standing there, staring as Zoro kicked off his shoes and assumedly started getting ready to sleep. “Um, what?” 

Zoro glanced over his shoulder. He still wouldn’t look you in the eye. “They’re not letting us out until morning,” he said slowly. “You can take the bed. Might as well sleep.” 

“It’s your room,” you started, crossing your arms. “I can sleep in the chair. I’m smaller than you, anyway, so I’ll fit it better.” 

Zoro regarded you with such a reproachful look you almost wanted to laugh. “That’s ridiculous. Change.” With that, he turned around, leaving no room for discussion. You stared at him for a second before giving up, moving to his wardrobe and opening it up to search for something to sleep in. 

“So, uh, any ideas on why they stuck us in here?” You asked, although you already knew the answer. Whatever Nami thought locking you in a room with Zoro would achieve, you were stubbornly not going to let her be right. God, you were so going to kill her once you got out of there. 

“Nope,” Zoro said, with such a degree of finality you figured it wouldn’t be safe to question him further. “They’re just stupid.” 

“I mean, I feel like they would have a motive?” You rifled through his clothes, trying very hard to detach them from their owner. Wearing Zoro’s clothes was not something you wanted your mind to linger upon. Eventually you found a shirt of his that would undoubtedly be oversized on you, and you hastily changed into it, satisfied to find it draped well to your knees so you weren’t exposing too much skin. 

You stole a glance over your shoulder at Zoro, only to catch him in the action of peeling his shirt off. The stretch of the muscles in his back gleamed in the dim light of the room, and you tore your gaze away, heat rushing to your face. “Um. Anything?” 

“Nope,” Zoro repeated. Carefully, you closed the wardrobe door, lingering in one spot with your hands clenched together. Once you heard him start moving again, you deemed it safe enough to turn towards the rest of the room. He’d changed into a loose tan shirt, and had settled back into the chair. 

“I said I’d take the chair,” you told him hotly. 

“Yeah, and I said no,” Zoro said, tone dismissive. He had his eyes closed, and you stared at him in disbelief. 

“I’m not sleeping in your bed,” you said, and then, just to emphasize your point, plopped down on the floor. Zoro cracked an eye open and stared down at you. He sighed. 

“Get up. Don’t be stupid.” 

“I’m not being stupid,” you said. “It’s your room. It’s your bed. You will sleep on it. If you’re not giving me the chair, I’ll sleep on the floor.” 

Zoro let out a long sigh, closing both his eyes as if he was contemplating all his life decisions. “I’m not sleeping in the bed, you know,” he said. 

“Okay, so neither of us do.” 

Zoro’s brows creased, and he opened his eyes to glare down at you. “Seriously? At least take the chair, then. I’ll sleep on the flo—”

You gave him a sharp look. “Zoro.” 

“This conversation isn’t getting anywhere,” Zoro muttered, and finally got up from his chair. You glanced up at him expectantly. “What can I do to convince you to take the bed?” 

“Uh, nothing.” 

“We can work out a compromise,” Zoro said with a sigh. “I want you on it, and you want me on it, and neither of us are willing to take it ourselves.” He paused, brow creasing as an idea seemed to form in his head—one he didn’t seem to be a giant fan of, but an idea nonetheless. “How about.” His lips pursed, before he parted them again to finish his sentence. “How about we both take it?” 

It felt like someone had hit you square in the chest, air kicking out of your lungs and leaving you gasping for breath. Your windpipe was all raw, and you had to fight to tear any words out from your throat. “Ex—excuse me?” 

“It’s big enough,” Zoro said stiffly, though his hands were clenched at his sides. “I can take one side and you can take the other. Since you’re so dead-set on me sleeping on it.” 

“I—” You cut yourself off, suddenly far too aware of Zoro’s eyes fixed on you. Watching your every move. Oh, Nami was in for it now. How were you supposed to survive sleeping in the same bed as—you didn’t even want to think about it. 

“Well?” Zoro prompted. 

“Fine,” you agreed hastily, ducking your head lest Zoro catch any of the flush that was undoubtedly rising steadily up your cheeks. It was bad enough you were stuck in his bedroom and wearing his clothes—but this had quickly become your own personal circle of hell. “Good enough for me.” 

“Finally.” With that, Zoro climbed into bed, settling himself on the very edge of its side. Your throat had gone dry, and you stared at him for another second before hurriedly turning away to flick the lights off. You approached the other side of the bed with an extreme lack of enthusiasm, staring at the empty sheets like they were cackling up at you. Stupid, stupid, stupid. 

Eventually you slid into the bed, busying yourself with arranging the blankets around your figure. Zoro’s breaths were steady and deep from beside you. You didn’t know what to do for a second, but then Zoro’s voice was cutting through the darkness. “You’ve been avoiding me.” 

You jolted, then suppressed your sigh. “Have not.” 

“Yes, you have, and everyone knows it, and you’re not very subtle,” Zoro said, sounding almost bored as he rattled off the words. “Why.” 

“I haven’t—”

“Don’t.” 

You ran your tongue along your teeth, sucking at the valleys between them in annoyance. “It’s not important.” 

Zoro paused before speaking, like he was mulling over asking the question. “Did I do something?” 

“What? No.” You shook your head, despite knowing he wouldn’t be able to see. The sound did well enough to indicate the action to him, though—he scoffed, a low murmur from his chest that buzzed through your nerves. “I don’t want to talk about this. You’re giving the rest of the crew what they want.” 

“They definitely did not lock you in here to talk about why you’re avoiding me,” Zoro muttered. Now it was your turn to scoff, because if only he knew. “Are you sure I didn’t do anything?" 

“Positive. It’s all me.” 

“Okay, so why?” Zoro prompted. You swallowed hard, trying to dodge around the subject. “Are you sure—”

“Please just stop talking,” you said, one hand reaching out to grip his arm as if the physical contact would make him shut up. There was a stagnant moment of silence, your breath catching as your brain caught up to your body. Your hand was on Zoro’s arm. Your hand was on Zoro’s bicep, and you were in his bed. 

You cleared your throat, a panicked choke bursting from your lungs. “Um.” Your eyes skittered sideways, and then you finally turned on your side to stare at him. To stare at where your hand was still clutched around his arm.

You could just barely make out the angle of his jaw in the darkness, but you could see it was clenched, the vein along his neck protruding just slightly. Hastily, you removed your hand, the skin of your fingers tingling like you could still feel him underneath the tips. “Sorry. Why—why are you so certain that you did something for me to avoid you?” 

There were a few moments of silence that ticked by, nothing but the rock of the ship interrupting it. Finally, Zoro spoke. “Because the reason they locked you in my room is because—”

“What? The reason they locked me in your room is because of me,” you said. Zoro finally moved from his position, head tilting to face yours so you were eye-to-eye. You swallowed. “Nami, um—Nami specifically forced me in here so I would… talk to you.” 

There was a question evident in Zoro’s voice. “About?” 

Your lips parted, and then closed again. “Um.” 

“We can just sleep, if you want,” Zoro muttered. 

“What if they don’t let us out in the morning because we haven’t talked, though?” you hissed. Zoro let out a low laugh. 

“You realize you’re giving them exactly what they want.” 

“So you’d be more comfortable if we just… fell asleep?” you asked. Zoro shrugged. Since you weren’t exactly averse to the idea of not confessing, you nodded in agreement, heart beating a million miles a second. “Okay. Fine by me.” 

You settled back into your pillow, but soon came to realize that, due to the fluttering butterflies in your stomach and the fact you were very aware of the man of your affections being barely a foot to your right, you could not sleep. Evidently Zoro felt the same way, because he kept shifting around under the blankets—your hands brushed against each other a few times before he jolted away like you’d burnt him. 

“Sorry,” you muttered. Zoro didn’t say anything in response. Somewhere in the back of your head, you could hear Nami hissing at you—I didn’t shove you in a room with Mr. Prince Charming just for you to not take advantage of the opportunity. You tried to get her out of your brain—it was a bad idea all around—but the words kept reverberating around in your mind until you found yourself suddenly speaking. “Zoro?” 

“Hm?” 

“Nami stuck me in here so I would tell you that, um—” 

“You don’t have to say it,” Zoro murmured, and you shivered, his voice sounding suddenly closer. You squirmed, your hand brushing against Zoro’s again, except this time it took him a delayed moment to drift away. He had gotten closer—or maybe that was you, instinctually leaning towards the dip in the middle of the bed when you’d been lost in thought. 

“The reason they locked me in here with you is so I would tell you about my feelings towards you,” you blurted, the words slurring together, consonants and syllables all in one rush. “Because I have them. Feelings, I mean.”

Zoro’s voice was very low when he spoke. “Excuse me?” 

You sat straight up, the blankets previously nestled around your chin falling to your waist. “I have feelings for you and that’s why everyone locked me in here.” 

“I—” Zoro coughed, and then coughed again, ridding his throat of whatever was preventing him from making full sentences. He slowly sat up, and you stared down at the blankets in your lap as you saw him rise to his full height beside you. And oh, this was it. He was about to reject you in the most excruciating, offhand manner that would probably leave you at the bottom of a barrel of rum. “That’s not possible.” 

“Why is that—” you decided to shut up instead of finishing your sentence, allowing him to speak instead. There was a soft burning starting at your skin, all red hot, and your brain buzzed, regret filling up your lungs and making it hard to breathe. 

Zoro didn’t say anything, but you heard his hand before you felt it. It slid across the bedsheets before finally resting beside yours, fingertips grazing against your knuckles. “Zoro?” you whispered. 

“The reason they locked you in here with me is so I would tell you about my feelings towards you,” Zoro said blankly. You blinked. It took you a moment to realize that he wasn’t just quoting you—that he hadn’t switched the pronouns accordingly. Your heart dropped. 

Your voice was very faint when you spoke. “What?” 

“I like you,” Zoro said carefully. Languidly, the words dripping off his tongue all saccharine-sweet like molasses, or honey. You shivered, your hand accidentally knocking against his, and he took the opportunity to draw it in closer, fingers pushing up your palm, just a hair’s breadth away from interlacing with yours. “Luffy unfortunately found out. He doesn’t know how to keep a secret and told the rest of the crew.” 

You gaped at him. “I like you,” you said, dumbfounded. You could feel yourself trembling, fingers sliding against Zoro’s hand with every shake. “Nami yanked it out of me. Which is why I’ve been avoiding you for the past week.” 

“I thought you were avoiding me because you found out I liked you,” Zoro muttered. His fingertips brushed against the pads of your hand, and you swallowed, mouth all dry. “So.” 

You tentatively lifted your gaze, finding Zoro’s eyes even amidst the darkness. They were shining, a slight glint from the moon coming in through the window reflecting along the shadows of his face. Carefully, his hand slid fully into yours, fingers lacing together, and it was like the final piece of a puzzle clicking into place. 

Zoro slid back down onto his back, tugging you along with him. You settled back on your pillow, using your other hand to pull the blankets back over your chest. For a full stagnant minute the two of you lay there, hands intertwined in the space between. 

You were the one who made the first move, then, thumb running up and down the length of his index finger. Zoro ran with the action, tugging your hand just slightly until you were leaning into the dip of the mattress, gravity pulling you closer to his body. 

He lifted your entwined hands, tugging you towards him until your back was pressed right to his chest. Then he settled your arms back down again, the back of his palm resting against your belly. 

You swallowed hard, able to hear the sound of your throat in the utter silence. Zoro exhaled, his breath softly brushing against your neck. “Good night,” you whispered. 

Zoro pressed a soft kiss to the nape of your neck, a ghost of something that left tingles fluttering down your spine, the drunken butterflies in your stomach swaying at the action. “Good night,” he murmured, and your breath caught. 

He was warm, oh so warm, like a campfire with licks of flame that softened your hands in the dead of night. And even though you wanted to speak up, question when he’d started liking you, if he was lying or not—you were content to stay here in his arms and drift off to sleep.

So you did, settling back into his embrace with your head spinning and senses murmuring, all dizzy like you were caught in a dream. Eventually, your tiredness got the better of you, and you felt your senses fading as the world around you darkened to black. 

The two of you jolted awake to the knocking and the very unpleasant hum of Nami’s voice. “Rise and shine!” she called through the door, and you blinked, bleary eyes adjusting to the light as you suppressed your yawn. 

Zoro jolted up beside you, practically giving you whiplash as his arm was still comfortably around your waist. Your fingers tingled, and you realized that you’d fallen asleep with your hands laced together. 

“Nami,” you grumbled, about to rise out of bed before Zoro stopped you. You turned towards him in question, only to stop short as you registered the look in his eyes. His gaze was deep, piercing; those butterflies rose up again in your stomach, apparently awake after they’d passed out from their drunken stupor. You swallowed. “Hi?” 

“Hey,” he murmured. “They locked you in my room.” 

“I’m going to knock Nami over the head with a rowboat oar,” you said blandly, eyes flickering towards the door, which Nami was still pounding on. You vaguely heard shuffling sounds, like the crew were working to move the barrels they’d stuck in front of the door to free you from your prison. “You can have the rest of them, if you want.” 

“I’ll take you up on that offer,” Zoro agreed. “But first…” 

“First?” you prompted. 

Zoro brought your hands—still intertwined—to his mouth, pressing a gentle kiss along your knuckles. “Good morning,” he said, voice low and awkward, like he wasn’t used to letting the words out of his mouth. He let your hands drift to his lap, leaning forward until his forehead brushed against yours.

A faint sigh escaped your lips when he finally kissed you. It wasn’t rough or hard; it was a soft press, like your hands had been just a few hours ago. There was a degree of finality to it; a held-in breath that’d exhaled from your lungs, one you hadn’t realized was building up that much pressure until you finally let it all go. 

The door flung open, and you jolted away, but Zoro tilted your head back towards him before you could. At the mouth of the room, Luffy had started screaming. “Aww,” Nami cooed. Behind her, Usopp and Sanji were gripping onto each other like they were watching a particularly engaging fight. 

A steady blush rose along your cheeks, but Zoro was absolutely shameless, the hand not held in yours raising up to give them the finger. “Get out of my room.”

“Told you it’d be okay,” Nami sing-songed, and then you really did break away from Zoro, picking up the object nearest to you and barrelling towards her. She shrieked, dodging out of the doorway as Zoro laughed from behind you.

“Wait!” she stopped you from whacking your pillow against her head, raising up her arms in defense. “I was right. I saw you two—” 

“Nami,” you started, dangerously low. “You locked me in his room.”

“Yeah, to help you!” she cried defensively, slowly taking backwards steps as you gained on her. “Come on. We can talk about this.” 

“Good luck,” Zoro called out from behind you—you turned around, catching his gaze. He had gotten up, leaning against the doorway and watching you with a sparkle of fondness in his eye. “You’ll need it.” 

You blew him a kiss, ignoring the long groan it pulled out of Luffy from beside Zoro in the hallway. And then you turned around. Nami had darted off, taking the time you’d been distracted to run off. “Oh no you don’t!” you yelled, and then lunged after her with Zoro laughing all the while. 

Maybe it hadn’t been such a bad thing, you thought. But you were still going to beat Nami’s ass. 

© halfvalid 2023

#opla zoro #opla roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x you #reader insert #x reader #one piece live action #one piece netflix #opla #opla zoro x reader #opla fanfiction #opla fanfic #kiki writes!

[starkwlkr]

it’s nothing new | sebastian vettel

part 1 part 3

REQUESTS ARE CLOSED

update: i decided to make this into a series, thanks for reading! you can read it here!

“hello?”

“mark, hi.”

“y/n? it’s been a while. how are you?” the aussie asked. it had been years since you spoke to mark, but he always kept you updated. he sent messages about how everyone in the paddock was doing, which you appreciated him for.

“i . . i’m okay. is this a bad time to talk to you?” you asked. you suddenly remembered about time zones.

“it’s alright, i always have time for you. what’s going on?” he questioned.

“so i am at my sister’s house and i didn’t want to sleep the whole flight so i decided to read your book.” you replied. “it’s a beautiful book, mark.”

“thanks.” he knew there was more you wanted to say. “are you mad?”

“mad about what?” you asked. “what you wrote about sebastian and i? is that what you’re talking about?”

“well yeah. i tried to contact you several times. you wouldn’t answer my messages so i assumed you changed numbers. seb told me he didn’t care if i wrote it in—”

“mark, i’m not mad. i’m far from it. i just want to know if it’s true. did he tell you everything? the night he won the title, i mean.” you asked. you remembered that night clearly. you didn’t finish the race, but that didn’t stop you from celebrating with sebastian.

“he would never lie about you, love. i told him to tell you, just to get it off his chest but he wouldn’t. you were with someone else, it was wrong.” mark explained. “you know the day you announced your engagement, he hated himself for not telling you sooner. maybe things would’ve ended differently if he had.”

maybe . .

“does he hate me?”

there was always that possibility. but when it came to sebastian, he would rather die than say he hates you.

“he could never hate you even if you did throw a show at him and call him a cunt.” mark chuckled. “he still loves you, you know, he asks about you all the time and i have no idea what to tell him.”

“well maybe i could tell him myself . . do you have his phone number?”

after you were given seb’s number, you noticed he never changed it. you weren’t sure why, but you decided to text him instead of calling.

y/n

hi seb, it’s y/n. i know it’s been so long and i’m sorry for how things ended. i hope you’re doing great. i’m not doing too good right now. my marriage is ending so i have that going for me. i’m staying with my sister and her family. anyways, i hope you don’t mind me messaging you. mark gave me your number but turns out i still have it saved. speaking of mark, i read his book on the flight, it’s very interesting. i’ll leave you alone now, thanks for caring about me all these years.

after you sent the message, you didn’t expect a reply. it was as if he was waiting for a message this whole time.

seb

hi y/n. i hope you know i never forgot about you after all this time. i’m sorry about your marriage, i really am. i don’t mind at all that you message me, i never changed my number in hopes that one day you would. as for mark’s book, i hope you’re not mad, but if you need to know, it’s all true and i wouldn’t change anything. being with you made me happy and everytime i hear your name, i’m reminded of the joyful memories we shared. i have something to tell you, only a few people know. i plan to retire at the end of the 2022 season. it would be nice if you would come to abu dhabi for my last race. i understand if you can’t make it. take care and i love you always. (it’s nothing new at this point)

@hc-dutch @lightdragonrayne @multiplefandomwritings @woozarts @jggykhug09090 @neivivenaj @kissesandmartinis @barnestatic @avythef1addict

#formula 1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #f1 x you #sebastian vettel one shot #sebastian vettel smau #sebastian vettel instagram au #sebastian vettel fluff #sebastian vettel x reader #sebastian vettel imagine #sebastian vettel #sv5 #sebastian vettel fanfic

[onlyhuis]

pro bono

member — lawyer!wonwoo x lawyer!reader genre — smut, fwb to ?? word count — 1.1k synopsis — you and your coworker jeon wonwoo have been working on this case for months. now that it's finally over, he shows you that "for the public good" doesn't mean that he can't be good for you, too. aka: lawyer wonwoo fucking coworker reader after winning a case smut warnings — descriptions of female anatomy, prone bone (the title is a pun hehe), creampie (shocker i know!), spanking, hair pulling, dacryphilia, mirror sex, coworkers fwb!wonu, gratuitous descriptions of how wide wonu's shoulders are just because i can notes — requested by @junhuisms sorry this took so long bff </3 — lots of love to @onlymingyus for proofreading !! — probably some legal inaccuracies bc i know nothing about the law i'm just here to fuck the hot man so go easy on me pls. i really meant for this to be a longer fic but it's been in my docs for almost a year and i've been trying to not pressure myself to write a certain amount so i hope this is still able to live up to your expectations :) i know i've been pretty mia recently but i'm trying to get back into the swing of things so feedback is super super appreciated! hope you enjoy! note #2 — tumbly still hates me and is super finnicky about putting my posts in the tags so i haven't been able to use my regular divider image bc it bugs out :(( i've tried everything i'm sorry but pls lmk how you like this new one!

you’d been working on this case for months, and it had been one to make or break your career. weeks upon weeks of research, reviewing documents and studying laws to make sure your arguments were seamless.

the upside to all this work, however, was that you got to know your coworker wonwoo better, who you’d been assigned to work on the case with. and by “get to know him,” what you really meant was “get railed every night after work”.

and tonight, after the trial had wrapped up and the court’s final decision had ruled in your favor, you found yourself where you’d grown accustomed to spending all your nights: in his penthouse apartment, and more specifically, in his bed.

the floor-length mirror in his room was one of your favorite things, because no matter what position you were in or how you were angled, you could always see wonwoo. see his broad shoulders, see his muscles flexing, see his abs tensing right before he cums; and god, it drives you crazy.

but it drives him even more crazy as he fucks you into his mattress, watching in the mirror’s reflection how your eyes are squeezed shut and tears stream down your cheeks onto his pillowcase. 

it’s one of his favorite positions, as you’ve learned over the past few months, to have you lying flat on your stomach as he fucks you from behind. with your body at this angle, he can get so much deeper into you, you can practically feel it in your stomach, and with only just a handful of thrusts he can make you fall apart on his cock in a matter of seconds. 

tonight, however, it’s taken less than that to make you cum. the pride of winning the case has him on a high, and he barely even needed to get you stretched out first. but he did anyway, his face buried between your thighs for what felt like eternity until you were pushing his head away and begging him to stop teasing.

you yelp as he twists his hand in your hair, yanking your neck back so you can see your reflection in the mirror.

your eyelids droop heavily, jaw hanging open as wonwoo meets your eyes in the mirror. “you see how well i fuck you, baby?” he groans, squeezing your hip with his other hand. “taking it so fucking well… i’ve fucked you stupid, haven’t i?”

all you can manage is a moan as tears begin to form in your eyes from the pleasure. you whimper quietly, noises muffled by the pillow as you struggle to catch your breath in between thrusts. you can already feel the burn of another orgasm in the pit of your stomach, and wonwoo’s hands pushing down on your lower back are making it impossible to hold back.

“my good girl,” he coos and he lets go of his hand in your hair, barely giving you a chance to catch yourself as your head falls forward and back down onto the pillow. “don’t hold back those pretty sounds. let everybody hear how you like to celebrate your wins. you deserve it, baby.”

“just as much a win for you— as it is for me,” you manage to gasp out. you struggle to keep your eyes open but you force yourself to, determined to see the way his face contorts in the mirror. his eyebrows furrow as he adjusts the angle of his hips, staring down at your ass, back arching into him and forcing his cock deeper with every stroke.

he leans down over you, caging your body with his own, his mouth brushing against the back of your neck. “we both know you did most of the work. and this… this is your reward.”

“wonwoo—” you moan out brokenly as his hands knead your ass roughly, grabbing at your skin and spreading you apart so he can push into you with more force. you clench around him and he curses, his hips starting to stutter.

without warning he pulls out, rolling you over onto your back. you whine at the sudden loss and at the ache in your muscles, but wonwoo just leans forward over your body to kiss you and suddenly you forget everything you were thinking about. you’re so caught up in his mouth on yours and his hands sliding over your body that you barely even notice when he pushes his cock back into you, never breaking away from your lips as he starts out a steady rhythm, gradually building back up to his pace from earlier.

finally he pulls away, sitting up to put his hands on the back of your thighs and push your legs up to your chest. your breath catches in your throat with each thrust, your mind reeling as you concentrate on the feeling of him so deep inside you, pressing against that sweet spot over and over again.

his broad chest is the only thing that fills your vision as you cum, and your brain barely registers the words that leave his mouth in that deep, gravelly voice you’ve become accustomed to hearing nearly every night. 

“taking every inch so fucking well,” he grunts, forehead glistening with sweat. “god, you look so good taking my cock.” his movements become more and more desperate as he starts to chase his high, his fingers digging into your skin so roughly to the point that you know you’ll find bruises there in the morning. 

still breathing heavily, you whine out his name one last time, sending him over the edge right behind you in a matter of seconds. he lets out a guttural groan, continuing to snap his hips frantically as your walls squeeze around his throbbing cock.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄

wonwoo chuckles, handing you your purse and helping you shrug your coat on as you attempt to wipe the smudged mascara from your cheeks with your thumbs.

“same time, monday night?” you ask as he walks you down the hall to the elevator, holding the doors open with one hand.

he nods, not even making an attempt to hide the grin on his face. “you keep winning cases like you did today, and you might as well just move in. save you the trouble of calling a taxi every night.”

you laugh, knowing he’s not serious but your heart races at the thought anyway. “you keep fucking me like that, and i might take you up on that offer.”

he hums and raises his eyebrows, but you can tell he’s pleased. “i knew having that mirror installed was a good investment.”

you might not be getting paid for taking on pro bono cases, but just knowing that you’re helping people makes up for it. and of course, the compensation you get from your coworker is more than enough to keep you coming back for more. 

i hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, consider reblogging or leaving a comment or an ask :) it shows me this is something people want to see more of, and knowing people like this makes me want to write more of it! thanks for reading!!

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#1k #kvanity #kflixnet #k-labels #caratlibrary #[📌] — june.writes #wonwoo smut #svt smut #seventeen smut #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo imagines #wonwoo scenarios #svt scenarios #svt x reader #svt imagines #svt fanfic #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #seventeen scenarios

[thealternateuniverse]

At who's the best at

Paige Bueckers x Fem reader

Warnings: Slowburn (?), curses, sexual inunendos

A/N: I couldn't think of a title 😭 I am so sorry. Other characters are from my imagination, they are not related to NCAA at all. Had to get this ideas out of my head.

Y/N was panting, hands on her knees after doing laps across the court. Today is hell, Geno is not taking it easy on them, the training is tougher compared to the previous months as their team is advancing to Elite 8. She thanked the cardio gods for being on her favor today or she will pass out. Taking one last deep breath, she put her both hands on her waist and walked towards the three point shot perimeter. Qadence pats her on the back while she is dribbling for a three point shot.

"Take it easy babe." She nodded at Qadence before shooting the ball. Another miss.

"Miller!" Geno motioned to come to him. Y/N sighed and jog towards her coach's direction.

"Kid, do you see this?" Geno handed her his clipboaard with her stats on it.

"This is from the last game against Duke."

Y/N scanned her stats, and it is much better progress compared to their match against Sycaruse and Jackson State.

"Yeah and it will get more better if you can hoop today. What the hell is wrong Miller? Shade and Edwards blocked you three times today. You don't get blocked thrice based on these stats. What's wrong kid?"

Y/N didn't respond and remain silent. It shows in the practice that she is preoccupied today.

"Nothing Geno, it's just......" she trailed off thinking of what she should say.

"I'll do better. I'll make sure to clear my mind before practice so I can focus." Y/N continued, bowing her head slightly. She had to prove to UConn women's basketball team that they will not regret accepting her back when she transferred here during her 2nd year. But Geno doesn't seem to be convinced of her answer.

"Alright. I am expecting much better results in our next practice. We can't make excuses once USC had our asses in our match. Go take a swim or a run in your neighborhood or whatever later, you're not yourself today and I don't want to see you like a vegetable during practice."

Y/N nodded and Geno gave her an encouraging pat on the back before letting her go back to practice. It made her feel a little better but her day is still shitty.

----

Y/N's phone keeps vibrating, this is the umpteenth time her parents called her today. She doesn't want to answer it, it will be divorce probably. It already threw her game off today and she doesn't want to ruin her day more by answering it.

Mum:

talk to me hun, please

Hun, we are sorry, I know this will be hard for you.

Do you hate us?

I'm sorry, love. It's not working anymore between me and your dad.

Dad:

Peanut, please answer your phone.

I'm sorry.

We wanted to tell you for a long time.

---

Y/N turned off her phone. With a deep sigh, she ate her tacos. She's got a lot on her plate now, her studies, her upcoming match, and now her parents divorce. She wanted to take a break.

"Boo, you okay? You're preocuppied the whole day." KK finally asked. Her teammates have been giving each other knowing looks and tiptoeing around her all day. They are not used to her being silent. She went out with them tonight hoping it will take off some things in her mind.

"I'm fine girl. Just woke up on the wrong side of the bad today." She smiled at KK. She's not ready to talk yet not until she's able to come to terms with her family.

"You suck, Miller. Paige is getting full of herself today and you're too preoccupied to humble her."

Paige almost choked on her shirley temple, she took a napkin and wiped her mouth.

"Me? Full of myself? Come on Aubs." Paige scoffs.

"Miller just realized today I don't need humbling, I'm actually good." Paige raised her eyebrows playfully followed by their teammates violent reactions.

Y/N grinned. She had to thank Paige for diverting their teammates from pressing on what's going on with her. The subject of being the best shooter between her or Paige became a daily banter. Paige was not unwelcoming when Y/N transferred in UConn but her competitive ass made sure to show why she was here first instead of Y/N. Y/N admits that Paige is actually better than her and the best all rounder, her transferring here seemed challenged the latter on who's best at what. She doesn't know why Paige thinks she has competition when she is actually the best. She likes to get on Paiges nerves so she gets along with Paige's imaginary contest.

"Get outta here Bueckers, I can do what you did earlier even with a hangover" Y/N said, giving Paige a sheepish grin. Paige made 43 consecutive 3 point shots, it got into her head today without Y/N beating it. It always annoy Paige when Y/N's record is close or beat hers.

"Oi, enough you two." Azzi stopped them before it could start to bickering. Y/N raised both her hands in surrender. She took a sip of her margaritas while still giving Paige a cocky grin. Now the latter looks annoyed.

They continued having fun, dancing and drinking. Y/N didn't move that much from her seat, she's tired and the margarita must've probabaly hit already.

"I'm just gonna go to the restroom." She excused herself. Feeling dizzy Y/n groaned, guess she will have that hangover tomorrow.

She decided to turn on her phone and was still bombarded with texts from her parents. Her mum's name popped on the screen and decided to answer it finally.

"Honey, I'm glad you answered. I've been calling all day." Her mom sounded worried on the other line.

"Sorry mum. Busy."

Her mother sighed. Y/N doesn't exactly know what to say, she is still processing that her parents will have a divorce. Out of 23 damn years, they just decided now that they don't need each other?

"Honey I.... I am so sorry. If you could come home soon we could have a talk, with your dad and I."

Y/N rolled her eyes.

"I am not going home, mom. California is 2000 miles away, I have an upcoming game in 2 weeks, and I am busy for my finals. What's the point? Your going to sell the house anyway now that you are getting divorce."

She didn't mean to sound mad over the phone, but she is really upset.

"I will call you when I am ready to talk to you both. If you two want a divorce, fine, but give me time to process that my parents don't need each other anymore after 23 damn years."

She didn't wait for her mother's response and hang up.

------

Paige went back to their booth joined by a tipsy Nika after their teammates are gone to god knows where. Dancing or probably making out with someone.

"Hey P, have fun! You're awfully behave tonight. Loosen up, it's weekend tomorrow."

Nika nudged her and throw an arm over her shoulder.

"I'm good, Ma. I don't want hangover tomorrow. Besides, someone has to stay sober to make sure you all get home safely."

Nika scoffed, rolling her eyes at her teammate. It's their last free night before Geno will give them total hell in preparation against their match with USC.

"You're boring me P. I'll go join the others and have fun being miserable here. Have you se---" Nika wasn't able to finish her sentence when a commotion started in the middle of the bar. Recognizing the 6 foot tall asses of their teammates in the scuffle, the two ran towards their direction.

"What in the fuck happened?" Nika felt her slight tipsiness gone, helping KK reach Ayanna who's ready to take a swing to an athlete from Yale. The bouncers are trying to separate them before it ends up to a total brawl. Paige scanned where the others are and her eyes landed on Y/N, her sleeves are up, Aubrey blocking her from punching another Yale athlete.

"You don't talk shit here, dawg. Go back to New Haven and fuck your slutty girlfriend!"

Paige grabbed Y/N by the waist and dragged her out of the scene. For someone who is always cool and at her composure, she was surprised that Miller can trash talk.

"Calm down, Miller. You don't get to injure that million dollar hands." With Azzi trailing behind, she brought Y/N outside and pinned her on the wall to calm her down. She looks disheveled, some of her locks escaped from her ponytail, her face is red, her sleeves are uneven and she is reeking of alcohol. What a total mess.

"What in the world was that Y/N, I know you guys don't start fights but you all are better than this. Gosh, how many drinks did you have? You are reeking of alcohol!" Azzi said frustrated.

Y/N scoffs, wiping some sweat on her forehead. Paige couldn't agree more with Azzi. They don't start fights, Y/N never looses her cool even during their banters at who is best, intense matches and bad calls from ref. Paige wonders what made her so worked up that she almost punch someone today.

"Nah, I was cool Az. I took shots from everyone, sorry I lost count."

The 2 of them grimaced. They check Y/N if she had any injuries, Geno will kill them if they are scathed and once he hears about this. Azzi wonders as to why Yale women's basketball are in Storrs. That's like an hour drive just for a night's drink.

"God you are drunk and you can take a fight." Paige said amused. She never saw Y/N got drunk because she never was.

"Oh yeah Bueckers, wanna try? Let's take it here outside." Y/N stood straight, her face annoyed.

Well that was hot. Paige thought. She raised her hands in surrender before Y/N gets totally pissed. Y/N haven't landed a punch but it might be on Paige if she triggers the latter. Azzi gave her a scolding look.

"Chill, Ma. T'was a compliment."

Y/N rolled her eyes and leaned against the wall again. She's starting to feel hazy.

"What did they do anyway?" Azzi asked.

"Douchebag's girlfriend was offering me a drink, I declined. She thought I want to fuck her slutty girlfriend and proceeds to call us defects, the others heard it, we didn't mind until she pushed Aaliyah."

Paige clenched her jaw and Azzi rubs her temple. Half of the team suffered injury in the past year. Paige wished she hadn't grabbed Y/N and let her land her fist first before fleeing from the scene, it was uncalled for. Drunken Miller surprised them tonight, they didn't know that her mouth can talk.

"That's it, we are all getting home. I'm gonna go get the others." Azzi left them outside.

"Yeah Azzi and tell that cunt to fuck her girlfriend properly."

Paige shook her head. Y/N is definitely the highlight of tonight's event.

"What got you so worked up today, Miller? You almost took it out on someone."

KK was right, Y/N was preoccupied. She didn't have any baskets during practice. Paige had 29 3 points in a row today, usually Y/N comes close or even beat her. It's unusual for someone who plays ball since 5th grade, she just did laps all day.

Y/N groans. "I'll talk about it tomorrow when I'm sober. can you take me home please? Paige."

Paige, licked her lips and pretends to think about it. She's gonna do it anyway.

"I never thought you were into girls." Paige blurted out. She mentally slapped herself right after. Her intrusive thoughts won.

"You guys never asked. I never said I was into boys either. So annoying."

For some reason, Paige couldn't keep her smile off. She was grinning like and idiot. Y/N noticed and she rolled her eyes, Paige looks stupid.

"You look like an idiot Bueckers."

"Maybe I am."

She twirls her car keys and they started to walk where she parked her car. She's behind Y/N who's trying to keep a straight-face and herself from stumbling.

Azzi and KK following them, KK still heated from the commotion earlier and keeps trash talking. Azzi is trying to cover her mouth for being loud. KK, Azzi, Nika and Y/N rode with Paige. The others were at Aaliyah's car since they live together in the same apartment. Paige shook her head, they are all dead on Monday.

-------

Y/N woke up, her head pounding and throat dry. She groaned when she tried to get up. She knew immediately it was bad last night to have a hangover like this, she rarely gets drunk and when she does, she has it bad. She jolted up when realizes that this is not her room. The bed sheet is purple, there are Miami Heat posters everywhere and the trophies are too many to be hers. Not until she saw the familiar number 5 jersey hanging on the wall.

"Fuck, what did I do last night." She whispered to herself. This must be Paige's room. She tries recalling the events of last night and vaguely remembers the Yale athlete talking shit. She almost got involved in a brawl.

Y/N got up from bed only to realize that she is wearing Paige's clothes, it's one of her old team USA shirts, nothing else and her boxers. It's already 2 in the afternoon, she could hear the ruckus outside Paige's room and KK's rambunctious laugh.

She opened the door and was greeted by the chaos of her teammates.

Y/N winced when the pounding of her head hits again. She sat down on one of the bean bags and leaned her head back trying to ease the headache. In an instant, Paige handed her a bottle of water and a tylenol. She gave Paige what is this for ? look.

"Your hangover, duh."

"Ya'll our sleeping beauty is awake." KK sat beside her but she was waiving where Ice was. Ice was doing live on the corner, and she didn't realize that where she is is being captured. Gosh she looks horrible.

"Guys, they wanna know something. You remember we did a tiktok of who among in the team you don't want your kid to date..... They want the opposite."

Qadence was quick to shout "Aaliyah" followed by KK's "Y/N"

"Yeah, I'll go with Y/N too." Ice agreed

"Y/N will throw hands, I'll bet on her too." Aubrey added.

" 'bout you, Paige?"

The team groaned when Paige showed her "rizz hands."

"Will we go further? I'll let my kid date myself." The team erupted in disagreement. Nika throws a pillow towards Paige's direction. "Dream on Bueckers!" Y/N shakes her head too.

Paige is a gender bender, the amount of fans she has be it a boy or a girl is insane. She may look like a fuck-boy type but she'll be a good girlfriend, the question though is, can they take her superstar life?

"Y/N, they wanted to know who you want your kid to date." Ice turned towards her. Y/N straightened her back a little, enough only to face Ice.

"No one, you guys loves ball more than relationships." Everyone burst in laughter.

"You heard our homie? We're not playboys/playgirls, basketball is life." Ice said in live while giving a thumbs up.

"Nawww! she's just playing safe!" KK shouted.

" Y/N is so fine, I think I'll start watching live " Ice reading through comments.

Y/N suddenly felt conscious. She moved where the camera can't see her so she can deal with what's left of her hangover.

" Does Y/N have a boyfriend or what? Saw her in Stanford before and what the hell is she doing on the court, go model in a runway or something--- Yo! Someone said you should model Y/N!" KK is reading along with Ice now.

Y/N blushed on the compliment(?). She couldn't think of herself as someone who walks on a runway or pose for a magazine aside from playing ball. She's no Cameron Brink who could pass that criteria.

"Maaaaan, they are all whipped to our girly pop. We've been gatekeeping our secret weapon."

Some of her teammates joined KK and Ice in reading the comments.

"Y/N c'mere they want to see you."

Y/N doesn't want to be rude by not saying even a "hi" but she really feels shit right now. She look around the room and her eyes landed on Paige, begging for help.

"Y'all sorry but Miller is not feeling well, you'll get to see her in Gampel soon. Be sure to be there." Paige shouted while throwing an arm around Y/N's shoulder. They are both far from the camera, Y/N waived though from where they are.

"Thank God." Y/N muttered and leaned on Paige's shoulder and she felt her stiffened.

Ice wrapped up her live leaving disappointed viewers to only see a glimpse of Y/N. All of them went back to their chaotic self.

--------

A/N: Please stay tuned for the next part. I think I have a hangover too 🤮. Wrote this when we were at the bar. Feedbacks and suggestions are open.

ALSO..... DOES ANYONE KNOWS WHO DOES THE GIRLS HAIRS DURING THEIR GAMES? DO THEY HAVE A HAIRSTYLIST OR WHAT?? PLEASE HELP A GIRL OUT. 😌

#paige buckets #azzi fudd #paige bueckers #kk arnold #uconn wbb #uconn huskies #stanford cardinal #ncaa women’s basketball #aubrey griffin #aaliyah edwards #ice brady

[obbystars]

It hurts to be something, it’s worse to be nothing with you.

NOTES: dividers by @cafekitsune !!

( Written before 2.2 / Kinda short tbh / Boothill may be OOC / not really angst as it turns into fluff tbh / I blame this / title was chosen because I was listening to the song at the time / GN!Reader )

It took a while for Boothill to even get used to this new life, or new body. Every time he looked at himself, he’s reminded of what was stolen from him. For a time, he hated his body. He sometimes wished he stayed dead. He feels so cold. He didn’t… He never wanted this, though as time passed, he grew accustomed to it. He eventually accepted it, but it never stopped those thoughts from worming their way back into his head.

He doesn’t quite feel… human. Nothing about him truly felt human.

“Boothill? You still there?” The voice was barely above a whisper.

“Hm?”

The gentle beating of a heart entered his ears. He felt warm. He felt a warm hand gently rubbing his face. Another hand was playing with a few strands of his hair before it was now gently brushing it. He opened his eyes, finding himself in an all too familiar room. One he had always looked forward to going back to once he finally had time to spare.

And underneath him? His favorite person, of course. Someone he always looked forward to seeing again, to spending more time with. He looks up at you, and you took note of his expression.

“Oh, sorry. Did I wake you up?”

He shook his head, burying his face into your chest and closing his eyes again, “No, no ya didn’t... Don’t worry ‘bout it,”

His arms were wrapped securely around your waist, trapping you in bed with him. You wiggled around in his grip for a bit to get a bit comfortable, resulting in you having to move him further up. His face was now in the crook of your neck.

Was he crushing you? Surely if he was, you would’ve said something or even tried to nudge him away. Were you cold? He hoped not… You did sometimes push him off of you because he was too cold. Sometimes he wishes he could provide you the warmth you always give him, but it’s not like he can feel it anywhere else other than his face. He hated that.

“You okay?” You questioned, your voice snapping him back to reality.

His answer was only a faint hum this time. He feels your hand brush his hair again, and you swear you can just feel him melt under your touch. It surprised you sometimes. A brash, flamboyant Galaxy Ranger, always full of energy and ready for the next journey across the stars almost turning into mush once your hands meet him. It was something you picked up on very quickly, and it didn’t take as long for you to realize why he reacts this way.

“Does it bother you?”

Your hands stop moving through the white strands, “Does what bother me?”

“This… My body. Does it-”

“No. Not at all,” you suddenly cut in, “You get cold sometimes, but that doesn’t bother me. Why do you ask?”

“…it’s nothin’,”

You turn your head to face him, nuzzling him knowing he can feel you there, “Well… It definitely is something, but… Whenever you’re ready, I’m all ears,”

He can feel you gently press a kiss on his head, and another, and another, and another. The only place where he can feel you, and you were practically showering him with small kisses.

He feels warm, especially when he’s with you. Maybe that’s why he always looks forward to moments like this with you because for once, even if it’s just for a moment, he feels human.

ehhh, this felt better in my head but oh well, I just really wanted to write Boothill

I don’t regularly post fics or hcs like this but maybe I’ll make a silly side blog for it if I do find myself wanting to write so much more for Boothill ( I literally love him so much )

#it was gonna be a frank sinatra lyric but it turned into laufey #i love laufey #the frank sinatra one was gonna be and then i go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like i love you #it sounded nice #honkai star rail boothill #hsr boothill #boothill x reader #boothill #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #star rail #hsr x reader

[leclsrc]

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

[itgetsdark-x]

I Wanna See You Beggin’

Summary: Joel Miller is your dad’s best friend, you knew it was wrong, you knew it would only cause trouble but you couldn’t help the way you ached for the man. (Title is from I Hate Myself for Loving You — Joan Jett & The Blackhearts) 6.9k words. I’m sorry.

Characters: dbf!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Warnings: 18+ only, no minors as it’s just a big ol’ load of smut… praise kink (use of ‘good girl’ a lot), p in v sex, unprotected (be sensible and wrap before u tap, pls), age gap (reader is mid twenties, Joel would be in his late 40s), use of the word ‘daddy’, oral (f receiving), no outbreak in this au.

A/N: hi guys, I haven’t written smut for years and Joel Miller has me frothing at the mouth and giggling like a little girl with a crush especially dbf!joel… Anyway, if this is enjoyed by people, I have an idea of how I could make this into a series. Please leave me nice comments or catch me crying in a corner somewhere lol

“Dad,” you huffed into the receiver as you held your phone to your ear with your shoulder. “I love you and all but I could think of better ways to spend my Friday night rather than listening to you and Joel argue over which 80’s band is the best.” You chuckled fondly as you carried on typing away at the laptop in front of you whilst you spoke into your phone. 

“Sweetheart, I love spending time with you and Joel, you love him as well! I’ll pay for dinner?” He spoke softly and you smiled as your could hear your dad’s smile down the phone. 

“Fine, what time do you want me round, old man?” You teased fondly. “I finish work at 5 today.”

“6:30pm work okay for you? Don’t forget to bring some beer.” Your dad asked with a smirk. 

You rolled your eyes before responding to him, “Fine, I’ll bring the beers but as soon as you and the other old man start arguing, I’m out!” You laughed. 

“Deal,” your dad agreed. “I’ll see you later my sweet pea, love you!” He hummed and hung up before you could respond. 

“Old men and technology.” You muttered to yourself before taking your phone and opening your messaging app. 

You quickly tapped on the screen and chewed on your lip as you did so. 

‘You need a lift to dad’s later? x’ you hit send and placed your phone down on your desk, returning your attention back to your work laptop. You were in the midst of replying to an email when your phone buzzed on your desk beside you. 

‘Sure thing, peach. See you around 6? :) Xx’

You couldn’t help the way your lips upturned into a smile, and as soon as you caught the reaction you chewed on your bottom lip. You hated the way the older male had such a visceral effect on you, you had known Joel Miller for around ten years now. You moved to the city and your father worked with him, the two of them soon became best buddies which in turn, meant he spent a lot of time around you and your house. When you first met Joel you were a mere sixteen-year old kid, from day one you felt an instant attraction to him, you knew it was wrong but you couldn’t deny it. In the beginning it felt like a harmless, childish crush, one that you were bound to grow out of but things only seemed to get worse the older you got, that attraction burned deep in your veins and any time you spent time with the older man you couldn’t help the way your cheeks burned and your pussy throbbed; there had been many nights where you had dropped him home after visiting your dad and rushed home just so you could relieve your tension. Your fingers buried deep in yourself, moaning Joel’s name as you came around them. 

You felt shameful, dirty and down-right embarrassed about those moments but it didn’t stop you from doing it again, and again.. and again. You knew Joel would never cross that line, never, he was too much of a gentleman and had way too much respect for your old man but that didn’t stop the feelings you had for him.

Your mind was reeling, so much so you barely noticed the way your thighs pressed themselves together searching for some relief to your aching core, you stood from your desk in your room and stretched before you looked at the time on your desktop, it read 4pm. You sighed and went to your kitchen to grab a snack and make yourself a strong coffee, you had an hour left of work before you had to shower and get ready before picking Joel up. 

The last hour of your work felt excruciatingly slow, your mind was busy with thoughts of your evening ahead of you; it was no different to your usual Friday get-together with your dad and his friend but today you couldn’t erase the filthy thoughts of Joel from your mind. You quickly showered, hoping the hot water would wash your mind and body clean, you ignored the burning to urge to relieve some tension and give your body the orgasm and relief it so badly needed. 

After showering you, you applied a light layer of make-up, like usual before pulling your hair up in a half-up and half-down style. You looked into your wardrobe and reached for a plain black tank top, orange plaid over shirt and black tennis skirt; you paired the outfit with your favourite pair of black converse. You put your accessories on; earrings, rings and gave your body a spritz of your favourite perfume. After grabbing the 12-pack of beer from the fridge, you quickly grabbed your phone and keys off the counter and left your apartment to go and pick up Joel. 

You were running a tad late but that wasn’t out of the ordinary, and Joel was always expecting it. You pulled up outside his home, gave a beep of your horn and took a shaky breath in as you saw him lock up and approach your car. Your hands gripped the steering wheel a little tighter as he climbed into your car and suddenly your senses were attacked with the older male. The small space filled with his heady scent, his aftershave musky, spicy and just Joel. He was wearing dark grey jeans, not too tight but tight enough to appreciate his thick thighs and your eyes couldn’t help but notice his bulge as he walked. Joel was wearing a dark khaki over shirt and a black T-shirt under that went perfectly with his jeans, and of course, he was wearing his trusty dealer boots. 

“Hey peach,” he spoke and leant over to press a kiss to the side of your head. It was something he had done for years, only now, you craved to feel his lips elsewhere. 

“Hey old man.” You grinned and started your car once more. 

The journey to your father’s house was short, only about twenty minutes; it was annoying that he didn’t live in the same neighbourhood as it always meant you or, on occasion, Joel had to drive. It was a comfortable journey as the two of you spoke about your respective day’s and week’s. 

“So you’re not hanging out with that guy again tonight, oh, what was his name!?” Joel questioned, searching his brain for the name. “Derek? No, no, he definitely seemed like a George!” He laughed, his hands resting comfortably on his thigh, you couldn’t help the way your eyes glanced down at his large digits. 

“His name was Ben, and you know that, Joel. You’re just being a dick.” You shook your head quickly with a laugh. “And nope, dad had other ideas for me… clearly babysitting duties. I would much prefer to be out with Ben but here we are…” You said softly with a roll of your eyes, it was a lie, of course. You would happily spend every waking moment with Joel, if he let you, exploring his body, sharing your thoughts with one another. 

His hand tensed on his thigh, it was brief and barely noticeable but you did notice it; that was… weird? You shook off the feeling and parked up outside your dad’s apartment block. 

“Anyway, I love babysitting you old men. It’s cute. Great practice for when I actually want kids.” You laughed, turning off the ignition and climbing out of your car. “And, I’ve warned dad, slightest hint of bickering between you two and I am out. Gone. Done. You can walk home.” As you spoke, you bent over to reach into the back seat of your car to grab the beers, one leg slightly lifted as your body struggled slightly to pull them closer; you hadn’t given the motion much thought, especially in your outfit.

Joel moved until he was stood behind you, he cleared his throat and looked away sheepishly after catching a glimpse of your black, lace panties. His hand rubbed at the back of his neck awkwardly. “Uh hon, you might want me to grab those? Gonna give someone a heart attack if they see you like that.” His voice was soft as he spoke, still not making eye contact with you. 

“Shit. Sorry, Joel.” You cursed, your cheeks flushed red as you watched the dark haired man grab the beers and you smoothed out your skirt.

The rest of the evening played out like usual; your dad and Joel had a few beers each, you allowed yourself to have one as you were driving and you all ate way too much Chinese take-out. It was getting late, you were laid out on your dad’s couch, your legs swung over your dad’s lap, Joel was sat in the lazy-boy across the room, his legs sprawled wide. This was always part of the routine, you would all catch up on your week’s complain about work, talk about sport’s games that had happened or were about to occur, it was familiar and safe. 

“So get this, bud,” Joel spoke, his voice breaking the noise of whatever Depeche Mode record they had put on the player. “Y/N over here was saying she would have preferred to have hung out with that douche, Ben, we met last month. Can you believe that?” He looked over at you, smirking as he took a swig of his beer. 

“Dick,” you mouthed over to him and let your head hang back onto the arm of the sofa. 

Your dad opened his eyes and looked over at you. “Is that right, sweet pea? You don’t wanna hang out with your favourite ‘old men’?! I’m truly offended.” He laughed, closing his eyes again, feigning hurt. 

“Joel is just bitter I have a better love life and sex life than him.” You shot back, immaturely sticking your tongue out at the other male. 

“Gross! Dad in the room!” Your dad grimaced, watching his hands in front of his face. “You’re my little girl, I don’t wanna hear about you having sex.”

“Hey — that’s not even true, I have sex… plenty of it…” Joel huffed, trying to sound convincing as he lied through his teeth. In truth, Joel never really had an interest in the women he had met, sure he took a few women home from bar to sleep with them but after he lost his wife and child, Sarah, he never really had it in him to give dating a proper go. 

“Sureeee you do,” you giggled, causing your dad to let out a loud laugh.

You all laid about a bit longer, listening to music and joking around before you sat up and stretched your back out, causing your tank top to rise, showing a small sliver of soft skin to show. There it was again, Joel’s hand tensed in place and it was almost as if his jaw clenched down. You were sure you were imagining these things, like usual so you pushed yourself off the sofa and smoothed your clothes out. 

“Right, pop’s I better get old man Miller home before I pass out here. I’m shattered.” You yawned, reinforcing your previous sentence. 

After saying your goodbyes you walked back to your parked car, the cool chill of the late-night air made your skin prick up with goosebumps and sent a small shiver down your spine. 

Joel and you walked in silence, the silence remained as you started your car and cranked the heating up.

“Dick move, bringing up Ben to my dad by the way, Miller. Real dick move.” You spoke, your voice seeming loud in the confined and silent space, just the low thrum of your car’s air vents trying to clear the windows and fill the air with warmth.

“Ha, sorry, Peach. Couldn’t resist it. Was right there for me to tease you with.” He laughed lowly, bringing his hands up to blow some warmth into them. There it was again, that nickname, every time it rolled off his tongue it sent warmth straight to your core. 

“My dad doesn’t need to know what I would rather be doing on a Friday night, or rather who I would rather be doing.” You huffed.

“I wouldn’t go around proclaiming that sorta thing, especially round your pops. I’m sure he wouldn’t wanna hear how corrupt his good girl truly is.” Joel hummed, his finger tapping on his thigh as you began driving. 

‘Good girl’, it rolled off his tongue so effortlessly yet it sent sparks straight to your core, as you drove you shift in your seat and pressed your thighs together. 

“I — I uh, I’m an adult, Joel. I’m a fully grown woman, incase you haven’t noticed. I have needs and wants.” You argued, trying to remain confident in your words. 

“Needs… and wants, huh?” He laughed, raising an eyebrow at you. “Is that why I see you practically drooling every time you see me? Now would you say that’s a need or a want?” Joel asked, his voice low and sultry.

Your mouth dried up instantly, voice getting stuck in your throat as you tried to protest. “I — I do not.” You protested, your voice coming out as a mere squeak.

“Oh peach, I see the way you press your thighs together. So needy for me? Hmm.” He hummed, his hand reaching over to touch your bare thigh. “I’ve seen the way you shift in your seat when I spread my legs in the arm chair or when you catch a short glimpse of my bulge. I’ve seen it all, no need to hide it.” His fingers were barely touching you, ghost-like touches on your skin. It was a risky move, he knew that and he knew you could quite easily pull the car over, kick him out and tell your dad what he had done. It could ruin his only true, pure friendship if your dad found out. But Joel was also sure he had calculated this properly, he had seen you for the past couple years and your minuscule reactions only seemed to ramp up the older you had been getting. 

Your breath hitched harshly in your throat as you tried to concentrate on the road ahead of you but your mind was swimming with Joel once again, his fingers lightly traced patterns on your inner thigh and all you could do was whimper pathetically under his touch. 

“J-joel,” you whined. “Please don’t tease me, I’ll crash the fuckin’ car if you play like that.”

“Oh little girl, I’ve barely placed a hand on you and you’re already whimpering for me? Quite cute really.” He said, his voice seeming deeper than usual; he splayed his hand across the skin of your inner thigh and gripped it tightly. 

You forced your eyes open as you continued to drive, you weren’t sure if you were doing the speed limits or what, all you could think about was the large hand that was so close, yet not nearly close enough to where you needed it the most. You could feel how wet you were already, you had been a mess all evening but now you could physically feel your arousal collecting in your lace panties. 

“You reckon your ol’ man knows how needy you are for me? Your dad’s best friend. Oh peach, what a mess.” He continued, he had moved closer to you now, reaching over the centre console of your car, his breath fanning out over your neck. 

“J-Joel, I’m serious. I’ll crash if you carry on like that. Not funny.” You whined, trying to press your legs together again but feeling resistance in the form of Joel’s hand. 

“Tsk tsk tsk,” Joel tutted. “What are you trying to do there, darlin’?” He laughed, letting his pinky drift closer to your clothed cunt just barely brushing the fabric. 

You whined again, just a small noise from the back of your throat and pulled the car over, from what you could tell you were a few streets away from Joel’s house; the suburban area was dimly lit with few lights and no people walking around, especially not this late anyway. You pushed your car into park, turned off the lights and engine and looked at the older male for a moment, your lips wet and cheeks flushed. 

“Joel…” you started. “Y-you don’t have to do this, I know I’m not your type and I’m sure you’re just trying to play a bit of a joke on me. We should get you home and forget about all of this…” Your breath was shaky, you hoped to every god out there that Joel would continue but you wanted him to know he didn’t have to humour your silly feelings. 

“You don’t think I want this?” Joel asked, his face close to yours, hand still pressed teasingly to your thigh. “I’ve noticed recently, the way you react to me and tonight, w-when you were bent over. Took everything in me to not pull those little panties aside and bury myself deep in that little cunt right there in the middle of the street.” His voice sounded near animalistic as he finished that sentence and your cheeks burned a deep, cherry red as he finished speaking. 

“I didn’t mean to do that, didn’t really think.” You mumbled, looking past him to stare out the window. 

“Shh,” Joel hummed, he leant forward and placed a kiss to your lips with his hand still stroking soft patterns into your inner thigh. 

You sighed contentedly into the kiss, finally experiencing what you had craved for years, your hand snaked up to hold Joel’s face as you deepened the kiss; hungry to taste more of the man. Joel tasted like smoke faintly, salty from the foods you had eaten and there was the distinct taste of hops from the beer he had drank. Your fingers intertwined into his greying hair and you gave it a testing tug; Joel groaned and allowed his tongue to swipe across your bottom lip. Eagerly, you opened your mouth and urged the kiss to be deepened, taking as much of him in as you could in that moment. 

Joel saw this as his opportunity to advance his hand, he slipped his fingers under the hem of your skirt and let them stroke across the damp fabric of your panties. You whimpered into the kiss, your hips bucked forward searching for further contact. He couldn’t help but smile at how undone you were already. Joel teased his fingers across the waistband of the lace fabric of your panties, teasingly slow, just as you were about to pull away from the kiss and protest he allowed two fingers to slip into your wet folds and agonisingly slowly circle your swollen clit. 

“Fuck,” he growled lowly. “So fuckin’ wet for me already, darlin’?”

You nodded, gripping at Joel’s forearm as he started to rhythmically circle and play with your clit. He was right, you were near sopping as he slipped through your folds. 

“Wanted this for s-so long,” you whimpered. You couldn’t quite believe this was real, you were almost convinced you would wake up any moment, sprawled out on your bed with your fingers deep inside of yourself and not actually in your car, with Joel Miller’s fingers close to making you cum already. 

“Yeah?” Joel asked, his fingers speeding up. “Wanted to feel my fingers on your wet pussy, making you feel good? Huh? How does it feel to have my fingers finally in you?” Joel spoke, his voice a low huff as his fingers worked quickly. 

“So. Good.” You moaned, the noise low and breathy. “Feels so good. I’m going to cum. Please.”  

Joel groaned, he still couldn’t believe this was happening to him. Since you started maturing over the past couple of years he had thought so many times about how much he would love to corrupt you; to have his fingers, mouth and cock making you fall apart at the seams. Just anything to make you feel good. 

“That’s it, atta girl. Cum for me, good girl.” Joel whispered, his lips ghosting over your ear as he sunk a digit into you abruptly and let his palm bump up against your clit.

That was it, the white hot, searing heat in your stomach erupted and your eyes screwed themself shut so tight you saw white patterns dancing behind your eyelids. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip so hard the familiar metallic tang flooded your mouth, anything to stop you from alerting the neighbourhood with your screams. If that You that wasn’t just the best orgasm of your life, you would have been slightly embarrassed at quickly he had made you cum. 

Joel barely moved his finger in you, just circled it slightly but his palm nudged your clit as he worked your through your orgasm and it made you whimper loudly, your body flinching with over sensitivity. He took the hint and removed his hand from your wrecked panties and brought it up to his mouth, sucking his digits to clean them from your juices. 

“Taste so sweet, just like a peach.” He groaned, his fingers popping from his mouth, the noise startling you from your orgasmic comedown. There it was again, your nickname but now it just sounded sinful and you knew going forward, you wouldn’t be able to hear it without getting wet and embarrassed. 

When you finally regained some composure, you looked at Joel; your lips were swollen and red and your cheeks had a light flush settled on them. He smiled, thinking you were truly the most perfect sight he had ever seen. Your hand reached over to his lap, you had a hunger and needed to curb the insatiable need for his cock. Your small hand palmed him through his jeans, he was rock hard and fuck, he was big. You swallowed, almost nervously at the thought of his large cock stretching your tight hole out. Of course you had slept with people, you weren’t a virgin but your previous boyfriend was nowhere near that big and he definitely couldn’t make you come that hard, even on his best days. You gently squeezed at his length, stroking him through the rough fabric. 

“Not here, darlin’. How about we go back to mine so I can properly appreciate you?” He asked, and just as you opened your mouth to protest saying you wanted him right there and now he spoke once more. “I’ll drive, dunno if you can drive properly after that, little girl. I saw how hard you came on my fingers, now imagine how hard you could cum on my cock.”

Your whole body shuddered involuntarily, never in all your years of knowing Joel had you heard such filthy things from his mouth; he had always been the perfect Southern gentleman. You were soon pulled out of your thoughts by Joel opening your car door. 

“Shuffle over.” He commanded. 

You nodded dumbly and did as you were told. Joel swiftly started the car and continued the drive back to his, it barely took ten minutes but every minute felt like torture; your mouth watered at the thought of Joel filling your holes, using you how he pleased, your core ached with the need to be full of Joel again. 

Once the car was parked, Joel hopped out and was once again opening your door for you, you exited the car and grimaced at the cool air hitting your skin. You felt Joel’s hand on the small of your back, guiding you into his home, a place you had been hundred’s of times before but this time you felt nervous. 

He opened his front door for you and you walked in, just as you were about to turn and speak to the male he was holding your hips in his large hands and pressing your smaller frame against the wall. His lips were on yours and starting a bruising kiss, once again your hands found their way into his hair and you moaned softly. You wanted to be stuck like this forever, with his soft lips on yours and his rough facial hair scratching your skin slightly reminding you exactly who was kissing you. 

“Please don’t tease, I just want you so badly Joel. I have for years, b-been thinking about your cock filling me up for years.” You whined, sounding like a petulant child. 

“And I’ll be fillin’ you up real soon, sweet girl. But how about I make you feel good again, yeah? You think you can be good for me and cum again, I wanna truly taste how sweet you are, sugar.” He growled, his lips trailing rough kisses down your neck. God how he wished he could mark you up, head to toe, just so people would know you were all his.

Your knees buckled, and your body fell against Joel’s slightly, causing him to laugh breathily; no woman had ever reacted like that to him before, let alone just his words but then again, no woman was like you. He took you by the hand and led you up to his room, you couldn’t help but take in your surroundings, you had been in Joel’s room a couple times before but you had never noticed just how much it smelt like him. 

“How about we get you nice and comfortable, let’s get those clothes off you. Can’t wait to see your body.” He started by pushing your plaid shirt off your shoulders, throwing it over to the side; the heavy fabric landed with a dull thud onto his wooden floor and with that he swiftly removed your tank top. Somewhere along the way you had both kicked your shoes off but your brain was too murky to fully register it. 

Joel’s rough hands slid up your sides, he was drinking in every inch of your curves and soft skin; in the wake of his hands your skin was freckled with goosebumps. 

“So beautiful,” he breathed, a dim light casting beautiful shadows over his face. You felt embarrassed as his eyes fully drank in your form. “May I?” He asked, voice soft and smooth like honey, his hands were at the clasp of your bra and you simply nodded. It seemed like a trivial thing to ask permission for considering less than thirty minutes ago you were cumming around his fingers. 

He removed your bra, your perky breasts bounced ever so as the supportive fabric was gone. Your nipples hardened as the cool air hit them, pulling the sensitive skin tight. Joel could have devoured you whole, right there and then. His large, calloused hands came up to hold your breasts, his thumbs swiping over your nipples almost in a testing fashion. He did it again when it elicited a moan from your throat, he pinched the sensitive buds and your back arched towards him. 

“Joel, I can’t take it. Please.” You whined, his touches were entirely too much yet not enough all at once. It was your own form of perfect torture. 

The older male was loving this, watching your eager reactions as he toyed with your body, his cock was hard and leaking in his jeans and he couldn’t wait to be inside of you. 

“Be patient, darlin’. We have all night.” He smirked, slowly sinking to his knees in front of you. 

His rough hands begrudgingly left the peaks of your breasts and worked their way down to the zip of your tennis skirt, he unzipped the fabric causing it to fall to the floor. You took the cue and kicked it to side, out of the way. Joel’s fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties once more and slid them down your legs, you rested onto his shoulder and stepped out of them, just before you could kick them to the side, he was bunching them up and shoving them into his back pocket. 

This man — he would be the death of you, you just knew it. 

You were about to make a comment and protest but Joel was stood once again and gently pushing you back onto the bed behind you; you fell onto the plush mattress with ease, your thighs falling open without being asked to do so. You felt exposed, vulnerable but above all else, you felt needy. 

“Good girl, without even being told to lie like that. Such a beautiful girl.” He remarked, pulling his shirt over his head and slipping his jeans from his thick thighs. 

You rested up on your elbows to peer at Joel as he undressed and your throat tightened, all the air in the room seeming to have evaporated immediately. He was beautiful, all harsh lines to the outside world but in the glow of his bedroom now, he looked soft and warm. You were in deep, and you knew it meant deep trouble. 

He palmed himself through his boxers just to stave off some of the throbbing and your eyes followed eagerly, the thick outline of his cock making your walls clench around nothing. Wordlessly Joel knelt at the end of the bed, latched his hands onto your thighs and pulled you closer so you could feel his hot breath fanning over your sopping folds. Your hips bucked into thin air, nothing there to help you and he laughed, it was quiet and breathy but he definitely laughed — fucker.

Joel trailed two fingers through your folds, collecting your arousal on them once again and without warning he plunged them into you roughly. You gasped, your back arched off the bed and your fists balled into the sheets either side of yourself. His fingers were so thick, so much thicker than any man you had been with before; you weren’t sure whether that was down to the age difference or just Joel’s build. He slowly pumped his fingers in and out rhythmically, building speed and curling them so they brushed that perfect, sensitive spot inside of you. 

Your mouth was agape as you laid there, completely at his will, writhing under his relentless touch. Moan after moan, after moan spilled from your parted lips and just as you felt the tension tighten in your stomach Joel lapped his tongue of your clit. Your back arched and the filthiest moan escaped your mouth, you weren’t even sure how that noise had come from you but it had and it had Joel smirking as his tongue swiped through your folds again just to circle around your clit once more. 

Your hand laced its way into Joel’s hair, your fingers gripping the strands with a deathly vice and he groaned into your pussy causing vibrations to ripple through you. You weren’t sure how you were still holding on but your stomach was twisting, tightening and bubbling as your orgasm approached once again. 

“Mmm, good girl.” He praised as your walls clenched around his fingers as he continued to pump them into your wet heat. The room was filled with obscenely filthy noises; your moans echoed throughout the empty space as Joel slurped up your juices. 

“Joel —“ you sobbed, your back arching impossibly high off the mattress below you. “C-can I cum? Please. Need it.” You asked pathetically.

Why were you asking permission?

Never before had you felt so submissive for a partner in bed, never once had you asked permission to cum, no, normally you would be chasing your high, just trying to grasp at a fraction of how good Joel was making you feel. 

“That’s it baby, such a good girl for asking permission. Wanna make you feel as good as I can, peach.” He groaned in between pleasuring you. “Cum all over my face, wanna taste as much as I can.”

That was it, the coil in your stomach snapped abruptly and you were gushing onto Joel’s fingers, a pleasured scream tumbling from your lips. Never, not once had you squirted before, yet here you were, soaking the sheets beneath you and in turn, Joel’s beard and your own thighs. You would have felt ashamed if you didn’t feel such pure euphoria in the moment. Your back was twisted and contorted off the sheets as Joel worked you through it, making you squirt further.

He could have cum in his boxers, like a teenager as the first drops of your orgasm hit his face. He lapped up as much of you as he could, like a man who had been starved for years. And he had, he had been starved from allowing himself to have this moment with you and now he had you, he wanted to savour and devour you as much as you would allow him to. 

“Joel,” you whimpered, your thighs trapping his head. “C-can’t do it anymore!” You sounded wrecked, your throat felt raw from how loudly you had been moaning. 

Joel laughed, pushed your thighs apart and removed his fingers from you. You winced and your walls clenched around air, feeling so empty once again. 

“Please, p-please can I have you now?” You asked, positioning yourself on your knees in front of Joel. You reached your hand to feel his hard cock through his boxers once again and this time, he didn’t stop you. 

You abruptly pulled the checkered fabric from his waist and his boxers pooled at his feet; freeing his cock finally, it sprang up against his stomach and you all but moaned. 

“You’re so…” you whispered, looking up at Joel through your lashes as your small hand wrapped around his thick length. The tip was dark, a bead of pre-cum glistened at the slit and all you wanted was to taste it, to taste Joel’s musk. “You’re so big, fuck.” You cursed, your tongue sticking out to kitten lick at his tip. 

You wanted to sink your mouth down his length to fully take him in so your nose could bury into Joel’s thatch of dark hair but you resisted and gave him another lick, tongue flicking into his slit.

Joel groaned, a low and gruff noise from the back of his throat. “Fuck, darlin’, I gotta be in you. None of this.” He spoke lowly, his thumb coming down to swipe along your bottom lip and you quickly sucked it into his mouth. 

“Please, daddy.” You whispered, the honorific slipping from your throat before you could process it. A look of horror washed over your features and you knelt up higher to look Joel in the eyes. “I — I, — sorry. I didn’t mean —“

Your fumbling words were cut off when Joel placed his big hand around your throat and brought you in for a kiss. You were trouble, you were sinful and he was damned. He had been called daddy a few times by younger women, they thought it was sexy; the way they would flutter their lashes at him at the bar, saunter over to him and whisper ‘hey daddy.’ Normally it made his skin crawl and caused his body to cringe but the way it almost innocently slipped from your lips, it was like a curse from the devil himself and it made Joel’s cock jump, nudging your stomach. 

He squeezed his hand around your throat and you smiled? Trouble. Nothing but pure trouble. 

“Not such a good girl, after all, huh? Been acting all innocent all these years.” He whispered, his thumbs squeezing near your pulse point, hard enough to make your head feel lighter and floaty but soft enough not to hurt you deliberately. “God, what would your old man say about this? See his little girl begging to cum, see you squirting on his best friend’s face. Smiling as I wrap a hand round your throat. Your trouble, darlin’. Nothin’ but damn trouble.” He whispered, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip before peppering small nips to the flesh of your neck. 

Your legs trembled as they held you up, it was wrong but his words went straight to your core and soaked you further, you didn’t think your arousal could get higher but here you were. He was right though; your dad would be horrified, would be downright mortified to know what his daughter was truly like and at the hands of his best friend? That would destroy your lives. All three of you. You pushed that bitter thought away as your head lulled back and you allowed Joel to grope at your chest, hungry to feel your body once more. 

“Say it again,” he growled into your ear as he pushed your body back down onto the bed. “Call me it again as I fuck you real good. How ‘bout I show you what it’s like to have a real man fuck you, not some silly boy.” He said, his voice gruff whilst he stroked the tip of his cock through your folds. 

“Daddy,” you whimpered, parting your legs further to allow Joel more room to enter you. “Daddy please fuck me.” You begged, sounding weak. 

“Oh, of course, baby girl.” He cooed, pushing his cock into you roughly until he was bottomed out. “Fuck,” he cursed. 

“S-so big, daddy.” You whimpered, your hands grasping at Joel’s biceps, just trying to hold onto something as you adjusted to the slight burn of him stretching you out. “Mmm, please move.” You moaned. 

“Atta girl, taking daddy’s cock so good already.” Joel groaned and he swore that he saw heaven in that moment; your tight body below him, contorting to how he needed. He had already built up a punishing pace, hips drawing back to slam forward roughly. The room was filled with echoes of your skin slapping together, his deep pants and your wanton moans and weak, pleading whimpers. 

“I’ve wanted this for s’long,” you sobbed, your eyes falling shut as the tension built further in your stomach once more. You knew from this point forward you would be wrecked for any other man, no one would be able to make you feel this good. Not even close. “T-touched myself so many times thinking about you fucking me.” You admitted, the words falling without thought. “Want you to cum in me, wanna be full of just you, Joel.” You moaned. 

Joel was a goner, he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep this up for much longer, you were too tight, too wet and just too good for him to have any real stamina. Your admission didn’t help matters, either. The thought of you spread out on your own sheets, touching yourself to him?!

He gripped one of your hips tightly, hard enough to leave bruises on your delicate skin as he fucked into you harder with deep groans. “Can’t be saying that to me, peach. Gonna cum too quickly.” He hissed, his free hand snaking between you to trace circles around your clit. 

“I c-can’t do it again,” you stuttered, your body burning from the inside and out. “Too much.” You breathed, your sharp nails clawing at any bare skin you could find. Just anything to anchor you down as Joel pulled another orgasm from you. 

“I think you can. Hmm?” Joel spoke. “What you think? Wanna be a real good girl for daddy and give me one more?” His thumb sped up but his hips slowed to a sensual roll, his cock head bumping the electrified bundle of nerves deep in your walls. You clenched around him tightly and he moaned, louder than before. “That’s it, baby. That’s it. One more, come on now. Come on.” He groaned, working your clit faster. 

You whined, the noise stuck in your throat as your back arched once more and you clenched around Joel before gushing around him with a moan of his name. “Joel, Joel, Joel, Joel, J—.” Your eyes had rolled back, any further and they would have disappeared into the back of your skull.

“Such a good girl, fuck. So tight. That’s it, squirt on my cock.” He groaned, removing his hand from your clit to hold down both your hips as he fucked into you with more fervour. He wasn’t going to last long, but he also knew you couldn’t take much more. You were cock drunk and spent. “Gonna fill you up so. fuckin’. good.” He huffed, accentuating each word with a thrust. 

“Daddy,” you cried, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as your body went into overdrive. 

That was it, that’s all it took. Joel looked down at you, your were a mess and all from him, tears fell onto your cheeks as he finished inside of you with a groan of your name. “Shhh, that’s it sweet girl. Such a good girl.” He cooed, his hand cupping your cheek as he emptied himself into you. 

You moaned, feeling the hot liquid of his cum fill you up, your walls clenched weakly, just trying to milk him of every drop and you turned to kiss his hand. The room smelt of sex, the air was thick and hot and sleep called to you like a sweet song. 

Joel pulled out of you with a hiss and you whimpered, your body felt like there were a hundred tiny pin pricks on your skin. You were overstimulated and completely spent but ultimately, you were so happy. 

“Hmmm, m’sleepy.” You hummed contentedly.

“I know, sweet girl but can’t sleep here. The sheets are a mess. How about you have a rest in the spare room and I’ll go sleep on the couch?” He asked softly, brushing your sweat-dampened hair from your face. 

“Sorry about the sheets,” You giggled, eyes heavy-lidded and barely open. “Although, was kinda your fault. You’re a dirty old man, too good at that.” You teased, still giggling. 

“Yeah, yeah. I’m going to hell.” He huffed, his voice all too serious. 

Joel scooped your naked body off his bed with a gruff noise and before you knew it, you were in another bed with the duvet wrapped around you. Joel had cleaned you up with a damp towel, dressed you in one of his shirts and wrapped you up into the sheets. 

“Stay with me,” you whispered as Joel turned to walk out, assuming you had already passed out for the night. “P-please stay with me.” You cried, tears filling your eyes. 

He smiled and obliged with no arguments. The mattress dipped beside you and he wrapped his large arms around your waist, pulling you close.

“Of course I’ll stay, peach.” He whispered and pressed a kiss to your temple.

You hummed sleepily, your eyes already closed and you felt peaceful. It was the most peaceful you had felt in a long time. Joel was there, you finally felt content and safe in his arms. You knew trouble was brewing on the horizon but right there, in that moment, you couldn’t find it in you to actually care.

Everything felt like it was too much, of course your fantasy came true but what did this mean for your futures? You only assumed it would be messy and all too hard on you both. 

You drifted off to sleep peacefully that night, the most peaceful you had been in far too long. Your senses screamed Joel and you felt safe. You knew trouble was brewing on the horizon but for now, you were content and happy.

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#joel x reader #joel miller x reader #dbf!joel miller #dbf!joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #pedro pascal #tlou series #age gap joel miller #minors do not interact

[cursedhaglette]

Colleagues

You're been nothing but helpful to Magistrate Ancunin, working to advance your career by supporting his cases. Your crush on him has lasted almost as long as your time spent working together.

And then he decides he wants to show you just how grateful he is for all your thorough help.

Rating: E Word Count: 2.5k Content: 18+, oral sex, PIV sex, squirting, cum swallowing, pre-canon

[ao3 link]

A/N: I don't know what magistrates do and not sure if I really care, but if fantasy judge/lawyer combo doesn't work for you then sorry!

“Madam, I have Magistrate Ancunin here to see you,” the voice of the office assistant reaches your ears before the door opens and the heavy hinges creak in that way you hate. The older human woman who assists with your paperwork and appointments allows in the familiar, handsome face. You nod your thanks and Vilna closes the door promptly, as she always does. 

“Magistrate,” you say in greeting, and he smirks as he approaches.  

“You always say that like it’s not your title as well,” he argues, the same comment the two of you make every time you have this exchange. 

You’ve been smitten with him for an almost pathetic amount of time, but while you’re still unsure whether his flirtations were just for fun or genuine, you held off on making any real move. Being rejected by one of your fellow magistrates, one of your senior colleagues that you’re so often tasked with assisting, would be far more humiliating than you’re willing to risk. 

“Do you have those case notes ready?” He asks, and the deep caress of his voice scatters your mind as you fumble for the information you’d collected for him. You remember you’d filed it away just last night, wanting to be sure it wasn’t mixed in with the other handful of cases you were either overseeing or assisting on.

“Sorry, yeah - it’s over here. I was working on it until late last night, but I think it should be more than enough to present your case.”

He doesn’t respond, so you move around your desk to where you filed the documents the evening prior.

“You really ought to make me work harder for this,” he smirks, and you watch every movement of his clever mouth as you turn to meet his gaze. “So much done, all for me? None of the other junior magistrates are quite as helpful and thorough as you are, darling.”

“I’m far too generous, I’m wholly aware,” you turn, noticing how much closer he’s gotten. How his body is nearly against yours, your back meeting the edge of your filing cabinet as you adjust, watching as he takes another step closer.

“You ought to be careful,” he whispers, and you think you might be able to smell cigar smoke and brandy on his clothing, his breath a puff of warm air against your skin as he draws ever closer, “associating with the ‘hanging judge’ might earn you a reputation an innocent thing like you might not like.”

“Maybe I’m not so innocent. I can handle myself,” you murmur, and mean it. You weren’t scared of his reputation, not when you wanted to make your own. Assisting him, making a name for yourself as you grew your career, it was all part of a plan. Falling for him was the only piece you hadn’t accounted for. “And maybe I like working with you.”

“I’m glad, because I like it as well,” he grins, “so tell me you’ll let me show you my thanks.”

“Astarion…” you whisper again, and your eyes can only focus on his lips. The way his tongue flicks to wet them, so full and perfect. Gods, you wish he would just break this tension so you could finally feel his hands around your body.

“Let me show you how grateful I am,” he says again and leans against you, dipping his head to whisper a gentle kiss along your neck, then another below your ear. “Let me show you how much I like working with you, Tav.”

“Is this a good idea?” You hate the question, hate that it could end the delicious warmth seeping into your core as his lips move lightly against your skin. But you have to know, have to be sure…

“Probably not,” he grunts but pulls away for long enough to look you in the eyes as he says, “but if you want this, then I don’t give a damn how good or bad an idea it is. Do you want this?”

“Yes,” you moan, and then his mouth is on yours and it’s like your prayers are finally answered. His mouth is warm and perfect, his tongue dancing against the seam of your lips until you open, eagerly, to welcome him in. He pushes you against the cabinet, your back digging into a drawer pull, but you don’t care as his hands move to cup your ass and lift you slightly, enough to angle your core against his. 

You can feel his hardness and it draws a desperate, gasping moan from you that he swallows with his kiss. He holds you firm, his grip likely strong enough to bruise. Have you noticed how strong he was before? You knew he was fit, but Gods, the way he holds you shows off how easy this is for him. He’s experienced, and you are too…but not like this. Not with someone you’ve wanted for ages, dreamt of kissing or laying with as you sign off on each individual document you’ve prepared for him over the last year.

“I’ve wanted you,” he growls as he shifts and gently sucks on your sensitive earlobe, “since I first laid eyes on you. Since you first walked into this office.”

“Really?” you gasp, and Astarion’s hands move to the buttons of your blouse, his mouth kissing along your collarbones. He pulls away for a moment, eyes scanning yours and you watch in delight as his gaze flickers to your flushed cheeks and swollen lips. Then, he takes your hand, and moves it to the hardness pressed against you - guiding you to feel the full length of him, still taught and held within his fine, leather trousers but begging for release. 

“Do you feel this?” He asks, smiling as your blush deepens. You bite your lip and nod. “This is how desperately I’ve wanted you. How hard I’ve been trying to hold back from doing this every time I see you. But I can’t hold back any longer, not if you want me too.”

“I do,” you moan, and he’s on you again, his kisses somehow more desperate than before. But then he’s kneeling and -

“May I?” He looks up at you, both hands warming your thighs and you know what he wants, even if you’re shocked this is happening at all. You nod and his hands move to your waistband, tugging off your work trousers and undergarments in a single movement. 

You’re bare for him for a moment  before he nudges your legs apart and finally his fingers find your clit, gently pressing against your pleasure. Astarion looks up at you, eyes dark with lust, as you whimper at the touch - simultaneously feeling overwhelmed by the sudden caress and desperately needing more from him. 

“Put your foot on my shoulder,” he instructs, and you do without thought. The heat at your core, the way your want feels like a thrumming ache that grows with each second that goes by drives away any second guessing or nervousness you might feel. All you can think of is the way his hands caress your hips, your thighs, as he looks at you laid bare. “Gods, look at you. Soaked for me and so fucking beautiful.”

“Please,” you gasp, and he smirks but finally obliges you. His hands move to grip your ass and stars burst behind your eyes when he finally drags the flat of his tongue from your hole to clit. His mouth latches around her, sucking and licking in alteration as soaked, sloppy sounds begin to fill her small office. You’re being feasted on, and each groan with pleasure vibrates through you and adds to the building release he’s bringing you toward.

Astarion moves one hand from your ass and shifts his mouth only slightly, his tongue never leaving your swollen bud as he slides two fingers into your heat, immediately finding the soft spot inside you that has everything going white behind your eyes. 

“A-Astari-uhhhnnn,” your knees buckle as you cry his name, reaching for his hair and holding his mouth to you as the dam of your arousal bursts.

Pleasure floods you, and you soak him in the process, grinding against his face and coming around his fingers as your body thrashes in release. His ministrations continue, licking and fingering through the final clenches of your orgasm before he finally pulls away, his face slick with your arousal and release. 

“You taste fucking delicious,” he growls and stands, pulling you into another deep kiss so you can taste yourself on his lips. You moan into his mouth again and finally feel him tug free his cock, stiff and dripping with his own excitement. 

“Can I taste you?” 

“Not now, darling,” he growls and pulls you off the cabinet, his hands rough. “I’ve got to be inside you now, or I may go mad.”

He guides you to your desk, papers and files scattering in the wake of your desperate movements, banging your way around the office without letting his lips leave yours, his hands lingering at your sides, your hips, your breasts. 

Your ass meets the edge of the desk at the same moment his fingers find a nipple, pinching and twisting viciously, enough to have him groaning at the sound of your gasping cry. He kisses his way down your body again, his lips meeting your breasts and sucking gently before he moves lower, kissing down the planes of your stomach. 

Propping yourself on your elbows, you watch as he finally pulls away and lines his cock up with your slit. He rubs his head against your sensitive clit, wetting himself on your still soaking cunt and each rubbing slide feels better than the last. He’s so hard, the head of his beautiful, thick cock so soft, and it’s all for you. After so long, after so many late nights spent wishing you could have him all to yourself.

Your head hangs back as he begins to slide into you, the feeling overwhelming as your body stretches to accommodate him. He takes his time, his own eyes closing slowly as he adjusts in his own way, the feeling of your heat and slick enough to have him biting his lip in concentration. 

“Astarion,” you whine and your back arches as he moves forward another inch, “I can take it, I want it all, please - I need more, please, pleee-aahh -”

He fills you to the hilt, giving all of himself to you in one movement and you can only muster a deep, primal groan as he begins to set a steady rhythm, rolling his hips against yours. Each movement is practiced and perfect, managing to hit every spot inside you that begs for pressure.

“So ti-ight, mmmm,” he groans, picking up speed. He reaches between your legs, his thumb rubbing circles in time with each thrust. “Can you come for me again? Around me?”

You clench around him, feeling the tug behind your navel and the added moisture between your legs and then you’re coming, coming around him like your body knew to obey his ask with words alone. Your second undoing under his hands is somehow stronger than the first, your body convulsing like a woman possessed as you shatter again and again. 

“Good girl,” he grunts and sputters, “such a good…mmmmph…good girl, coming for me.”

You milk him with every slowing contraction of your body, tugging him deeper into you, and he stammers your name like the chants of monks in a chapel. You listen as he repeats it, over and over, as his breath hitches and his movements grow erratic, desperate and his own pleasure begins to build toward climax. 

He’s close, so close and you don’t have a tonic so you lean up and kiss him, his body slowing as his focus shifts to your mouth. This time his moan fills the space shared between you and the sound would buckle your knees were you standing. 

When you tug away, both of your breaths still ragged with pleasure, you whisper what you want, no - what you need. “Come in my mouth. Let me taste you that way.”

“Are you sure?” He grunts the question, leaning in for another languid kiss as he continues each deep, slow movement within you. You nod through the kiss, then move off the desk, to your knees. 

He’s coated in your slick, and flush with pleasure, each vein in his gorgeous length thrumming with need you can’t wait to slake. You roll him in with your hand, luxuriating in this hiss it earns you. 

You swirl your tongue around his head before sucking it into your mouth, groaning as you realize that you’re about to know how you taste in combination with him. 

“Gods,” he pants, “don’t stop, y-you feel…unbelievable.”

You smile and take him deeper, adjusting to his length for a few moments and then letting him fuck into your throat at the pace he needs to finally reach his peak. He bucks quickly, his eyes close as yours water, his length hitting the back of your throat.

You swallow as he quivers through his end, and then bob up and down once more before pulling away from him, your mouth popping as you release his head from your mouth. You lick him clean, any release you hadn’t caught already you wipe away with a warm tongue, feeling his eyes on you as you do. 

“Fucking hells,” he whispers, a hand reaching to stroke your cheek as you finally sit up, “that was…”

“Okay?”

“You delicious fool, that was the best head I can ever remember receiving,” and he folds himself over to reach where you still kneel before him, kissing you deeply and slipping his tongue into your mouth - tasting himself on your tongue. It’s salty and perfect, the taste a lingering reminder of the ecstasy you shared.

Astarion moves to dress quickly, as though suddenly reminded that it was the middle of the workday and you were both in an office, and you follow his lead. 

He straightens his coat, rubbing his palms down his shirt to even out the wrinkles left over from their earlier collision. He looks almost nervous, watching as you finish lacing up your shoes, then looking at the utter chaos left behind on the desk. 

“This won’t make things…uncomfortable between us? Will it?” You ask the question carefully, aware that it very well could change everything. Could ruin all that hard work. But Gods, it sure as hell felt worth it in the moment. 

“Oh lovely girl,” he smiled, finally meeting your eye again with that perfect smile, “if anything, this just got a lot better. In fact, I could imagine you and I will be very, very good colleagues.”

“Well then,” you stand and walk toward him, taking his coat in both hands and tugging the handsome elf flush against you once more, “I suppose the cases we work on together are going to be a lot more fun from here on out.”

“Oh my dear,” he kisses you quickly, a gorgeous, devious grin lighting his face as he pulls away, “I couldn’t agree more.”

#bg3 fanfic #astarion fic #astarion ancunin #astarion x tav #bg3 astarion #astarion smut #astarion x f!tav #astarion x female tav #astarion x reader #astarion x you #hagfics

[daenysthedreamersblog]

STRANGERS

Don't talk to strangers or you might fall in love

Freezer bride, your sweet divine

You devour like smoked bovine hide

How funny, I never considered myself tough

summary: you've won the hunger games, and ready to return home in peace, but president snow has other plans for you, and he won't take no for an answer.

pairings: president!coriolanus snow x district6!reader

warnings: MDNI!, blood, violence, murder, manipulation, power imbalance, coercion, heavy drinking, non-con male masturbation, non-con oral sex (m receiving), roses ( pls let me know if i forgot any!)

notes: im new at publishing on tumblr so pls be patient with me! also new at writing in second person POV so sorry for any mistakes! hope u enjoy! there will be more parts coming soon!

Blood splatters onto your face.

"Please," He mouthed underneath you, but the knife was plunging down anyways. You couldn’t hear it.

The crunch of a sternum bone.

Silence. Cold silence rang in your ears and you blinked climbing off of the body a distant boom rupturing around the arena, but you only felt to shake of it, the sudden vibrational change in the air. You looked around the sun blaring down onto you as you turned away from the dead boy, you stumble forward, knee giving out from under you before you collapsed to the ground rolling onto your back staring upward. The blood oozed from the wound on your leg, it stung, it stung harshly, but it was welcomed.

It was over. Everything. It was over and all you were met with was blood stained hands and silence. You could smell the rot forming in your soul.

Boots were pounding into the ground, surrounding you, guns pointing at your body. Hands wrapped around your biceps pulling you, dragging you out of purgatory and into the looming light ahead.

~

"Congratulations." He whispered placing the small crown on your head, a dainty gold thing, his hands lingering too long on a wisp of your hair. The games had cut off your tongue it seems words never rising to the surface. His hand was under you chin, "Smile. You've won." It felt like a command so the corners of your mouth tugged up as the camera flashed upon you, shaking hands with your esteemed president.

"Thank you." His jaw ticked at your slip, the lack of his title, but he shook your hand anyways as Lucky Flickerman’s crew zoomed in for their close up. The motions were clear, set into place as you read the prepared words off the telecom. If you could get through this then you could return home where it was simple and safe. You would be okay once the Capitol train dropped you off in District 6 where you can happily watch it all disappear forever.

A hand slid to the small of your back, your spine locking up as another photo flashed of the two of you. Your smile stumbled as his shoulder pressed into yours heat pouring off of him where your bodies collided.

You met his eyes, face half turned towards each other, and your cheeks burned with a flush.

The only good thing about winning was finally eating and drinking real food again.

You downed cups and flutes of any alcohol you could find shoved into your hands drowning out the sound of people talking, congratulating you. It was cruel really how when the film of a camera was replaced it sounded like small bones cracking, so your drank more. Why were they so thankful? They arranged for you to be there...they sent you to either die or kill for them. Because some great-great grand-whatever rebelled, so now you had to live with the consequences of someone else actions.

Your brain was beyond heavy, mouth no doubt stained red from the wine. One more day, one more day and you would be going home to die of hopefully natural causes some other time. One more day and you would be out of this hateful city, away from theses entitled, hateful people. You felt it then, the dryness in your throat, the angry water welling in your eyes. You set the empty cup down, stumbling away from the party silent tears beginning to unwarrantedly roll down your cheeks. You gripped the railing as you climbed the stairs towards the mansion doors needing to hide away from the world, and when you reached the top you pushed it open harshly. The heels of your shoes clicked on marble floor in an empty hallway, a door slamming shut behind you as you kept moving. The hallway was spinning like you were stuck in a concrete mixer turning and turning and turning.

You tripped over your foot catching yourself by throwing a hand out to the wall, collapsing onto a small cushioned bench. The groan left your mouth as you slid out of your shoes feet aching, you felt the long gash of the scar the District 2 tribute had given you. It was taking a while to fully close, the wound on you soul would never heal either it seemed.

More tears. More anger.

"You should be celebrating." The cold, calculating voice cut through the air.

You could only roll your head upward, too drunk, too ashamed to be afraid at the surprise. Fresh tears rolled down your cheek. "I did."

Footsteps were coming towards you, slow, like the wolf hunting a doe, and that was when your body alerted, when he had stepped into your space, head snapping towards him. He looked as calm and collected as his tone, a rich black suit fitted to his lean body, a hand lazily in his pocket as his legs bracketed in your knee. "Then why are you in here? I have a whole party out there for you and you hide away in my home.”

"Too noisy." You stared up at him with red rimmed eyes as he towered over, your vision fuzzy at the corners.

His knuckle came up to your cheek collecting the tear freshly traveling down makeup covered skin. "You should be celebrating." He repeated the moisture glistening on his bone. "Not crying."

You sniffed, your voice cracking from crying, "Sorry sir."

"Mr. President." He corrected.

"Sorry, Mr. President sir." You cleared your throat offering him a fake smile.

His hand came under your chin, a pinky resting on your jaw his thumb tracing puffy, wine stained lips, "That's a good girl. Too much wine I suspect hmm?" You only nodded as he held you face, held your life with it too. You might have won his games, but he could still ruin everything, ruin the little family left back home. He had always made that clear to everyone; it wasn’t a shock people started dying soon after they crossed him.

"Yes. Mr. President, sir.” For some reason another tear slipped out with a wide eyed blink.

"You look so pretty when you cry." He traced over your lip one more time gently pushing in until the pad of his thumb pressed against your tongue. You heard the wet noise of his lips parting, as he took a quiet deep breath your teeth grazing his skin. Then he popped it out, bought it to his mouth, sucking gently on your leftover wine. "Come." He wrapped his arm around your bicep pulling you to your feet in front of him. "Let's get you some food, introduce you to some more friends of mine, and then bed." Two hands stroked down your hair holding your head between his palms. "How does that sounds my little victor?"

A dark gaze lingered in his eyes that there was no way around what he wanted, no telling him no. So you let him bend down and slip your shoes back on keeping your face towards the opposite wall. ”Yes Mr. President, sir.” His hand lingered too long on your bare ankle before he rose.

He smiled, a snake like gleam in it, like he had finished wrapping his body around his victim to suffocate it. One more day, and then you were done. He could introduce you to whoever he liked, feed you whatever he wanted, but come tomorrow on that beautiful train ride home the Capitol, the games would be a distant traumatizing memory, and he would just be a face on a screen come next year.

He plucked the white rose off the front of his suit jacket, took the pin out, and tucked it behind your ear to sit prettily in your hair.

His hand wrapped around your waist causing you to grip his forearm to stumble out into the party once more. Your eyes scanned the party, catching on a young girl, the winner from District 4. Her name started with an M, but you couldn’t find the rest of it in you hazy brain. The only thing you could focus on was the sad frown etched upon her pretty face as President Snow dragged you through his party.

6 months later

You wiped dirt off on your pants standing up to admire the blooming garden spread out in front of you. A smile flittered onto your face for only a moment before it fell staring at the wilting leaves on top of wet soil. They had fallen no doubt during a weeding or pruning or plain decay, but they were there ready for the earth to absorb them for nutrients.

Did the arena absorb their decaying bodies too or were they flown away somewhere else? Did they go back to their families so they could rest in peace?

You shook the thought grabbing gardening tools and the water can heading back to the house. Time was helping, the white noise of the district was helping, the trains going by were helping. The only reminder you had ever been carted away...well that and the large sum you had been gifted upon winning. You decided to ration it, save it but comfortably. It was the only thing truly stopping you from drowning yourself in alcohol or morphling, and the disappointed look your father had given you when they had carried you off the train, too wasted to walk. You took up gardening soon after the initial withdrawing, rotting period needing to keep you hands, your mind busy.

The scent of vanilla hit you as soon as you entered the house your body freezing on the threshold. It was a warm vanilla scent, which meant your mother had made tea, which meant there was company. You set your tools down, peeling off you mud stained boots. Your mother laughed as you slowly continued down the hall, the sound muffled by the kitchen wall you had yet to curve around to enter the kitchen. Alarms shot off in your head, the hair on your neck standing up knowing it wasn't anyone from District 6.

"Mother." You called seeing the outline of her at the table.

"Darling." Your mother smiled as you turned the corner, eyes flitting over to the man across the table from her sipping on his tea. A fresh bouquet of white roses sat in a new vase at the center of the table. "We have a guest."

"Mr. President." Your mouth dried out, feet heavy, gluing you to the middle of the kitchen. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

Your mother only stood up rushing towards you, taking your hands to sweetly drag you to the table. "Come sit, my darling bluebell." She forced you into an empty chair around the modest circular table, a plaid green table cloth covering it. You kept eyes on him as she poured tea into the only empty cup. Once the kettle was down she discreetly tried to wipe dirt off your face, "Always covered in something from your little garden."

President Snow mouth quirked up. "Garden?"

You only managed a nod. ”It was a small little thing, something to help…” Her eyes dropped, “Something to keep her busy, and well before you knew it it had taken up most of the lawn." Another discreet pat on the cheek. "I have never been more proud than when I see her out there working on it." She chuckled, "Well besides when you put the tiara on her head." You inwardly cringed at the word tiara, at the reminded of what had been done to earn it.

"My grandmother grew roses." He motioned to the red one he worse pinned to his blue suit. His eyes met yours, "Do you?" A small nod as steam swirled up from the tea that would never be drank, "May I see them?"

Your mother stood up answering, "Of course." Her hands came upon you shoulders, "Go change and show our lovely President." You pushed the chair back using it as an escape for the moment, "Wash your face, and put on that pretty blue sun dress." You didn't answer, only walked back down the hall to your room finally able to breath normally away from his suffocating presence. What was he doing all the way out here? You had figured, had clung, to the fact you would never have to see him, or the Capitol again, and now he was here invading your home.

After washing your shaking hands and face, digging the dirt out of your nails, and braiding your hair back did you put that stupid sundress on and walk back out. Your mother was standing by the door a forced smile on her lips, "Yes sir, no sir." She reminded you, pulling small tendrils of hair loose around your face. "Don't speak unless spoken to."

"I know." You told her, forcing her hands away from your face reciting what your father and mother had both instilled in you. "I am grateful for what you've done for us President Snow."

"Mr. President Snow, sir." She pinched your cheeks to give them color then let you step around her and out of the house.

He was standing near the edge of the garden just before the walkway split separating each sections. "It truly does take up most of the lawn." He smiled holding out his arm for you. You slowly allowed him to hook it under his elbow to lead down the walkway. "It smells divine."

"Thank you." You swallowed, "Mr. President, sir."

He only smirked, "Your mother raised a well mannered woman."

You offered him a shy smile, ”My father and mother always instilled proper etiquette as best as they could. They emphasized respect and dutifulness."

"Important traits to have." He agreed. He was Capitol, he was the president, no doubt relishing in the fact district folks weren't born with those traits, they had to have it beat into them.

His hand clamped around yours, trapping it in his arm. Your breaths shook, don’t stutter. "My roses are just this way." You motioned up the path for him to lead in that direction.

The rose bush could have looked better, but it had always been a work in progress, a difficult flower to manage, and your heart had never truly been fond of roses. Red and yellow seeds were the only color you could acquire so the colors sometimes missed their mark or died all together. “Troublesome for you?” There was no hiding the disappointment in his tone.

“Yes.” An embarrassed response. "I'm tempted to rid myself of them."

"Hmm," He stepped forward fingers running along the soft petals. "I have a garden full of white roses, I brought some for you today."

You gave him a small smile. "Thank you. I'm sure my mother adores them."

"They're for you, not her." He flatly told you a sneer on his face. "A gift of sorts to my favorite little victor." He smirked down at the bush plucking a perky red rose from its stem. "Or what did she call you?" He turned back towards you, "Her darling bluebell?"

The blush bit at your cheeks, "Thank you. Mr. President sir." He smiled deeply tucking the stem of the rose behind your ear rooting it into the braid. "They are lovely." I lied. The scent of roses overtook the air to the point you felt dizzy with it, felt them swallowing you whole like he did.

"I do hope your mother won’t mind looking after it all.” He sighed his hand running down your arm as blood drained out of you, the question sitting leaden in your mouth. "We're trying something new, something Dr. Gaul believed would bring good publicity to the games." You chewed on your cheek, biting the refusal back. You remembered hearing about her death a year or two ago. "A victory tour of sorts." Both hands were on your arms holding you in front of him, "You'll go district to district letting them celebrate you and then finish at the Capitol. I'm going to throw you another party."

Oh

His hand came under your chin tilting your face up to him, "How does that sound my little bluebell?"

"Okay." You whispered because it was what was supposed to be said to him.

He beamed, "Such a good girl." His smile fell, "Since this is the first time we're doing it I'll be going with you of course to make sure everything goes smoothly."

Ice coated you. How long would this be? Would he ever let you remain in peace? Would the garden wither and die in the time you would be gone? Why did he stare like that?

You only nodded the obedience in your spine locking into place.

It wasn't horrible. The train was comfy and reminded you of home, the rumbling sound it made, the smell of the smoke and gasoline, the horn blaring through the night. They had written words, of course, to say at every district, reciting from a script how sorry you were for their losses and how thankful you are for the Capitol and their generosity. President Snow talked the most which was ironically a godsend since you didn't want to speak at all.

Mostly, there was food, tons of food...and wine.

You more self-indulgent habit to make the time go by smoother. Even more so now because you could, because it was free, because your parents weren't here to shame you. You would stop once you got home; you had done it before. When the tour was over, you would stop, you would go back home, relish in the normalcy, the garden, where it was safe. Where no one could find you.

Snow wouldn't be on the train ride home.

It unnerved you that he was here simply a few train cars down, eating, sleeping, plotting murder no doubt, planning more games. It only made you swig from the bottle more to shove the anxiety down.

You had crawled in the train car window, a comfy seat under it, curling you feet under you to watch the night blur past. Each bump comforted you, like you were in the older train cars carting people around the district. The moon wasn't out making any outline impossible to see, so you closed your eyes, pretending to hear the bustling square at home. You took another drink of wine savoring the lazy feeling coating your body.

The door slid open no doubt an Avox coming to do some chore, so you didn’t even bother to look. "You didn't come to dinner." Your head snapped up seeing Snow standing in the door a tray of food in his hands, "They said you only grabbed a bottle of wine and left."

"I wasn't hungry." Not a lie, you had felt ill since leaving District 9 the tributes faces beginning to gnaw at you once more. You had survived, and they hadn’t, and it felt wrong. "Mr. President, sir."

He wasn't wearing his normal suit instead a pair of dress pants, and a starched white button up, the top two buttons undone. His immaculate blonde hair was slightly mused a stray curling piece falling onto his forehead. "Come eat with me." You weighed the options before unfolding your legs out and turning to slid off the sill. You tugged at the nightgown they had shoved in the closet for sleep, a soft thin robe covering your shoulders over it. They hadn’t allowed you to bring any clothes from home. His eyes glanced up your body as you pulled it tighter around you.

"Excuse my appearance Mr. President, sir." You sat down across from him.

"No need." He only smiled as he pushed the tray. "Do you like the train?"

You nodded picking at the food, "It reminds me of home. We used to live by the test track before it moved, and it used to rumble the house. I used to hate it growing up, but now it seems to have grown on me."

"I bet it has." You should enjoy the food more, shovel it down until it was nothing. Your family had never suffered too much within the district not like the others, like 10,11,12... but it wasn't exactly always easy. The Capitol was always cramming food down your throat before and after the games, before you had reveled in it, the after...it tasted like dust in my mouth sometimes. You set the fork down pushing the half eaten tray away, but he only pushed it back. "Eat, please." You began to open your mouth in protest, but his jaw ticked. "Eat." A command, "All of it."

You watched his face, bottom lip trembling at the new tone he was using. It was bound to come out, but you had been so kind, always listened. You slowly began eating again forcing each bite until nothing remained, until your chest was tight with a full stomach. You took a sip of water. Always thank him, your mother had whispered on your way out of the door, Even if you are not thankful.’ “Thank you, Mr. President sir."

"You are so good to me, my little bluebell." He leaned forward the darkness engulfing the blue in his eyes. "Can you do something for me?" You made yourself nod even-though fear was trickling down your skin. He motioned with his head, "Go lie down on the bed."

The color drained from your face, "Wh-What?"

Don't stutter.

You cursed inwardly for the slip. ”Be my good girl and go lie down on the bed." His grin widened, “I won’t say it again.”

By the time your knee hit the bed tears had slipped over, you tried to stop them, but they welled anyways as you turned to look at him. He stalked towards you unbuttoning his pants, unzipping them, so you forced your gaze upward taking in the sounds of rustling. His hands pushed the robe down your shoulders letting it pool onto the bed. You couldn’t speak, couldn’t find the words to stop him as his fingers trailed along your bare shoulders, along your collarbones, up your neck. "Spit." He held out his hand. You swallowed, pulling the liquid back up and spit into his palm watching him bring it between his legs. You forced yourself to not look down, not look at what his hand was doing with a large length, to not look as he slid his hand along it. His other hand came up to your face, once again dragging across your bottom lip, pushing his finger further in, hooking it onto your bottom teeth. "Suck on it." He growled. You blinked fresh tears out before letting your tongue poke and lick up his finger, swirling around his knuckle listening to his pants. A cry of protest sat in your lungs, but would it matter? Were you always bound to be at his mercy, cursed to obey his whims to exert his power. “You listen so good." His head fell back a little the small groan hiding the sounds of him stroking himself. “Will you take my cock good too?”

"Please." You whimpered against his hand finding the smallest resistance in yourself at his words. "Please sir...I'm a virgin. I-I don't-!"

He shoved you back onto the bed with a growl his knees straddling your thigh as he pumped his hand faster and faster groaning into the air as two fingers invaded your mouth thrusting along your tongue. You felt violated, but all you could do was lie there and take it, let him do whatever he was doing because you were good, because he was the president and you had to obey. You closed your eyes tears burning your skin on the way his movements shook your body, until finally he stilled warmth shooting over your skin.

You finally breathed as he removed his fingers and stepped away. You lied there, listening to him straighten his clothes back on. "Don't change. Sleep in that." You glanced down at the white clumps running down your nightgown, some even drying to your exposed chest.

He stared at you expectantly. Thank him, even when you're not thankful. "Thank you Mr. President, sir.”

His grin was haunting as he left.

The rest of the tour went unbothered. He only occasionally came back to repeat those events, but each time it got a little easier as you began to know what to expect, each time you dared to look a little bit more. Sometimes even getting lost in the way his hand glided across his glistening cock covered in your spit. On the rare nights, you even gazed upward at him, at his hooded eyes, sweat dripping down his forehead, tongue between his teeth. You even began to listen to the noises he made, the heavy grunts, the soft groans and grit of his jaw, his vulgar words at you when his eyes suddenly met yours making you look away with heat in your cheeks.

And then he would cum over your body.

You threw up after the first night only forcing it to stay on your body because he had said so. After that it became easier to withstand the feeling, the warmth, the smell. You realized after a few times it gave off a scent you had only attributed to him, you only knew that because he often stood so close to you. It was so mild and hidden that you could only tell when you brought some close to your nose, and since it was already there you tasted it and you figured his skin might taste like that too.

It was fine, until you finished the tour of District 2. The boy's face stared down at you, and you remembered how it looked covered in blood.

Please!

The crunch of bone.

You could barely get through the reading, crying halfway through before someone had to usher you to the side. Snow was angry; you could see it in his dark eyes but maybe he could find pity. You had been so kind, so good.

It didn't matter by the time he found you curled into the corner of my room you were covered in smeared make up and tears. You couldn't even take off the stupid pink dress they had given you. He stood there for a moment taking you in then he grabbed you by the hair yanking you up onto the bed. Then he reeled back and slapped you across the face so hard your head snapped to the side. "You were very bad today bluebell."

"I-I..."

Another slap the other way. "Don't stutter."

Your cheek was stinging, "I'm sorry." A pause, and then another hard slap stars split your vision. "I'm sorry Mr. President, sir." You closed your eyes waiting for more but then you heard the familiar noise of his pants unbuttoning and your body began to lay itself back like it had registered before you did. He only darkly chuckled as he pulled you back up and shoved you to your knees in front of him, "I know you didn't mean to break the rules. Right?” You nodded, “And why do I know that?”

"Because I'm your good girl, Mr. President, sir." You stared up at him with red cheeks and pouting lips.

He groaned, his hard length pressing against your mouth. You glanced up at him with furrowed brows not knowing how to do what he was asking. “Open your mouth,” You did. “Don’t bite. I'll do the rest." He pushed past your lips, taking ahold off your face and began rocking his hips into you, his cock sliding along your tongue. "Oh fuck," He shivered shoving himself deeper the tip of him touching the back of your throat. You swallowed the gag as he pulled out to slam back into you bring your throat more tears spilling out, spit running down your chin. You squeezed your eyes as he used your mouth for whatever he wanted as he thrusted his cock into your mouth viciously. "Swirl your tongue around it." He hissed and you obeyed running it along the shaft, around the head feeling him stutter his movements, but pick up speed. His hand was rooted in your scalp yanking your face up, pain bubbling up with each abusing stroke, but something else was there too, and you realized his skin didn't taste bad. "You like that? You like when I fuck your mouth?"

You mumbled out incoherently not even sure what your answer was.

He shoved your head back, neck craned against the mattress his hips pinning you as he blatantly fucked into your mouth. ”I wonder what pretty sounds you would make if I fucked you hmm?” His hand bobbed your head against him as you gripped his thighs to hold yourself up as saliva dripped across your chest. "I can't though...too many others want it."

Your eyes shot open just as his thrust turned sporadic and warm liquid shot down your throat. Your face was covered in fluids, covered in drool and cum, dribbling down your chin as he slowly removed himself. ”What?" Your throat was raw and torn.

"I was going to wait to tell you." He sighed tucking himself back in. "But you are very desirable as a Victor, and once you told me you were a virgin...well it made you a lot more desirable." He patted your tears and cum stained cheek, "But you have been so good to me despite this slip up, so I will try to pick someone you will like. Hmm?” You were too stunned to respond. He was selling you to people, selling you to the highest bidder because you had killed a boy. You weren’t even supposed to win everyone had let you know how the tribute from 10 was slated to win, but he got taken out while you were hiding, and they had lost money. Because your life was a bet for them.

"I want to go home." You cried softly his hand cradling your face.

He cocked his head to the side, "Oh bluebell. You can't leave me yet." He stood up and began to walk to the door, "I might just have to keep you."

He left you there on your knees. No he didn't quite taste bad, in fact, you thought maybe you enjoyed the pool of him on your tongue. You cried even harder.

PART TWO here!

(if you care)

#coriolanus snow #fanfic #dark fanfic #dark coriolanus snow #president snow #president coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coryo x reader #coryo smut #coriolanus smut #coryo x you #dark fanfiction #smut #coriolanus x y/n #tom blyth #hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes

[mayullla]

A little present event: fem reader 🦋 + yandere Al Haitham 🌺 🥺

Title: Learning to love

Character(s): Al Haitham (Genshin Impact) Summary: He offered a proposal, a trial of sorts to see if you and him were really a match. Warnings/tags: Yandere themes, fem!reader, soulmates au, toxic relationship, manipulation

The continuation to: The Akasha's choosing [ - A little present~! Event - Closed - ]

You bit your lip when you saw Al Haitham waiting for you outside your small humble home again seated on one of the outdoor stools. "You are awake. I thought you would sleep a little more considering how tired you were last night from getting lost in the forest."

"Thank... thank you for finding me back then..." You looked down, it was because of him that you were able to find your way back home. But it was him that you were running away from that you winded up there. You know it was much, if anyone knew that someone was trying to avoid them this much to the point they would become lost... it would hurt the person. Yet you could not help yourself.

These feelings inside yourself felt like they were twisting your stomach yet you just can't push it down.

"Hmmm. Well, you don't have to worry about that though you should really consider other ways to avoid me."

You flinched at his words, feeling your heart rate speed up as you looked away guilty.

"I notice a long time ago that you were avoiding me, heading out so early in the morning when you usually stay in bed a little more in the past." Al Haitham looked at you from his book, waiting to see if you have something to say before continuing "I am guessing you are not really fond of this idea of soulmates. That you are acting like this? Personally, I think I would be much better if you were to say outright say that you hate me rather than run away constantly like this."

"I-I don't!"

"Then why are you avoiding me?"

"I really don't... I just don't think that uhh... you and me are meant for each other." You sighed finally admitting to why you have been acting like this for a long time. "That there might be a mistake in the Akasha... I just don't think we are compatible. I am sorry... I should have told you that sooner."

You glanced at Al Haithams face wondering how he would react before looking down again in guilt. You didn't know how to bring the subject up and had avoided it for the longest time. In all honestly you were intimidated by him.

"So you are saying that the Akasha had made a mistake?" Al Haitham asked closing his book. "Are you sure? I don't think most people if any would take too kindly to what you said especially the sages." You flinched again suddenly realizing what you were implying. That the akasha that was created by the past dendro archon, which was used by everyone in Sumeru had made a mistake. You wanted to take your words back, your face flustered as you tried to think of a way to recover from the situation.

Al Haitham watching you sighed, leaning back a little as he stared right at you. "I understand having doubts. Even I wanted to see for myself whether this was just some delusion someone in the academia made yet was accepted by those sages. Those who only rely on the akasha when it is also controlled by mere men are nothing but fools who can't think for themselves."

You found his words harsh but stayed silent.

"Hmmm, how about this. We shall do a little test between us to see if we are compatible or not." You looked at Al Haitham in surprise. What did he mean by that?

Al Haitham shook his head a little a small sigh escaped his lips, raising a hand a little as he started to explain. "While I too am not particularly fond of the idea myself, how about seeing for ourselves whether we are actually compatible or not and stop playing this cat-and-mouse chase that would only lead to nowhere."

"We can do a series of tests for an extended period of time. If we don't think we are compatible we can go our separate ways and forget all this happen. But if we do, we can continue on and see where this takes us."

Your eyes looked at him in surprise, but the more you thought about it the more it made... sense. You could see for yourself if the two of you were actually compatible with each other.

Agreeing to his proposal you could not help but feel a little determined but you could not help but wonder, "But what should we do first?" Much to your embarrassment you never really dated before too focused to take care of yourself and putting food on the table.

"Hmmm just do things that couples do. We could start by *not* avoiding each other and work away from there." You flinched a little at this personal attack, unable to look at him in the eyes again.

But you did see a small smile on his lips.

The two of you started slow, Al Haitham being patient with you as you tried to be less awkward with him on your side. You guys started first by going to the forest when you needed to go there to collect herbs, mushrooms, and berries. With him mainly there to protect you from monsters or eremites and treasure hoarders. Most of the time he was reading a book a little farther than you as you go about collecting.

He tried to offer help to you a bit, but still too awkward you declined telling him that he should instead rest while you do your work. Instead, you had to promise him that you would tell him if you need his help getting something that was too far of reach or dangerous.

A lot of your lunches were spent with him. You now purposefully pack up meals meant for two people rather than one. As you seat in the grass or under a tree or maybe at home when you worked on the small farm you had you would share your meals with Al Haitham. He would eat without saying much, but you did notice he would look a little annoyed when you brought soup and later made sure not to bring them too often. (Al Haitham also offered to pack or buy lunches every so often to be fair, and when you first time you tried his cooking you could not help but be surprised. It was good!)

You didn't go out in public much with him since both of you did not want the attention of others. And when you did most of the academia students would stare in shock unable to understand that the famed scribe had a partner while others cooed at how cute of a couple you guys were.

An old granny had called the two of you cute when you were out picking groceries with Al Haitham right beside you examining the vegetables as he too needed to stock some food in his own home. You were flustered at her words, wanting to deny that you were a couple but with a glance that Al Haitham gave you, no words came out of your mouth as you tried to smile.

You thanked the grandmother for her words.

Next were small touches and kisses, your face was never this hot till when Al Haitham told you to kiss him. You were embarrassed when he started grabbing your hand or placing a hand on your shoulder but you stifled all your complaints as you told yourself this was a trial and that it was fine. But you still could not help yourself but become nervous as you stare at his face after what he said.

Al Haitham was always patient with you, and if you didn't want to do this you were sure that he would be fine with it. But seeing that he was trying, you would feel guilty if you were to say no now.

You looked at Al Haitham's face an eyebrow raised waiting before he asked if you do not want to do it. You shook your head telling him it was fine. He always reminded you that both sides needed to put in the effort, and you knew he did. So you must... it was just a small kiss really.

He waited for you, made no movements to take the lead in the kiss, and left you to do it as you took small hesitant steps toward him shyly. With Al Haitham sitting down you were forced to lean towards him as you close your eyes unable to stare to look into his face in such a close distance. You didn't see his reaction back then as you quickly kissed and then turned your back from him unable to look at him.

What was a small peck on the lips soon spiraled from there. Moving too fast you thought to yourself, as if whatever wall that you thought was there between you and him was never there from the start. But you thought that it was fine, that this was just a test to see if you were compatible. As you forced yourself to get used to the thankfully rare kisses that Al Haitham would make. But more often than not you were forced to sit on his lap or he would lie on yours as you both either nap, read a book, or finish an essay for his case.

There were some days he would stay at your place, stating that he was too "lazy" to go back home when he was tired and told you to think of this like another test. He didn't like it when you offered to sleep on the sofa scooping you and tossing you on the bed with a hand on your waist to prevent you from leaving the bed stating that this would be the most comfortable way to sleep at a single person bed, pulling you closer to him. You felt it was too intimate but didn't voice your thoughts when you heard his small snores already fallen deep asleep.

Whatever you tried to make space between you and him on the bed whenever he decided that he would stay for the night would quickly be gone as you would find him always holding you tight in his arms the moment you wake up almost like a stuffed toy that a kid liked.

You kept repeating to yourself that this was a trial if you were compatible and if things just did not work out that everything would just work out as you two separate unknown to you that Al Haitham was still awake looking down at your hair, his arms tightening around you.

To him, this was never a trial, but you were just too precious after all as he let you think as you please. He knew that you were never comfortable with his affections. But he knew you would get used to it. He would not let you go even if you didn't. You would get used to his touch, the idea of him by your side, he would make you get used to him and let him mold you to love him just as much that anxiety would drive you insane when he is not around.

He would never let you go.

#yandere genshin #yandere al haitham #yandere writing #yandere scenario #yandere imagine #yandere x reader #yandere x you #tw yandere #al haitham x you #genshin x you #al haitam x reader #genshin imagine #yandere al haitham x reader #yandere genshin imagines #genshin writing #genshin scenario #genshin imapct #genshin x y/n #genshin x reader #genshin drabble

[bosbas]

Chapter 10: even my daddy just loves him

series masterlist previous part || next part

pairing: colin bridgerton x enemy!fem!reader WC: 3.5k words

Warnings: period-typical gender roles, small part of the dialogue in French, period- and class-typical views about the economy, idiots in love being idiots in love, heavy on the idiots, heavy on the in love

Summary: It took precisely two days in England for you to utterly despise Colin Bridgerton. It took him approximately twelve hours after that to hate you right back. But he doesn't care that you're the only person in the ton who doesn't like him. You're set to marry someone else anyway, right?

A/N: the first TTPD chapter title :,) also no interaction between reader and colin in this one IM SORRY it'll come soon i promise

June 23, 1816 – In the wake of yesterday's lackluster ball, one can't help but lament the dreary fashion choices on display, particularly the Featheringtons' blinding ensembles in shades of yellow. Sadly, the absence of Lady Y/N Montclair was acutely felt, as her impeccable gowns and Parisian flair were sorely missed. However, tonight at the Ashbury ball proves a wonderful opportunity for her to dazzle us with her sense of style.

“Well, don't you look gorgeous tonight,” gushed Eloise upon seeing you, kissing your cheeks in greeting. 

Your heart soared, delighted that your best friend had taken to your French customs so easily. 

“I didn’t particularly have a choice after Whistledown’s column today,” you joked, smoothing out your skirts. 

Of course, it was flattering to have the ton’s most trusted source speak about you in such a positive manner, but at times it did build a fair amount of undue pressure. Though you supposed you preferred feeling pressure to dress well over pressure to marry someone as you had with Lord Barlow.

“Either way, you look stunning. I’ve caught more than a few gentlemen staring at you already. You’d think they would have been able to pick up their jaws off the floor by now,” Eloise teased, linking arms with you, and leading you toward the far end of the ballroom. 

You politely covered your laugh with your hand, shaking your head as you assessed who was present at the ball today. More accurately, you were assessing whether Colin Bridgerton was present. 

It had been two weeks since you’d even seen him, and you were exerting more mental energy than you cared to admit pretending that you were unbothered. You supposed you couldn’t blame him. You were the one who had asked him not to speak with you anymore, and he’d listened to you better than you could have hoped. 

Secretly, you’d been hoping he would still have shown up and tried to talk to you. It was an absurd desire, you knew, but you couldn’t help it. Apart from balls like these where all you did was speak with Eloise, you had to admit that arguing with Colin was the most fun you’d had in England, and perhaps everywhere else, too. 

You hated him, you reminded yourself. And he hated you, too. Worse, actually. He had no respect for you. Or any woman in general. Which only brought you back to the shameful burning at the top of your ears every time you searched for him in a crowd.  

But you were only human. And there were times when you couldn’t help but give in to your self-sabotaging. “Is the rest of your family in attendance tonight?” you asked Eloise, trying to seem casual and uninterested. 

“Anthony and Kate are,” she responded brightly. “Benedict was able to weasel his way out of this one, I’m afraid. But it’s all for the better. He was being quite irritating at dinner last night.”

You turned to her, eyebrows raised. “I assumed you’d stay home if Benedict stayed home, too. I thought you hated these things.”

“Oh, not at all! Now that you aren’t being swarmed by suitors at every moment and I have you somewhat to myself, the balls are far more enjoyable.”

Shaking your head at her fondly, you laughed in disbelief. She was truly the only reason you hadn’t gone completely mad these past two weeks. 

Lady Whistledown, whoever she was, had proven to be quite perceptive. As she had reported, you effectively had laid your parents’ dreams of marrying you off to an Englishman to rest. You’d only told Pen and Eloise about your disillusionment, but you supposed it was rather obvious to everyone else given that you barely danced with anyone anymore. 

You looked through the crowd once again searching for the face you knew would not be there, and you felt your gut twist, but you couldn’t quite tell if it was in relief or disappointment. 

“And what about Colin?” you asked, internally cringing at not being able to help yourself. “Has he left the country again?”

Eloise looked at you carefully, noting your barely hidden grimace and shifting eyes. She would’ve laughed at how obviously painful the question was for you if she didn’t completely understand what was happening. Eloise still had no idea why you hated Colin in the first place, but she could tell that it was tearing you up inside anyway.

“No, he’s still at home, believe it or not. He just doesn’t particularly enjoy these kinds of events anymore, I suppose. It must be the ambitious mamas wanting to auction him off to their daughters,” Eloise finally responded, trying to keep her tone light. 

Although that wasn’t the whole truth, Eloise couldn’t just come out and tell you that her brother was completely in love with you and that you had broken his heart enough that he had no desire to come to ton events anymore. It would have been unusually cruel for her to do so.

Besides, she could tell you had been feeling the same way. The only difference was that your parents were not as forgiving as Violet Bridgerton, and you had to come to most balls whether you wanted to or not.

“Oh, that’s a shame, I guess,” you said, not particularly knowing how to respond. In a pathetic attempt to make it seem like you truly were unbothered, you added, “It’s rather nice when he isn’t here, though, isn’t it?”

Eloise stared at you suspiciously. Though she always thought it easier to stay away from your conflict with Colin, the curiosity was killing her. And she could only go so long before she went insane trying to figure it out.

“Why do the two of you hate each other so much, anyway?” she asked, hoping her disinterested tone would make you more likely to open up.  

No one seemed to know why you hated Colin. You weren’t particularly forthcoming with the information, but Eloise could sense that it wasn’t something trivial. Having grown to know you fairly well over your time in England, Eloise was still perplexed by this specific detail. 

Next to Eloise, you��were tactfully avoiding eye contact and staring intently at the floor in front of you. You couldn’t tell her. You simply couldn’t. It wasn’t that you were worried about your reputation. You knew Eloise well enough to know that she wouldn’t spread rumors that would sully your image. 

But if you told her the truth, she’d be heartbroken. If someone were to tell you that they hated one of your brothers for the same reason you hated Colin, you would crumble. You were incredibly close with them, and knowing that they thought of women that way would crush you. And you couldn’t bring yourself to do the same to Eloise. 

Luckily, some man you’d never spoken to before asked you for a dance right at that moment. He had barely finished speaking before you placed your hand on his elbow and rushed him to the ballroom. Dancing with someone was far easier than having to figure out what you were going to say to Eloise. 

Eloise stared silently as you were whisked away to dance. She let out a small laugh in disbelief, amazed that her question had been what finally propelled you to start dancing at balls again. 

But her work tonight was not done. Shaking her head, Eloise looked around the ballroom, looking for your brother. Unsurprisingly, he was by the refreshments. 

“Hello, Louis,” greeted the Bridgerton. “I believe you might have some information that would be of interest to me.”

“I do?” asked Louis, confused. 

Eloise nodded over to where you were dancing and smiling politely and turned back to your brother with an expectant look. 

“Oh,” said Louis, catching onto what your friend was saying. “I don’t, unfortunately.”

“Are you serious?” she responded, exasperated. “She would rather dance with that…man than tell me why she hates Colin!”

Louis shot her a sympathetic look. “She won’t tell me either. But she’s never been this upset over someone, so I wager it must have been something serious.”

“Colin doesn’t even know! And he only hates her because she hated him first! It’s terribly unreasonable.” 

Having overheard the conversation about you and Colin from a few paces away, Carlos quickly joined Eloise and Louis with a knowing smile. He considered himself to be somewhat of an expert when it came to matters of the heart, having found a true love match after falling completely head over heels for your sister.

“Yes, but Colin is completely in love with Y/N,” he said. “So, I suppose he doesn’t hate her that much.”

“We know,” responded Eloise dejectedly. “That’s why I need to know why she hates him.”

“Excuse me, we? We know?” scoffed Louis. “I most certainly did not know this. What do you mean Colin loves Y/N? I should think that I would know if someone was in love with my little sister.”

Eloise looked at him, unimpressed. “I fear you only have yourself to blame, then. Colin came to every single event on the social calendar until your sister told him to stop talking to her, and he hasn’t come to another one since. Why exactly did you think that was?”

“I don’t know! I suppose I thought… I don’t know what I thought! But it doesn’t matter. He does not love her, Eloise. I know because Y/N is the exact same with Colin as he is with her.”

This time Carlos looked at Louis in disbelief. “Yes, Louis. Precisely,” he spoke slowly, nodding to make sure your brother understood.

Louis furrowed his eyebrows, eyes widening as he came to grips with the realization. “What do you mean? Does this mean that…”

“Yes,” confirmed Carlos. “Y/N loves him too.”

“What? How did I miss this?”

---

Colin was standing in Anthony’s study, arms crossed tightly over his chest as he glared at his eldest brother. 

“I won’t go,” he said defiantly.

“You will, and you will be the perfect gentleman while you’re there.”

“Why do I even need to be there? It’s not like I know what I’m doing when I hunt, anyway,” Colin huffed, uncrossing his arms and fiddling with a quill on Anthony’s desk.

Watching his brother, Anthony sighed, exasperated. “Because it would be impossibly rude not to go. And the Bridgertons, especially Colin Bridgerton, if I recall correctly, are never impossibly rude.”

Colin groaned. “It’s one hunt without me! Please-”

“Y/N won’t be there if that’s what you’re worried about. She and Eloise went to the modiste and won’t be back until later.”

“But what if-”

“She won’t be there,” assured Anthony firmly. He had an inkling about why the Montclairs had suddenly invited the Bridgerton brothers on a hunting outing, and he was not about to let Colin ruin what were most likely some very well-laid-out plans.

Colin blinked and licked his lips, still considering whether being rude to your family was worth the risk of running into you. Resigned, he sighed and turned away from his brother.

“Very well. But this is the only time I’m doing it. I’m not particularly eager to have a run-in with the woman who wishes I didn’t even exist.”

Not seeing you for two weeks had proven to be an extraordinarily difficult challenge. But it was better than having to look at your face and know that he would never be in your good graces. You wanted nothing to do with him, and it was more than he could take. 

Even though Colin had relatively successfully convinced himself that the only reason he was upset at your rejection was because he wanted to maintain his status as the best-liked member of the ton, he’d still barely been able to get out of bed since he’d last seen you. His heart ached too much when he thought of seeing you at any events. Yet it also ached when he thought of not seeing you. So he was confined to his chambers night after night, pacing as he thought of you laughing with someone else while he sat in agony at home.

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic. She can’t hate you that much,” said Anthony, rolling his eyes as he patted his brother on the back, leading him out of his study.

“You’d be surprised,” muttered Colin lowly.

---

“Frères, il nous faut causer,” announced Louis upon entering the mudroom (Brothers, we need to talk).

Seeing Edward preparing for the afternoon’s upcoming hunt alongside Philippe and Jacques, Louis cleared his throat and tried again. 

“Brothers, we must have a chat. And Edward too, I suppose.”

Philippe and Jacques looked up at their younger brother in surprise.

“A chat about what, pray tell,” asked Jacques, fiddling with his hunting boots as he placed them on his feet.

“It has come to my attention that our dearest sister Y/N might be in love with Colin Bridgerton. I thought it best to discuss the matter between us before we go out and hunt with him.”

Philippe shot his youngest brother an amused look. “Well, yes, Louis. That’s why we’re having this hunting trip.”

Louis’ face contorted into an expression that was a funny mixture of disbelief and annoyance. He most certainly did not like to be the only one out of his siblings who didn’t know something. “How does everyone know this except for me? Am I truly that clueless?”

Laughing, Jacques clapped his younger brother on the back. “I suppose it’s a certain sensibility that comes once you’re married, Louis. Don’t feel too badly about it.”

“A sensibility that comes from your wife telling you that the man is obviously in love with Y/N, is what you mean, Jacques,” Philippe quipped, looking even more amused. 

“I would’ve been able to tell!” argued Jacques. “If Chiara hadn’t told me within five minutes, I could’ve figured it out. Probably. In a few days. Who cares! We still have an advantage over Louis because we’re married, and our wives are more attuned to those things than we are.”

“Carlos was the one who told me, actually,” commented Edward. “Charlotte would have been the one to do it, but she thought it was so obvious that it wasn’t worth mentioning. I doubt I would have been able to tell on my own, anyway.” 

Louis laughed, not feeling so bad about how oblivious he was anymore. “I suppose you’re right. But I still want to be included in the scheming! How is our little hunting trip going to help Colin and Y/N come to their senses?”

Philippe sighed deeply, and Louis got the impression that he had aged about ten years in the making of this plan. “Y/N has been spectacularly miserable these past couple of weeks. That is certainly no secret. And as much as it is not in my nature to meddle in her affairs, I don’t take any joy in seeing her like this.”

Jacques nodded in agreement. “Especially after what Nigel Berbrooke said to her, we think it would be nice for her to get a love match. Something that has been made much easier by the fact that she is already in love, even if she doesn’t know it.”

Although it had been two weeks since you’d told the rest of your siblings what Mr. Berbooke had said, Louis still felt a surge of anger rise in him when he remembered his words. “He’s worse than Barlow, that one.”

“I was at Eton with Berbrooke, and I assure you it was torture,” agreed Edward, crinkling his nose as he recalled his younger years alongside Nigel. 

Sending his brother-in-law a sympathetic look, Louis continued, “That still doesn’t solve the main problem. Even if Y/N does love Colin, she still absolutely hates him. Despises him, actually.”

“Actually, the main problem is that Father wants his daughters to marry a title and a fortune. No offense, Edward.”

But Edward, ever agreeable, waved Philippe’s apology away. “Not at all. It was an advantageous match for me, too. I’m just lucky we grew to love each other. But I do recall your father being quite insistent that she marry nobility.”

“Precisely,” agreed Jacques. “I’ll wager that Y/N will realize she loves Colin quicker than Father will come around to the idea of her marrying for love.”

Louis hummed thoughtfully. “But what if it goes wrong? What if Father hates Colin, and this hunting trip only makes it more difficult for him and Y/N?”

“Not a chance.”

“Absolutely not.”

“That won’t happen.”

Louis just stared at the three men in front of him, looking entirely unconvinced. “How can all three of you be so sure?”

“Because it’s Colin Bridgerton!” said Edward. “Everybody likes Colin. He’s the ton favorite.”

“Y/N doesn’t like him,” argued Louis, still unsure about how effective the plan would be. 

“But she loves him, so that’s different,” said Philippe, smiling brightly. “Don’t worry, Louis. Father will surely like him and it’ll be a step in the right direction. Now, are you ready? I believe the Bridgertons should be arriving shortly.”

---

All in all, Colin was having a lovely time this afternoon. As Anthony had assured, you were at the modiste when he arrived at your home, and he was barely there long enough to spend time looking for any trace of you. It was just as well because he feared what would have happened if he did find anything that reminded you of him.

Hunting, and specifically shooting, was not Colin’s greatest strength. As a result, he’d been mostly hanging toward the back of the group, chatting pleasantly with Edward, who didn’t seem to be very enthusiastic about hunting either.

That is until your father started talking about his travels. Truly, Colin’s biggest weakness was the opportunity to talk about his time abroad. That and you, he thought longingly. 

Colin jogged to catch up to your father, Anthony, and Jacques so he could join the conversation.

“You and Chiara are settled in Tuscany, then?” asked your father.

Jacques laughed. “More than settled, I think. Hello, Colin! Lovely afternoon out, isn’t it?” 

“Quite,” Colin agreed. “You would think it would make me a better shot, but I think this just proves I’m completely hopeless.”

Lord Montclair laughed, and Jacques felt an internal sense of pride as he saw their plan progressing. 

“My sons tell me you’ve traveled a lot,” said your father, turning his gaze to the younger Bridgerton. “Have your travels taken you to the Persian Gulf, perchance? I am contemplating investing in pearl diving there.”

“Indeed, I have,” confirmed Colin. “However, if you seek pearls, might I suggest Ceylon instead? I visited last year and witnessed firsthand the expanding pearl industry.”

“Really?” said Lord Montclair, immediately immersed in the conversation. “But wouldn’t the Persian Gulf offer the most promising returns?”

“It certainly would right now, but trust me, Ceylon holds vast untapped potential.” Colin was in his element. This was practically all he did, and he was glad it was proving useful, and interesting, for once. “The industry there is on the precipice of greatness. In five years' time, mark my words, it shall surpass all others. I've even noted down a particular lagoon in my journals that I think will be particularly successful, based on what the locals have said.”

Impressed, Lord Montclair arched an eyebrow in interest. “You have my attention, Colin. Shall we meet next week to explore this further? A partnership between us could prove quite lucrative.”

Colin’s eyes widened, momentarily taken aback by your father’s offer. “Absolutely, my Lord. It would be my pleasure.”

“Please, call me Philippe,” he replied, clapping Colin on the back. 

Turning to Jacques, your father spoke softly, “Je suppose qu'un titre n'est pas tout” (I suppose a title isn’t everything). 

—

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[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Everyone Else Is No.2 {One-Shot}***

Lewis Hamilton x Attorney Friend Reader

Warning: Cursing, NSFW, Mature 18+ Content, Angst, PLENTY OF WORDS, DIALOGUE HEAVY

Words: 15.2k

Summary: Again, nah.

Note: Inspired by that old August Alsina song "Kissing on My Tattoos". So sorry for how long it is and for the long sentences toward the end, it couldn't be any other way. Forgive the weird spacing throughout, Tumblr has a 1,000 block limit per post, and guess who reached it before correcting the spacing.

Note II: Really interested in hearing what you guys think about this one. Let me know.

As always, thank you guys for reading! I appreciate it. I hope you enjoy this.

If you did enjoy this, please, LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!!!

***NOT Edited/Proofread***

-Y/N-

"You're beautiful you know that right?"

You smiled and took a sip of your drink.

"Thanks."

The man sitting across from you, Darius, nodded and before he looked down to his plate you caught his eyes drop to your cleavage. Of course, you thought. This was your 2nd date with him. The first went smoothly though you'd went with little to no expectations for it to be so. Tonight, he said the right things, did the right things, and was the perfect gentleman.

He'd even chosen a great restaurant. The ambiance was perfect for a second date. So far you had only counted 2 things that were less than satisfactory, everything was on point. He was so on point that you wondered if he was acting and not being his genuine self.

You hated the dating scene. Everyone held their cards too close to their chest. No one was ever real about anything. Everyone liked to waste people's time all in the name of fun and sex. These days you only treated dating as a pastime and a way to relieve stress after long hours of working on briefs and reviewing case files.

"A woman with your track record in law. Wheeew. Was it hard?"

You shrugged then wiped the corner of your mouth, "It definitely wasn't easy. I still remember the sleepless nights, and times when I only had 1 meal a day. My parents still remember not seeing me for 3 months because of the bar and my first major case that came nearly right behind the other. They won't let me forget it."

"It looks like it paid off. You're on the partner track. Shit, you'd be the first woman under 35 to make that happen at Halsey Boyd and Crenshaw," Darius said.

You bristled, but politely smiled and took another sip of your wine.

"I'm sorry I don’t mean to make this weird I'm just in awe of you."

You studied him for a few moments but found no lie. You could always tell a lie. No matter what the case, no matter who it was. It was your secret weapon and it served you well as a lawyer.

"Thank you, but enough about me. What about you? Tell me about Darius Forrester."

He smiled, licked his lips then looked you directly in the eye.

"I'm pretty much a what you see you get kind of guy. I've been at Berry & Clark for the last 6 years as a criminal attorney. The work is challenging but I do alright for myself.

You nodded. He did. From what you heard his win ratio was nearly 92% and he took upstanding cases. He was a good attorney. Normally you wouldn’t shit where you ate because mess was not your style. You did not want to walk into a courtroom or boardroom and see the opposing counsel was an ex. That one thing gave you nightmares.

So dating lawyers was out of the question. You dipped in every other career field, playing it safe. The further they were from a law career the better. However, after a conversation with your other lawyer girlfriends about limiting oneself in the already limited dating pool, something clicked, and you decided to try it once but only if they weren't in your firm. Darius was your first attempt.

As he continued to tell you facts about himself you listened, but he didn't have your full attention. There was another person who held your attention, a person who though was usually out of sight was never really out of mind.

You heard your phone sound from your clutch resting on the table and both your eyes shot to it. Darius spoke before you moved.

"Go ahead please."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm an attorney as well, Y/N I know you come attached to it."

You smiled, held up your finger to him silently promising it would be quick, then took your phone in hand. You expected it to be Kemi, your paralegal, with files you were expecting, but it wasn't her name on your screen.

MSG Lewis: What're you doing tonight? Going over an endless to-do list of contracts and briefs?

You smirked.

MSG: Not even close.

MSG Lewis: Wow did someone finally decide to live a little and cut loose?

MSG: This sounds an awful lot like the pot calling the kettle black.

MSG Lewis: Plead the 5th.

MSG: The Lewis Hamilton out maneuvered. Say it ain't so.

MSG: I'm close to your place. Just got back in town. Can you be ready in 10?

Your eyes flitted to Darius across from you who was taking the time to check his messages as well. You looked over him slowly, noting again how great he looked in his suit and how you liked the effort he had put in the last 2 dates down to the flowers he brought you and the activities you'd done. Things could progress if you chose to allow them to.

MSG Lewis: Is that a no?

MSG: I'm not home.

MSG Lewis: Okay. Where you at, the office? I can come pick you up.

MSG: I'm not at the office. I'm actually on a date.

You waited a few seconds, but he didn’t reply. Why didn't he reply?

"Everything ok?"

Caught off guard, you looked back up to Darius whose eyes were already on you. His brows were knitted with concern.

"Uh--yeah. I uh--I think so."

"A case?"

You thought about it and technically he was right. You were Lewis' entertainment lawyer. You were his personal attorney who reviewed the contracts after the company attorney said they had. You gave it to him between the eyes, never sugarcoating, and told him what was made with his best interest and what was made to capitalize off of him. However, when your services weren’t needed you were friends. Had been for practically a decade now.

Sometimes you couldn’t believe you’d known each other that long. You’d known him since he was just another F1 driver rather than the greatest. He knew you when you were going through school always on an empty tank all in the hopes of rising above the tax bracket you were born into. A decade later and he was dominating F1 and you’d more than risen yourself several levels past the tax bracket you’d been born into.

You were on the partner track at one of the largest firms in Europe. You brought in more revenue than most of the attorneys at the firm thanks to your high-class clientele. You'd both worked your asses off to get to this level and enjoyed the spoils of your labor often. You clubbed together, went to dinner, and sometimes did the vacation vibe together. You enjoyed one another’s company.  

"A client."

"Oh. Everything cool or---," Darius said.

Another message came in just then. "Everything is cool."

Darius smiled. "Good. I'll be right back, men’s room."

"Yeah."

Darius stood then walked off leaving you with the perfect opportunity to check your phone.

MSG Lewis: Is that right?

MSG: Yeah. 2nd date. Well technically 3rd if you can have 2 dates in one day.

MSG Lewis: Cool. Is it going well?

MSG: Yeah. He's made it this far.

MSG Lewis: Cool.

MSG: When he drops me home Ill text you. Come get me then.

Several moments passed before he replied. Again, you wondered why.

MSG Lewis: Cool.

The remainder of dinner you were distracted. Darius played all his cards right, even scoring himself the green light on a little hand-holding action. You had to admit he was smooth. When he pulled up to your condo building he walked you to your door then went in for a kiss. You hadn’t expected it, but rather than pull away, you allowed it to play out. It wasn’t a bad kiss. He hadn’t been too overzealous, only slipped you a little tongue, and had kept his hands respectful. All in all, for a first kiss it was a solid 8.

With a promise to call to set date number 4 sometime next week, you went inside and allowed yourself to come down. The dating scene was not something you enjoyed often. You always felt like you were performing, like men wanted a certain kind of woman, the perfect woman who they could prance around on their arm to make other men envious and that took its toll.

You never felt you had to perform with Lewis. Never felt like he wanted the perfect you. He made fun of you whenever you were perfectly put together for work meetings and said many times he liked you out of the makeup and heels. After another sigh, you took your phone out and texted him.

~~~~~~

-Lewis-

The ceiling looked like every other ceiling he’d ever seen but that didn’t stop him from focusing most of his attention on it like it was the most interesting piece of construction ever. His eyes should have been focused elsewhere but they weren’t. A loud 'slurp' echoed in the mostly quiet room reminding him again that he wasn’t alone.

"Mm. Why are you so distracted tonight, bae?"

Julissa's voice was as smooth as honey and as seductive as ever. He lowered his eyes to where she was kneeling between his legs and took her in. Her lips and chin were wet as she gave him her bedroom eyes. This was not the first time between them. Usually, it would work but not tonight. Tonight he was struggling to even keep his head in the room.

He watched her tip her tongue out and lick from the base of his dick to the glistening tip. Once there she swirled her tongue around him then sucked his head into her mouth. He’d have to be dead for it not to feel nice but that’s all it was--nice.

He sighed then brought his attention back to the ceiling. "Work."

"Aw babe, when you’re with me work should be the last thing on your mind," Julissa said before lowering her mouth down his shaft. When he felt her tonsils he groaned. His body wanted to like this wanted to give her the reaction she was working so hard for, but something was holding him back. Julissa's mouth bobbed up and down his cock sucking and slurping to her heart’s content trying to get him off, but he knew she had her work cut out for her.

He thought back to your text from 2 hours ago. You were on a date. Well shit, he hadn’t seen that coming. That was the last thing he had expected you to be doing tonight. It wasn’t because you weren’t desirable, or he thought no man would want you. For fuck's sake, you were beyond desirable, you were gorgeous and so damn intelligent. He couldn’t figure out which of those made you more beautiful, your looks or your brains. You also worked hard to be where you were, and you deserved all the praise and attention you got wherever you went.

However, sometimes he wished you got a little less male attention--x that, a lot less male attention. He sighed again. This had been going on for 10 years now. Your friendship had only strengthened but along with a strengthening friendship came a lot of other stuff. Stuff like him taking notice of the fullness of your hips or being tempted to peek when you’d been changing in the backseat of his car, or being painfully aware of how your breasts felt against his chest when you hugged.

That coupled with things he had picked up from you, made the unspoken and ignored things that much more—confusing. There were times when the way you stared at him when you thought he wasn’t looking spoke volumes or the way your hand always lingered on him for a few seconds longer than necessary but not long enough for it to be inappropriate, or the time you'd fallen asleep together on the couch and he'd woken to you wrapped around him using him as your personal body pillow and mumbling his name in your sleep.

Yeah, there was a lot of extra stuff, stuff neither of you ever addressed. The only ones who assessed it were his friends. Miles told him on several occasions that he should be careful before he or you fucked around, and someone ended up hurt. That stuck with him, but not in the way Miles had probably meant it. Rather than taking it the way Miles meant, he used it as a means to keep himself in check, a form of prevention from him crossing the line. He knew if he did, neither of you would be able to go back. It would be impossible and was one fuck up worth a decades-long friendship?

So friends were where you stayed until he added another facet--professional. Years passed, dates passed, flings, non-labeled encounters on both your parts passed and through it all your friendship remained, and nothing changed. Except today there was even more extra stuff.

The feel of Julissa’s lips wrapped around his balls sent his hips jerking upward as a curse left his lips. Julissa moaned and giggled.

“Daddy likes that?”

He knew how he would like it more. As quickly as he revved to that thought he steered away from it. That was when his phone sounded.

MSG Y/N: I’m home. Whatdaya you wanna do? Should I change?

His eye caught the time. 1am. Almost 3 hours from your last text and you were only now getting home. Clenching his jaw he took a deep breath. He had no right to be mad or annoyed right now. He knew where this was coming from. You’d been on a date, and you said it was going well. A date going well had a chance of making it upstairs. He closed his eyes squeezing them tightly. He hoped to God that you hadn’t just gotten it in.

MSG Y/N: Hello?

MSG: You don’t have to change. How about some treats and a view?

MSG Y/N: Okay. Still 10?

MSG: Make it 15.

Pulling himself up he reached down to stop Julissa. She looked confused.

“I gotta go J.”

Now she looked even more confused. He didn’t owe her an explanation, that’s not how this worked between them.

“With your dick out?”

He scoffed then fixed himself as he stood.

“Lewis this’s never happened before. Are--,” she began before he cut her off.

“All good, just—not in the mood I guess.”

She looked offended now. “I’m sorry J. We’ll talk.”

He walked to the door then left her apartment without a glance back. He didn’t feel any way about it because both of them knew what their relationship was and wasn’t. She’d agreed. Once he was in his car, he zipped through the London streets maneuvering the quickest route to your place. Thanks to the time it was an easy drive with minimal traffic. 15 minutes on the dot he swerved around to the front of your luxury condo building then sent you a text letting you know he was there.

A few minutes later, he peeped you from the corner of his eye. You walked off the elevator in a short and tight black dress, impossibly high strappy black heels, and a flowy robe-like jacket that danced behind you as you walked.

“Fuck.”

You were beautiful. Just then the thought that you’d gone on a date dressed like this rubbed him wrong. Some other man had seen this view, a view you gave willingly. Clenching his jaw, he looked through his windshield as he tried to push all those thoughts—all that other stuff to the side as he’d done countless times before. He looked back just in time to see you open the door of his car then climb in. His eyes dropped to your legs but seconds later he corrected that.

“Hi!”

Your smile was bright as if you really were as happy to see him as your voice indicated.

“Hey.”

You reached over and pressed your cheek to his for a bougie kiss. The only thing he could think was that you smelled like a treat all by yourself.

“How are you?”

“Good. You?”

“Good. Wow, what’s it been? 2 months?”

He shrugged as he shifted gears and took off. “Something like that.”

“Mercedes sure knows how to keep you busy,” you teased.

He tried to focus on the road but from his peripheral, he could see you crossing your legs displaying even more skin.

“What were you doing? You smell like fruits.”

He chastised himself because he hadn’t done a bit of cleaning up before he came. His only thought was you. Julissa’s fruity lip gloss still stained his dick that he couldn’t manage to get hard for her.

“Nowhere special. Just kickin’ it.”

You didn’t press further which said you knew just what he was doing. He clenched his jaw again, this time annoyed with himself. As he drove to the dessert place you told him about what was going on in your life while he shared some bits of his with you. Like always conversation flowed like a calm river. It was something he loved. It didn’t take long for him to pull up to the drive-thru of the vegan dessert shop. When it was his turn at the window he tipped his hat lower and left the ordering to you.

You ordered damn near everything on the menu. You didn’t care if it was cake, cupcake, ice cream, brownie, or whipped cream. You ordered at least 2 of everything. It took the staff a good 5 minutes to prepare it all and when he loaded them in the backseat it was completely filled. When he looked at you with an “are you serious right now” look, all you did was giggle. Fuck, he thought. There went all that extra stuff again.

“There is no way we can finish all this,” he said looking at the bags they’d moved to the front since parking at their destination.

“Speak for yourself. I always have room for sugar, sugar.”

He snorted then shook his head. “Mad whack.”

Your jaw dropped as you gaped at him, and you looked too fucking adorable. You sifted through the bags until you found the dessert you wanted—the vanilla bean cheesecake. Your eyes lit up as you gawked at the large slice that was topped with white chocolate shavings. “It's so pretty,” you gushed.

He watched you snap picture after picture of the treat before you took your first forkful. When you did, your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you let out a completely indulgent, hearty, and dick-hardening moan. The fuck, he thought as his dick spasmed to life. Quickly he moved one of the bags to his lap and looked out the window.

“This is so good,” you obliviously said still munching on cake.

He pulled out the vegan chocolate truffle cake and took a bite. It too was good.

“That looks good. Is it?”

“Try it,” he said holding out a forkful to your mouth.

You paused for a split second then cut off a piece of your cheesecake before you held your fork to his mouth.

“You try too.”

The image that came to mind was that of a new husband and wife feeding each other wedding cake and with it, his throat went dry. He knew if he tried to speak he’d sound like a pre-pubescent boy, so he wrapped his lips around your fork taking the piece of cake then fed you his. Your eyes lingered on one another for a few moments nut when you moaned again his dick spasmed again. with that he turned his head so fast that he was surprised he hadn’t snapped his own neck in the process.

“So good,” you repeated.

The two of you sat there commenting on the desserts you went through in record time. He didn’t indulge in sweets often but when he did he found it was usually with your sugar-addicted ass. You said there were 4 things in life you would never give up, sugar, your favorite perfume, your favorite underwear set, and sex. He believed you on all points. When there were only a few pieces of cake left the silence in the car stretched.

“So—a date huh.”

“A date.”

“I thought you gave up dating.”

You took a deep breath then slowly released it before turning your body at an angle facing him. The hem of your dress hiked a little higher and he forced himself to look away.

“I did. Then I got bored and he asked.”

“What does he do?”

You didn’t answer automatically, instead, you took another forkful or 2 of cake, then you spoke.

“He’s an attorney.”

“I thought you didn’t date attorneys.”

“I don’t but me and the girls were talking, and it clicked that by x-ing out a whole career field greatly decreased me finding someone who could stick around.”

He paused. Stick around? This was new.

“Stick around? Are you—are you looking for something—serious?”

You took a beat then shrugged. “I don’t know. I thought the other day, I have everything I have ever wanted. I am on this partner track, I make very high 6 figures, I have a great condo, my mental health is amazing, I have no debt, no baby daddies or drama, I—I’m kinda a catch but I go to sleep alone 98% of my nights. I come home to an empty place, I have no meaningful text exchanges, there is—nothing fulfilling in my life. I began to wonder if it was time to change all of that last bit.”

Silence stretched again as he thought over your words while studying you. This was the first time he’d heard you speak like this. Usually, you changed the subject or downplayed having any other thoughts than fun, sex, and work. Now hearing the vulnerability in your voice he knew you’d come to a point where all of this, intention-free dating, pastime sex, stress-busting flirting and all the meaningless interactions were unfulfilling and empty. You wanted more, you wanted love, a life, a husband, kids, vacation homes, and retirement funds, you wanted the quintessential definition of it all. He also noted you now found everything he was currently partaking in meaningless and unfulfilling.

Dropping his head, he stabbed the cake still in his hands. The more puncture holes it picked up the less and less he wanted it.

“Fuck, maybe I’m just bored and need a really, really, good fuck.”

He snorted but it was humorless.

“Don’t downplay what you feel, Y/N. Don’t—make what you feel insignificant, so you feel less vulnerable. It’s okay to be vulnerable. It’s you and me here.”

“It’s just—you—I know those are things you don’t necessarily want and you’re happy with the--.”

“Who said I don’t want those things?”

His tone was sharp and defensive though he hadn’t meant for it to be.

“Uh—you did.”

“No. I said it’s not something I can afford right now with my schedule and my contract extension. I didn’t say I never wanted it.”

You looked away from him to out the window. “Yeah, but your actions say a lot different,” you mumble.

“What does that mean?”

“Nothing.”

“Y/N, look at me. What does that mean?”

You sat quietly for a few moments then just when he was about to ask again you blurted.

“There is a difference between I don’t want it now and I don’t want it ever. Someone who wants it someday would leave themselves open to it rather than boxing every interaction they have into--other things.”

“What if I don’t want to open myself to it?”

“That’s clear Lew.”

“No. You don’t get it. What if I don’t want to open myself to it because I don’t want to find the perfect thing—the perfect woman and then be fucked because it’s too soon and too hard to keep her in my world to wait until I can make those commitments because my world is fucked—I’m fucked because I want the world and will actually keep going until I get it anyone else be damned.”

He could feel your eyes on him, and it was his turn to feel vulnerable and exposed.

“You think because you put everyone in one box it stops what’s meant to be from—being?”

He glanced at you with a pained expression, he knew it. He was actually feeling pain.

“Also—you’re not fucked because you want the world. I want the fucking world. Am I fucked?”

“To be determined.”

You both busted out laughing then. You laughed for a good minute then smiled as it tapered off.

“Aren’t you the tiniest bit lonely in the other side of your life—away from F1?”

He didn’t need to think about that. He knew the answer, but he didn’t want to tell you. The facts were that he was lonely more times than not. That was when he called someone to come distract him or make him feel good. He’d become an expert in the art of distraction. In his life, he only had time and the capacity for low stress and no mess. He had enough of both already.

He felt your hand creep into his and squeeze gently. Suddenly, there was all this other stuff again. The feel of your smaller hand in his larger one was something he really liked. Usually, when either of you took the other’s hand it was in passing or for a second, but the moment lingered and stretched, and still you kept your hand in his swirling your fingers against his palm and other fingers. He liked this too much.

“You can tell me. I won’t judge you. In fact—I’m lonely.”

His eyes slipped to you. Your head was down staring at your hands. It had now moved to trace the tattoos on his hand with the point of your nail as if his flesh were an adult coloring book. He watched you trace the rose on his pinky, then the planets on his ring finger. When you got to the lined arrow down his middle, he was having trouble swallowing again. Slowly, you traced the spaceship then went up across the sword until you reached his wrist.

He didn’t know if there was rhyme or reason to your movements or if you were just absently doing it. Goosebumps peppered his skin when you went up his forearm. He looked at you just before your eyes met his.

“You are?”

You nodded. “I am,” you whispered.

The air was on but inside the car easily felt like a sweltering 99 degrees. He didn’t know if it was from your touch or if it was the shift in the air between you. Did you notice it too?

“I think it’s okay to be lonely especially looking at how we live. We’re always working, always pushing ourselves to and through glass ceilings and when we do there is no one really there to share it with, not really, not in the way that fulfills,” you said.

Your face was closer to his now. Had he moved closer or was it you? Your eyes met again, and the temperature kicked up again. Fuck, he thought as his dick recklessly spasmed, begging for attention.

“I’m never lonely with you,” he said before his brain could stop his mouth.

A small smile lit your face, “Me too. Never with you.”

The smile slipped. “Well—not always.”

He turned to you more now, curiosity filling him. “What do you mean?”

You stayed quiet for a few moments but kept tracing his skin with your nail.

“There are times I can’t—guess what you’re thinking. Times I can’t—figure you out.”

“Then ask me.”

“Would you really tell me?”

He leaned closer. “I’d tell you anything.”

You searched his eyes, but you didn’t move back.

“Anything?”

He nodded slowly. His head felt hazy like you had him under some sort of spell with nothing more than your presence and the tip of your finger and all he truly wanted was to touch you in return. So he did. Reaching across to your exposed knee, he circled his finger around the smooth skin there. You sucked in a breath the moment his finger touched you and that one action nearly had him pulling you across the partition right onto his lap. Nearly.

So there on a hill that overlooked London, in his car, sitting near enough to a lone road light, you trailed your finger across his forearm while he did the same to your knee. The low light that illuminated the car bathed your skin in amber making him feel like you were on a whole different plane of existence rather than this real proven and tangible one. Your eyes held him in place to the point where he felt like he couldn’t move though he wanted to.

Without even realizing it you were mere inches from him. In fact, you were so close he could make out the hidden colors in your eyes, so close he could smell the fragrance on your skin that went deeper than perfume. This was your essence and by God he was intoxicated. Unable to stop himself, he inched his hand higher gripping your inner thigh. A soft moan fell from your lips and that was all it took for him to press his forehead to yours like the sound was tethered to his very core.

“Y/N,” he groaned.

The sheer might it was taking to keep himself restrained was becoming too much. At this point, it wouldn’t take much for him to abandon those restraints and give in.

“Lewis,” you whispered.

Your voice was raspy and dripping with what he dared label as desire. Fuck, he thought as he squeezed your thigh. He was so close, mere inches and it wouldn’t take much to close the gap between his fingers and your core but still, he fought himself. He was so wrapped up in his own battle for control within himself that he didn’t even realize when your hand rested on his upper thigh. You were dangerously close to kicking the lid off the box of other stuff that he’d worked years to keep shut. Half of him silently begged for you to keep going and kick it off so everything would be out in the open and it would be do or die but the other half of him hesitated still. The unknown was a powerful and sobering drug.

Your hand inched higher, then closer to what was the rock-hard physical evidence that deep down, now closer to the surface than ever before, he felt more, wanted more than what was. He wanted more than he could possibly afford. Still, his hand persisted, it inched higher making your hips jerk forward. The knowledge that he’d hit a sensitive spot sent his system into overdrive making a deep moan from his lips fill the car.

On cue in response, your legs opened a few inches more, making way for his hand. Jesus Christ he thought. There was his consent, you wanted him as he wanted you. There would be nothing wrong with him slipping his fingers underneath whatever underwear you wore. Fuck, he hoped they were lacy and strappy. There would be nothing wrong with him letting your hand slide to the aching dick straining against his pants begging for your attention. Shit, he bet your hands would feel incredible wrapped around him. There would be nothing wrong with him moving closer and finally claiming your lips as his. Damn, he just knew they were as sweet as they looked, that they felt amazing. There would be nothing wrong with him pulling your body against his for more than a clothed hug. There would be nothing wrong with him cupping your breasts and swirling his thumb across your nipple just to see the reaction it elicited. God damn it, he knew your moans would destroy him. There would be nothing wrong with him finally learning what you tasted like, nothing wrong with him finally smearing your wetness across his lips. Holy fuck, he knew you had to taste like pure sugar and cream.

His cock spasmed again then your hand made the move for him. In the same breath with his eyes squeezed tight, he lurched for your hand, gripping you by your wrist stopping you just before you touched him. As he did that his jaw clenched, the only thing he could do to stifle the moan at the tip of his tongue. It came out as a half groan and growl instead. The strangled whine that left you said you liked it, and he knew he had to end this here. It took him some time to find the smallest bit of control to open his eyes, but he didn’t possess enough control to look at you. There was no way he could.

“I’ll take you home,” he said, voice low and so close to a whisper.

He tried to keep the longing, regret, and hope from it. Slowly he removed his hand from your thigh hoping with everything in him that you grabbed it and nudged it higher. You didn’t though, so he turned forward readying himself to drive. You didn’t move for several long moments; you remained there half facing him with your thighs still tempting him to go back and take things further. With his hands on the steering wheel, he trained his eyes forward. He could feel all the antsy energy bouncing off every cell of his body, he could feel all the need in him wreaking havoc on him telling him to stop being a pussy and do what he really wanted to, say what he wanted to, take what he wanted.

His hands squeezed so tightly that the creaking of the leather echoed in the intense silence in the car. Just when he was about to say fuck it, you turned away from him. You softly cleared your throat then buckled yourself in. Sighing, he pushed started the ignition then swerved out of the parked spot they were in taking the route back to the city. As he drove you didn’t speak, you didn’t even move. You kept your head turned away from him looking out the passenger window with your legs crossed away from him. Your body language sent a completely different message now. Before you were open and so close to him. Now, you were so far he wondered if he’d turned Miles’ words into truths.

~~~~~

-Y/N- 8 Months Later-

The loud ‘pop’ of a champagne cork echoed just behind you making you spin in that direction. A group was just behind you laughing and toasting to something you guessed was momentous. You sighed then turned back to the painting you were currently studying. The abstract lines and swoops looked so similar to the slopes of a body. The longer you stared at it the more it felt like an erotic image than some random lines and swirls. There was something about it that stirred something in you, something that you’d ignored and buried so deep, something you hadn’t felt for 8 months.

You drained your champagne glass then squeezed your eyes shut. It had been a long 8 months. You’d worked your ass off times ten taking on more and more clients than before. You brought on 12 celebrity clients and 4 major corporate ones which brought Halsey, Boyd, and Crenshaw to the top of the field in revenue. You brought in so much money that you’d gotten 7 poaching offers from firms in different parts of the country.

Thanks to those offers that you hadn’t necessarily kept confidential, the interest in you for partner rose to unbeatable levels. Anyone you were competing against for the position paled in comparison. Those 8 months of ass-busting work led to your name being signed on the paperwork titling you as the new partner at Halsey Boyd and Crenshaw. It was so much of a done deal that your bank account proudly embraced your new status.

With that new status came an increase in the events you had to make an appearance at as thee number 1 entertainment and criminal attorney in London. Your calendar quickly filled with meetings, speeches, appearances, court appearances, dinners, and more. You were so booked that the next time you had any schedule free time was 6 months away. You’d catapulted so far out of your original tax bracket that you’d shattered the glass ceiling that tried to confine you and now you wondered if you’d aimed too high.

“Looks like I’m right on time.”

You looked to your right and found Darius holding another glass of champagne for you. Smiling, you took it.

“That you are, thank you.”

“Of course. To you, the youngest and newest partner at Halsey Boyd and Crenshaw and in the greater London area.”

You smiled as the man who’d stuck around through your insane schedule, your hot and cold behavior, your pull you close one minute, push you away the next, your disappearing acts, your reluctance to place a label on your interactions, your give me sex then get gone rule, and more for the last 8 months.

“Thank you, Darius,” you said leaning toward him and pressing your lips against his.

Darius moaned and reciprocated the kiss, snaking his hand around your waist and pulling you close. You felt like you were thanking him for much more than the toast and the fresh glass of champagne. You felt like you were thanking him for taking your bare minimum and it made you feel like shit.

Darius pressed his forehead to yours and instantly you had a flash back to the last man who’d done that to you. In a split second, your heart rate spiked, and an intense feeling gripped you.

“You don’t have to thank me, love.”

Your reaction to the action ricocheted through you making you pull away from Darius. Turning back to the painting, you gulped down the champagne.

“It’s crazy that your firm has so many celebrity clients and that this many are here to welcome you as partner,” Darius said in hushed tones.

“It is crazy.”

All night you’d been rubbing elbows with actors, musicians, models, athletes, and more. All of them congratulated you on your promotion and wished you greater success in the future. It was touching but a little bit overwhelming. You couldn’t let on though, so for the entire night you’d been performing, and you were nearing the limits of your stamina for it. You’d been performing for the last 8 months. Shit, you’d even been performing with Darius. You’d been performing ever since you were dropped off in those early morning hours those 8 months ago.

“Y/N,”

To your left, your paralegal now turned assistant, Kemi touched your elbow drawing your attention to her.

“Hey, girl.”

“Hey, you look incredible,” she said.

“Stop saying that please, you’re gonna blow my head up so big I just might start thinking I deserve a higher position.”

She giggled but gave you a look that said “well ya’ do.”

“The big wigs are asking for you, although you’re now one of them so--.”

You snorted while rolling your eyes. “Then doesn’t that make you the big wig assistant?”

She posed then making you laugh.

“I’ll be right back,” you said to Darius as you walked off to find those big wigs.

It didn’t take long before you found them surrounded by a group of about 10 people. When they saw you they waved you over with large smiles on their faces. You took a deep breath and approached them with an equally large smile.

“There she is ladies and gentlemen!”

The group smiled, patted your back, and welcomed you with friendly banter.

“Everyone!”

The music died down and someone handed Malcolm Boyd a microphone. He was your biggest fan, a black man who’d made unfathomable feats in the field and became an incredible mentor and second father to you. He put his arm around your shoulder as he always did.

“I am filled with great happiness and pride calling this woman the new partner here at Halsey, Boyd, and Crenshaw!”

Everyone began applauding then, drowning out his next words so he paused and allowed them a few moments before continuing.

“She has been with us for 6 years now and in those 6 years she has accomplished incredible things and when she was done with those incredible things she moved on to outstanding things. Y/N has reminded many of us of what it means to be determined and persistent. She tackles every case with poise, confidence, and grace and that confidence has given her that 99% win record.”

Again everyone clapped. You softly smiled at them half embarrassed by the praise but half so damn proud of yourself and happy that your accomplishments were being recognized.

“Just as Malcome said, “Patrick Halsey began placing his hand on Malcom’s shoulder, “Y/N more than deserves this promotion and I expect her to blow all of our minds in the coming months and years. We just might have to add another name to the plague.”

Many in the audience hollered and hooted at that and you couldn’t lie that the greedy ambition within you salivated at that possibility. You still wanted more. You exchanged a look with Malcome who gave you an all-knowing look. You just found your next accomplishment. The founding partners took turns praising you and giving reasons why you’d earned this promotion then raised their glasses to you for the ultimate toast of congratulations. You humbly thanked them and gave a quick appreciative speech before lifting your glass to the audience.

As you drank down the tart liquid, your eye caught sight of a figure you hadn’t seen in person for almost 2 months—Lewis. He stood at the back in a black suit that clearly was made for him. His braids were pulled back in the way he liked when he was tackling more professional events. He looked as good as ever. He lifted his glass of water to you and in response you gave him a tight smile.

The same thing happened that always happened when you met one another ever since that night. Your body went through this strange cycle of reaction, excitement, confusion, hurt, anger, annoyance, and disappointment. It was exhausting. Because of these feelings, you regretted that night. You regretted allowing your thoughts to go so astray that you opened up your ‘what if’ box. You regretted every whisper, every lean in, every almost touch, every lingering look, everything. You even regretted getting out of his car when he pulled up to your condo instead of pulling him by his hair to you and telling him to go upstairs with you. you didn’t know what you regretted more.

The worst part was that you had to continue on like always. Normally it wouldn’t be a problem because that night was not the first night there had been many ‘what if’ nights over your decade-long friendship. The common factor was that both of you moved on and slinked back into the basics of your relationship—comfort and friendship. This time is difficult, so difficult you contemplated passing his case off to another attorney. If it hadn’t been for Malcome talking you out of it he would have been someone else’s responsibility. Instead, you put on your big girl panties and a mask and did something you never thought you’d ever do with him—performed.

When the crowd thinned out and everyone returned to what they were doing you began making your way back to Darius in the opposite direction. You were ready to leave. Before you got far Lewis stepped in front of you stopping you in your tracks.

“Congratulations, Y/N.”

Smiling, you thanked him.

“You look--,” his words stalled as his eyes roamed your body. You noted the conflicted look on his face before it disappeared. “Incredible,” Lewis finished.

His compliment made your body warm and something like hope filled you. Chastising yourself you swallowed the lump in your throat. “Thank you. You look nice too.”

Lewis scoffed softly then nodded. You then tried to slip by him, however, Lewis wasn’t having it. Again, he stepped in front of you.

“In a rush to get away from me?”

“Why would you say that? Have you done anything to me for me to want that?”

Silence stretched and Lewis studied you his jaw clenched tightly. Instead of speaking, he looked down, an act of defeat.

“Can we talk, Y/N?”

“We’re talking right now.”

He gave you an unamused look, but you kept your nonchalant, innocent one. Unexpectedly Miles approached then.

“There she is--partner lady. Congratulations Y/N.”

You smiled then hugged Miles. “Thank you!”

“This is incredible news, Y/N. So happy for you.”

“I appreciate that. Thank you for coming,” you replied.

“You know me, always this fool’s plus one.”

You smiled then the silence returned for a few seconds before Lewis spoke again.

“Maybe we can go somewhere—quiet after this?”

“Unfortunately I don’t think I can.”

“Why?”

Just then Darius approached and wrapped his arm around your waist resting his hand on your hip. You watched Lewis’ eyes drop to that hand and continued to watch as his jaw turned tight as if it filled with cement.

“Oh wow. Lewis Hamilton,” Darius said turning to you, his voice awestricken. “Babe it’s Lewis Hamilton.”

You nodded as a soft smile played on your lips. “Let me introduce you. Darius, this is one of my clients, Lewis Hamilton, and his best friend Miles Chamley-Watson fencing champion and Olympian. Miles, Lewis this is my—.”

You hesitated and in the same second, you felt Darius’ eyes on you filled with hope. Two other pairs of eyes were on you--one giving complete double eyeball emoji and the other searing you almost daring you to continue. The longer you didn’t speak, you watched Darius’ hope turn to disappointment. Glancing back at Lewis you found his eyebrow up with a curious and confrontational look while Miles was the epitome of if ‘well this is awkward’ was a person.

“This is Darius Forrester.”

You felt even more like shit now. Darius shook Lewis’ hand first then Miles’. While he did Lewis looked him over sizing him up. You knew he was wondering if he was the same man from those months ago when you’d told him you were on a date.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, I’m a fan,” Darius said to Lewis.

“Thank you. I appreciate that. I can sign something for you if you want.”

You rolled your eyes at his underhanded jab while a half chortle escaped Miles. Darius on the other hand leapt at the opportunity, handing Lewis the only thing he had, an art bidding ballot. Lewis signed the back but kept his eyes on Darius’ hand on your hip.

“Bidding on some art tonight?”

“I am. There is a piece this gorgeous angel has been staring at all night, it’ll be my gift to her for her promotion,” Darius explained rubbing your hip.

You smiled at him then kissed his cheek. Lewis now looked entertained while Miles’ eyes widened as he finished the drink in his hand.

“Ehm, anyway. So I’m sorry I can’t pencil you in tonight but if you call Kemi and make an appointment she’ll get you on the calendar for a different day for that talk,” you said.

“Plans tonight,” Miles guessed looking between you and Darius.

“Absolutely. I’ve had way too much to drink and plan on taking advantage of that.”

You leaned closer to Darius kicking up your performance another notch. Lewis smirked but also clenched his jaw to that. Miles whistled while nodding his head.

“Go on then Ms. Partner, fly by the seat of your panties or no panties,” Miles teased making you and Darius chuckle while Lewis gave him an unamused look.

“Well, enjoy your evening gentlemen. Thank you again for coming by,” you said before you made a move to walk off with Darius.

As you walked away you placed your hand over Darius’ and slyly slipped it lower to rest on your ass. You knew Lewis was watching and decided to deliver the last blow. Was it petty? Yes. Was it fair to Daius? Not at all.

The next hour or so passed with you roaming around the gallery looking at the art while Darius flirted with you. As you roamed, no matter where you went you saw Lewis from the corner of your eye and no matter how much space was between you, your skin reacted as if Darius’ touch was his. The more you felt that way the reality that Darius’ touch was in fact all his own annoyed you making you feel even worse. You knew what needed to be done and knew it had to be done soon.

The only way you could distract yourself was with glass after glass of champagne. As you emerged from one of your countless trips to the bathroom you bumped into Miles.

“Funny bumping into you here.”

You smiled warmly, “Still here? I thought you and Lewis left hours ago.”

“You knew we were still here,” he accused.

You tried to give an affronted look but failed. He was right. Sighing, your act fell for the first time that night.

“Wow. Feels good to not perform huh.”

You looked at Miles and wondered just how much he knew. He didn’t keep you in suspense long.

“What a twisted web we weave when we practice to deceive.” He scoffed, shook his head then continued, look, I am going to tell you the same thing I told Lewis.”

You perked up then but tried to play it off.

“You better stop playing before somebody gets hurt and by the looks of it, it’s gonna be your homeboy Darius if not all three of you.”

You took in his words then put your mask back in place. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah you do, just like Lewis knew what I was talking about all those years ago, but he still decided to keep playing, and now look where we are.”

Your curiosity peaked then. “What are you talking about Miles? What do you think you know?”

He scoffed. “I’m a straightforward kinda guy so I’ll say I know everything. As the neutral 3rd party who is both on the outside looking in and the inside watching this train wreck, I know everything. I know what he tells me and what he doesn’t tell me, and I know what you don’t tell him.”

Your eyes lingered and the longer they did the more you got his meaning. Glancing away you tried to pretend like his words meant nothing, but you knew you were failing.

“I get it, I really do; 10 years is a long time to put at risk but are you really putting it at risk knowing all you know? You have 10 years of proof. Man up.”

Miles leaned in, kissed your cheek, and whispered, “Let homeboy go so he can find someone who really loves him, someone who can love him. Your corner is full.”

With that, he walked away leaving you speechless and confused. Your corner was full? You had no idea whatsoever what that meant, and you were tempted to follow Miles and get some clarification, but you decided against it remembering the last time you chased down the rabbit hole. When you found Darius again his expression was somber when he told you that the painting he’d been bidding on was outbid and that he didn’t have it to gift you. After assuring him you were fine, you decided you were more than ready to leave.

Darius got the car as you waited outside allowing the cold air to cool your skin. You didn’t care that you were risking illness because it served as a needed distraction. When you felt a fabric drape over your shoulders you bristled at first but then Lewis’ scent circled you and your body relaxed. Even that annoyed you.

“I don’t need this. Darius will be back soon anyway.”

Lewis snorted. “8 months, is that a record?”

“I think it’s a record for you, but I’ve gone longer.”

He scoffed then shook his head. “No doubt, remember Y/N. I will be here long after you get bored with them all. I’m always here.”

Your eyes locked and his should have been radiating cockiness that matched his words, but instead, they were gentle, open, and vulnerable.

“Will you?”

There was no time to reply because a car horn blared drawing your attention. Darius waved at you as he got out of the car to walk around to the passenger side.

“Good night Lewis.”

You walked away from him then slipped into the passenger side. As you waited for Darius to get in and drive off, you stared at Lewis who hadn’t budged from the curb where you left him. Miles’ words echoed back to you then.

“Just like Lewis knew what I was talking about all those years ago, but he still decided to keep playing, and now look where we are.”

“You have 10 years of proof.”

“Your corner is full.”

The word ‘full’ echoed over and over as Darius pulled off. Bullshit, you said to yourself in disbelief.

When Darius pulled up to your condo you sat there marinating in all your thoughts throughout the nearly thirty-minute drive. It wasn’t until you felt Darius’ hand on your exposed knee did you realize he was still there.

“Are you okay? Want me to come up?”

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. “We need to talk Darius.”

When you looked at him his expression said he knew just what you were about to say. Being as gentle as you could, you ended things. Although the old “it’s not you it’s me” line fit the situation perfectly. You dug a little deeper and gave him and heartfelt reason without revealing you were and had been in love with your best friend for 10 years and didn’t realize it until his feelings were already on the line. When you finished, Darius remained the good guy he was and told you he understood and that he’d expected this sooner or later. You thanked him for being good to you then began making your way to the elevators.

Halfway there you dug into the pocket of the jacket you wore and froze. When you took your hand out you held a note with your name sprawled on the front in Lewis’ handwriting.

-Y/N-

I’ve thought for months about what to say to you because there is so much to say, so much that has gone unsaid for so long that I don’t know where to start—how to start. 10 years is a long time especially when neither of us has been 100% honest with the other. I want to end that. Please.

-Lewis

You read then reread the note over and over hoping you would know what to do next but no matter how many times you did, you had nothing. So you walked back and forth in the lobby. When your phone sounded, you found a message from Lewis.

MSG Lewis: Ball’s in your court. I’m outside your building.

You froze then slowly turned and saw his car. It had been months since you’d been in a car with him and the thought of doing it again freaked you out a little. Your eyes met at that moment, but he didn’t move. He was giving you the time to decide for yourself. You turned your back to him then walked to the elevators but stopped halfway. After a few moments, you turned back around and walked to the doors only to stop halfway again and repeat the whole cycle. Still, Lewis didn’t budge. He just watched as your internal debate played out physically.

After ten minutes you stooped down and put your down, completely exhausted by your indecisiveness. Taking a deep breath, you held it and allowed your lungs to adjust. It was an action you often did to help you think and calm down. As your oxygen levels decreased your heartbeat would slow and as it did, there was always one particular beat where you figured it all out. It usually came right in the nick of time.

So you allowed your heartbeat to slow and though you should have panicked you didn’t. You thought clearer than you’d ever thought before.

“I know what he tells me and what he doesn’t tell me, and I know what you don’t tell him.”

Miles’ words came back to you again and it was then you gasped filling your lungs with air. After a few breaths, you stood then turned to the doors. It worked all the time. With your head high and back straight you walked toward them then climbed inside Lewis’ car. Without a word, he pulled off then turned back onto the streets.

~~~~~~

Thirty minutes later you walked into a penthouse suite right behind Lewis.

“Why here?”

“Thought neutral ground would make you more comfortable.”

You scoffed and beelined right to the bar, tossing his suit jacket over the back of one of the bar stools. As you mixed yourself a drink you tried not to focus on him, but you did. No matter where he went you knew. You were hypersensitive to him at this point. You’d only meant to make a glass but ended up making a whole shaker cup. You kicked off your heels, climbed onto the bar stool then plopped yourself on the countertop. Once comfortable you crossed your legs and sipped your drink.

“Where’s Darius?”

“Not here obviously.”

“You and I are so alike it’s insane,” he said as he approached you, but he didn’t come close. He stopped at the sectional couches in the middle of the large living area and then sat.

The silence in the room was thick for such a long time you began thinking about leaving altogether.

“Congratulations again. I’m so fucking proud of you. You saw something you wanted and didn’t stop until you got it. You deserve this.”

Your stomach flipped hearing his praise. More than anyone he knew what you’d gone through to get here. It touched you. Looking away from him, you cleared your throat. “Thanks.”

His eyes remained on you as if daring you to look back at him. It was a dare you had to accept. Your eyes locked and you instantly felt it. There was so much to say. Just behind him, you saw something familiar. Squinting, you made out the painting you’d been staring at all night, the painting Darius wanted to bid on for you. It clicked then, the reason why Darius couldn’t win it was because Lewis claimed it first. You scoffed, the man was competitive and dominant to a fault. You couldn’t help but be touched by the gesture though.

Lewis sighed bringing your eyes back to him, “I don’t even know where to start,” groaned, rubbed his eyes then spoke again. “Maybe I’m sorry is a good place.”

You studied him for a few moments then took a mouthful of your drink. “For what?”

“You know for what.”

That night.

Those words hung in the air, and you did your best to remain aloof. Scoffing, you shook your head. “It’s all good Lewis.”

“You’re lying and you know it. I thought attorneys believed in the truth.”

“Who are you to tell me what my truth is?!”

You hadn’t meant to shout it, but you did.

“Because more times than not our truths match up and I am sure that what happened was not all good to you because it wasn’t to me.”

“And what exactly wasn’t all good to you?”

“The way we—I left things,” he quietly said.

You waited for him to continue because there was no way in hell you were going to make this easy for him. He wanted to talk so he’d talk. Lewis shook his head then hung it backward. He sat there staring into the ceiling for almost a full minute before he looked back at you.

“I just—flipped when we were—you were—you wanted--,” he stuttered.

You scoffed again, “Don’t flatter yourself, Lewis,” you said slipping into the barstool and spinning it around so your back faced him.

“What?”

“You and I both know that none of that meant anything to you. It’s all good.”

“Now who’s telling who what their truth is?”

You didn’t take the bait, instead, you kept your back to him and finished your glass.

“You forget, I know you, Lewis. 10 years of friendship and I know you so well that it was my own damn fault that night.”

“Whatdaya know?”

After refilling your glass you turned back around then hopped off the stool and walked toward the large floor-to-ceiling window. “I know that that you were with one of your rotation chicks before you came to pick me up. I smelled her on you. That fruity aroma was all her. I know that because of that tidbit of info, none of it meant anything.”

Leaning against the window you stared down at the view of London. Lights glistened down below, and you imagined everyone scurrying to where they had to go so wrapped up in their own thoughts or existence to even suspect that it all was fleeting.

“Okay, I’ll own that bit. Yeah, I was with one of them but that was only after I found out you were on a date.”

“So it’s my fault. I was on a date living my life, so you decided to get your dick wet. Okay.”

You took another sip from your glass not liking the direction of this little talk he wanted to have.

“I never said it was your fault. It’s just a fact. I texted you because I wanted to see you, wanted to spend time with you and you were spending time with someone else, someone you probably did God knows what with hours before you saw me.”

And with that, you were done here. Finishing the glass you turned and walked to the door.

“Good night Lewis.”

He scurried in front of you blocking your path. “Wait, please. Shit! I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Two sorries in the span of twenty minutes, cool. Get out of my way.”

“No, Y/N, please wait.”

You sighed, rubbing your forehead. “I’m sick and tired of waiting. I’ve waited 10 years!”

“You’ve waited? I’ve—.”

Lewis threw his hands up then walked away grunting and talking to himself. He looked insane and it kind of made you pleased seeing it. He always appeared so in control, so aware of himself and his actions at all times. It had all gone to shit now. You stood there debating if you should just leave and let things remain how they were until the day you both just stopped talking and checking in and it ended up going on for another 10 years until you were just people who used to know one another, people who’d missed out on something. It was then you realized you weren’t wearing shoes.

“Shit,” you whispered.

“I wanted you that night. I wanted you more than I had ever wanted anyone, including anyone in the rotation. Do you know what I was doing while you were on your date?”

“Getting your dick wet. I know.”

“I was lying on Julissa’s bed as she gave me head.”

You scoffed, “Of course you were.”

“She’d been going for 40 minutes and still I was barely hard. No matter what she did, no matter the tricks, no matter how nice it felt, barely hard. I was lying on her bed with my dick in her mouth thinking about you on your fucking date.”

You looked at him then. Those were words you hadn’t expected.

“My mind went crazy thinking what was happening. The longer that went by without you texting me the thoughts killed me. As soon as I got your message I left. No other thought, just you. I prayed to God that the date didn’t go well enough for you to let him upstairs. Then I saw what you were wearing, and I couldn’t believe I was jealous. I was jealous.”

“Why?”

Lewis looked at you then. “Because he got to see you like that. You’d dressed up for him, wanted to turn him on with that outfit. He’d spent the entire night with you. He’d had what I wanted.”

Well shit, you thought before walking back to the bar. Rather than making another drink, you took up a bottle of champagne and brought it to your lips.

“Do you know what it feels like to want someone so bad that it fucks with you and everything you do? To want someone more than you’ve wanted anything. To want someone in a way that is new to you, so new that it scares you. Do you know what it feels to have this crippling fear every time that someone is in your grasp, but not being able to resist the temptation, the desire to make them yours? Do you know what it feels like to know that you only burn this bright, this hot, this dangerous with one person, and the burn is all-consuming?”

He looked almost hysterical now. “Do you know what it feels like to want the perfect someone for you? I’m talking molded for you in every way while knowing it’s not the right time for you because you both want too much from the world and because you know that because you burn so hot, so bright that you’ll burn each other if either of you ever let go and let it happen? To know you are so similar that you will either destroy each other or ruin one another for anyone else.”

The look on his face was so damn relatable. He’d just said everything you’d thought over the last 10 years. Everything.

“I know what he tells me and what he doesn’t tell me.”

He was practically ranting now. Spewing every single thing that he’d ever thought, confessing it all.

“So because of all that you try to keep up pretenses that you’re friends and nothing more though you have countless moments where you slip up and stare at them too long, or hold them in your arms from a hug for half a minute too long, or let your hand linger in theirs or around their waist to test boundaries because you just can’t not touch them, or even find reasons to do every single thing together. You take those 2 steps forward not realizing you do because the pull is too strong, then you freak out and leap back 5 steps. You do this for weeks, months, years until 10 of them have passed and you have this huge box you’d filled with all the other stuff between you that you can’t express or fess up to until that box just gets stirred by one action, one moment--one night.”

His eyes were locked on yours. Somehow he’d traveled across the room to the bar and was standing right in front of you. Somehow he’d locked you in the frame of his arms leaving you nowhere to run. Somehow he’d managed to inflate your chest with hope right beside your thundering heart.

“Then suddenly—everything has changed, and nothing can be the same ever again,” he finished, his voice a whisper in the completely silent room.

You watched his eyes lower to your lips and your gut flipped again.

“Do you know what any of that feels like, Y/N?”

There were only mere inches between you now and the sheer proximity of his body to yours made you shiver.

“H—how long—have you—felt this way?”

Your voice quivered in a way that made it obvious to him what his nearness was doing to you.

“10--fucking years,” Lewis replied eyes glued to yours.

He took one step to you, “I’ve spent the last 8 months cleaning my life, cleaning my circle because I’ve gotten to the point where I could no longer ignore that everyone else is number 2 for me. You’re number one, Y/N.”

You were frozen in place, unsure what to say, and even more unsure what to do. He was right, your truths usually did line up and this was no different.

“And I know it scares you, shit it scares me too. All of this does. I know my life is insane and yours is about to be even more so, I get you still have things you want to accomplish; I saw your face when Halsey mentioned adding your name to the plaque. You want it and I want it for you as well as the world for both of us. Our timing can’t be any worse, but something has got to give, love, because I can’t take another year let alone 10 of this.”

You took a deep, ragged breath.

“Where--,” Lewis began before stopping and chewing his top lip.

It was a nervous tick. “Where do I—stand—with you?”

For 10 years he’d been so hard to read, so nearly impossible to gauge, and here right now in the darkness of the room you could see him as clear as day. He was oh so transparent and scared you’d reject him. Scared you’d decide he was more trouble than he was worth. Scared he’d just showed you his heart and ruined your friendship in the process. Without realizing it you were crying; you felt a tear roll down your cheek.

Sniffling, you wiped it away, “Ehm, I broke up with Darius tonight.”

Lewis looked shocked. Clearly, he thought you were still together.

“Why?”

You wiped the other tear that fell from your eye then looked away from him. All of a sudden the room felt smaller than it was, it felt as if the walls were closing in on you. Lewis cupped the back of your head cradling your skull in his palm making you look him in the eyes.

“Why?”

“For the last 8 months, I’ve been hot and cold with him, I pulled him close one minute then the next pushed him away, I disappeared a lot always using work as the excuse. I was busy, yeah, but it wasn’t work. I was always so reluctant to put a label on what we were doing, every time he brought it up I changed the subject never giving him the answer he wanted. Even when we had sex--.”

Lewis took a deep breath, dropped his head, and harshly released it, clearly displeased with confirmation that he’d had you that way, but you continued.

“Even then it was usually always on my terms, and I always wanted him to leave right after. I was—I was always thinking about someone else, something else instead of him, and for 8 months I never felt anything remotely close to what I felt that night with him. over the months every time I saw you it hacked at whatever was going on between me and him until tonight seeing you again it just--.”

You flicked your five fingers indicating an explosion. I’ve become hypersensitive to you, and I don’t know when it happened. It dawned on me that—I was using Darius and it wasn’t fair.”

Lewis searched your eyes not hiding the hurt in his. You took a step towards him. “You’re right about a few things. Our timing couldn’t be any worse.”

He nodded.

“Our truths usually always line up.”

Lewis looked hopeful then.

“Your life is insane.”

The hope faltered.

“I do want my name on that plaque, and I will get it.”

A small smile crooked his lips.

Another tear rolled down your cheek and again you wiped it away, “I can also no longer ignore that everyone else is number 2 for me. Always has been because you’re my number one.”

He clenched his jaw then and the emotion that washed over his face rocked you. Like an earthquake rocking the Earth’s surface.

“I am scared.”

As this tear rolled, Lewis was the one to reach out and gently wipe it with the pad of his thumb. Your lip quivered.

“I’m so scared.”

Lewis pushed forward then, crashing his lips to yours in one swift move. Once your lips met neither of you went slow. The kiss was frenzied from the beginning, both of you wanting it all and not wanting to waste any more time taking it. As his tongue rolled with yours you closed the space between you pressing your body against him. Lewis softly moaned, wrapping his arms around you. When you bit down on his bottom lip he groaned then walked you backward until your back collided with the edge of the bar. Trapping you there once again, he kissed you without holding a thing back and your body responded to him instantaneously.

In a matter of seconds, you both were moaning against each other and completely wrapped up in the new feelings that were consuming you. Lewis cupped your face as he kissed you then ran his hands down to your neck. You couldn’t deny that this felt even better than you imagined. Moaning, you clutched his waist but when that didn’t suffice, you slowly slid your hands up along his toned abs, over his chest taking in the bulge of muscle there. When you wrapped them around his neck, Lewis pressed more persistently against you.

“Mmmm!”

Lewis tore his lips from you and put his forehead to yours. “Fuck, I don’t want to get too carried away. I’m sorry I should have asked first.”

“Consent fucking given,” you said before you crashed your lips to his.

This time you took control. Swirling your tongue with his you didn’t give him time to react or gain the upper hand. You wanted to taste him, and you refused to wait any longer. Teasing his lips, you nibbled his bottom one, taking your time to sensually suck on it until he moaned against you. The vibration shot through you making you feel like you’d only now just begun to truly feel. Lewis’ hands roughly gripped your hips, holding you steady so you could feel that you weren’t the only one finally feeling for the first time.

Heightening both if your pleasure, you sucked his tongue until he groaned. The next thing you knew Lewis’ had you by the hips lifting you onto the bar top. You wrapped your thighs around him and nearly came when you felt his hands pry your legs apart. The heat radiating off of his hand on your bare thigh reminded you of the night in his car and you prayed he didn’t stop again.

As if reading your mind, Lewis met your eyes while he slid his hand higher and higher and higher until his fingers crawled to your inner thigh. Softly he raked his manicured nails against your skin forcing a whimper from you. You bit down on your bottom lip and silently willed yourself not to cum from the anticipation. Suddenly the back of Lewis’ fingers brushed against your sex. Your gasp was loud, breathy, and stretched out as he took his time moving centimeter by centimeter until he’d trapped your clit between his pointer and middle finger. Your jaw dropped all the while he held your gaze.

When he tightened his fingers and rubbed against you, your eyes rolled to the back of your head. You knew then he was dangerous, and you were going to cum.

“F—ha—fu-huck!”

Your back arched, head fell back as your body moved like it were possessed. Each spasm of pleasure had you bucking against his fingers until you could hardly breathe.

“My god you’re so fucking beautiful when you cum, love.”

You giggled and moaned as the tremors worked their way through you. “Mmm, orgasms and compliments, a girl could get used to this,” you cooed.

“Good. This is your future.”

Lewis moved his hand, brought them to your thighs then lifted them. As he planted your heels at the edge of the bar, you knew what he wanted. Your eyes dropped to his lips then you moaned. Pulling your dress away from your legs you allowed them to fall back to the bar showing him not only gymnasts were flexible.

“Oh fuck,” Lewis groaned.

You watched his eyes drop to your sex and the look on his face was unlike any you’d ever seen. No one had looked at you like this before. He stared where your thighs met like it was the most mesmerizing thing he’d ever seen, the first of its kind and something he wanted to completely destroy. You now felt like prey spread before him like this, like at any moment he was going to pounce on you.

“Mmm.”

Lewis came closer and closer until he rested on his elbows and was just inches from your sex. The anticipation was killing, and he had to know it.

“I knew you were a lacy knickers kind of woman,” he muttered.

“I take it you’re a lacy knickers kind of man.”

“On you, fuck yes.”

With that, Lewis hooked his thumbs in your underwear and pulled them to the side. He blew out a breath in reaction to seeing you bare for the first time and that breath fucked you up all over again. You threw your head back trying to calm your anxieties, but just when you met his eyes again you found his tongue out sliding against your wet folds.

Oh—my—goooood!”

Lewis moaned and did it again and again until he circled your clit with the tip of his tongue. “Mmmm.”

Lewis pressed your thighs back keeping them spread then went to town. If you’d ever doubted before that his mouth game was incredible you didn’t now. He licked, flicked, and sucked along your flesh making your back remain in a prolonged arch. Within seconds you were whining and writhing as his tongue worked literal fucking magic. The sound of Lewis’ slurping echoed in the living room and that was when your hands grabbed his head. Pulling his hair free you held on and bucked against his mouth.

“Mmm.”

He stuck his tongue out and let you take over. With every buck against his tongue, you called his name and the more the tip of his tongue flicked your clit the more out of control you felt. Your release was so close your body moved more wildly needing it at all costs.

“I’m gonna cum Lewis.”

“Cum for me, Y/N!”

You didn’t need to be told more than once and when you were right on the precipice you felt Lewis slid two digits inside of you. Just like that, your orgasm morphed from a toe-curling release to soul snatching one. You screeched as your body convulsed but he didn’t stop then, he pumped his fingers in and out of you then added a third finger stretching you wide.

“Uuuugh fuck!”

You barely finished your words before Lewis threw you over his shoulder, keeping his fingers inside of you. As he walked through the suite his fingers kept fucking you, readying you for him. When your back met the soft sheets of the mattress, Lewis still hadn’t broken contact. He watched you now as you lay there unable to control your body.

“You’re so beautiful.”

Pulling his fingers free he cleaned two of them off before you sprang to your knees to claim the third. As you sucked his finger you kept your eyes on his. You could see how badly he wanted you, how much he wanted from you, and you couldn’t believe he’d held back all this time. You took your time sliding each button through its slot until his shit was wide open. When you pushed it off of him you took in a sight you’d seen plenty of times only now it was different.

You brought your hands to feel across his torso marveling at each defined ab muscle and each tattoo. When you intentionally rubbed against his beaded nipple you noted the way his Adam’s apple bobbed. How had you never noticed your effect on him? How had you never taken it seriously? Bringing your hands back to his waist you undid his pants. You brushed your palm against the protruding mass straining against his pants which made him shiver as he grunted.

“Oops.”

Lewis scoffed then licked his lips and that was all it took for him to claim back some of the control you possessed over this exchange.

“Of course, you’re a fucking tease.”

You innocently smiled. “I haven’t even begun to tease you.”

“I bet.”

Lewis snuck forward kissing you one peck at a time, over and over.

“Mm, can you take it?”

“Any other night my answer would be yes, hell in an hour my answer will be yes but right now--.”

He cupped your sex with on hand and the back of your neck with the other.

“Mmm.”

“Right now, I have no control left. I’ve remained in control around you for 10 years and right now I just want to let it all go. I want to bury myself so deep inside of you there is no mistake that we belong to each other bad timing or not. It’s you and me, Y/N.”

You groaned as his words only increased the wetness between your legs. You kissed him again, then you turned your back to him and swayed your body against him. Lewis dropped a kiss to your shoulder as his hand crept around to cup the underside of your breast. You leaned forward getting on all fours with your ass poking out to him.

“Undo me?”

He didn’t move for a few moments, and you waited for him to enjoy the view. When you felt his hand rub against your ass you dipped your back lower which only made your ass poke out more. Lewis trailed his hand along your spine that the backless gown proudly showed off. Then he went to your tailbone and lowered the zipper of the dress. Peeping over your shoulder, your eyes locked as you allowed the dress to fall away from your body.

His groan was low—primal. It was all you needed to hear to know he liked the strappy number you wore that was made of fine lace. You expected him to take his time but instead, you felt him peel off the garment leaving you completely naked before him for the first time ever.

“You’re so wet for me, Y/N. So wet and so fucking perfect.”

You spread your legs further then stretched your arms over your head using your head to hold you up. As expected, Lewis flipped you onto your back making you giggle. You roamed your hands over your body, cupping your breasts then sliding them down your abdomen to your dripping core. The entire time, Lewis kept his eyes on every move you made while he pulled his pants and underwear off.

When he stood bare before you, your surprise could not be masked. You didn’t know what you’d expected in your late-night thoughts about what he was packing but you had no way of expecting this. Lewis gripped his length then slowly stroked it as he pressed a knee onto the mattress.

“Scared?”

You bit your bottom lip as you gawked at what the good lord blessed him with. It was unfair and completely intimidating.

“Now I see why everyone in the rotation was so happy being one of many.”

He snorted, bringing his other knee to the mattress between. Slowly he stalked closer like a predator with a deadly weapon in hand.

“There is no rotation anymore.”

“Oh yeah. The LH44 Harem has been disbanded?”

As he crept closer, you slid backward.

“You’re not funny.”

“So am I the first to usher in a new era—a new harem?”

Lewis grabbed your ankle then pulled you back to him making the backs of your thighs slam into the fronts of his. He then hovered over you before dropping an opened mouth kiss on your nipple. Sucking the peak into his mouth he sucked raising your back off of the bed.

“You’re in no harem. I told you, it’s you—and me,” he said nibbling your flesh.

Stared at him letting it all sink in. You brought your hand to his bearded cheek and rested it there.

“Are we really doing this? Like—for real?”

Lewis boxed your face in with his muscular arms and stared into your eyes. “I’ve told you where I stand, Y/N. I’ve told you everything that’s in here.”

He took your hand and placed it over the roaring lion etched on his skin keeping his hand over yours.

“It’s time you tell me what’s in here,” he finished placing his other hand over your left breast.

“You,” you whispered.

“I love you, Y/N.”

Before you could react or even respond Lewis thrust forward sending the tip of his hardness inside of you, stealing your breath, and every thought. A breathy gasp filled the air. Slowly he pushed forward, leisurely filling you giving you time to adjust to his size.

“Haaaa.”

Lewis kept his hand over your heart while holding yours over his as he filled you inch by tortuous inch never taking his eyes off yours. Your entire being was on fire like he was pouring molten lava inside of you with every inch he gave you.  

“Oh fu—Lewis,” you panted.

From the way his jaw was clenched, and eyes focused intently on you, you could tell he was feeling everything you were.

“How are you so tight?”

Digging your nails into his chest you tightened your leg around his waist and as if that was his last straw, Lewis flicked his hips forward filling you completely and tearing a scream from both of your lips. Neither of you moved for several moments but with every second that passed by your body blazed. Bucking against him, you slid your hand up to his throat and then gripped it.

“I love you. Fuck me. Now!”

Those words would be your ruin because he did just that without mercy and complete recklessness. Your moans and whimpers melded together rising in decibel and power until the entire room shook with the power of your screams for one another. As he plowed inside of you he didn’t go slow, he followed his basal instincts that were imprinted in his DNA, a need to claim, and dominate.

You’d never felt so out of control in your life. No matter how he fucked you, you couldn’t get enough. No matter how deep he went you wanted him deeper. No matter how he called your name you wanted him to scream it. You wanted every fucking thing he had. You wanted to leave him in shambles. When he flipped you onto your stomach like you weighed nothing, he held your ass in the air and fucked you so thoroughly you’d lost track of how many times you came. It didn’t matter because you wanted more.

He must have been able to read your mind because there was no way he could tell what you needed this soon, you thought to yourself as he grabbed your wrists and pulled you back, so he had your upper body hovering above the mattress.

“Oh my god, I’m cumming Lewis! Ooh shiiiiiit!”

He took advantage of this new angle and circled his hips as he jackhammered into you, fucking you as you did something you’d never done before—squirted. You screamed from the force of your release, but Lewis didn’t stop, he fucked you through it then torpedoed you into another one that you knew would tear you apart. Racing for it, you slammed yourself back into him relishing the mix of pain and pleasure that only intensified when Lewis bit down on your shoulder.

“You got one more for me, darlin? Cum for me. Soak this dick, pretty girl, drench me so I can fill that pretty pussy up.”

“Aaah!”

You clenched around him as you lost yourself and fell off the cliff and into an endless pit of pleasure. You felt Lewis spasm inside of you before he cursed and shouted his release doing just what he promised. Filling your pretty pussy up.

When the two of you finally collapsed on the bed Lewis held you to him spooning you while still being nestled inside of you. Bit by bit you came back to your body and slowly your body went from violent shakes to subtle tremors and a hazy feeling washed over you. Lewis peppered kisses along your neck and shoulder nipping your skin every now and then.

“Mmm. Oh my god!”

He snorted. “You good?”

“Good? Am I good? Are you—at the risk of swelling your head even more than it already is that was--.”

“Was?”

You searched for the words but couldn’t find the right ones. “It was,” you settled on making him laugh as he held you tighter.

“Naw, I was alright, you—you were,” he said making you snort.

“Shut up.”

“No, I’m being for real for real. It’s a miracle I held on that long, you feel unbelievable, so good, too good. You—are!”

You giggled then moaned, sleepiness creeping up on you.

“Don’t you dare fall asleep, I’m nowhere near done with you.”

His manhood inside of you lurched nudging your g-spot and just like that your eyes snapped wide open.

“Watch yourself, I know your weakness now.”

“You?”

“Nope, this pussy.”

Lewis snorted then flipped you onto your stomach again. This time he straddled you as he slowly pulled out of you only to plunge right back in.

“Mmm.”

“Still so damn tight,” Lewis groaned.

“You’re welcome to try stretching me out.”

Lewis jerked his hips forward delivering a bruising thrust as punishment for your your sassy mouth. It was a thrust that took your breath and made you go cross-eyed.

“Mmm, yes!”

“Oh, aren’t you full of surprises. Pretty girl likes it rough and hard.”

He did it again and again, making you hit the bed each time as you buried your face in the sheet to muffle your screams.

“God yes, Lewis!”

“So fucking alike,” Lewis said before lowering his lips to your ear. “Remember I love you 'cause I’m about to fuck you like I don’t.”

Not waiting for a reply he held your arms to the bed then delivered on his promise. Everyone else was number 2 compared to you being each other’s number 1. Nothing else mattered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

TagList:

@chaneajoyyy @caramara3 @valkryienymph @babyflowa07 @est1887 @halfrican-heat @mauvecherie-writes @nunya7394 @lovebittenbyevans @gardenwonders2 @sweetlikecoffy @dillie60 @ olabelle757 @ophiaedits @kenequa @triton08 @skyesthebomb @shipatheart @keytodespair @xsweetdellzx @labella420 @coldmuffinbanditshoe @ak329 @shar74nett @youremysuperstar @whore-like-behaviour @sonjashuterbugjohnson

@alookintohersoul @asiaaisa77 @jd-now-jq @naturalthrone22      @mrsbarnes-rogers @beyourownkindofbeautiful @beccacupcakesxo @toni9 @wonderlandfandomkingdom @partypoison00 @queenoftheworldisdead @doublesidedscoobysnacks @sophiealiice @richonne4life @coffeebooksandfandom @siempremamita @raveviolet @dumbchick  @amennariee @briellableu @leebabe444 @31miw-inkpsycho

@rororo06 @disaster-rose @bugngiz @yourwonderbelle @queenbetter @melaninhawtie @bekindbecoolbeyou​ @heartfullofgolden @idkiwantchocolatee @missuniee @avngrsfangirl @a-highly-opinionated-mess @19jammmy ​@nunya7394 @eltima02 @motheroffae @luckydiorxoxo

@majx00 @bbhyuneee @queenanababy @ravenqueen27 @multi-fandom5 @xsweetdellzx @bqueensweet @misswolff @g-l-o-b-e-w-h-o-r-e @blveeeeeee @majx00 @rowansshit @tian-monique @venusesworld @motheroffae

#lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton fanfiction #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton x reader #everyone else is no.2 one shot #black fanfiction

[renardiererin]

THE GREAT WAR a social media au starring rockstar!rintarou suna, and musician!reader

synopsis -> you used to know rintarou. you knew him back before the world did. you used to know him better than you knew yourself. but nothing perfect ever lasts, does it? after awhile he just stopped responding. you tried to block out every headline you saw featuring his name, and focus on your own music career rather than his own. but when one of his bandmates reaches out to you and asks you to open for their upcoming tour, you find yourself stuck traveling all around the world with the man whose inflicted pain inspired most of your first album.

warnings -> potentially some suggestive content (but no explicit smut), probably some flashback moments, probably alcohol content, swearing, etc.

tags -> smau, social media au, rintarou suna, rintarou suna smau, celebrity smau, rockstar suna, exes to ?, little bits of humor i hope, angst, band au

ongoing! [8/22/23] playlist

profiles

akaashi fanclub / dicks with instruments

table of contents / masterlist *titles may be subject to change along the way !

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚🌙

act i - the act of acceptance 1. my knuckles were bruised like violets

2. i can't say hello to you and risk another goodbye

3. i know we cut all the ties but you never really listen

4. yes i got your letter, yes i'm doing better

5. seeing you tonight... it's a bad idea, right?

6. love is never logical

7. when facing the things we turn away from

8. i wanna get him back (i want sweet revenge; i want him again)

9. we had matching wounds

10. did you see me on tv?

11. put my name at the top of your list

12. i’ve gotten what i wanted, it’s just not what i imagined

13. none of it matters and none of it ends, you just feel like shit over and over again

14. stop checking your mailbox for confessions of love ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚🌙

act ii - the act of love and loss 1. still all over me like a white stained dress i can't wear anymore

2. the small things that you do are what remind me why i fell for you

3. don't just sit in front of me and wait for me to talk

4. flashback: i was only 17 when she first made me feel like a man

5. i don't wanna face the music but i still wanna dance with you

6. i can see you saying: "meet me tonight"

7. you, oh you, it's always been you

8. i'm captivated by you baby like a firework show

9. imma make a move, if you know what i mean

10. jump then fall into you

11. your faithless love's the only hoax i believe in

12. you told me you love me, so why did you go away?

13. i lived in your chess game

14. when i'm nothing new

15. i hate that because of you i can't love you

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚🌙 act iii - the act of isolation and irritability 1. i know that i should hate you

2. when did it end? all the enjoyment?

3. falling feels like flying til the bone crush

4. flashback: for awhile you were all mine

5. i hope you're not happy without me

6. i love you but i need another year alone

7. i didn't have it in myself to go with grace

8. flashback: when i'd fight, you used to tell me i was brave

9. come back to me like you could if you'd just say you're sorry

10. i try to ignore it everytime you phone... but i never come close

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚🌙

act iv - the act of reconciliation 1. you used a fork once

2. you will love me until you resent me

3. i wish you knew that i'll never forget you as long as i live

4. i miss you too much to be mad anymore

5. can't turn back now i'm haunted

6. if you're out there if you're somewhere if you're moving on

7. you can hear it on the way home

8. this could either break my heart or bring it back to life

9. don't want no other shade of blue but you

10. until the poets run out of rhymes

11. i want to wear his initial on a chain round my neck

12. this love came back to me

13. what if i told you i'm a mastermind?

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚🌙

act v - the act of the epilogue 1. outside they're push and shoving / you're in the kitchen humming

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚🌙

a/n: hii okay i haven't written an smau in literal years so im just hoping this doesn't suck and that you can enjoy it :) mwah i love each and every one of you who is reading this note & this smau rn <3 thank you all my loves !

taglist

@kiyoily @akumakitsune21 @qualitygiantshoepsychic @dani-shitting-around @alienvarmint @reverie-starlight @honeythebarbie @bootlegroach @tsukiran @xbl00dy-r0s3x @universal-s1ut @koushisbabie @breakmyheartlater @phoenix-eclipses @ris-krispie @coyloves @2baddies-1porsche @girlkissersco @ilovejujitsukaisen @dontmindtheevie

taglist is open <33 comment here to be added !

#haikyuu!! #hq #hq imagines #hq x reader #haikyu x reader #rintarou suna #suna rintaro haikyuu #hq hcs #haikyuu smut #hq smut #suna rintarou smut #suna smut #suna rintaro x reader #suna angst #rintarou suna smut #suna headcanons #suna rintaro smut #sunarin x reader #sunarin x reader smut #sunarin #suna rintarou #suna rintarō #suna rintaro x y/n #suna x y/n #haikyuu x reader #hq x y/n #suna x you #haikyuu x reader smut #x reader #rockstar suna

[mrsfatu]

Never A Mistake

Paring: Jey Uso x Fem!Reader

Warnings: language, pure smut, 18+, body fluids

Word count: 6,713

Summary: The reader reunites with her former personal trainer, Jey Uso. The reader is overwhelmed by the memories and feels guilty for their past actions. Jey confronts her, accusing her of seeing him as a mistake. The reader is left with a deep, seductive desire, and Jey's possessiveness fuels the flames of their passionate encounter.

Attending my inaugural WWE event was an electrifying experience that left me spellbound. Positioned in the coveted front row, I became part of the action, enveloped in a world of larger-than-life characters and adrenaline-pumping spectacles. My journey into this captivating realm was made possible by my best friend Tracy, a devout follower of the oiled-up, half-naked men who grace our screens every Monday and Friday. As Tracy would passionately recount the intricate storylines, I found myself intrigued by the bloodline and the impending Judgment Day.

From the moment I stepped foot into the arena, I could sense the palpable energy that enveloped the air. The atmosphere was electric, a fusion of rumbling cheers and thunderous boos, creating an intense symphony of emotions. Excited fans, adorned in their favorite superstar's merchandise, added an extra layer of vibrancy to the spectacle.

As the lights dimmed, the crowd erupted into a deafening roar, signaling the beginning of the show. The stage transformed into a battleground, and the wrestlers emerged, embodying the epitome of physical prowess and showmanship. Each character had a distinct presence, captivating us with their larger-than-life personas and charisma. Their performances were a seamless blend of athleticism, drama, and storytelling, creating an immersive tapestry that held us captive throughout the night.

In the realm of friendship, Tracy has always embodied the essence of an "It-Girl." With her long, luscious curls, velvety soft skin, and lips adorned with a cherry gloss, she effortlessly commanded attention. Tracy possessed an allure that made heads turn whenever she passed, earning her the title of "The Instagram Girl." And then there's me, a more understated presence in our friendship.

While I too possess thick, curly hair, I prefer to gather it in a simple, elegant bun. My skin boasts a delightful caramel hue that adds a touch of warmth to my features. Unlike Tracy, my approach to life is more laid-back and serene, allowing me to embrace my own unique beauty.

My phone buzzed, alerting me to a new message. Curiosity got the better of me, and I glanced at the screen. It was Ivan, my ex-boyfriend. Memories of our tumultuous past flooded my mind, and I hesitated before opening the message. After all, it had been a year since we broke up, and he had always managed to find a way back into my life despite my efforts to move on. His persistence was both annoying and frustrating.

Ivan's messages were always filled with the same clichés that exes tend to use. "I'm sorry for how I treated you," "I hate myself because of what I did to you," "I only want you, give me another chance." It was all too familiar, and I had grown tired of his empty promises and apologies. But this time, the message was different. It simply said, "I just want to talk."

Ivan: Hey, I was wondering if you're busy. I know you probably don't want to talk to me but, I just want to talk a bit.

Y/N: Can't talk now, I'm out.

The excitement in the air was palpable as another figure made their entrance. The crowd erupted in a deafening cheer, and Tracy's voice soared above them all. "Oh my god, OH MY GOD! Y/N, IT'S JEY USO!" I discreetly slid my phone back into my pocket, trying to hide my lack of recognition. Tracy's reaction was akin to that of a child visiting Disneyland for the first time, a symphony of joyous squeals.

I attempted to play it cool, pretending I knew exactly who she was talking about. But then, it hit me like a wave of nostalgia. Jey Uso, my personal trainer from a few years ago. I recalled the countless times I had seen him on television, thanks to Tracy's monopolization of the TV whenever she visited. Jey Uso, the man who had departed from the bloodline. At least, that's what Tracy had informed me on a few Mondays ago.

This unexpected reunion sparked a torrent of memories. I remembered the grueling training sessions, the camaraderie built through sweat and determination. Jey Uso had been more than a trainer; he had become a mentor, a guiding force in my fitness journey. Seeing him now, amidst the roar of the crowd, brought back a flood of emotions.

Inevitably, the moment arrived when he gracefully exited the scene. His presence was somewhat elusive, until he finally reached the end of the ramp. A mere distance of 10 feet separated us. The deafening chorus of women's screams mingled with his entrance song, creating an atmosphere of frenzy. Every step he took exuded an air of confidence and self-assuredness. His chin held high, while his arms hung loosely by his side. There was an enigmatic beauty about him, one that eluded my comprehension. Tracy's assessment proved accurate; this man was undeniably captivating. In person, his allure was only enhanced, leaving me in awe.

In the midst of the bustling arena, Tracy had been desperately vying for his attention for what felt like an eternity. Two minutes had passed, with Tracy's repeated attempts to catch his eye going unnoticed. But then, there he was, just a mere five feet away. I couldn't help but fixate on him, my gaze unwavering.

As he drew closer, making his way towards the ring, Tracy's voice echoed through the arena, resonating with fervent adoration, "WE LOVE YOU JEY!" I had hoped that her passionate cry would finally capture his attention, but to no avail. Instead, it was me that he locked eyes with. The intensity of his gaze was so potent, it felt as if my eyes were about to burst from their sockets. In that fleeting moment, time stood still. It was as if the entire arena faded into insignificance, leaving only Jey Uso and me. With a mischievous smirk, he acknowledged me before stepping into the ring. The connection we shared in that brief encounter left an indelible mark, an electrifying energy that lingered in the air.

In a sudden turn of events, a perplexing entrance unfolded before my eyes, leaving my mind awash with confusion. Amidst the chaos, Tracy's piercing scream broke through the haze. My attention snapped to her, and disbelief colored my words, "Wait, there's two of them?" Tracy's response was sharp and laden with exasperation, "Yes bitch, they're twins, Jimmy!" Twins? The revelation struck me like a bolt of lightning, leaving me dumbfounded. So, you mean to tell me that there are not one, but two of these men?

In a surprising display of agility, Jimmy briskly made his way out, taking each stride with purpose. Upon reaching the front of our section, he cast a disdainful glance at the individual standing beside me. Tracy, eager for a photo opportunity, whipped out her phone and called out to him, "Jimmy, over here!" Yet, once again, he disregarded her plea. Instead, the man directed a contemptuous stare in my direction, leaving me perplexed as to what I had done to provoke such animosity. In response, I returned his glare, causing a smirk to creep across his face.

I was taken aback, my mind swirling until Tracy forcefully shook me. "Oh. MY. GOD! HE SMILED AT YOU! THEY BOTH SMILED AT YOU! I swear to god if they’d have done that to me, I would've died on the spot. aren’t they so sexy?'' Tracy exclaimed. My gaze remained fixated on Jey's silhouette. “Yeah, I guess," I replied. Tracy's jaw dropped, “YOU GUESS? Oh come onnn Y/N, they are literally the sexiest twins in this arena right now.” My eyes shifted to Tracy as a faint blush colored my cheeks, “Yeah, I said I guess. Don't get me wrong, they’re good looking. But I'm sure they enjoy the attention they receive from all you women.'' I explained. 

“Well, that's your opinion. Hopefully, I get invited backstage," she added. Did they actually do that? Invite people backstage? If that were the case, Tracy would probably be the last person they’d invite. Her high-pitched screeching could kill an entire army.

As I gazed towards the ring, my eyes locked with Jey's while he adjusted his wrists. A wave of nerves tingled down my neck, and I quickly averted my gaze. Tracy, standing beside me, couldn't contain her excitement. "Just wait until you see their moves in the ring," she exclaimed. The tension between the two men was palpable, evident in their hostile glares. It was clear that they harbored some deep-rooted animosity towards each other. The thought crossed my mind that perhaps I should start watching WWE to gain a better understanding of this intense rivalry.

In the intense atmosphere of the wrestling ring, the referee handed microphones to both Jey Uso and his twin brother, Jimmy. With a deep breath, Jey grasped the opportunity to address his brother in a fierce tone. "Why you even here? This is not SmackDown, it's Monday Night Jey. Your best leave my arena," Jey exclaimed, his voice filled with determination.

Jimmy, however, refused to back down. "Don't act innocent in all this, uce. You may think you're perfect, but you're just as flawed as I am!" he retorted defiantly.

Jey's eyes twitched with anger as he responded, "No, I have always been there for our family. Unlike you, who only cares about his own success and glory! You've let success get to your head, uce!"

The tension between them grew, and I found myself captivated by their verbal sparring. Jimmy continued to challenge Jey, "Oh, really? And what about all those times you let us down? When you prioritized being 'Main Event Jey Uso' over our own blood, huh? Do you think that makes you a saint?"

Jey took a step closer, his voice now raised in a yell, "You know damn well that I have worked tirelessly to get where I am today! But at least I never lost sight of what truly matters – family and loyalty! Those are things you clearly know nothing about!"

It wasn't the sarcasm that left me gasping; it was the empathy in Jimmy's voice as he responded, "Family and loyalty? Is that why you abandoned me when I needed you the most? Where were you when I was struggling with my own demons?"

"Well, maybe if you weren't so controlling all the time, things would have turned out differently! Maybe I wouldn't have felt suffocated and trapped!" Jey's face showed a tear rolling down, revealing the pain he had been carrying.

In an unexpected turn, Jimmy resorted to gaslighting, saying, "Maybe if you had listened to me instead of pushing everyone away, we wouldn't be in this mess right now. It's always about Jey Uso and his problems!"

Jey was now openly crying, feeling hurt and betrayed by his own brother. He spoke with raw emotion, "Our family was never truly united in the first place! We were always living under your shadow, Jimmy. I'm tired of being second best!"

"Don't blame me for your mistakes! You're the one who made choices that led us here. And now our family is torn apart because of it!" Jimmy retorted, his frustration evident.

"This is not about being better than me. It's about you tearing apart everything we've worked so hard to build together – our legacy!" Jey exclaimed, his voice breaking with sadness.

"Our legacy? Our legacy died a long time ago, uce," jimmy concluded. Jey drops the microphone and surprising everyone with a sudden superkick to Jimmy. The match had begun, signaling the start of a fierce battle between the brothers in the ring.

-20 minutes later-

As the wrestling match reached its climax, the crowd held its breath in anticipation. The familiar "1-2-3" echoed through the arena, and to everyone's surprise, Jey emerged victorious. A wave of excitement washed over the spectators, including myself, as cheers filled the air. It was an unexpected turn of events, and I couldn't help but get caught up in the moment.

Rising to my feet, I joined in the thunderous applause, applauding Jey's hard-fought triumph. The wrestlers slowly made their way out of the ring, each one leaving behind a trail of sweat and determination. Tracy, my companion for the evening, leaned over and reminded me that there was still one more match to come. With Jey's victory behind us, I finally had the chance to take a much-needed bathroom break.

  In the midst of a bustling crowd, I found myself navigating through the throngs of people, trying to make my way to my destination. It was in this chaotic environment that an accidental collision occurred, causing me to bump into a woman. Unfortunately, the impact resulted in the contents of her cup splattering all over my pristine white top. Frustration welled up within me, and I couldn't help but mutter an expletive under my breath.

The woman, whose blonde hair cascaded around her shoulders, immediately reached for a napkin, attempting to rectify the situation. "I'm so sorry, ma'am," she began, her voice filled with genuine remorse. Before she could even finish her sentence, I interrupted her with a dismissive response, assuring her that it was no big deal. We exchanged a few polite words, and I couldn't help but notice the black shirt she was wearing, emblazoned with the word "mami." The top seemed to be tailored to accentuate her ample bosom, which appeared to strain against the fabric.

As I ventured into the hallway, my eyes were immediately drawn to the row of doors stretching along its length. Each step I took was accompanied by a nagging question, "Why were they staring at me like that?" It was as if their gazes held a hidden secret, one that I was desperate to uncover.

The uncertainty gnawed at me as I continued down the corridor, my mind racing to find an explanation. Could there be something on my face? I hurriedly wiped my hand across my cheeks, hoping to remove any potential blemish. But as I glanced at my reflection in a nearby mirror, I realized that my appearance seemed perfectly normal.

Still perplexed, my attention shifted to my shirt. I looked down, only to discover that it was immaculate. The fabric was unblemished, and yet the stares persisted, leaving me bewildered and self-conscious.

As I stood there, faced with three potential doors, my hope was that the one on the left would lead me to a much-needed bathroom. With a mix of curiosity and determination, I reached out and grasped the knob, ready to discover what lay behind it. As the door swung open, the room revealed itself - a dimly lit space with a comforting warmth. Instantly, I knew this was not the bathroom I had hoped for.

Despite my initial disappointment, I couldn't help but wonder if there might still be a bathroom hidden somewhere within this mysterious room. Part of me was tempted to give up the search and move on, but another part urged me to press forward, to see what other surprises awaited me.

In the absence of a visible light switch, I refrained from illuminating the room. Consequently, I cautiously navigated through the dimness to access an adjacent space. My hand landed on the wall beside me, and serendipitously, I discovered the elusive switch. As the room came into view, I observed the presence of essential bathroom fixtures - a toilet, sink, and shower.

As I finished my business, I couldn't help but feel a tinge of annoyance. Removing my shirt, I rinsed it under the sink, soaking it in the cool water. My frustration grew as I muttered under my breath, "Literally fucked up my Calvin Klein shirt."

Suddenly, a loud bang echoed through the room, jolting me from my thoughts. My heart skipped a beat as I realized there was someone else present. Fear crept in, and I instinctively switched off the light, hoping to conceal my presence. The darkness enveloped me, and I whispered to myself, "Oh shit... is someone else here?"

In that moment, I contemplated how to handle the unexpected situation. Perhaps I could play it off with an excuse like, "Sorry, I was just looking for a bathroom." The adrenaline pumped through my veins as I prepared for whatever may come next.

Stepping out of the bathroom, I was met with darkness that enveloped the entire room. The intruder, if there was one, had intentionally left every light off. It was my cue to move swiftly towards the exit, praying that I wouldn't stumble upon any obstacles and give myself away. With cautious steps, I began to navigate my way through the darkness, when suddenly, an exasperated curse escaped my lips. How could I have forgotten something so crucial? My shirt still lay abandoned in the bathroom, leaving me half-naked and resembling a bizarre fan.

I spun around in a hurry, only to be met with a forceful impact. Someone had bumped into me, leaving me momentarily stunned. Fear gripped me, rendering me speechless. "Who you? And what you doing in my dressing room?" I was taken aback. It dawned on me that I had inadvertently stumbled into a wrestler's private domain. Panic washed over me as I processed the situation. "And why don't you have on a shirt?" the man interrogated. Nervously, I stuttered, "I...I was looking for a restroom, and I needed to rinse my shirt. Someone spilled their drink on me...".

As the light flickered on, my gaze met his, and a wave of unease washed over me. It was Jey Uso standing before me, a figure admired by many. However, it wasn't simply his celebrity status that made my heart sink; it was the overwhelming presence he exuded. Straightening my posture, I stammered, "sorry for being all up on your personal space."

His unwavering gaze locked onto mine, not a single blink to break the intensity. "You good. I'll get you a shirt," he replied, before turning towards his closet. As he busied himself, I took a moment to survey the room, absorbing the details.

The space was a reflection of Jey Uso's character – bold and vibrant. Wrestling memorabilia adorned the walls, showcasing his journey and achievements. The room seemed to pulsate with energy, each item holding a story of its own.

My eyes wandered to a shelf displaying trophies and accolades, symbols of his dedication and hard work. Each one represented a triumph over adversity, a testament to the resilience required in the world of professional wrestling.

As I continued to explore my surroundings, I couldn't help but notice the meticulous organization of his wardrobe. Rows of neatly arranged attire, each piece seemingly chosen to reflect his vibrant personality. The colors and patterns mirrored the charisma he exuded in the ring, capturing the attention of fans worldwide.

A sense of authenticity permeated the room, reminding me that behind the persona of Jey Uso was a genuine individual. Despite his fame and success, he remained humble and approachable, willing to lend a helping hand to a stranger who stumbled upon his domain.

Returning with a shirt in hand, Jey Uso broke the silence, his voice warm and friendly. "Here you go. It might be a lil big though," he offered, extending the garment towards me. Grateful for his generosity, I accepted the shirt with a nod of appreciation.

Dressed in a blue shirt adorned with the word "yeet," I could sense his intense gaze fixated on me. Feeling a sense of urgency, I quickly commented, "Umm, thanks, I should probably leave now." Just as I was about to turn around and make my way towards the exit, he unexpectedly reached out and grabbed my wrist. With a hint of confusion in his voice, he inquired, "Don't you want to wait for your shirt to dry?" It occurred to me that leaving my Calvin Klein shirt behind in the dressing room of a charismatic professional wrestler would not be the wisest decision. Realizing this, I reluctantly agreed, "Yeah, I guess I'll wait."

He gestured towards the couch, invitingly. "We can sit and talk if you'd want. I aint got nun else to do for the rest of the night," he offered. Jey Uso's unexpected invitation to sit and talk, even though I was only half-dressed and he had intruded into his personal space, left me feeling a mix of curiosity and uncertainty. Nevertheless, I nodded in agreement and made my way over to join him on the couch.

Jey sauntered over to a small table by the door, casually pouring himself a glass of Hennessy. Turning to face me, he took a hearty swig from his glass before posing a question. "So, you come to these shows often?" he inquired. Unsure whether to fib or be honest, I opted for the latter. "Nope, this is actually my first time. I'm here with my best friend Tracy," I replied. He slid into a seat next to me, our knees nearly brushing against each other. "The girl who was screaming beside you?" he asked. "Yep, that's her," I confirmed. "By the way, I never properly thanked you for being my personal trainer three years back," I admitted. A soft chuckle escaped him as he responded, "Nah, don't worry about it. You still look like you're in great shape." I nodded in agreement. "Yeah, it's good to see you again, though," he remarked. "Definitely. If I ever need a personal trainer again, now I know where to find you," I teased. "I mean, I'm all over the place, flying in jets and whatnot. New York, South Carolina, Florida," he boasted, spreading his legs a bit. 

Leaning forward in my seat, I couldn't help but ask, "What exactly caused the whole beefing between you and your brother?" He took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself to share his story. "A few months ago, I had a golden opportunity to dethrone the Tribal Chief and claim the title of WWE Undisputed Universal Champion. It was a defining moment that was brutally snatched away from me by none other than my own flesh and blood, my twin brother," he revealed, his voice tinged with pain. Restlessly, he began to fiddle with his wrists, a physical manifestation of the turmoil within. "The betrayal cut deeper than you can imagine. I had no choice but to walk away."

"I didn't know you had to go through all of that, but I'm glad you're out of that situation," I said. Jey smirked and chuckled softly, "Yeah, just some family issues and shit," he agreed. He leaned back on the edge of the sofa, taking deep, calming breaths. This vantage point offered me a better view of him – his glistening abs, intricate tribal tattoos, and the sleekness of his black leather pants. I couldn't help but find it all incredibly enticing. As he lifted his head back up, he apologized, "my bad, I'm just a bit tired," he whined.

My phone rang, interrupting my thoughts. Surprisingly, it was Ivan calling. I sighed, wondering what he wanted this time. Reluctantly, I answered the phone, my tone tinged with annoyance.

"Hello? What do you want, Ivan? I told you I couldn't talk because I'm busy," I said, my frustration evident.

"You never have time for me, and now you're mad because I'm calling? Get a grip," Ivan retorted.

"Get a grip? I've told you hella times that I don't want nothing to do with you. Yet you continue to slither back into my life like the snake you are," I snapped back, my anger boiling over. Before Ivan could respond, my friend Jey snatched the phone from my hand. He looked at me, puzzled. "Who is this?" he asked. "It's my ex," I replied, my face buried in my hands, feeling the weight of the situation.

Jey raised the phone to his ear, his voice devoid of sympathy. "look, I don't know what's going on, but she dont wanna talk to you, uce. So get off her phone," he stated firmly. He handed the phone back to me. "Hang up. Now," he commanded. Feeling the weight of Jey's words, I obediently ended the call. Collapsing back onto the sofa, I tossed my phone onto the table beside me. Tears welled up in my eyes as I let out a shaky breath. "When is this ever going to end?" I whimpered, my voice barely audible.

Jey gently lifted my chin, forcing me to look at him. He stood directly in front of me, his presence calming. "It'll get better, trust me. I've been through some similar shit. And how old are you again?" he asked, trying to offer some perspective. "I'm 24," I replied, wiping away my tears. "See, you're still young. I bet in a few years, hell, maybe even months, you'll forget he even exists," Jey reassured me, his words carrying a glimmer of hope.

Jey delicately approached me, his touch as soft as a whisper, tenderly wiping away my tears. Despite his outward appearance, a sense of warmth emanated from him, revealing the gentle nature of his heart. I lifted my eyes to meet his, and in that moment, I was utterly captivated by his presence. There was an irresistible charm about him, a magnetic allure that stirred a deep longing within me, an insatiable desire that refused to be ignored. The hunger in his eyes was palpable, a yearning to possess every part of me. With genuine concern etched on his face, he softly asked if I was alright, and I could only offer a silent nod in response. As he leaned back, a deep inhale filled his chest, and I couldn't help but notice a restlessness in his movements, a struggle to rein in his own desires. The ache in my abdomen intensified, intensifying the yearning to be enveloped in his embrace until it became almost unbearable.

In a daring and audacious move, I found myself straddling him, overcome by the magnetic pull of his gaze. The air crackled with electric anticipation as I whispered sensually, "Can you feel it? The weight of my body pressed against yours." His response, a throaty moan, “i- i cant concentrate with you on me like this.”

Inching closer, my lips tantalizingly brushed against his, igniting an inferno of longing for the taste that awaited him. Our bodies moved in perfect harmony, a symphony of desire that reached a crescendo with a shared gasp. The room hung in suspended silence, punctuated only by the rhythmic sound of our labored breaths.

With a tender caress, he pressed his lips fervently against mine, setting ablaze an insatiable hunger within him, mirrored by the fervor that consumed me. Our mouths became a battlefield of passion, a dance of devouring where he hungrily savored the essence of my being, leaving us both breathless and yearning for more.

Unexpectedly, the door swung open, revealing Jimmy's presence. Startled, I quickly rose to my feet, while Jey sat up, clearly taken aback. Jimmy wore a sly grin, leaving me utterly perplexed as to the reason behind his amusement. "Aye bruh-. Yo ass in hee gettin freaky and shit," he chuckled, "the tribal chief wanna talk to you, bro."

Jey retorted, uninterested, "I don't want to talk to him or you, so get out my shit." Jimmy ran his fingers through his hair, contemplating his response. "Listen, bruh, if Roman shows up, you know he's gonna start some shit, right?" he warned, slowly advancing towards Jey. Resolute, Jey stood up and made his way to the door. "ight, I'll be right back, and don't touch my shit. When i get back, ion wanna see yo face nomo after this," he emphasized before the door closed behind him, leaving me alone with Jimmy.

In the midst of Jey's dressing room, I found myself engulfed in a wave of shyness, apprehensive about the shirt I was wearing. The piercing gaze of Jimmy Uso seemed to burn into my very core. "So, you and Jey, huh? Something going on?" he inquired. It would be sheer madness to assert any sort of connection given that I had only reunited with the man today. Responding with a simple "yes" or "no" would hardly suffice, especially when I was merely borrowing his shirt and our interaction had been limited to a fleeting kiss. My mind drew a blank, struggling to conjure up any suitable response. Before I could gather my thoughts, Jimmy impatiently snapped his fingers, urging me to speak. "Come on, use your words, baby. You're a woman," he added. Flustered, I managed to stammer, "I... No," attempting to put an end to any misconceptions.

He approached me, his question hanging in the air. The one I had been dreading, hoping it wouldn't arise, finally did. I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of my response. "We only recently reconnected after three years," I replied. Jimmy furrowed his brow, clearly perplexed. "So, in other words-" I interrupted him, not willing to hear the rest of his sentence. "Please, don't say it. I don't want to hear it," I snapped. Jimmy chuckled softly, his curiosity evident. "Say what?" he inquired. "Something along the lines of 'so you sleep with people you've just met again after 3 years?' And if that was your question, then no, I don't," I retorted, my anger starting to bubble to the surface. "Honestly, this was a mistake. I don't even know why I'm still here. Is it already 11 PM?" I shouted, frustration seeping into my words. "Actually, it's 12 AM," Jimmy added, trying to provide some clarity. I slapped my forehead with the palm of my hand, realizing my mistake.

"The hell you mean a mistake?" Jey Uso's voice caught me off guard, not because it was particularly loud, but because I hadn't realized he had been listening. I cursed under my breath, realizing that he must have overheard some of the terrible things I had said. Memories of our long conversations about life, his stories about his family, and the time he stood up to my ex-boyfriend flooded my mind. It was all too overwhelming, and I found myself at a loss for words. "Um, nice to meet you, uh…”  “Y/N," I stammered, desperately trying to regain my composure. "Yeah, nice to meet you, Y/N. See you later, uce," Jimmy chimed in before leaving. "Leave faster," Jey added, his tone sharp.

Jey's gaze remained fixed on me, unrelenting and piercing. I stood there, enveloped in a heavy cloak of silence, burdened by guilt and shame. It was clear that a mere "I'm sorry" wouldn't suffice in this moment, so I decided it was best to gather my belongings and make my exit. As I reached for my phone on the table, I could feel the weight of the tension in the room. The short walk to the bathroom to retrieve my shirt felt strangely disconnected, as if I were moving through a dream. When I returned, Jey was still planted by the door, their eyes never wavering from my figure.

In a swift motion, I hastily discarded the shirt he had given me. But before I could even think about slipping into my now dampened garment, Jey abruptly approached me, snatched the shirt from my grasp, and carelessly flung it to a corner. His piercing gaze locked onto mine as he uttered, "Seeing me was a mistake, huh?" Stammering, I attempted to explain myself, but my words were cut short as Jey forcefully pressed his lips against mine. His fervent desire was evident as he sought to entangle our tongues, engaging in a passionate struggle for dominance. Breaking away from the intense kiss, he questioned, "Was kissing me a mistake?" Trembling, I managed to utter a feeble denial before Jey's hand forcefully struck my rear, causing me to whimper in pain. "Speak up, ma, I can't hear you," he growled, his eyes never leaving mine. "I'm...I'm sorry, Jey!" I whimpered, my voice filled with remorse. Yet, even as he maintained his unwavering gaze, he coldly declared, "Sorry won't fix this."

He pressed his hungry lips against the soft curve of my neck, igniting a fiery passion that consumed us both. Each kiss was a tantalizing blend of urgency and tenderness, leaving a trail of electric sensations in its wake. His tongue, like a skilled artist, traced delicate patterns across my skin, awakening a symphony of desire within me.

"You looked so fucking good tonight," he breathed, his voice dripping with unbridled lust. The way he spoke, filled with raw desire, made my heart race and my body ache for his touch. "That tight ass Calvin Klein shirt hugged yo curves, teasing me, tempting me. And those black leather pants...fuck, you driving me wild." My toes, painted in pristine white, became a symbol of my surrender, a visual feast that intensified his longing.

A soft, involuntary moan escaped my lips as his mouth continued its exploration, his lips tracing a path of pleasure along my sensitive skin. His voice, deep and seductive, sent delicious shivers dancing down my spine, heightening my senses to new heights. "No wonder Jimmy couldn't take his eyes off you," he whispered, his voice laced with possessiveness and desire, fueling the flames of our passionate encounter.

"But...wait," I gasped, my breath hitching in my throat as I struggled to regain composure. "I have to make sure my friend made it home...I can't leave her alone." "She can wait," he growled, his voice filled with a primal urgency that mirrored the burning hunger in his eyes. The intensity of his desire, his longing for me, drowned out any rational thoughts. In that moment, nothing mattered except the intoxicating connection we shared. The world around us faded into oblivion as our bodies entwined, consumed by an insatiable craving that could no longer be denied.

In the midst of the electrifying moment, a realization struck me like a bolt of lightning. He had a point - she was indeed a mature individual capable of tantalizing patience. However, a delicious sense of guilt danced seductively within me. Jey raised his head, locking his smoldering gaze with mine. With a touch as tender as a feather, he caressed my bottom lip with his thumb, while teasingly nibbling on his own. His hands, filled with a hunger that matched my own, embarked on an audacious journey, venturing upwards and reaching the edge of my pants. In one breathtakingly swift motion, the buckle came undone, a symphony of desire echoing in the room as the sound of fabric hitting the ground nourished our escalating passion. Jey wasted no time, driven by an insatiable desire that consumed him, as he effortlessly removed my underwear, leaving my vulnerability exposed to his voracious longing.

As he descended to the floor, his eyes locked onto mine, now level with my most intimate sanctuary. A tidal wave of desire crashed over me, drowning me in the intoxicating realization of the depths of his insatiable lust.

I locked my eyes onto him, the intensity of his gaze sending a shiver down my spine. Speech escaped me, replaced by a wordless gasp as a jolt of electric pleasure surged through every inch of my being. My mouth formed a breathless "oh my god," a testament to the overwhelming ecstasy that his tongue, so skillfully and tenderly, bestowed upon my most sensitive area.

His lips embarked on a seductive journey, planting sensual kisses along the smooth expanse of my inner thighs, teasingly inching closer to the pulsating core of my desire. With every tantalizing touch, the fire within me grew, an inferno consuming all reason and inhibitions. He knew exactly how to push every boundary, how to unravel the deepest recesses of my pleasure.

Our eyes met, his questioning gaze filled with a mix of longing and hesitation. In that moment, I realized that this forbidden indulgence was a precarious path we were treading. But as my chest heaved with unquenchable longing, the undeniable truth washed over me. This desire, this primal need, was not a misstep; it was a plunge into the abyss of unadulterated bliss.

“Is tasting you a mistake?” he asked. With a voice thick with desire, I moaned in response, affirming what our bodies had already declared. "No, it's not." And in that instant, all doubts vanished, replaced by an unyielding hunger that consumed us both, fueling the flames of passion that burned brighter with each passing moment. 

jeys tongue flicked my clit again before he began to slurp me over and over, making a wet mess. My hands found their way to his silky soft damped hair, and I gave it a squeeze. “You taste so good ma,” he said. My head fell back as I began to moan a bit louder. “Eyes. on. Me,” he demanded. I did as I was told, I lifted my head and made eye to eye contact with him. God, the view was so beautiful, I watched his tongue disappear into my cunt over and over. In the midst of our passionate embrace, I reluctantly let out a sigh as he gently disengaged. My hand instinctively cradled his cheek, urging him closer for a more intense kiss.

Slowly, we moved backward towards the inviting comfort of the couch, his gentle guidance ensuring our seamless transition. With a soft thud, we both collapsed onto the cushions, his weight comfortably resting upon me. As our lips finally parted, a shimmering trail of our combined desire lingered, connecting us in the most intimate of ways. I could feel his thick bulge through his pants. As he pulled away from the kiss, a trail of our joint fluids trailed to one another. He thrusted his hips into me, “tell me what you want mama,” he spoke, following a hiss. My breath was so shaky, “i want you, please, please jey.” he pulled his pants down along with his boxers with one hand. His mouth slammed onto mine once again.

As his cock rubbed against my sensitive folds, I couldn't help but whimper his name. "Please Jey," I begged, my body craving his touch. He slid into me with ease, and I let out a thick moan as my back arched. "So big," I stuttered, my mind consumed by the pleasure he was bringing me.

With each thrust, he grew deeper and deeper inside me, sending waves of ecstasy through my body. "Shit ma, you grippin me so good," he groaned, his eyes locked onto mine. He lifted his head to look at me, his voice low and husky. "Is. Fucking. You. A. Mistake?" he asked, each word followed by a deep and hard thrust. I couldn't help but whine as my toes curled, my body on the brink of release. "N-n. Fuck!" I managed to stammer out, my senses overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment. 

His movements grew more erratic, more primal, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. "This is my pussy, ma, you hear me? Mine. You know this shit was never a mistake," he grunted, each thrust driving him deeper inside me.

I whimpered, lost in the sensation of him claiming me in such a raw and intimate way. "It's all yours, Jey. I'm sorry," I cried out, my voice filled with a mixture of pleasure and remorse.

He continued to move inside me, his pace relentless as he sought his own release. I could feel myself spiraling towards another climax, my body aching for the sweet release that only he could give me.

And then, as he pounded into me with an intensity that bordered on obsession, we both reached the peak of ecstasy. I cried out his name as I came, my body trembling with pleasure.

He followed suit, his own release sending him over the edge as he collapsed on top of me. We lay there, breathless and spent, our bodies entwined in a tangle of limbs.

In that moment, I knew that what we had was special, that the connection between us ran deeper than mere physical desire. And as he held me close, I knew that I was his, just as he was mine. Our hearts beating as one, our bodies in perfect harmony.

#jey uso #jeysuso #jey uso smut #jey uso fanfiction #wwe fanfiction #fanfic #jey uso one shot #oneshot #smut

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

(Can I request Loki x plus!size reader) so loki and the reader are best friends and the reader is in love with Loki but he has a girlfriend his girlfriend is Sylvie maybe one night during Toni's party Sylvie went to the restroom the reader notices Loki is alone so she decides to tell Loki how much she loves him more than a friend Loki is just rude to the reader and makes one comment about her weight and tells her that he loves Sylvie the reader leaves the party early and bucky noticed he goes after the reader to make sure she is ok bucky finds the reader crying in her room bucky goes into comfort her the reader tells bucky what Loki said to her bucky tells the reader Loki is just an asshole for not making sure the reader is ok after that party the reader and Bucky spent more time together and soon developed feelings for each other and they start dating Loki is jealous when he notices the reader Bucky together Loki and Sylvie broke up they got into a stupid argument when Loki told Sylvie about what the reader said to him Sylvie broke up with Loki because she thinks Loki does have feelings for the reader so it's lokis turn to confess his love to the reader loki tells the reader he is sorry for what he said to her and that he was too blind to notice that he loves the reader and that he wants to be with her the reader tells Loki that she loves him but only as a friend because she fell in love with bucky so the reader and Loki just stay friends.

.⋆｡Glue Myself Shut｡⋆.

One-sided Loki x plus size reader

Bucky x plus size reader

You figured he would feel the same or at least he would like you enough to let you down easy, but when your world begins to crumble, someone else’s hand gather the shattered pieces

Warnings: rejection, angst, unrequited love, fat shaming, Loki is an ass, friends to lovers, fluff, self-deprecation/hatred, implied smut

WC: 2k

A/N: I totally didn’t steal this title from a Noah Kahan song

Minors DNI

Follow and turn on notifications for my library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

The loneliness seemed to settle into your bones like a freezing wind. The chill words of your former friend ringing in your ears, slowly ripping your spirit apart. You knew he was with someone, someone wonderful. It was selfish and a downright asshole move.

But he was standing there, dressed in an all black suit, his raven hair falling perfectly around his face, and more importantly, he was alone. Your heart hammered so loudly your vision almost shook with the force of it. Your feet carried you over to him, through the throngs of people that had crashed Tony’s party, almost as if you were under some spell. He greeted you with a smile and offered a drink but you turned him down, your courage already weening.

There was a beat of silence where the music died and there was a lull in conversation. You couldn’t stop the words if you tried, they spilled from your lips, tumbling over themselves as you stammered. “I love you.” Everything froze and the smile on his face curled into a disgusted frown.

You couldn’t remember every single thing he said but it haunted you all the same.

“How dare you.”

“I’m with someone far better than you.”

“You’re a selfish child.”

“Why would I ever want to be with someone like you?” His green eyes seared into your soft body, picking apart each and every inch of yourself that you hated. You curled in on yourself, the final blow coming when Sylvie returned to his side once more, looking like the true goddess she was. She gave you a devastatingly kind smile.

“Oh darling, you look absolutely beautiful!” She cooed, slipping perfectly under Loki’s arm as he continued to glare at you, making it a point to place his left hand scandalously low on her slim hip. So, you ran.

The pain that ripped through you was like nothing you had experienced before. Your heart was broken, your trust shattered. Fat tears dripped down your face, ruining the carefully applied makeup that you spent hours on. It all felt so stupid now. No dress or makeup or hairstyle would change you into someone you could never be. None of it would make him love you.

You locked yourself away, ripping the nice dress you had bought to shreds before burying yourself in the soft sheets of your bed. Your tears had long-since dried, leaving streaks of mascara down your full cheeks and hiccuping breaths that just wouldn’t go away.

The door to your room opened quietly, letting in a sliver of light before it shut once more. There were three heavy footsteps and then your bed dipped with the weight of another person. “I’m not going to ask if you’re ok because you obviously aren’t so I’m going to ask what you need right now.” Bucky’s voice chased away the freezing draft and you breathed a sigh of relief.

Your arm shot out from beneath your blankets, offering a hand to your friend. His melodic chuckled rumbled through the room. The mattress shifted again and suddenly Bucky was under the covers, nose-to-nose with you, his smile glinting even in the dark.

“I was an asshole tonight.” His dark eyebrows furrowed, prompting you to continue. “I-I told Loki that I was in love with him.” A comforting yet cold hand laid itself upon your wide hip, giving you a comforting squeeze.

“He said that he could never love someone like me and he- fuck- he looked at me like I was the most disgusting he had ever seen. And then Sylvie was there and she was just so nice. And… I’m an awful person.”

Bucky huffed and then tugged you closer, forcing your face into his hard chest as his mismatched arms wound around you, keeping you in place. “You’re not an awful person. You made a slightly dumb decision but everyone does that. But dumb decisions do not excuse the way that Loki spoke to you.” And only then did you finally relax, exhaustion washing over you. “We’ll figure this out, I promise.”

——————

Your whole body felt sore from crying, but you woke up pleasantly warm, surrounded by muscles and blankets. You had fallen asleep still tucked against your friend and apparently he hadn’t let you go for a single second. 

The morning sun fell over you both, bathing him in a beautiful light that highlighted his strong jaw, dotted with day-old stubble. Your eyes traced over the curve of his face, taking in his round nose, the smile lines beginning to appear around his eyes and the corner of his pink lips. The dark circles that were almost permanently beneath his stunning grey eyes were only now fading, leaving only a tinge of purple. 

You ran a finger down his jaw, smiling as he shivered and his arms tightened around your waist. Your touch settled on the warm skin of his neck, taking comfort in the steady beat of his pulse below your fingertips. “Thank you.” You whispered, your eyes shutting once more.

When you awoke again, Bucky was still there, holding you close.

—————— 

It had been a little over two weeks since the ‘incident that will not be named under any circumstance’ and somehow, your whole life had turned around. You no longer cared when you saw your former friend pinning Sylvie to the wall, their lips fused together in a passionate kiss even if that was quickly becoming less frequent in the past few days. You brushed off the glances your way when you and Loki were alone in a room together, however rare that would be.

Because through it all, you had a knight in shining armour to come and steal you away. Bucky kept your gaze firmly on him, his fingers constantly intertwined with yours. He showered you with praise and funny stories, bringing you gifts and food. Bucky lifted you up, reminding you just how incredible you really were. He danced with you while no music played, he cuddled you during movie nights, he held your plump thigh whenever you sat next to him. 

And soon enough, he kissed you. It was the middle of the night in the communal kitchen. You both had just demolished a truly ungodly amount of takeout and a comfortable silence had fallen over you both. One hand laid on Bucky’s chest as your giggles died. His smile slowly fell into a frown, his eyelids fluttering. 

The cold metal of his left hand settled on your soft jaw. His eyes fell to your lips and suddenly he was close enough that you could feel his breath fanning over your face. You don’t remember who moved first but you did know that in that moment, everything else disappeared except for him.

And when the need for oxygen became too great, Bucky didn’t pull away very far. There was barely an inch between your lips as you caught your breath. He beamed at you. “I’ve waited for so long to do that.” You smiled and pulled him in for another kiss.

Your sides hurt from laughing as you and Bucky climbed the steps up to the Avengers Tower. Your whole body trembled with giggles. “Are you serious? Steve really did that?” Bucky chuckled along with you, moving all your shopping bags into one hand so he could pull the door open for you.

“Yeah this kid who was a buck even soaking wet tried to climb up the side of a fucking building to rescue a cat.” Your giggles resumed again with an added fervour. Just as the elevator doors opened, another voice called out to you. Both you and your boyfriend turned to the source of the sound.

Loki was striding to you with a purpose, jaw set, eyes blazing with an emotion you couldn’t quite pinpoint. Bucky stiffened behind you but the comforting touch at the base of your back told you that he wasn’t mad at you. “I need to speak to you, in private.” 

“I don’t know if that’s such a great idea, all things considering.” Bucky’s words escaped his lips almost like a growl, throaty and dangerous. And you were ashamed to admit that it sent a shiver of arousal down your spine.

“Bucky, it’s ok. It’ll just be a minute.” Your gaze flicked to your partner but he just nodded.

“I’ll be upstairs, call if you need me.” He gave your elbow a secretive squeeze and disappeared behind the stainless steel doors but not without a warning glare to the other man. As soon as Bucky was out of sight, Loki breathed a sigh of relief, his shoulders falling.

“Firstly, I do wish to apologise for how I treated you the night of Stark’s party. I was cruel to you for no reason at all and for that all I can say is that I’m sorry. You are my friend and a beautiful woman. That night I made a grave mistake.” The pounding of your heart was so reminiscent of that night. The fear, the anxiety but this time, you knew what he would say and you knew that it was now your turn. Loki took in a deep breath, his hands trembling at his sides.

“My dove, I am in love with you too. I was too blind by my own pride to see it at first but Sylvie knew. She left me, she told me that you were the one that I truly loved. So here I am, begging you to give me a chance.” He shocked you by grabbing ahold of your hands and tugging them to his cold lips. “Please my love, please let me worship you the way you deserve.”

Pity curled in your gut as he kissed your knuckles. “Loki.” He flinched and immediately released you. “I am truly sorry that you and Sylvie broke up, she obviously made you happy. And I am sorry that my actions led to this but you cannot ask me to give you a chance when you showed your true colours and hurt me so badly. You were not my friend at that moment. You made me doubt my self-worth and you made me feel awful. I know that what I did was shitty too but that is no excuse.”

“Besides that, Bucky and I have started seeing each other and I think it’s going pretty well so far. We can be friends but the trust that I had with you before is gone.” Your voice had lifted to a gentle coo, like it could possibly soften the blow. “I have nothing left to give you.”

——————

Bucky wouldn’t admit out loud that he was anxious. So instead, he cleaned. He knew that you had feelings for him, maybe not as deep as love- yet but only a fortnight ago, you were declaring your love for the man who, he presumed, was now telling you that he felt the same. 

Bucky loved you with his whole heart, he always had. Not only were you kind and patient with a laugh that made him melt, but you were beautiful, both inside and out. Anyone would be lucky to have you and he could not comprehend not only how Loki rejected you so cruelly but how you gave an old soldier like him a chance.

He was so caught up in scrubbing the already clean dishes that he didn’t notice the figure standing in the kitchen doorway, silently watching him work. “If you clean those dishes anymore, they’ll disappear.” His whole body sagged as you spoke.

Immediately, he abandoned his work and sprinted to you. You laughed as he pulled you into his arms, burying his face in the crook of your neck. He didn’t have to say anything and neither did you. Everything he needed to know was in the way you held him close, how you kissed his temple, in how  you tangled your fingers in his hair. 

“So… do you want go fuck my brains out and then get some ice cream?” Bucky hauled you into his arms and ran faster than he ever had in his life.

(I couldn't help myself)

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[silaswritesthings]

It’s affection, always

Summary: You and Scaramouche have an argument and he tries his best to mend things between you.

Starring: Scaramouche (as a harbinger)

Genre: Romance, angst, fluff

Warnings: proof read ONCE by someone (me) who’s half asleep

Author’s note: I wrote this mainly for myself so I don’t expect much tbh. The title quotes the song ‘affection’ by cigarettes after sex so yes. Likes, reblogs, comments and new followers will always be appreciated!

Word count: 1126

Restless. Scaramouche was restless because he didn’t actually mean to send you on that mission. He was angry for archon’s sake, you know him well enough to not listen to him whenever he’s in such a state. So why did you go?

Scaramouche walked hurriedly on the snow covered ground as he ordered the fatui soldiers he brought with him to find you. Find anything that may lead him back to you. His voice was stern and authoritative. The voice of a level headed leader, he would often say to you, but that was the opposite of how he felt. He felt as if his world was falling apart. Lost. Was he always this lost and did your presence take his mind off of that or were you the sense of stability you always said he needed.

He recalled your argument. How you told him off for a remark that hit too close to home. He recalled how he dismissed you and your feelings but not because he didn’t care. He was scared. Scared that anything he would say and do after that would hurt you but you didn’t allow him to make you leave. You stood your ground and as much as it warmed his heart that you would stick with him even at his worst, he hated how you allowed his words to get to you to the extent of endangering yourself.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. This was all stupid. You’re stupid for doing this. He’s stupid for looking for you. He’s stupid for hurting you. He caused all this and now he would pay for his transgressions. He’d pushed you over the edge and-

“Lord Scaramouche.” One of his subordinates said with caution. The aura around the harbinger had changed and they feared if they made the wrong move, it was more than enough to snuff out what little mortality they possessed.

“Did you find them?” Scaramouche pressed.

“N-no sir but we found out from bystanders that they were never here to begin with.” The subordinate explained, hands clenched together due to the cold Snezhnayan air.

The gaping hole in Scaramouche’s chest numbed at this information. Did you… pretend to go? Out of anger? Any other day Scaramouche would be ready to wring the blood out of your veins but today he was on the verge of tears of relief.

“Let us not waste another second here.” He said, his voice bellowing above the sound of blowing snow. “Let us return to the palace and keep a look out for them just in case.” And with that they returned to the Z palace.

As soon as they arrived, Scaramouche made his way to your chambers. This was dangerous, to say the least, because what would the other harbingers say about him going through so much effort to ensure your safety? He didn’t care, at least not right now. Right now all that mattered was you, him apologizing to you so you may allow himself to get lost within the warmth of your embrace as he did previous nights.

He reached the door of your room and before he knocked he stopped his hand right before his knuckles tapped your door. What would he even say? Would you want to see him now? Is he being clingy? Desperate? What if-

“Scaramouche?” He heard your voice from behind him and turned around. The sight of you left him breathless. You always did.

Scaramouche reached for your hands, you didn’t push him away and he took this as a good sign. He held your hands against his chest before speaking, his voice soft. “I’m sorry.” He looked completely miserable. As if he expected you to order him to be beheaded but he found that fate more bearable than the thought of you never speaking to him again. “I’m so very sorry.” He said quietly, his eyes on yours.

Your heart broke at the sight of this powerful man wishing for nothing but your forgiveness. “It’s fine you don't have to-“ You cut yourself off with a gasp when Scaramouche knelt to the ground before you. His eyes never left yours, not even for a single moment. It was as if he wanted to bare his soul to you and he did. He did and would allow you to do whatever you wanted with it.

“I neither deserve your remorse nor your love and my actions today have proven that.” He tightened the grip on your hands and pulled them closer to his chest. “But I…” He clenched his jaw. This was much harder than he had initially thought it would be. He was a harbinger for heaven’s sake. Baring his feelings to you, no matter how much he wanted to do it, was a vulnerable action he wasn’t ready to do. He hated how weak he was. How could he fail to do something so simple? He loved you so much but maybe it wasn’t enough.

You knelt before him and freed one of your hands from his grip to cup his cheek. He leaned into the touch. “I forgive you.”

“But-“

“Stop doing this to yourself.” You said with furrowed eyes. He remained silent. Content with his compliance, you stood with him in tow before heading into your room. Only the Archons know what kind of a disaster would be caused at the sight of the 6th fatui harbinger kneeling before someone who wasn’t his god.

Once you entered your chambers, you turned to him with a smile. “Would you humour me with another game of chess, my liege?”

He scoffed at the nickname. It definitely wasn’t one of his favourites, but he wouldn’t dare complain. Not that he minded much. “Are you going to cheat again?”

You clicked your tongue. “I won fair and square last time. Between the two of us, the manipulative harbinger is more likely to cheat.”

He let out a sarcastic ‘of course’ as he walked to your chest of drawers to pull out the chess board, chess pieces but he didn’t find the hourglasses among them. Weird. He went on to search your other drawers.

“Scaramouche.” You said from where you now sat on your bed. He hummed. “You do know I love you, right?”

He paused at your words. Coincidentally, he had just opened the drawer with the hourglasses inside of it. He took them along with everything else needed for your game of chess and joined you on your bed while setting the board up. You hummed an unfamiliar tune while he set up the game. He offered to let you start first and you did.

In the middle of the game, Scaramouche called your name softly. You looked up from the chess board.

“I love you too.”

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