#seems like it’s drive people away more than anything

[hqbaby]

ten — jerk

mess it up — gojo x reader & sukuna x reader

⁀➴ when i told you i’m fine, you were lied to. when the love of your life falls for someone else, you decide to move on—by pretending to date your best friend, the campus fuckboy.

previous — masterlist — next

word count. 1.8k content. profanity, mentions of reader’s not so happy life, alcohol consumption, violent confrontation, sexual content [oral m receiving]

It’s been a while since Sukuna’s been to a party. “A while,” of course means two weeks in his world, but nonetheless it seems like it’s been ages since he’s gone to one. So when Mahito tells him that there’s a party happening near his dorm tonight, he really has no choice but to go.

As soon as he gets in his car to leave, the first thing he thinks about is you. Should he text you? Ask if you want to come? But he soon remembers that you have a test the next day and he doesn’t want you to go to class hungover.

So he tells you he’s going out tonight and wishes you luck on your test, tells you that he’s just a call away if you decide you want his company. He can’t help the smile that grows on his face when you respond within seconds.

you: thanks! have fun loser <3

He tucks his phone into his pocket and drives over to Aoi’s house.

When he steps inside, the place is packed. There’s a bunch of people dancing, a few that are already slurring from all the alcohol they’ve consumed, and more than enough girls clocking him and giving him goo-goo eyes.

“Sukuna! You’re here!” Mahito comes up to him, pats his back, and hands him a beer. “Didn’t think you’d show.”

Sukuna takes a sip of his drink and frowns. “What made you think that?”

The boy just shrugs. “I heard you’re all tied down now,” he says. “I assumed your girl wouldn’t be too happy with you coming. What with your… reputation.”

There’s a strange feeling that grows in your best friend’s stomach at the thought of you being called “his girl.” Weird, he thinks, but he brushes it off. It doesn’t mean anything.

“I’m still allowed to have fun,” he says, placing a hand on Mahito’s shoulder. “I’m gonna get a stronger drink,” he lifts his beer, “this is basically juice.”

Mojito guffaws. “Alright, big guy. See you around.”

Sukuna winds his way over to the kitchen and opens the fridge to find something stronger. He isn’t necessarily proud of his alcohol tolerance—you give him shit about it all the time—but he’s never been one to enjoy a party without being at least a little tipsy.

“Looking for something?”

He closes the fridge and sees a girl watching him with a smile. She’s leaning against the counter, all dolled up in a pretty little dress with a beer in hand. He swears he’s never seen this girl before, but it doesn’t matter. If there’s one thing Sukuna does best, it’s pique the interest of strangers who just so happen to be incredibly hot.

He holds up the bottle of gin he found. “Just something to drink,” he says, cracking it open and taking a swig. He holds it out for the girl. “Want some?”

Her red lips quirk into a smile and she takes the bottle, downing quite a bit of it before she hands it back to him. They pass the bottle back and forth until Sukuna drinks the last of it, emptying the liquid into his mouth.

The girl giggles, resting her hand on Sukuna’s chest. “That’s quite the introduction.”

“What can I say?” He grins. “I make one hell of a first impression.”

Now, the alcohol does its trick. He can feel himself get a little hazy, he can feel himself loosen up. And he can feel the awfully apparent hard-on in his pants as the girl leans forward and whispers in his ear, “Wanna have some fun?”

He doesn’t even think, instinct and intoxication kicking in as he says, “Sure.”

Sukuna pulls the girl into a bathroom and she’s on him before he can even close the door. She wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him. It’s sloppy and messy, probably driven by booze, but he kisses her back.

He doesn’t know why. It’s almost second-nature to him, this whole song and dance. But as he kisses her, a part of him screams that what he’s doing is wrong. Why?

He pulls back from her and trails his lips down her neck, searching for the spot that has her moaning at his touch. It’s so predictable, so normal, the way she pants against him as his hands slide from her waist up to cup her breasts. Women are so easy, he thinks.

The girl’s hands move down his chest, past his abdomen, and land on his belt. She unbuckles it and pushes it aside, tugging his zipper down.

With a smile, she sinks to her knees and pulls his pants and underwear down. His cock springs out, already painfully hard. She bats her eyelashes at him and in a sickly sweet voice asks, “Can I suck you off?”

And Sukuna says the only thing he knows to say.

“Sure.”

The girl places her dainty fingers around his cock and pumps it a few times before she wraps her mouth around it. Sukuna groans and reaches for her head, guiding her to take his length all the way in. When she chokes a little at the sheer size of it, he closes his eyes in ecstasy.

As the girl bobs her head up and down his shaft, the warmth of her mouth pushing grunt after grunt from his lips, Sukuna’s mind starts to wander as it is wont to do at times like these. His pleasure builds with every flick of her tongue, with every touch of her hand. It’s been a while since he’s felt this good, he thinks—and then he remembers.

You.

He thinks of you padding around your apartment in that one worn-out shirt you’ve been wearing since high school. He thinks of you getting into his car after a day of class, immediately launching into a rant about your professor and your useless groupmates. He thinks of you lying in your bed beside him, that one night after you’d confided in him about your nightmares. And he thinks about how he’d looked at you then, when you were fast asleep, and he thought that you’d never looked so beautiful.

“I made a promise,” he’d said. “Let me keep it.”

His eyes fly open and he looks down at the girl with her face pressed against his groin. All at once, the pleasure fades, and all he’s left with is disgust. And guilt.

He moves the girl off of him and quickly tucks himself back into his pants.

“What’s going on?” she asks, getting up with a bewildered expression. She tries to grab him as he zips himself up and starts heading for the door. “Hey!”

He dodges her grip and shakes his head, grabbing the doorknob. “Sorry,” he says before he goes outside.

As he moves to close the door behind him, he stills.

Satoru stands in front of him, an arm wrapped around who Sukuna can only assume is his new girlfriend. He looks startled, confused. Sukuna feels his blood run cold.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” the girl demands as she comes out of the bathroom behind him.

Satoru’s eyes narrow. Realization. Anger.

Sukuna tries to get away before the situation escalates any further, but a hand grabs at the collar of his shirt before he can leave.

Your ex presses him against the wall. His eyes are dark and his other hand is balled into a fist at his side.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Satoru growls.

Sukuna pushes him off roughly and glares. “None of your fucking business.”

Satoru grabs Sukuna again and raises his fist, ready to land it on your best friend’s nose, and for a split second Sukuna has one thought on his mind: I deserve it.

“Satoru.”

Kimi’s voice is even as she calls out her boyfriend’s name from behind him. Satoru’s hand stops in the air for a moment before he lowers it and pushes Sukuna away. He backs up, but his eyes remain cold and hard as they shoot daggers at the man in front of him.

“Whatever,” he says, placing a hand on Kimi’s waist before he leads her away.

Just when he thinks it’s over, Sukuna feels a sharp sting on his cheek. A slap.

The girl whose name he doesn’t even know snarls at him. “Jerk,” she says as she gives him the finger and backs away into the crowd. “Asshole!”

Sukuna raises a hand to his cheek. He lets out a bitter chuckle. He deserves it.

You blink as Sukuna’s messages come into your phone in quick succession.

booger: going to a party

Then—

booger: gl with studying

Then—

booger: and gl with ur test

Then—

booger: just call me if u want company

You snort. Most people don’t know this, but as his best friend, you know just how soft Sukuna can be. You call him out on it most of the time, make fun of him when he’s being excessively clingy or sweet, but you have to admit that you actually like seeing this side of him.

And the fact that this side of him only seemingly comes out for you?

Yeah, you can’t deny that you like it a lot.

You reply to his message and put your phone away to confront the pages of notes on the table in front of you. With a sigh, you grab a highlighter and decide to start studying.

No one knows this, but in your senior year of high school, you’d actually considered not going to college. You were definitely expected to, what with the path you’d paved for yourself, but after years of toiling away at your academics, you considered letting yourself take a break. And what with your family fracturing in the last few months of high school… It was safe to say that ditching college wouldn’t have been what was expected, but it might have been what you needed.

Then the offer came in. A scholarship for a school far away from home, one that would handle everything from your tuition to the better-than-most apartment you now lived in. It was the best-case scenario, only made better when Sukuna rushed over the morning your results came out to say that he had gotten in too.

You have no idea what kind of luck had suddenly been granted to you, but you never questioned it. You took what you could and ran.

Maybe you never stopped running.

You lean back in your seat and stretch your back, yawning as you look down at your notes. You’re nearly done, just have to memorize a few terms before you can turn in for the night.

You glance at your phone. It’s been surprisingly quiet tonight, void of anyone asking for help with classes, projects, or life in general. You check the time. 10:27 PM—still pretty early.

You open your contacts and press on Sukuna’s to call him.

It rings.

And rings.

And rings.

And, “Leave a message or whatever.” Then, in the background, you hear your own laugh and your own voice teasing, “Are you trying to make your voicemail sound cool?”

You drop the call and frown at your phone.

Weird, you think. He’s never ignored your calls before.

notes. uh-oh 🫣

#hqbaby.miu #hqbaby #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #gojo #gojo x reader #sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna smut

[princessbellecerise]

Happily Ever After

──── ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧ ────

summary | How the Yandere!HOTD characters would react after being told by your father that they cannot marry you

warnings | Smut, mentions of pregnancy, yandere behavior, public sex, violence, mentions of death and sword fights

this fic is eighteen plus. minors please do not enter

divider by @princessbellecerise

Jacaerys Velaryon

Prince Jacaerys grows desperate upon being told he cannot marry you

The usual level-headed and reasonable Prince that people are used to seeing quickly goes out of the window and is replaced by a man desperate to do anything to have you

Not having you by his side was not part of his plan, and it’s simply not an option

Jace absolutely refuses to have anyone else as his partner, and he’ll be damned if you marry anyone but him

After being told no by your father, Jace begins to spiral

Anyone can see that the Prince is clearly not happy, and his behavior starts to become panicked and irrational

Rhaenyra tells him to let it go; to let you go but she doesn’t understand. How can Jace let you go when you’re everything he’s ever wanted?

He tells, no begs your father to reconsider, tells him that he can’t imagine spending his life with anyone else but you

Jace tries to get him to see just how in love the two of are, but unfortunately your father still tells him no. And it’s nothing against Jace, he reassures the prince, but it’s just that—much to everyone’s surprise—your father has already made arrangements to betroth you to someone else

You of course have absolutely no knowledge of this, and you’re stunned when your father apologizes to Jace but it’s still a big, fat no

He sends you both away and tells you not to ask again because everything is final. And even when you burst into tears, begging your mother to not let him do this, your father doesn’t budge

“This alliance is vital for our House, Y/N. I’m sorry, but you will not be marrying the Prince.”

That night, you go to bed absolutely devastated and of course, you want nothing more than for Jace to comfort you. You wish to sneak out and go to his chambers like you normally do, but your father is smarter than you anticipated

As if he knew exactly what you intended to do, he asks Rhaenyra to place a royal guard at your door

No one is allowed in and no one is allowed out, which makes your plan of seeing Jace impossible

You beg and you plead, but the guard does not budge. He simply tells you go back to bed and alas, you do not see Jacaerys that night. Or any night after that

It seems that your father is intentionally keeping you away from the prince, whisking you away every time he tries to approach or arranging your schedule so that you do not run into him

Additionally, there seems to be a guard present for every little thing you do, so sneaking away isn’t an option

If you do so happen to even see Jace, it’s only through fleeting glances and the lack of contact begins to drive you both insane

You can’t stand being away from one another and time is running out. The only reason your family is in King’s Landing is because your father was there for business, but soon he will be finished and you’ll have to go back to your homeland. Without Jace, to marry someone else

The sheer thought of it gives you anxiety, but you’ve exhausted your pleas and by now you know that your father won’t listen

There’s nothing you or Jace can do to change his mind—or at least, that’s what you think

Two days before you’re supposed to leave though, a sudden knock on the door shocks you. When you open it, you’re expecting it to be one of your family members, but nothing—absolutely nothing—prepares you to see Jace standing on the other side; the guard knocked out, Jace’s fist bloody, and a wild look in his brown eyes

When you ask him what the hell happened, Jace responds by telling you that he can’t live without you, and that he was willing to do whatever it took to make you his

He couldn’t let you leave without doing something, and so that night, the prince takes you in every position that he can think of. Missionary, doggy style, against the wall, on the balcony

Anything to breed your pretty little cunt, anything to make sure that his seed takes

Jace hates it, he hates breaking the rules and as heir he knows what he’s doing is wrong

He knows that impregnating you while not being married could potential ruin him, you, and his mother. He knows how the greens would react to a bastard having a bastard, but he’s so afraid of losing you that he doesn’t care

Jace risks everything that night just to make sure that you stay by his side; and it works

A few days later, you still end up leaving with your family but on the journey back home you pray to the Gods that your plan works

You pray that Jacaerys’ seed takes root in your womb and to your utter excitement, you prayers come true

A few short weeks after returning home, you notice that your moon blood hasn’t come and you start to get sick nearly every morning

You’re barely well enough to attend any meetings with your so-called ‘betrothed,’ and it doesn���t take long for someone to catch onto your symptoms

When your maids discover what’s going on, they immediately tell your mother, who in turn tells your furious father

When you finally break the news, you swear that you had never seen him get so angry before. Had your mother not been holding him back, you were sure that he would’ve strangled you where you stood

Alas though, as much as he wanted to wring your neck he knew that harming the future Queen of Westeros would not be a wise decision

After all, there were no doubts about who the father of your unborn child was, and as soon as the news broke your father had furiously written to Rhaenyra and informed her of the situation

As soon you arrived in King’s Landing, you were all but thrown into a wedding gown, modified to fit over your stomach of course

But either way, you and Jace get exactly what you want—the opportunity to spend forever together, and six moons later, a healthy, chunky baby that just so happens to be born three moons sooner than anyone expected

Aegon Targaryen

Aegon is angry when your father tells him no

And it’s not just because of the rejection, it’s also because he knows—Aegon knows that the only reason he says no is because your father doesn’t think he’s good enough for you

In fact, your father flat-out tells him this, and to make things even worse, your father declares that you’ll marry his brother instead—the responsible, honorable Aemond

Like hell Aegon would ever let that happen

You are the one thing Aegon has that Aemond doesn’t. Someone to love and genuinely care for him, and Aegon isn’t going to let that go so easily

He has half a mind to draw his sword and kill your father on the spot for even suggesting such a vile idea, but you beg him not to. Despite heavily disagreeing with your father’s decision, you tell Aegon that there’s other ways to get him to change his mind that doesn’t involve bloodshed

Surprisingly, Aegon listens to you but you should’ve known it was only because he had already thought of something worse

You didn’t know it, but when Aegon lures you into his chambers the next day, he’s come up with a plan

He knows exactly how to get your father to change his mind, and his plan starts the moment he has you naked

Unfortunately, it’s not the first time you and Aegon have fucked so bedsheets are no use to him. No, your lover has to get a bit more creative than that

Somehow, Aegon convinces you to try something new and you end up bent over the Prince’s balcony as he fucks you from behind, his cock driving in and out of your slick cunt

It’s the middle of the day and what you’re doing is beyond risky, not only because you’re not married, but also because literally anyone could look up and see the two of you

You see, the Prince’s balcony just so happened to overlook the training yard, and though it was empty at the moment, Aegon knew exactly when it got crowded

All he had to do was wait for his chance, fucking you so good that you didn’t even grasp the situation

You were none the wiser as to what was happening, eyes closed as you basked in the pleasure. You moaned his name and clenched around his cock, feeling a familiar pinch in your stomach

Just as you reached your peak, you began to hear shouting from below

Startled gasps and a few screams had your eyes flying open, Aegon smirking as you caught the attention of at least twenty people—one of whom was your father

He stood, horrified as the prince locked eyes with him. Seemingly taunting him as he rutted into you, moaning and still fucking you against the railing

Aegon swore that he had never came so hard in his life—expect maybe on your wedding night less two days later, the memory of your father’s face and the satisfaction of getting what he wanted fueling what he calls, “The best fuck of his goddamn life.”

Daemon Targaryen

Daemon is amused upon being told no

He’s amused and it’s because he never really asked for permission in the first place. It was more like…a courtesy warning, and he only did it because he knew you were too scared to tell your father yourself

After all, the Rouge Prince has a reputation and it’s not exactly squeaky clean. Daemon’s track record with his wives is why your father said no, but he should’ve known that no isn’t in Daemon Targaryen’s vocabulary

In fact, Daemon merely laughs in your father’s face, declaring that the two of you will be married in a fortnight, regardless of what your father says

Show up or don’t, Daemon doesn’t care—but you will be his wife

And of course, your father protests, appalled that the prince is so bold

He even goes as far as to complain to the King, but Viserys is old and weak. There’s seldom that he can do to fight Daemon anymore except threaten to exile him again, but Daemon isn’t afraid of punishment

He’ll gladly leave the hell hole that’s King’s Landing, but he makes it clear that if he does, Westeros will never see him or you again

He relays this threat to your father, and in his desperation to keep you away from the Prince, your father all but flees in the middle of the night. Making sure that no one except those loyal to your House know where he’s taking you

Despite your protests and your attempts to alert Daemon, you’re dragged on a boat and shipped off to a far away land, one where your father hopes the Prince will never find you

He even goes so far as to change your hair and make up a fake identity for you, but he was a fool to think that he could ever cross Daemon Targaryen

If the Prince wasn’t annoyed with your father before, then Daemon is most certainly furious when he learns that he’s all but kidnapped you

He sets to work on finding you almost immediately, and he swears once he does he’ll kill anyone that helped with this ridiculous scheme

He starts his search by fiercely questioning all of the guards and servants that were tending to you. And because he’s Daemon Targaryen, it doesn’t take long to get the answers he’s looking for

With one look at Caraxes, the so-called men that were loyal to your house end up folding pretty quickly. Daemon has them all but fighting each other to give up your location, though unfortunately their honesty isn’t enough to spare their lives

In his pursuit to get where you are, Daemon leaves a trail of bodies

He kills anyone that he suspects of helping your father, though his rage won’t be satisfied until he confronts the man himself

And what do you know—your father truly is a fool of a man because it turns out that he took you to Pentos. Pentos, the land where Daemon Targaryen lived for years

Why he thought that was a good idea, no one knows. Perhaps he thought that hiding you in plain sight would be enough to fool Daemon, but unfortunately the rouge Prince is much too smart for that

And due to all of the connections Daemon has in the city (and his dragon) it takes him less than a week to locate you

He finds you hiding just on the outskirts of the city, in some rundown village. You look miserable as you chat with some of the locals, hatching your own plans to escape and somehow get back to Daemon

Your father was asleep in the house that you shared, though the beat of Caraxes’ wings are enough to alert you both, your father waking up and running outside just as Daemon lands in front of you

The Prince wears a smirk of triumph as he dismounts his dragon, taking in your father’s horrified face and laughing

He enjoys the moment almost as much as he enjoys the way you immediately run to you, ignoring your father’s protests and shouts to come back

It’s obvious who you choose by the way you hang onto Daemon, hiding behind him while Caraxes roars

There’s a moment where everything seems to stand still, and Daemon drinks in his moment of victory before slowly gesturing you towards his dragon, helping you mount

As you climb onto the red beast, Daemon slipping in the saddle behind you, the last thing your father sees is the smirk that adorns Daemon’s face

Lilac eyes with with his own, and then, Prince’s lips utter a single word

“Dracarys.”

Lucerys Velaryon

Poor Luke is devastated when your father rejects his proposal

It took all he had to muster up the courage to even ask, and now he’s crushed that he won’t be able to marry the love his life

Not only that, Luke genuinely cannot see himself with anyone else. You’re it for him, and he’s determined to be with you no matter what

Call it young love or maybe just sheer stupidity, but one night Luke sneaks into your chambers and hatches a plan

He tells you that there’s a way for you to be together, a way for you to have your happy ending after all. All you have to do is come with him, and he’ll take you to a place where no one, including your father, can come between you two ever again

And that night, when you flee with the Prince on the back of Arrax, it almost feels like a fairytale. You’ve never felt more alive than you did as you watched the Red Keep disappear into the night

With your heart beating as fast as Arrax’s wings, you and Luke run away, neither of you thinking of the consequences, or caring

You’re just so happy to be together that everything else falls into the background. Caught up in your own bliss, you and Luke flee to Essos where the Prince has arranged for you to be married

Like he promised, no one is there to object or to stop you from becoming one. They’re all too busy in King’s Landing looking for you both, your mother distraught and your father wondering what happened to his youngest child

Likewise, Rhaneyra nearly collapses when she finds out that Luke is missing, but Daemon reassures her he’ll be back. He doesn’t know when, he tells her, but he has a sneaking suspicion that when he does you’ll be in tow

And what do you know—four moons go by and it turns out that Daemon was right. You and Luke return to King’s Landing after all, and upon arrival you’re greeted by your weeping mother and your

concerned father

They both have so many questions—where have you been, what happened, why did you run away?

And everyone is so focused on questioning you, so relieved that the Prince isn’t dead after all, that they almost miss the glaringly obvious bump that’s concealed behind your blue dress

Almost

You try to hide it as best as you can, but when your father pulls you in for a hug you know that he can feel it. The horrified expression he wears when he pulls away confirms this. And when you back away, placing a loving hand over your stomach and settling into Luke’s arms, that is when he also takes note of the matching Velaryon pins on your clothes

“We have something to announce,” Luke tells his mother excitedly

You both share a loving look, and Rhaneyra’s eyes are ready to pop out of her skull when Luke places a hand over your stomach and grins

“Y/N is with child.”

Aemond Targaryen

Aemond takes your father’s words as a challenge

Despite how irritated he is at being flat-out rejected, he decides not to lash out or show any emotion really

For Aemond, keeping a level head is important. It allows him to plan, to strategize like he’s always been taught and to be able to stay one step ahead

He supposes he’s just like his grandfather in a way, and it’s obvious that your father underestimates just how far Aemond is willing to go for you

The first man that your father agrees to betroth you to only lasts about five minutes in the duel Aemond challenges him to

The second fairs a little better, though not by much. By the third, your father is furious and it’s become a game for Aemond to see how fast his opponent can last before they ultimately meet their maker

He wears a smirk the entire time he’s fighting, easily ducking and dodging and occasionally striking which wounds the man heavily. It’s obvious that he’s going to win, again, and the sobs and screams from the Lord’s family are hard to miss

They sit next to you in the crowd that surrounds him and Aemond, and every time Aemond lands a blow your father flinches, muttering under his breath how it was a mistake to ever let you meet that man

You on the other are ecstatic, occasionally locking eyes with Aemond and sending him encouraging smiles

You pray after each duel that your father will finally change his mind and allow you to marry Aemond, but it’s not until after the fourth duel does he agree

After a particularly bloody and grueling fight, there are no more proposals. Every Lord that had ever considered asking for your hand is now too terrified to even speak to you, and with the lack of marriage offers your father has no choice but to admit defeat

He agrees to marry you to Aemond, and of course, Aemond feels victorious. He smugly thanks your father for his reconsideration, shaking his hand and promising that he won’t be regretting his decision

#hotd #house of the dragon #hotd x reader #house of the dragon smut #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon smut #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen smut #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen #daemon targaryen #daemon targeryen x reader #daemon targaryen smut #lucerys velaryon #lucerys velaryon x reader #lucerys velaryon smut #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen smut #yandere #yandere!hotd #yandere house of the dragon

[chosok-amo]

BABYSITTER‘S PUNISHMENT : TOJI FUSHIGURO

when you tryna steal from toji to only end up getting fucked by him.

CONTENT WARNING : smut! toji, rough sex, spanking.

P.S this is from toji's pov

ever since my marriage fell apart, and my bitch of an ex-wife (pretend it's not megumi's mom) left me for some hunky personal trainer, I’ve been a little short-tempered. you see, we had built a home together and raised a beautiful son, megumi, who I love more than anything else in the world. we had a gorgeous house in the suburbs, complete with a swimming pool and a large garden with a playground for megumi to entertain himself. I couldn’t have asked for a better home to start a family. so when the aforementioned whore decided to destroy our family, my spirits were crushed and I started to lash out on everyone around me. my secretary at the office was the first to feel my wrath, as I blamed her for every little thing that went wrong, whether it was her fault or not. she was forgiving, though, and ignored my raging temper.

then, I started to shout at people while I was driving, frequently cursing other motorists and swerving erratically so I could make obscene hand gestures at them. I never lashed out at my daughter, I should add. no, she was the one thing that gave me joy in those dark times. a few months after the divorce proceedings, my wife’s ridiculous relationship with her new boyfriend imploded on itself and she came crawling back. I was having none of it and made sure she stayed away.

of course, with the bitch out of the picture I needed some help to look after Megumi whenever I worked late or had to attend meetings at weekends. Luckily, I managed to find a perfect babysitter whose situation suited all of my needs. She was free to work practically every evening and was able to pick up Megumi from school, take him home, feed him, and put him to bed before I even got back. It was an ideal arrangement, not just because of her seemingly constant availability, but because she was absolutely smoking hot. When I interviewed her for the position, I had to keep pulling my eyes away from her chest. Her juicy, round breasts were pressed up against the fabric of her shirt, and I’m pretty sure she wasn’t wearing a bra as I could see two prominent bumps at nipple height.

Her name was Y/n, and her cute smile and flowing hair instantly made the blood rush to my cock. I hired her on the spot, and ever since that day I reveled in the sight of her perky ass whenever I returned home. I could hardly believe my luck— she was stunning, she also got on very well with Megumi and seemed to be totally professional in her duties. However, my opinion of her changed somewhat when I discovered a truth about her that sent me into a rage.

It all happened one day when I was supposed to be working late. I had arranged for her to pick up Megumi as usual and I was set to return home around 10 P.M that night. y/n was totally obliging and supportive, and so the evening seemed to be set. As it turned out I finished work an hour earlier than I’d expected as the person I was supposed to be having a video conference call with didn’t show up. So, I headed home in a somewhat disgruntled and annoyed state. I pulled up at the front of the house, got out of the car, and walked up to the door.

My bedroom light seemed to be turned on, which was strange as I always made sure to turn lights off whenever I left a room— my OCD-like behavior was one of the things my ex-wife hated the most about me. I thought nothing of it and continued up the garden path to the front door. As I walked inside I looked into the living room and then the kitchen. There was no sign of y/n or Megumi, so I assumed that she was busy putting my son to bed. I walked around on my tip-toes for a while, removing my jacket while I got a drink of water from the tap.

Finally, I decided to go up and get changed, so I snuck up the stairs. Megumi’s bedroom door was slightly ajar, but his light was turned off. I thought maybe the lamp should have been on if y/n was in there. I looked at my bedroom door and again saw the light was turned on. I made my way to the door and pushed it open gently as the suspicion flooded my mind.

I peered inside and saw y/n’s ass wiggling around at me as she bent underneath the bed. She was rooting around for something, and when I saw her bag next to her with a small candle-stick holder poking out, I realized she was stealing things from my room. I was horrified that I had let such a criminal into my house and left her alone with my precious son.  However, the sight of her ass moving around turned my anger into something else. Within a matter of seconds, I could feel my cock getting harder.

She hadn’t noticed I was back yet, as her head was well and truly under the bed as she searched for items to plunder. I watched for a few seconds as the rage built inside me, and then stepped inside, closing the door shut as quietly as I could. I crouched behind her and watched for a moment, contemplating the best course of action. The blood was rushing out of my brain to my cock, though, so there was only really one thing on my mind. I knew exactly how to punish her.

”What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I said in a stern voice. She froze and then shuddered as she realised she had been caught. It must have been a massive shock to her system, as she didn’t say a word for what seemed like an eternity. I repeated myself, and then grabbed her feet and dragged her out from under the bed. She tried to claw the carpet to stop me but I was far too strong. As her head appeared from under the bed, she looked up at me with pleading eyes, no doubt presuming she could buy her way out of the situation with a suggestive wink and a squeeze of her breasts. Such leniency was most definitely not on the table, though. I grabbed her arms and pulled her up to her feet, and then turned her around and forced her up against the bed.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!“ she kept repeating, but I wasn’t listening.

“You think you can steal from me?” I scowled, pushing her back down on to the bed as she tried to stand up again. Her ass stuck out as she bent over the side of the bed and I continued “I’ll teach you not to steal from me!”

“What are you going to do with me?” she pleaded, but as she looked back she already knew what I had in mind for her. I kept her chest firmly pressed down on the duvet and raised my hand up above her ass, striking it down with a loud crash. She yelped in horror as I spanked her ass, but I kept going, slapping each cheek over and over again. She tried to push herself up, but I just pushed her back down. She kept resisting, so I grabbed her wrists and yanked them behind her back, holding them in place with one hand while I continued to spank the naughty bitch. She winced and groaned with every hit that thrashed across her ass, but I didn’t feel like she had nearly learned her lesson.

“Are you sorry?” I growled, finding myself getting more and more turned on by her whimpering. Her screams to be let go almost sounded sexual in nature, as if the spanking was turning her on more than it was hurting her.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” she cried, repeating it after every strike that landed over her ass. My cock was rock hard and almost bulging from my trousers. Then I had a much better thought of how to punish her more effectively. I pulled her back up and stood her at the side of the bed, letting go of her arms as I wrapped mine around her chest, constraining her movement completely. She wiggled her body to loosen herself from my grasp, but my arms were far too strong. I ran my hands over her stomach, feeling the material of her vest top as I moved higher and higher towards her breasts.

Once again she wasn’t wearing a bra, and her nipples were poking out firmly through her top. I groped at them and squeezed the warm, fleshy lumps in my fingers as she squirmed around in my arms. No doubt she could feel my massive, hard cock rubbing against her ass cheeks as I held her breathlessly close. I could smell the shampoo she had used to wash her hair that day, as the warmth of her body rose up from the top of her head. I was so turned on, I started to pinch her pert nipples and slap the sides of her tits. She cried out loudly, so I placed the palm of my hand over her mouth to silence her, and then moved it down to her neck and squeezed firmly and menacingly at her windpipe.

“Ssshhh!” I whispered as I continued to fondle her tits, digging my fingers into her skin as I enjoyed the feel of her supple mounds. She could feel my breath on her neck as I leaned in and stared down her cleavage, watching her delicious breasts wobbling around in my fingers. They truly felt fantastic, and I would have happily stayed there for hours playing with them, had it not been for her constant struggling.

“I’m not done with you yet!” I said as she tried to bolt for the door. I pulled her back, grasping at her waist as I pushed her back down on to the bed. She squealed for mercy as I climbed on top of her back, and then started to peel her top up over her head. I pulled her arms up and held them above her head while I pulled the vest up and discarded it on the floor. She lay on the bed with her arms wrapped under her chest, preserving her modesty. I wanted to see those juicy tits, though, so I rolled her on to her back and pulled her arms open to expose them.

They were even more beautiful in the flesh than I had imagined – perfectly round and just enough to fit in my hands. I held her down and started to fondle them some more, rolling my thumbs around her nipples and pinching them sharply as I pulled them away from her body. Then I began to slap them from side to side, and as I watched them repeatedly jiggling back into position, my cock became almost painfully hard. She spat in my face, with a small blob of saliva landing on the side of my cheek. I wiped it away carefully and stared gruffly in to her eyes, and then slapped her across the face.

She recoiled in horror, turning her head away for a moment before looking back at me. A tear formed in her eye, but she was clearly excited on a sexual level. She was fighting the urge to shoot me a wry, dirty smile. I slapped her again, firmer and faster that time and across the other cheek. I slapped her a few more times, making her cheeks red from the impact of my hands. Saliva spilled out over her face, and I let go of her body for a moment while I undid my tie.

She watched me remove it, trembling on the bed and glancing at the door to plan her escape route. She wasn’t going anywhere, though, and I rolled her on to her back again and forced her wrists together. I wrapped the tie around them, binding her arms securely so I could have some fun. I slowly removed my shirt as I watched her ass shuffling off the edge of the bed, and pressed my foot on to it to keep her from moving any further.

Her ears pricked up when she heard the jangle of my belt buckle as I unfastened it, removing my trousers and boxer shorts to free the enormous, throbbing cock within. With all of my clothes nestled in a small heap on the carpet, I crouched behind her and started to feel her ass through her tight jeans, smelling the crack and running my fingers in between her legs as she moaned lightly.

I couldn’t wait to see her bare ass, so I reached underneath her waist and unzipped the denim flaps, before yanking the jeans down her legs to reveal her sexy little thong. I pulled the jeans away, turning them inside out as they gripped to her legs. She remained huddled over the bed, and I leaned in and felt the warm skin as I pressed my lips up to her ass cheeks.

I gripped the sides of her thong and peeled it down her legs, allowing it to rest around her knees while I moved back up to play with her ass some more. She was still making the occasional move to get away, and each time she bolted I lashed a fresh smack over her now bare ass cheeks. Red hand marks started to form on the soft, delicate skin as I peeled them apart; exposing her tight little anus and her dripping wet labia below.

There was no doubt in my mind that she was gagging for it. I buried my face between her legs and began to lick passionately around her pussy, lapping up her juices as she groaned with pleasure. I continued to spank her, and every time I cracked my hands over her ass, she let out a fresh painful shriek. As I ate her out, I moved my hand up and started to massage her clitoris with my fingers, rubbing her flowing juices all over it as I flicked my tongue over her pulsating vulva.

I moved up and began to lick at her ass hole, prodding my tense tongue around the incredibly soft puckering rim. I lapped up and down her crack, pulling her cheeks as far apart as they would stretch and causing her anus to open up slightly. I spanked her again, even harder and she whimpered pathetically. Then I had a fantastic idea.

I untangled my belt from the waist of my trousers and looped it around. She looked back and gulped, bracing herself for what she knew was to come. I pressed her firmly down on to the bed, pushing her arms even tighter against her back, and then I thrashed her ass with the belt. A thunderous crack sounded out and echoed off the walls as she squealed in agony. I didn’t wait for the pain to subside, and immediately lashed her again and again. Her ass was red raw and started to turn purple as faint blotches of bruising appeared. I moved down and smacked it over the backs of her thighs, each impact sending a fresh set of ripples rolling over her flesh.

“Are you sorry? I don’t believe you!” I kept stating, not letting her answer. She could barely speak through her agonised groans, but her pussy was wetter than ever. I dropped the belt on the floor and positioned myself behind her ass. As the pain subsided, she started to sigh with relief. I pushed the head of my cock up to her pussy lips, rolling it up and down between them before plunging my rigid girth deep inside her.

She gasped and strained her neck out in front of her as she let out a loud, ecstatic moan. I started to thrust it in and out of her pussy, slowly at first as I coated it in her pussy juices, and then faster and harder as I became better lubricated. Her labia stretched around it nicely, contorting sideways as my penis passed through them. As I fucked her I continued to spank her ass, causing her to yelp in between her breathless panting. The sight of her arms bound behind her back had transformed me in to a wanton sex beast, and I didn’t care about anything other than fucking her as hard as I could. Every single other thought and consideration in my life was second to brutalising her and obliterating her pussy right there and then.

I pounded her as hard as I could, still bending her over the side of the bed. Her head rocked back and forth on the duvet helplessly under the force of my powerful thrusts, and she had given up trying to get away. She had become completely obedient and was accepting her punishment gracefully. I quickly tired of fucking her from behind though, and I desperately wanted to play with those glorious tits some more, so I flipped her over on to her back again.

She grimaced as her weight shifted, trapping her arms underneath her body. There wasn’t time to untie her, though. She would just have to get used it. I grabbed her throat and squeezed, choking her for a moment as I kissed her lips, stroking her tongue with mine and smelling her sweet candy breath. My cock was throbbing like crazy, so I pushed it back inside her pussy once again and instantly began to fuck her vigorously as she bounced up and down on the spring mattress.

The springs in the bed were creaking like crazy under the weight of our bodies. I grabbed her legs and placed them flat against my chest with her ankles behind my ears, and watched my cock sliding deep inside her over and over again while her amazing sweet tits bounced around atop her chest. I pressed her legs forward and reached down to slap her breasts again, and she screwed up her face with every strike that landed across her soft skin.

The sound of my skin slapping against hers was almost as loud as the spanking I had given her earlier. We were both sweating and writhing together as I pushed her further onto the bed with each thrust. My cock was buried entirely within her pussy, penetrating her all the way down to my balls as she groaned in uncontrollable pleasure. I doubt she had ever received such a strenuous fucking, but she was loving every second of it.

I spread her legs wide open and leaned down to kiss her neck passionately, smelling the hair under her ears as my moist lips pressed up to her skin. The sound of her panting in to my ear just turned me on even more, and after a minute or so I could hear the unmistakeable noise of an impending orgasm. She wheezed and cried out in ecstasy as her hips began to tremble, and then all of a sudden the extreme pleasure took hold of her and her eyes rolled into the back of her skull.

I continued to pound her even harder, relentlessly fucking her wet pussy as she squirmed with gratification on the bed. It was only when she came down from her breathless climax that I remembered I was supposed to be punishing her.

She went limp on the duvet and tried to catch her breath while I pressed her thighs up to her chest, exposing her insanely tight little ass hole. I didn’t want to have to keep struggling with her, so I took the belt and quickly wrapped around her legs, fastening it just under her knees and binding them up to her chest. She hadn’t even noticed what I was doing as she was still coping with the aftershocks of her intense climax.

I crouched in front of her ass again and pushed her cheeks slightly further open— they were already well parted by the position of her legs. Her vaginal muscles were still contracting and causing her labia to pucker up as I leaned in. I stretched out my tongue and licked over her anus once again, tasting the pussy juices as they flowed from her vulva and down through her ass crack.

Her cheeks were still red raw and burning with pain, but I continued to lightly spank them as I licked around her ass hole, prodding my tongue against her rim for a little while. I ran my finger around her pussy lips, lubricating it in her juices before pushing it through her sphincter. She tensed up as she finally realised what I was doing, and started to grimace and moan anxiously. I slid my finger inside her ass hole and pulled it out repeatedly, watching as her hole enclosed around it.

I stood up between her legs and rubbed the head of my cock around her quivering, wet vulva for a moment, coating it in a mixture of spit and her juices as I had done with my finger. I pushed my dick up to her ass hole and started to nudge it gently through the small opening. Her rim stretched around my cock as I pushed it through, expanding the soft ripples of her anus to a smooth, gaping hole.

The juices and saliva squelched out around the sides of my cock under the intense pressure of her tight anus as I started to thrust it in to her rectum, tunnelling my way deeper and deeper inside. With each insertion I was able to gain an extra quarter of an inch and after a minute or so of gruelling ass fucking I was burying my cock balls-deep in her colon. “Ah fuck, yes Toji— shit shit, ahh! fuck me like I'm a slut!” She started to scream loudly with each thrust that I slammed in to her ass, so I slapped her face again, sending a trail of saliva across the bed. She continued to groan noisily despite my defiant slapping, giving me no option but to silence her.

I reached down to the floor and picked up her thong, rolling it in to a tight ball as I jammed it between her jaws. She tried to clamp them together, but I squeezed firmly at her cheeks to pry them open and wedged the screwed up knickers between her teeth, holding my hand over her mouth and pressing her head back down to the bed as I continued to destroy her ass hole. I heard her trying to squeal in pain as my cock slid in and out of her anus, but the sound was nicely muffled by my makeshift gag.

I knew the ultra-tight young ass hole was going to make me cum soon, so I fucked her even harder and a few moments later I felt a great swell inside my balls. I moaned and stretched my neck, and she could see the veins protruding from the skin on my neck as I started to pump my hot, milky semen deep in to her ass hole. The orgasm seemed to last for hours and the cum shot out of my cock endlessly, oozing out between the sides of my shaft and the walls of her rectum.

I removed my penis from her ass and watched the thick, white fluid seeping out of her asshole. It was too hot of a moment not to get at least a souvenir, so I picked up my phone and took a few pictures of her hot, naked body and her obliterated pussy and ass hole.

“So, have you learned your lesson?” I asked, leaning over her exhausted body as I unstrapped the belt and freed her arms from behind her back. Her skin was marked with red lines from the various spankings and the force of being tied up so tightly. She laughed and said “I’ll have to steal from you again as I enjoyed the punishment,” she smiled sweetly.

“Good. So, same time tomorrow?” I said, helping her to stand up from the bed. Her legs were like jelly and barely supported her weight as she rose to her feet.

“Yes sir.” she said in a subdued but slightly naughty fashion. She tried to hide her smile as she reached for her clothes, but I caught it regardless. I was worried that I had lost a great babysitter, but that couldn’t have been further from the truth. Not only did I retain her as a babysitter, I gained her as a slave and that first encounter was just the tip of the iceberg.

#fushiguro toji x reader #toji fushiguro #toji fushiguro smut #toji fushiguro x reader smut #toji smut #toji x reader smut #toji x you smut #jjk toji #fushiguro toji #toji x reader #jujutsu toji #toji fluff #toji fushigro x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x y/n #gojo smut #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk fanfiction #jjk x you #jjk au #jjk fics #satoru smut #gojo satoru x reader smut #jjk x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader smut #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagine #jujutsu kaisen texts

[livelaughlovesubs]

Nini!! Guess who’s back from hibernation!! :D

Sorry it’s been a while since I’ve interacted on your page, I got busy with stuff :(

Anyways, incubus Fyodor and priest reader! (Yes, ik old request, wouldn’t be surprised if you don’t remember.) punishing Fyodor for becoming cocky bc you were not paying attention to him, he even went as far as threatening to go get fucked by someone else! (He was bluffing. He’s too addicted to your cock at that point) now he has to learn the consequences of his actions when he’s forced to cockwarm you with his mouth while you read the bible, not even sparing him a glance! You even made sure to chastise him so he wouldn’t try anything. Every time he tries even moving at bit, you grab his hair tightly and push in more of your dick, making his eye tear up as he grips onto your thighs desperately. By the time you finish Luke’s gospel, Fyodor is looking up at you pleadingly with drool dripping down his chin for you to finally use him. <3

- 🍮 ( ๑‾̀◡‾́)σ"

Incubus Fyodor 3

Dom!reader x sub!fyodor

Warning: I’ll use dick - interpret it however you want, blow job, cockwarming, hierophilia - (incorrect) religious aspects, hair pulling, choking/ gagging, dacryphilia

🍮 anon!!! I missed you and your fyodor requests! I love that little bastard hehe. Also nope, I did not forget, cuz I freaking loved those ideas.

Normally you were nice enough to satisfy his needs, he needed it to survive after all. But he was an incubus, his sex drive was way higher than what a normal human can handle. One of the reasons why incubi’s never settle down for only one partner. In your case, you forced him to stay here with you, as if he was your personal pet. To be honest, he was just your plaything after all. The pretext of cleansing him of his sins? A dirty thing like him can’t be redeemed, you didn’t believe in such things anyway. Rather, accepting and repenting for one’s sins, and that is something he has to want for himself. The most you could do was prevent him from being even more sinful. That alone would be of great help, since otherwise he would seduce other people and make them succumb to Asmodeus too.

Today you were busy reading when he came up to you. You knew what he wanted, but this time you ignored it, there were other things to take care of. At first he just stood there, staring at you, wondering why you were so carried away. He took a few glances at your book, it was the bible in the Old Testament. No wonder you seemed busy, that one’s difficult to understand. This wont stop him from desiring you though, so he kneeled down and crawled under your table, slowly settling down between your legs.

“Y/nnn~ I’m so hungry, can we please do it?” Fyodor asked, looking up at you with those pretty scarlet eyes. “Not now, maybe later.” That’s weird, normally you always agreed. “Can’t you read that damn book later?” “This is not a ‘damn’ book, I have to concentrate so be quiet please.” You answered him, eyes never leaving the paper in front of you, scanning one line after another. He pouted, furrowing his brows as he thought about what to do. “But I’m really hungry.” The incubi complained again, though to no avail. How stubborn you were. Fine, if that’s what you want. “Never mind, I’ll find someone else then.”

Fyodor turned his head around, about to get up to leave when he felt your hand on his head. Before he got the chance to question you about it, you yanked on his hair and made him arch his back. Now you were towering over him, pulling his head back by his raven black locks. “MhmMM-ahHHNHgG..?!” He moaned out, unable to bite back a smirk. “I wont allow you to defile other innocent souls.” You told him harshly, without an ounce of concern. The gaze you bore was cold, and he felt a shiver run down his spine. It wasn’t due to fear though. His face was red, eyes foggy and expression melting, no matter what you’d do to him he’d take it with no hesitation.

“Haaah…” you sighed, feeling a little annoyed with him, then you commanded, “Go to the drawer there on the left and bring me the box in there.” He looked at you with confusion, but did it anyway. Getting up to get the box you wanted, then returning to his previous position. The demon watched with curiosity as you opened it. There were many sex toys in it, most of them have been used on him already. You reached for the things you needed, afterwards you put the rest away. Fyodor was still kneeling between your legs while you prepared everything, his body filled up with anticipation. He knows exactly what those toys do, god he wanted you to abuse him with them.

First thing you did was take the cockring and bring it to the base of his cock, it was to keep him obedient. You can’t have him squirting around his filthy essence. He squirmed when you grabbed him by the shaft as you used it on him, it looked so romantic~ That was all it took to get him hard. Then you pulled on his hair again, making him face your abdomen and dick. “Keep it in your mouth, you can’t move until I’m done, understood?” Instead of making him cockwarm you with his hole, you wanted him to use his mouth. It’s because he talks too much, you couldn’t think when he keeps babbling nonsense.

Just as you guessed, he happily took all of you inside his throat, gagging a little at the length. Forget about talking, he can barely breath with how deep it was in his throat. A bulge could be seen on his neck, right there where his Adam’s apple is. “Good boy.” You said, now stroking his head gently, as if he was really your pet. How he loved it, chocking on your dick like this, tears were on the verge of spilling. The reason why your fingers were still tangled with his locks was to prevent him from moving, since this was a punishment. That’s why every time he bobbed his head, intentionally or not, you’d force his face down further, until his nose hit your pelvis. Poor boy gagged and choked so prettily whenever you’d die that, letting out sweet moans akin to an angels singing,“guUHH..! Uh-hm,,.mHMmnGH..”

At first he was pretty enthusiastic about it, after ten minutes he got bored and needy. This only continued to the point he started crying. He was so desperate for any friction he could get, since he couldn’t even touch himself. Well, he could, but it’s not like he can cum anyways. Drool was running down his chin while tears rolled down his cheeks, leaving behind a shiny trail. His hands were bawled into fists while his tail wagged around like crazy. The look he had in his eyes were so hot, looking up at you all submissive while his pupils turned into hearts. Internally, fyodor was begging for you to finally pay attention to him, or finish reading that book soon. He didn’t know how much longer he could hold out.

This was pure torture, was what he thought after not 30 minutes, but an entire hour passed. His head felt light, and his body twitched everywhere. Just a single touch from you would cause him to yelp that’s how sensitive he became. Quiet sobs could be heard from him while melting expression plagued his features. You weren’t exactly done yet with your reading, but seeing how pitiful he looked, you just had to help him. Putting the bible aside and caressing his ruined face, “you’ve been pretty good for the past hour, want to have your meal now?” As soon as he heard that he started choking on it again, the surprise and excitement caused him to inhale too fast. Only difference was, this time you let him pull his head back. “AhHh..! Cough- uh-urGHh..ahh, ye-yes!! I want it, p- guUHH.. pleaseee..” Suddenly he started sobbing intensely again, he also stuck his tongue out after pleading with you so obediently. Right, such a good boy, it is time for him to get his blessing.

#sub character #sub!character #dom reader #dom!reader #🍮 anon #sub bsd #sub bungou stray dogs #incubus fyodor #fyodor bungo stray dogs #fyodor dostoyevsky x reader #fyodor bungou stray dogs #fyodor bsd #fyodor #bsd fyodor #fyodor dostoyevsky bsd #bungou stray dogs fyodor #fyodor x reader #fyodor dostoevsky #sub fyodor #fyodor x you #fyodor smut #fyodor dostoyevsky smut

[braunbakery]

oohh can it be like ‘are we still friends?’ a modern au? that’s one of my favs ❤️

don't delete the kisses

☞ jean kirstein x fem reader [ one-shot word count: 4.2k]

☞ sfw, angst with fluff at the end i promiseeeee, modern college au

☞ plot: 'rewriting old excuses, delete the kisses at the end' - even after you break up - jean kirstein seems to occupy a lot more space in your head than you'd care to admit.

☞ inspired by don't delete the kisses - wolf alice

☞ don't delete the kisses

when you and jean first broke up it was more so a scramble to make sure everything was okay for everybody around you. that everything could resolve to being as close to normal as before without anyone feeling in anyway inconvenienced, awkward, or disappointed due to the rift now between the two of you.

at least, that was what it was like for you.

of course people wanted to make sure you were okay, they were your friends and they cared about you. but they were both of your friends, and despite how much everyone wanted to pretend that that made no difference, it made it all the more difficult to even imagine talking about how you felt. (how you actually felt – which was more than disappointed or frustrated or a little upset – as you had been basically rattling off like a mantra to whoever asked.)

so you adapted.

you made friends outside of this mutual friend group, you adopted new hobbies, you had a means of escape when you no longer wanted to watch everyone laugh over jean’s antics like he was such a breath of joy. when you felt this bitter pessimism sink in at the wrong time, you adapted.

because it definitely wasn’t a dramatic break up. it was perfectly amicable.

(“i’m so sorry,” jean practically sobs into your shoulder as you both sit in his dark car, shrouded by the trees outside and only accompanied by crickets and the occasional distant car horn.

“it’s okay, it’s okay,” you’re repeating over and over, swallowing your own tears, “i’ll be fine.”

“i just can’t do it–” jean hiccups and slightly leans back to hold your face in his palms and nudge his nose against yours, “ i don’t know why...i just can’t. and i’m trying, i swear.”

“i believe you,” you whisper, grasping onto his shirt, “i know you are.”

“i- i’ve never felt this way about anyone else. i’m just not ready.”

you can’t bring yourself to say anything back to that. you don’t want him to see you break and you don’t know if it’s because you don’t want him to tear himself apart with the guilt of what he’s doing to you or from some twisted sense of pride – some desire to make sure he doesn’t think he has as much of an effect on you as he really does.

it seems worse that he can tearfully speak of how much he feels for you yet he’s still unable to actually be with you.

you know that the truth is you probably won’t be fine. that in your heart, in your soul, you would’ve stayed with him for as long as possible. there was no thought in your head of when this would potentially end, no plan in the future that didn’t somehow automatically account for him.

this obviously wasn’t the case for him.

he hugs you tighter than he ever has before and you feel like your heart is about to lurch out of your body and try batter its way into his. why must it be that when you are completely and utterly committed to him, he is hindered by some unexplainable force in his mind to do the same for you? why can’t it be another girl? why can’t it be that he’s moving away? why does it have to be just…him?

“i’m sorry,” he says a final time after he drives you to your doorstep. he holds your hand and gazes at you one last time and you can’t help but offer him a smile to try ease his pain. it is too difficult for you to feel in anyway betrayed, at least in this moment, because you are too busy thinking of how he feels. you want to hold him for the rest of the night as he sobs and sobs about hurting you.

you feel utterly pathetic.

that night, when you are finally in your bed, you let the first feeling that isn’t in some way catering to him through. it is the sensation of your heart caving in. )

eventually it gets easier. the concerned glances go from sparse to none and you follow almost a routine. when you pass each other on campus it’s a friendly smile, when you’re seated next to each other you act as if it is anyone else, and when you’re at the same parties and he kisses someone you turn away and hold your breath and hope no one can tell.

you pretend that it was never you on the receiving end, that it was never you laughing away with him or swaying to whatever stupid song is playing, or holding his hand as you weave through the crowd, or occupying one single corner of the room for the majority of the night or–

you just pretend.

and when the group brings up dates jean is going on that you had no idea about, you do that very thing. you sit and you nod and when he catches your gaze as the boys are practically squawking over stupid jokes about jean and how he is somehow going to mess it up, you rip your eyes away and laugh along.

when sasha and mikasa ask how you feel about it, you pretend it makes perfect sense that he’d be going on dates. that it isn’t so utterly confusing, that you aren’t going to lay awake at night wondering why he couldn’t be with you – why he wasn’t ready for you – but he is ready to entertain the idea of someone else. you laugh and you say you wish him luck.

luck is what friends wish each other.

and when you kiss someone yourself, you bury the darkest feeling of hoping he’d see and feel a pang – feel anything more than the baseline friendliness you’ve both resorted to having for each other. that you’ve agreed to only have for each other.

(“fuck, sorry!” jean exclaims before he even realises that the person he’s just walked into and spilled half of his beer on is you.

“shit,” the sticky liquid is soaking through your shirt and is currently trailing its way down your body. you look up at him and you hate that you can tell the redness lightly painted on his cheeks is more so from his alcohol buzz and less from the embarrassment of spilling his drink down a girls shirt.

because it’s you. why would he be embarrassed around you? he knows–

he knew you inside and out.

“i didn’t see you, i swear,” he says, but the genuineness of his apology is given away by the cheeky smile adorning his face, “suits you though.”

“shut up, jean,” you quickly remark, taking off your jacket and trying to pat yourself dry.

“here,” and jean is suddenly taking off the plaid shirt he has thrown on top of his t-shirt and using it to pat you down. or more so using it for his sad attempt at helping.

“i don’t think that’s really doing anything, jean.”

“no, no. trust me,” he quickly interjects, and you can’t help but mirror the stupid smile he has on his face.

“jean, it’s fine. i’ll just get a paper tow– ”you attempt to side step him, but he’s shoved in front of you, still pushing his shirt to your top. but this time he’s a lot closer.

this time if you just reached up to your tip toes, you could brush your nose against his. and you’re suddenly hyperaware of your proximity and how there is no one else around you and how the blaring music of whatever party your group all decided to go to tonight is all but muffled in this kitchen.

jean’s eyes travel up from the stain on your top to you and you feel like you’re frozen in place. it’s been months since you broke up – a year maybe. you’ve both watched each other kiss other people, you’ve listened to him recount those stupid dates and pretend you don’t harbour some kind of bitter resentment towards him for it.

but right now it seems like no time at all has passed.

it seems like only yesterday you were leaning into each other, just like you are now. it seems like only yesterday jean’s hand slowly but instinctively went up to the side of your neck, like it is now. you’ve never realised how easy it is to fall into old habits.

“jean?” you mutter faintly, and he looks down at your lips mouthing his name and you swear you think your heart is going to stop. his eyes flick back up to you and you can see yourself through them.

“yeah?” he mindlessly responds, “are you okay?”

are you? you could kiss him now. you could let him kiss you now. just for a moment. and tomorrow you’d make yourself forget, tomorrow you’d pretend it was one big blip – something just between you and him.

when you nod your head at his question his hand slides up into the hair at your nape and it feels so familiar, so comfortable, that it is so easy to forget you have not been this close to jean in almost a year. you have not spent this much time alone with jean in almost a year. you have not heard him not speak to you in the same transactional tone you’d speak to a shop assistant with in almost a year.

“i –”

the door to the kitchen is opening behind you and you’re both practically jumping away from each other, hearts beating so fast against your chests and eyes wide and worried. jean watches whoever’s interrupted whatever weird moment you were having rummage through the cupboards and looks back at you.

“i’ll see you–” you start.

“later.” he instinctively finishes off for you, before pausing for a moment and making his way around you and back out into the bustling party.

you don’t see him for the rest of the night.)

it does really start feel like you’re friends sometimes. and you suppose living with that just becomes a way of life. the weird lingering feeling when you first see him still remains – but it starts to feel normal. you start to simply allow it the space to live and hope that on its own accord it’ll leave.

and sometimes, with all the time that has passed and all the other flings with boys you’ve had, it feels stupid. and sometimes, you’re tired of feeling stupid so you just feel it.

you text about assignments in classes you share, you text about carpooling when jean is bringing a few of you somewhere. and, yes, it is the most surface level friendship and the conversation will never really expand from those two topics and maybe you are yet to actually spend any time together alone. maybe there is some hidden agenda between your friends to not let there be moments where you two have to be alone – but this is better than whatever the lonely alternative would be.

however, it seems whatever way your friends have been figuring out to not have you two alone for the past year and a half (disregarding the party incident – they will never know about that) is failing.

because you’re currently stranded at a bus stop for a bus that doesn’t look like it will ever come, trying to make it to connie’s house for his goodbye party before he goes away for the summer and almost an hour late. because you’re staring down at your phone trying to figure out how you feel, trying to reason with your gritted teeth and racing heart that everything will be okay.

staring down at jean’s message into the group chat you all share after you’ve explained your situation.

jean

Only leaving mine now I’ll swing by and get you

fuck.

this is not something you have a plan for. this is not a situation that you’ve dealt with before in the tribulations that have followed your break up. this doesn’t have a solution tucked away in your head. there is no adapting to this, there is no pretending, there is just you alone with jean in his car for the first time since you broke up. the last time you were in that stupid fucking car was when you broke up and oh god, what a joke.

you know he’s driving and he won’t check his phone so there’s no point in telling him not to and figuring out some alternative transport. and you know he’s not waiting for some confirmation from you because…because you know him.

cars are speeding past you and you’re trying so hard to get a handle on your thoughts but you can’t seem to just get a grip. it feels like every next car is going to be him. you turn your back to the road and try to start writing some kind of text to mikasa…but what is there to even say?

you’ve crafted the perfect unbothered-about-jean persona over the past year and a half. you’ve basically mastered a straight face whenever a crude joke is made about him and whatever girl he’s casually seeing, you’ve perfected acting completely normal when asked about him – you cannot give yourself away.

no, you refuse to give yourself away.

“hey!” a voice bellows out from behind you, and you can instinctively tell that when you turn around it’s going to be jean with his elbow hanging out his open car window. so you do – you turn around (and you’re right about his exact pose, but that’s a victory you don’t allow yourself to celebrate) and you make your way to the passenger side, get in, close the door and brace yourself.

“thanks for getting me,” you say as you put on your seat belt and jean pulls out onto the road.

“no worries.”

it’s only when you’re well on your way that you can think of something else to say – any kind of bland conversation to cut you out of your thoughts.

“how come you’re late?”

“how come you are?” jean almost instinctively says.

“no need to get defensive,” you laugh.

“what can i say,” jean smiles, “i’m quite a private person.”

“oh, really?”

“yep,” he swiftly responds, eyes darting to you before he sighs, “i fell asleep watching a movie.”

now you’re cackling, “of course you did, jean.” you try not to notice the corners of his mouth turning upwards as you laugh and he focuses on the road.

“you didn’t say why you were, i can’t be the only one revealing all here.”

“i wouldn’t say this is revealing all,” you say and jean animatedly rolls his eyes, “i was at work.”

“oh,” jean replies, “work…where’re you working now?” he asks with such hesitance, like it’s almost rude for him to want to know anything about your life beyond what he knew when he was with you and the bits and pieces he can put together from everyone else. you try not to think about how you wish you could tell him everything – everything that has changed and everything that hasn’t.

“the same shop.”

“that shop is a shithole–”

“hey!” you’re immediately interjecting and jean is chuckling at your offense.

“it is!”

jean starts swatting your hand away with one hand as you try to punch him in his arm, laughing in a way you haven’t heard him for a while. in a way you haven’t had a chance to hear.

“take it back, take it back” you’re repeating in between lunges and jean exclaiming ‘you’re gonna get us both killed’ and ‘i’m literally driving’.

“fine! i take it back!” he’s saying as the car finally comes to a standstill in a long line of traffic. he looks over to you for the first time this entire ride, turning his entire head and scanning your face. you hope your composure holds, “all i’m trying to say is that it doesn’t deserve you.”

you really hope your composure holds.

“right,” you say after a pause. jean’s eyes flit between yours and you feel like maybe there’s something more you’re supposed to say. maybe there’s something more he’s trying to say. or maybe the ultimately doomed remnants of your feelings towards him combined with his unwavering stare and tapping fingers on his wheel are making you think things and see things that don’t make sense.

jean only turns his head back to the road when a car horn blares behind him and he realises the light’s gone green.

“fuck,” jean raises his hand up to the driver and then glances at you as the car moves again, “sorry.”

“distracted,” you quip, and jean laughs again.

“i guess you could say that.”

“what’s on your mind?” you ask.

“huh? nothing.” his head momentarily turns to you, “beer.” and you both break out into the same smiles you used to wear around each other without noticing.

“not your familiar brigade of girls?” you’re saying without realising, and before you can even begin to regret your stupidly pointed joke, jean is guffawing so loudly you’re convinced he’s going to run the next red light.

“brigade?!” he questions, looking at you with wide eyes, “you’re making me sound like some sort of…” he loses his words and you feel maybe you really did take him by surprise with your unexpected candour.

“some sort of what?” you implore.

jean is silent, then turns to you with feigned annoyance and a twinkle in his eye, “shut up.”

and you’re both laughing and looking at each other and there it is again. that twinkle. that sparkle. you could miss it if you didn’t know exactly where to find it from so long ago.

a comfortable silence settles between the two of you and you can tell connie’s house is nearby. jean speaks first, “i can assure you there’s no such brigade.”

you snigger, “i don’t need to be assured.”

then jean is pulling into connie’s house and you can slightly make out music blaring from inside and silhouettes through the drawn curtains and the last bit of light from the late summer sun. he turns off the engine and you wait for him to take out his keys, yet he never does. you stare at the door handle, yet never go to pull it. neither one of you is making a move and when you turn your head to him, he’s already looking at you.

“i– ” “i–” you both attempt to start simultaneously, and then cut yourselves off with laughter.

“we haven’t spoken properly in so long,” jean eventually starts, “like this i mean.” (your heart is in your throat. you wonder if he can make out its outline when he looks at you.)

“yeah,” you softly say, “i know.”

“it’s nice.”

“it is.”

you’re looking at each other in silence again, and you can tell that his mind is racing with thoughts and he’s waiting to see which one catches onto his tongue and makes its way out. you think he can probably tell the same about you. it’s like some kind of competition, some game on who is going to keep this conversation going so you can stay in the car together for longer. alone.

you wonder if anyone inside has peeked through the window and noticed yet.

“you know…” jean speaks again and you are internally grateful, because you don’t think you can trust yourself to say anything right now, “you know, i notice that you avoid me, right?”

“that is not true.”

jean practically giggles at your immediate denial.

“it is,” he says, “it’s fine. i think i understand.”

“you do?”

“yeah, i–” jean trips over his own words, like they keep getting muddled in his mouth and he has to sound them out in his head before he can continue, “like… i can imagine it’s not easy. it wasn’t for me.”

your eyebrows instinctively raise, “it wasn’t?”

he laughs, and you suppose it is stupid to assume that he wasn’t in anyway upset about breaking up or stressed about having to maintain a friendship with you. you suppose it was easier to assume he didn’t care about you, like he was some kind of heartless villain.

“well, was it for you?”

you pause. a decision: how honest can you be with the person that seems to have haunted you for so long?

“no,” you shake your head, “not really. not at first.”

now jean’s eyebrows raise, “so it is now?”

“i… i don’t know,” the words practically tumble out of you, “why are you asking?”

your phone buzzes in your lap and both of your eyes instinctively dart to the lit up screen.

mikasa

You coming in?

you look back up at the house and can spot the curtain rustling. you’ve been noticed. but when you look back at jean, regardless of whatever audience might be wondering what you two are still doing in the car, you still have no desire to leave. this might be the only chance you have to finally be honest with yourself – with anyone – about how you feel.

you take a deep breath, and jean watches you carefully.

“you…” you try to start, unsure of what you’re saying or what you’re trying to achieve, “you know you really hurt me?”

“i know,” jean nods, regret undeniably flashing in his eyes, “i will always feel so bad–”

“you made me feel…small. like i wasn’t enough–”

“you are enough,” jean looks like he’s almost pleading with you. it feels like you’re back in his car on that damned night. like you’re back walking on eggshells and waiting for one to finally pierce through your foot.

“then…then why would you go on dates when you said you weren’t ready for a relationship? that you couldn’t do it?”

your throat feels raw and tight. you cannot break in front of him again. jean seems surprised to hear his words from that night repeated back to him.

“i don’t know. it was stupid,” he breathes, “i…i was trying to forget.”

“forget what?”

“forget you.”

it feels like if the world was to collapse around you, you would not be able to bat an eyelid if you were to remain in this car with jean. it’s a terrifying thought and it feels like the rush of your blood and the pulsing of your heart is going to get too big for your body and you’re going to burst.

“and did it help?” you slowly ask – and you don’t know why. you don’t know why it matters. you’re over. you’ve been over. whatever he answers doesn’t matter, it doesn’t change anything. it won’t change anything.

right?

jean is staring at you with enough intent to make you want to melt, like he means to take in every part of your face and sear it into his memory. it makes your head foggy.

“i…” jean’s chest is rising and falling and only then do you notice that yours is as well. and you are out of breath.

“you?”

“i was scared. you’re… you’re so good and i’m–” he’s practically mumbling. but you can hear him, you always hear him, “i don’t know what i am. it just felt like i was going to ruin you.”

suddenly a tear is rolling down your cheek. and another and another and jean is leaning into you like he’s meaning to catch them.

“why didn’t you say that?” you whisper.

“because i didn’t deserve you,” he says like it is the most obvious thing, “i don’t deserve you.”

“jean…” your hand is reaching up to his jaw, and you’re cupping his cheek without even thinking, thumb swiping over stubble, “that’s not true.”

“i don’t say the right things,” jean interjects, “i don’t do the right things. i never did. it just feels like i’ve been living in…some fucking limbo around you.” he leans his head on your hand, and then slowly picks up your other one and laces his fingers through it.

his hand fits like always. like it’s meant to.

you sigh, “what do you want from me, jean?”

“for you to not hate me.”

you giggle, “unfortunately, i could never hate you.” you feel his teeth against your palm as he beams at you, eyes watering and heart pounding.

“i… i want you.”

“really this time?”

“there was never a time i didn’t.”

he peers at you, like he’s trying to see into your head and unravel your thoughts one by one to read for himself. this time when he nestles his head into your hand again, he brings his head closer and closer to you, until you feel his breath fanning your damp cheeks.

nose to nose.

“please just let me…” he murmurs, eyes unwavering and hand gripping yours.

“okay,” you say softly, and he’s slowly but surely kissing you like you’re made of glass. like any wrong move and you will crumble right in front of him. you can feel the final tears that were resting on your waterline make their way down your face and he pulls away to let go of your hand and wipe them away.

he presses his lips to the exact spot on your cheek where they once were.

“i’m not stupid anymore,” he says. you laugh quietly.

“okay.”

“and i want you.”

you nod your head and he smiles, then kisses you again.

#jean x reader #aot x reader #jean kirstein x reader #attack on titan fic #aot fic #aot angst #aot fluff #jean kirstein fluff #snk fic #snk x reader #aot college #aot moderm au #jean kirstein fic

[shadowslocked]

Look man, maybe it’s just me, but I wouldn’t be feeling more motivated to come forward about work place abuse if somebody was talking about me on stream in front of a bunch of people I don’t know, saying that I’m being manipulated and having Stockholm’s Syndrome, or worse throwing me under the bus for not leaving or having the same problems but then kept tacking on “don’t send hate” despite knowing just how hateful medias like Twitter can be

Like, maybe that’s just me, but :/

#qadmin situation #qsmp neg #qsmp #even if these guys are being manipulated #I don’t think talking about it on a stream #is the best way to have them see reason? #seems like it’s drive people away more than anything #ah but I can’t say in the end #maybe we’ll see more coming forward about this #it was an interesting interview and insightful but also some parts #just a bit :/

[queenerdloser]

i've been trying to schedule a time to take my driver's test for literal months because i shit you not there have been literally zero appointments at any of the five (5) dmvs within 20m of me that offer the driving test. so i scheduled one at a place that's a literal hour drive bc i was like. well at least i have it on the books and if i have to drive an hour out there to do it so be it! but i've been regularly checking the website at odd times (as suggested by multiple people) for any cancellations.

and lo and behold! i just checked it (literally 2m ago) and there was an 8a open slot at a place 10m from where i live. i had to think about it for maybe about 30s or so (checking the map to make sure it actually is close to me, considering if anyone i know with a car would be available to take me over there to take the test at 8 fucking am in the morning) and by the time i convinced myself i might as well just do it the fucking appointment had already been snatched by someone else.

i get that dmvs are probably just as understaffed as anywhere else. but this is fucking untenable to me. like. how are you so understaffed that i have not been able to schedule this appointment for literal months (i have been regularly checking! since last fucking october!) at any of the places that are within a normal distance to where i live? why on earth are dmvs in fucking st. cloud somehow more available despite the fact that they only have one vs the like five within the twin cities limits? why are you not opening more slots/hiring more driving instructors to ensure that there is plenty of availability for this apparently so essential service that you are constantly booked up for it??? most importantly why is there not!!! a fucking dmv!!! that offers a driving test!!! actually in one of the twin cities? why are they only in the suburbs? i am chewing off my own arm, this whole process is incredibly frustrating and i can't believe i caught a lucky break for the first time in five months and lost it because i hesitated for less than one minute.

#liveblogging life #when i tell you i screamed i am Not Joking #next time im not fucking hesitating i'll take whatever slot theyve got even if it's for the next fucking day #i have a booking in fucking rochester but a) it's like an hour+ away #PLUS the only person who doesnt have anything happening during dmv hours is my dad who lives an hour away from me AND from rochester #which means he has to drive an hour to pick me up and then we both have to drive an hour to get to this appt #which means this turns from a 20m appointment to a full fucking day affair for NO! GODDAMNED! REASON! #other than for some reason the fucking five different dmvs within 20 miles of me just cant seem to keep an appt slot open to save their lif #i get that the reason we dont have driving test dmvs in downtown mpls is bc the streets suck lol #but like. you serve a city of A LOT of people so you should maybe have more than THREE within the suburbs #and two more within 20m of the city #like maybe. you should have a few more than that. if youre that seriously overbooked #told by multiple people the only way i can get an appt is if i check in the middle of the night #how is that acceptable? jesus christ. JESUS CHRIST! im so annoyed right now.

[fallenneziah]

Summary: You've been known to sleep around with the soldiers on base. It wasn't a secret. It also wasn't a secret that you fake most of your orgasms... Ghost takes that as a challenge.

CW: PiV, afab! Reader, uses she/her, multiple orgasms, rough sex, creampie, oral (m! receiving), overstimulation, fingering, and the reader is pretty much a barracks bunny. Not beta read... still doing smut though I can never tell if it gets better.

A/n: I really wanted to do kinktober but I was late... So um, have this??

It wasn't a secret that you were something of a barracks bunny. You caught the eye of recruits, and whoever of them made your insides tingle you were more than likely to spend a night with. You didn't care to try and keep it a secret. Although, your sexual experiences with most of the recruits and the younger men were… less than world-shaking.

They were good, their dick often leaving you mostly satisfied and feeling like you've had a five-inch stake driven into your cunt for ten to twenty minutes.

But you were also rumoured and soon confirmed to fake most of your orgasms. Sure, the hookups were fun, but you did end up faking most of your orgasms because it simply didn't do it for you.

Whether the recruit was rough or gentle, something was missing that pushed you over the edge.

But hey, you let the recruits get their load off you, so they weren't complaining either way.

Except for a certain someone.

Ghost was hardly the person you'd find sleeping around with anyone, men or women. The occasional quick fuck void of attachment and emotions back home in his small Manchester flat wasn't new though.

Once he fucked someone's brains out, they were out the door and not to set foot again. He didn't think anything of this. It's how it was, how it would continue to be.

But the constant talk of your happy little ass sleeping with every relatively attractive recruit in sight ticked something inside him.

Maybe he secretly wished he could get a hold of you, tame you down, get you down on your knees, and ensure you stayed.

Perhaps the idea of making you his bitch and getting you away from the other sources of pleasure you could find.

And then he learned about it. Little missy wandering around, getting fucked left and right, and every orgasm has to be driven out of her by herself. Something about that. About knowing you faked each orgasm with each soldier just to fuck yourself silly until it hit right.

These recruits were insufferable. None of them could drive you out of this little spiral you thought you had to control. Fuck a man, fake an orgasm and then sleep it off like nothing.

That's the challenge. That's what Ghost saw. A challenge and a reward. And he knew you'd been wanting to sleep with him for ages. He knew, and he wasn't as dimwitted as some people liked to think.

He practically bristled when he saw you walk into the canteen that afternoon, hips swinging, a small stiff in your step, but you looked mostly in one piece. Another recruit following behind you, looking on a mission to tell his squadmates of the night he had with you.

It made his hands tighten, and whiskey eyes lock on you as you walked past, seeming fine regardless of the night. His hand reached out, firmly gripping your hip so you couldn't go any further, capturing your attention.

"Lieutenant?" You asked, your eyes shifting from his large gloved hand up his forearm to meet his gaze.

"You best get yourself in check, soldier," he warned in a low tone, his hand squeezing your hip, nudging you back, his voice growing quieter.

"My barracks. Midnight."

Your cheeks went a little pink. You had the hots for the lieutenant for a lifetime. Part of you felt he would give you something you desperately needed, yet he's never spared you more than a glance.

You smirk softly. "You got it."

He doesn't respond at all. His hand releases you, and he lets you on your way.

You made it to your table, sitting among a small group you'd accumulated over your few years on base. The thought of getting in a bed with your lieutenant was now fresh on your mind, already having your stomach twisting.

However… You'd yet to meet someone truly who could make you feel how you wanted to. Roughed up, played with, fucked until your brain was smoother than a stone, and your name was a challenge to recall.

Was it that hard to ask?? You couldn't help feeling you might be sourly disappointed.

But you'd wait. Also making sure things in your room are charged just in case the night turned as you hoped it wouldn't.

The day drew on, and you continued through your tasks, finishing your work just in time to catch a shower and spend some alone time in your room as you pleased before your wristwatch beeped.

It was about time to see a certain lieutenant.

Ghost was waiting for you. How you figured he wouldn't was a wonder, but you didn't expect him to be standing there. Right there.

You slipped into the room, closing the door behind you. The lights were off, and his silhouette blocked the little light coming through the closed blinds. Your fingers search for the light switch, but his hand stops you.

Gloves still on, he pulls your wrist away, the other hand finding the lock on the door behind you and flicking it closed.

You already felt your heart rate picking up in excitement as he maneuvered through the darkness of his room, keeping you against the wall and at his whim.

"I didn't think it would start like this." You say, your back arching off the wall a tad before relaxing against when his figure pressed closer.

"Wrong of you to think you'd get a say."

His rumbled voice makes you shiver softly.

"I'm not complaining."

He seemed to scoff, pressing against you and making you suck in a sharp breath. His crotch pressing against your own, his large hands gripping your waist to hold you in place.

"Not yet."

He sounded like a predator about to sink his teeth into you, and it was such a turn-on.

His gloved hands grip your hips, lifting you from the floor and pulling your legs up around his waist. You can feel the thick outline of his cock, and it makes you gasp softly.

He takes you to the bed, dumping you onto the sheets. His hands find your clothes, pulling them from you, stripping you down to your underwear. He wasn't wasting time, your eyes adjusting and letting you see more of his figure clearly as he moved your limbs how he wanted to.

He was commanding, your body felt like putty in his hands, and you weren't sure you wanted to fight it.

Your cunt throbbed as he tugged you up the bed by your hips, crawling between your legs and forcing them apart.

His rough gloves feel foreign against your skin, tugging your underwear from your hips and tossing the thin fabric off the bed.

"Stay still." His voice rumbles through your body again. Your first thought of those scarred lips going for what they wanted. One hand kept your hips still, situating his body between your legs so you couldn't do much to fight him if you wanted to. You shiver, watching him pull his mask up over the bridge of his nose and pull his glove off between his teeth.

The second glove gets pulled off, and he lets it fall onto the bed next to you. The sound of his belt coming undone, the leather sliding against itself. His zipper came down, and he freed his cock.

You were already squirming, wanting to feel it. His large hand presses against your stomach, pushing you back down into the bed. "Easy. Keep still." His hand slides back down, your breathing stopping briefly when you felt his calloused thumb rub your clit. He was quiet, pressing up into your body, gently massaging it.

It makes you shiver, his index finger rubbing through your labia and down to your slit, tracing his fingers around your entrance. Feeling how tight you were despite your nasty habit of seeking out other men. He knows you could be so much tighter, knowing what a fucking slut you were.

Pressing his finger into your entrance, the warmth of your walls tightening around him, feeling him slip inside you. He doesn't give a warning before his second finger presses into you, both invading the warmth of your cunt. "That's it." His fingers pump into you, rubbing along your walls, rough callouses giving you a hint of edge with each stroke.

Your hands grip the sheets as he works his fingers inside you, a third slipping in as he feels the stretch of your walls. His palm rubs your clit, making you suck in a sharp breath and moan. It was a little too loud, causing Ghost to withdraw his fingers from you and grab your thigh.

He flips you over, his hand grabbing your face and shoving it into the bed. You startle a little, tensing up, but he knocks your knees apart again and forces his fingers back in, his other hand keeping your head firmly planted in the pillows. Your cunt clenches around his fingers. They work inside you quicker, pressing into your walls and driving inside you.

"Stay. I never allowed you to get loud, pretty thing." Ghost rumbles, feeling your cunt clench, dripping in excitement as his large fingers pick up pace inside your cunt.

It was almost embarrassing how quickly you were on edge. Your hands grip the sheets, hips starting to rock against his hand. Your breath comes out in small pants, muffled by the pillow. His large fingers felt so good inside you. Better than any recruit you've laid with.

You squirm, and as quickly as you do, his hand moves from your head to span your ass, cupping the perfectly round flesh and squeezing it between his fingers. His fingers pick up pace, driving deep into your cunt, fast and barely giving you time. Slick popping from his quick pace inside you. His fingers bullying your cunt, finding your g-spot and hitting relentlessly.

Your hips twitch, your back arching, and you can't help but moan loudly when you hit that first orgasm.

Ghost smirks, the scar along his lip pulling the skin up slightly. He pulls his fingers out, drawing them apart to see your slick and spend ripping between them. Your body shivering a little. "One." He counts, tasting your cum on his fingers.

He turns you onto your back, leaning over your body and pressing his lips to yours, shoving his tongue in your mouth. The taste of your cum and his saliva made your head spin, your hands gripping the front of his shirt as he kisses you.

You moan into his mouth as his hand slides between your legs, cupping your cunt and rubbing your clit. Your hips jump a little, his rough palm pressed against your lower pelvis, his fingers teasing along your slick cunt.

He nips your bottom lip, pushing you away before the kiss can properly end and keeps you held down in the sheets, his hand curling around your throat while the other continues to rub through your labia. Teasing your clit, rubbing it and pinching it. "Cumming for me already…" Ghost rumbled. "Just like I knew you would."

"I'm not done with you yet."

You moan, your head pressing back into the sheets as you start to rock your hips. Trying to feel more of his rough fingers, wanting his fingers back inside you.

"Beg." His tone is firm, and commanding. You look up at him through half-lidded eyes.

"Please," you moan, watching him grin and press his fingers against your hole.

"Please, what?"

You squirm, pressing your hips into his fingers. "Please fuck me with your fingers."

You could swear he was mocking you, slowly pushing his fingers back into your cunt.

"You can do better than that," Ghost taunts.

You whimper, trying to nudge your hips back, and you feel his fingers pull away. He forces your thigh further out again, teasing your clit with his thumb. You mumble under your breath, trying to lean away, his fingers stroking along your slit again.

"Please… I need them. I need this, please." You whine, once again trying not to squirm with your desperation growing in place of your excitement.

His fingers press back into your cunt, and you moan. Your hips jolt, rolling against his hand as he drives his fingers into your cunt, hitting deep inside you. "Fuck. Fuck, I- ah-"

He doesn't hold you down like before, allowing your hips to move, fucking his fingers, your slick making obscene sounds.

Your lips part, moaning over his hand, still firm on your throat, fingers pulling you apart. Driving into you, his eyes watching your face in the darkness with each desperate thrust up into his fingers. Looking like a pathetic whore. But that's how Ghost wanted you.

That's how he liked it. He would ruin you. He'd show those recruits how it was done, and cut you down a peg. He'd get you so overfucked you'd only be able to remember his name.

His fingers bullying your g-spot, knuckles coated in your slick, the walls of your cunt flexing around him. Once again, before long, he had you drawn out, moaning loudly.

He pulls his fingers out of you, the sticky string slick between his fingers as he pulls them apart. "Two," he counts, watching you pant, hips squirming and thighs quivering.

Ghost leans down, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at him. His fingers press to your lips, pushing them past. You groan, sucking on his fingers, tasting you on his hand. Sucking them and running your tongue along them until he pulled out, lightly slapping your face. His other hand released your throat.

He moved back on the bed, planting his feet back on the floor and pushing down his jeans over his thighs more, taking his large cock in his hand.

"Hands and knees, sweetheart."

You panted, knees still quivering, but you shifted onto your stomach, onto your hands and knees. Looking up at him, smirking. The smirk didn't bother Ghost, he already had you under him. He was already the first way through ruining you, so many would never really pleasure you again like he did.

Tapping his cock against your cheek, letting you feel the weight and the size against you.

"Open," he orders, watching you part your lips and lean forward to take the head between your lips. Your tongue runs across it, eyes shut.

He gripped your hair, yanking you forward and forcing you to take half his cock down your throat. Gagging on it tears stinging the corners of your eyes as he forced you further down, fucking your mouth.

"If you're gonna suck it, do it like you mean it." He spits, driving his cock into your throat, hearing your desperate noises, trying to draw in the air over his cock suffocating your throat. Feeling the smooth skin of his heavy cock against your tongue. The skin pulls back over his head along your tongue.

You could feel him, his cock dragging deep into your warm throat and then pulling out, giving you a much steadier rhythm for redemption.

He didn't give you a chance to take control, keeping his grip firm on your hair and driving himself into your throat.

You gag around him, feeling the burn in the back of your throat, eyes watering as he keeps you there, your lips stretching around his thick shaft, spit leaking from the corners of your lips.

The heaviness of his cock on your tongue, salty pre-cum pooling at the back of your throat, tongue gliding over throbbing cockhead.

Ghost pulls his cock from your mouth, slapping your cheek with it and then forcing it back between your lips. He pulls your head back, pressing his cock back into your throat, his balls slapping your chin as he fucks your throat.

The sting in your eyes and the way your lungs burned made your head spin. You could feel your cunt dripping, wanting to feel him inside you.

He didn't let you keep it that steady.

Your head bobbed along his cock, spit coating his length and slicking up your cheeks, the sound of him fucking your mouth. It's what he wanted, making you choke and gag on his cock.

It let you know who was in control. Not you. You wouldn't have one ounce of control.

You were desperate to try and keep up with his rough pace, his hips snapping into your mouth. You moaned around him, looking up at him. His hand tightened in your hair, keeping your head still while he fucked your mouth, groaning under his breath.

He pulled out, holding you firmly in place so you couldn't chase his cock.

"On your back. Now."

You do as he says, turning onto your back and spreading your legs.

Ghost pushes his jeans down further, grabbing your legs and tugging them around his waist. His hand presses against your lower stomach, pushing you down into the bed while his other hand grips the base of his cock.

You whimper, trying to keep your eyes on him and watch him as he strokes his cock, keeping you in place. You attempt to squirm, but he keeps you still, ordering you to stay quiet. He drags his cock through your soaked cunt, pre-cum slathering across your clit and dripping down into the mess of your cunt.

"Lieutenant, please," you whimper, hips trying to press up, and he pushes you back down.

"Please what?" Ghost asks, smirking down at you. He was so in control here, you were the one under him. You were the one who was going to get fucked tonight.

"Please, I need you inside me."

"Mmm, you're such a slut… bet you'd take any cock, wouldn't you sweetheart?" His cock smacks against your clit, making your hips jump a little.

"Just yours."

He smirked. "That's what I like to hear."

He pushed forward, slowly pushing the head of his cock inside you. Your breath catches in your throat, back arching, trying to force more of him into you. He presses his palm into your lower stomach, pushing you back into the mattress. His cock gradually slides inside you, stretching you more, feeling the tightness of your cunt trying to handle a size it wasn't used to.

His hips press forward, feeding his cock into your cunt and stretching you out so nicely. You felt so good around him. Tight, warm, clenching at the size of his cock.

"That's it, such a good girl."

He starts a slow pace, driving his cock in and out of your cunt. Making you feel him, feel every inch of his cock. His hand moves from your stomach, finding your clit and rubbing it roughly. It was too much, the sensations making you moan loudly.

"Shhh, quiet. You don't get to do that," Ghost orders.

You whimper, nodding your head and trying to lean your head back into the pillow. His cock plunges into you harder.

"Do I need to gag you again, sweetheart?"

He gripped your hair and pulled your head back harshly to look back at him. His hips snapped forward, thrusting his cock deep into your cunt.

"N-no. I won't." You say.

His grip loosens, but he continues to fuck you, hips snapping forward suddenly. Your thighs squeeze either side of his hips, heels digging into the skin of his ass as he lifts your hips with his cock.

"Mmm, I think it's more you don't want to." Ghost says.

You whimper, nodding your head. You wanted to be a good girl for him. You want to be quiet for him. But it was almost impossible as he fucked your brain out.

"You're so wet for me, so tight. I bet you cum just from thinking about me, don't you?"

You nod your head, moaning and biting your lip to try and stifle your noises.

His hands grip your waist, pulling you down into his cock and making you take it all.

Your pussy throbs around his cock, his thickness, utterly wrecking your cunt. His cock bullying your insides, finding your g-spot and making you come undone again, orgasming around his cock.

Ghost pulls his cock out, watching you squirm and moan loudly. "Three." He counts. He flips you back over, firmly pressing his hand into your hip.

He leans over you, shoving your face into the pillow and spanking your ass. "I thought I told you to be quiet."

He pushes his cock back inside you, gripping your hips and holding you still as he fucks you.

"One was for being a good girl."

You yelp as he slaps your ass again.

"Two was for being a slut."

You whimper, tears pricking the corners of your eyes.

He keeps his hand pressed into your hips and keeps your ass upturned. His hips snap forward, driving his cock deep inside your cunt.

"And three will be for never listening to me. Because you're a bad girl. My bad girl."

His cock smacks against you when he pulls out, making you moan loudly. His hand moved from your hip, jerking your chin up and forcing you to look into his eyes.

"What are you?" He asks, cock slamming back into you.

"I'm a bad girl," you mewl out.

"That's right, baby," He says, leaning down and biting your neck. You cry out, moaning loudly. His hand grabbed your hair, tugging your head back and holding your neck.

"Mine." Ghost growls into your ear.

He slams his cock deep inside you, making you moan loudly. Your pussy clenched around him, gripping his cock tightly. He grunted, his hips thrusting forward and slamming his cock into you.

You cry out in pleasure, yet want it to stop.

He smirks widely. "Look at you…" He chuckles, leaning into your ear. "Like this for me… just like this… like a slut."

You moan loudly, your cunt throbbing around his cock. Your hands grip the sheets tightly, trying to keep yourself steady as he fucks you.

"Such a good girl…" He groans, his voice husky and breathless. "Such a good slut."

You shiver, nodding your head.

Ghost pushes your body down into the bed, lifting your ass further and continuing to fuck you. His fingers grip your ass tightly, his nails digging into your skin. "Do you like this? Getting fucked by your lieutenant?" He asks, his hand moving to your lower back, pushing you down further. "Fuck, who am I kidding… I know you do."

You whimper pitifully. You were so close again.

Ghost slaps your ass again, smirking. "I like it when you're a slut for me. What about you, baby?"

You whimper, nodding your head. "I like being your slut."

"I think you do, sweetheart…" He says.

You nod your head, moaning and whimpering in excitement. Ghost smirks, giving your ass a hard slap. "Beg for it…"

You whimpered. "Please- please fuck-" You say, moaning out.

"Keep begging…" He says, pulling out. He pulls your hips up, making you kneel up on the bed. He pushes your chest down, causing your ass to stick up in the air, exposed and ready for his cock. He spanks your ass, making you yelp.

"I bet you'd like to be fucked by me all day, wouldn't you? Be my little cock-sleeve." He says, leaning down to whisper in your ear.

He slaps your ass again, spanking you.

You whimper, trying to plead with him.

He grips your hips, slamming into you hard. His cock drives inside you, wrecking your cunt and filling you. His fingers dig into your hips and ass, holding you still as he fucks you.

He pulls you up, pushing his cock deep inside you and making you cry. He wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you back into him.

"Oh god," you moan, your head leaning back into his shoulder.

"Fuck, you feel so good, baby…" Ghost groans.

"Please," you cry out. "N-no more…" The overstimulation to your pussy was too much.

His hips snap hard against you, his cock thrusting into you hard.

He pulls you back up, making you sit up on his lap. He leans you back against his chest, his hand moving to your hip. He registers your cry of pleasure as his cock thrusts into you again and again, his hips snapping forward.

He reaches around you, finding your clit and rubbing it roughly. You moan loudly, leaning back against him.

Ghost leans down and nibbles at your neck.

You feel his cock swell inside you, pulsing and throbbing inside you. He could feel his undoing soon. He bites down on your shoulder, making you cry out in pleasure. He thrusts his cock into you, hitting deep inside you and making your toes curl.

He grabs your hips, pulling them down and burying his cock deep inside you. He feels his cock throb and swell, filling your cunt with his seed.

He grunts loudly, holding you down against his cock as he rides out his orgasm. You moan, gripping his shoulders and pushing back against him.

"Mmm… that's it sweetheart… take all of it… cum for me…" Ghost moans.

His cock throbs inside you, spurting his load into your cunt. You moan loudly, feeling your release. Your legs tremble, thighs shaking as you cum around his cock. One last time before your body felt completely boneless, the dry orgasm pumping around the load of seed filling you deep, swelling in your cunt. Ghost pants, holding you up against him as he breathes heavily, your body limp in his arms. He kisses your shoulder softly, rubbing your belly.

"That was… mmm…" Ghost says, licking his lips and kissing your neck. "So good…"

You pant softly, leaning your head back and looking up at him. "I'm tired."

He chuckles lightly. "Go ahead and sleep… I'll clean you up."

"Okay." You smile a little. He helps you lie down on the bed, pulling his softening cock from your cunt. You feel the warm mess seep from you, coating your thighs and making you shiver.

#writing #cod smut #simon ghost riley #simon riley #cod mw2 #simon ghost riley x female reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader smut #simon riley x reader #simon riley smut #simon riley x reader #call of duty smut #kinktober i guess?? #kinktober

[erosastro]

Synastry that indicates strong sexual attraction

🔥Venus and Ascendant aspects: Strong physical attraction in particular, even with the harder aspects, even though at times it can difficult. The sexual chemistry is strong af. They tend to idolise each other though, especially for Venus personally to the ascendant person. This of course is more mutual and harmonious with positive aspects(this includes conjunction).

🔥Mars aspecting Mars: The harsh aspects will be explosive to say the least, and likely impulsive and instantaneous even if they clash a lot. Harmonious aspects are still hot and heavy and cannot get enough of each other. There’s still strong desire for one another.

🔥Moon aspecting Mars: Mars desires the emotional qualities of the Moon and Moon is attracted to Mars energy and drive. Normally, the favourable aspects are better with this, including conjunction. This is also a major baby making aspect (obviously depending on other contributing aspects/factors).

🔥Venus aspecting Pluto: I LOVE the conjunction with this one and I know that’s an unpopular opinion but it’s sooo hot. Whilst it can get possessive and jealous, if you’re both mature enough people it won’t get unhealthy (imo). As much as I don’t have the conjunction, harsher aspects are more difficult to work with but the chemistry is unreal. You’re so attracted to each other regardless of the aspect. You’ll want to do each other anywhere and everywhere.

🔥Sun aspecting Mars: Again, even the harsh aspects create strong sexual energy between two people. Intense sexual attraction and with positive aspects your bodies seem to move in sync with each others naturally. Harsher aspects tend to be more rough but all aspects are hot and heavy.

🔥Sun aspecting Venus: I’d emphasise the positive aspects more on this one, maybe opposition too, but not always square. Because this is more the lovey-dovey, I wanna make love to you type of aspect. It’s gooey and romantic more than anything but the sexual tension is still intense.

🔥Venus aspecting Mars: this one is a classic and I think it can go a long way, even if the signs are not in the degree enough to make an aspect(for example a cancer Venus at 20° and Scorpio Mars at 10°). It can still be intense and both parties are attracted to each other. Squares are hot af in this aspect btw but tend to be complicated in the long run(again depending on other aspects).

🔥Mars aspecting Pluto: You’re instantly drawn to one another. They’re both fascinated with each other and can’t explain why. They can’t stay away from each other and the sex can get kinky👀 even with harsher aspects.

🔥8th house placements(particularly Venus, Mars, Lilith and Moon): As controversial as this placement is, you can’t deny the attraction you feel to one another. The sex here is intense and you can’t explain the emotional connection to the other person. It can be unsettling and deep but you can’t stay away from each other. Sex is otherworldly .

#astro notes #synastry #astrology #synastry aspects #synastry compatibility #astro observations #synastry observations

[vroomvro0mferrari]

LN4 | Panic at the Disco – Part 2

Summary: When you call your brother to pick you up from the club, it's his best friend who answers.

Lando Norris x Fewtrell!Reader

WC: 2.4K

Warnings: insinuated sexual harassment/assault

Part 1

Masterlist

Lando turns on the engine as you get settled in the haphazardly parked car. He glances at you while you move around in the seat, buckling your belt. He just now notices the streaks in your makeup, although you’d tried your best to wipe them away, and how your fingers can’t seem to keep still. They’re running along the belt before fidgeting with the hem of your dress. Lando reaches out and squeezes your hand gently. You meet his eyes, which are desperately trying to make contact with yours, and you shoot him a quick smile, one that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. Your behaviour makes it clear to Lando that you’re not okay yet. His joking around cheered you up, yes, but as soon as you’re out of his hold, you feel the same way as before.

Although the drive back is not as fast as Lando’s five-minute record time, it was quick. The faint hum of the engine and the music playing softly on the radio are the only sounds breaking the quiet as you stare blankly out of the window. Lando can’t seem to keep his gaze off you for longer than a second, his eyes constantly flitting between the road and your face, concern etched in his features. Your silence is highly unusual behaviour; normally, you can’t shut up, always ready to pick a fight with Lando over whatever topic comes to mind first. The fact that you’re not saying anything makes him worry. 

You know he’s onto you when you constantly feel the weight of his eyes on your face. It’s even more reason for you to keep your face as neutral as possible, to not show how much tonight has affected you, but it’s extremely difficult with all the thoughts racing through your mind. The silence in the car isn’t helping either, doing nothing to keep you distracted or to keep the thoughts at bay. You’re so glad that you got away from that man in time, that there were other people there to help you, and that Lando (although you would have preferred literally anyone else at that time) came to get you so quickly, but you can’t help but think what would have happened if those people hadn’t paid attention to you, or if you’d been stuck at the club for longer – would that man have come to find you? To finish what he started? The thoughts of what might have been, or what may still happen some other time in the future, freak you out and you’re sure Lando knows it. Regardless, he keeps quiet, unknowingly aggravating your inner turmoil. He’s waiting for you to initiate conversation instead, not wanting to say the wrong things and accidentally make it worse. He doesn’t know that, in your opinion, nothing he could say at his moment might be wrong; anything is better than the silence occupying the small space.

But you don’t tell him that, and so, Lando doesn’t say anything when you stay in your seat, still staring out of the window after he stops the car. He doesn’t say anything when he opens your door and offers his hand to help you out of the vehicle. He doesn’t say anything about the confused look on your face when you realise he’s no longer driving but instead standing next to you, or the fact that your hands haven’t stopped fiddling with the hem of your dress from the moment you stepped into the car. He keeps quiet until both of you are inside the apartment, not speaking until he’s closed the door. 

“You want some tea?” He asks nonchalantly. As if everything is normal, as it should be when it feels like nothing is.

You merely nod and follow Lando into the kitchen, passing your brother who’s passed out on the couch in the living room. He had obviously not missed Lando while he was gone.

You watch as Lando fills the glass kettle with water and turns it on. He leans against the counter, opposite you, as you wait for the water to boil. You stare at the kettle while Lando looks at you, his gaze unwavering. Although it’s not unusual for Lando to look at you, stare at you, even, the intention behind it seems different; Lando’s never been so serious or concerned. Usually, when he looks at you like this, you’ve gone a little too deep into a discussion again, and he’s too stubborn to back down. He’ll keep staring at you, forcing eye contact as a way to challenge you, although you suppose that’s exactly what he aims to do now. He’s trying to persuade you, as always, but not of his opinion this time; he’s trying to convince you to talk to him. He only proves you right when he relents, “You know you can talk to me right? About anything? You know I won’t judge you for whatever happened tonight?” He raises his eyebrows as he questions you.

The kettle turns off but Lando keeps his eyes on yours for a bit longer before making the tea. While he busies himself, you let his words sink in. Even though you haven’t always gotten along well, he can read you like an expert. You know exactly what he’s searching for, that he wants to know the details you haven’t given him – because he knows you haven’t told him everything. But you’re not ready to. 

Lando hands you one of the mugs he’s holding. You take it with both hands, in the hope of warming up a little, while you gently blow on the tea to cool it to a drinkable temperature. 

“I know, Lan. It’s just��� I don’t know, it’s been a rough night, and really, I don’t want to think about it anymore.” You admit, looking up through your lashes to find Lando already staring at you, again.

Lando accepts the response and nods. At least now you know how he feels about it – if you didn’t already. He inhales deeply before pushing off the counter and walking to the living room. “You coming?” He asks softly before heading off.

You follow, of course. Lando stares at the couch, occupied by your brother who’s snoring obnoxiously loud. He had already forgotten about the sleeping man completely blocking all the seating. He sips his tea while thinking. “So this is obviously not going to work,” He chuckles and you join him, “let’s just go to bed? It’s already pretty late anyway, and I’m sure you’re very tired.” 

You nod, agreeing with his suggestion, “I could definitely use some sleep.”

“Alright, you can stay in the guest room. I guess you’re lucky Max’s asleep on the couch. Otherwise, it would’ve been a bit difficult. I only have one extra bedroom.” Lando tells you while leading the way to the room.

“Lucky after all.” You say, sipping your tea.

“This is yours for tonight, then.” He opens the door for you and lets you enter the room first. You carefully put your mug on a dresser and quickly kick off your shoes before letting yourself fall face-first onto the plush-looking bed. Lando watches from the door opening, leaning casually against the doorpost as he watches you cuddle into the duvet.

“I was worried about you tonight.” He admits after a moment of silence. You twist your body and turn your face so you can see him, but you keep quiet. You’re a little surprised at his confession. Of course, you’re friends (sort of, at least) and he did come to save you tonight, but you weren’t expecting him to tell you so blatantly. Although, you, too, would be worried about Lando if something happened to him or if he called you upset. 

“You sounded so freaked out on the phone, it seriously stressed me out. I’ve never heard you so upset.”

You push yourself up, fully facing him, now. You’re not sure how to respond to something like this. You want to apologise, but Lando continues before you can.

“I… I know maybe I don’t show it so much – or at least, I think I haven’t made it clear to you – but, I care about you, a lot.” 

You smile at his admission.

“Sometimes I think maybe I care about you too much. Too much for just being friends, at least.” He avoids your eyes while he says it, seemingly shrinking into himself as if he’s afraid of your reaction. 

You don’t think you’ve ever seen Lando shy like this. He’s always full of energy, extraverted and definitely not afraid to look you in the eyes. Hell, less than half an hour ago he was staring at you so intensely you were unable to look away. The highly unusual behaviour completely throws you off. But you imagine not saying anything will only make him more shy.

“Can you hand me my tea?” You finally ask him.

Lando stares at the ground a second longer. The only thought running through his head is how much he probably just screwed up your friendship, and possibly the one with your older brother, too. Seeing his reaction to your question, all you can think about is how what you just said was probably worse than saying nothing. He (sort of) admitted that he likes you, and you ask him to hand you your tea? What kind of person does that? Nevertheless, Lando walks into the room and grabs the mug off the dresser.

You get up on your knees while he moves closer to the bed. You don’t only grab your mug, but his as well once he gets close enough, and place them onto the bedside table next to you. Lando finally meets your eyes when your hands touch, the confidence and mischief usually apparent in his eyes replaced by vulnerability and honesty. You’re certain Lando can read the emotions showing on your face just as effortlessly as you can his, if not even more so. You feel uncertain and at a loss for words at the unfamiliar glance in his eyes.

“I’m sorry, that was stupid. I just… I don’t know what to say,” You finally admit, breaking the heavy silence in the room. 

Lando’s lips curve into a hesitant smile and his eyes soften as he reaches out to brush a strand of hair from your face. “You don’t have to say anything,” He murmurs, gaze locked on his own hand moving along the side of your face as he pushes the hair back. You nearly melt at the sweet (or is it enamoured?) expression on his face as he looks at you – as if you’re the most precious thing in this world. Not to mention how close you are to each other right now.

“I want to say something though,” You whisper back, eyebrows furrowed and teeth nibbling on your bottom lip as you think of what to say.

“I care about you too, you know? A lot, also too much for a friend of my brother’s or just a friend, I think.”

A bigger smile spreads across Lando’s face at your confession, unbelievably happy to know you feel the same way as him. He moves his hand back to your cheek, running his thumb over your cheekbone softly, admiringly.

“I know this is probably really bad timing, with everything that happened tonight-”

“Please don’t mention it, I don’t want to think about it.” You breathe out, interrupting Lando.

“-but can I please kiss you?” He asks, moving his face a tiny bit closer to yours.

You nod quickly, without thinking. It’s like a reflex, like you need Lando to kiss you. Although you’ve been trying all night to forget about what transpired earlier, you can’t ignore or forget the way Lando made you feel when he held you, and how much you need to feel it again. He made you feel safe, protected and loved. No one has ever made you feel that way to such an extent, not your closest friends, your brother, or even your parents. If someone had told you yesterday that you felt the need to be kissed by Lando, you would have laughed in their face, but now, it was the only thing on your mind.

Lando leans in closer, drawing you near with the hand on your cheek. You brush your fingers along his face, tracing his jawline as his lips finally meet yours. He tenderly strokes your face before he moves his hand to the back of your head, tangling his fingers in your hair, while the other rests on your waist. You feel his eyelashes tickle your skin when he pulls you even closer, and it makes you feel so good. It feels so good to have someone who cares about you so much that they’d come in the middle of the night to save you, to make you feel safe and comfortable as soon as they touch you. You’re completely lost in the feeling Lando gives you, and the thought that you could have experienced this so much sooner if you hadn’t been so busy fighting with him.

Your lips move against his slowly while he holds you close. The butterflies in your stomach flutter when you feel his chest pressed to yours. Throwing your arms over his shoulders, you run your hands through his hair. Softly, you pull on his curls, revelling in the sensation of his kiss before you pull away. His lips look red and swollen when you open your eyes and you bite your lip at the sight. You admire his face, his mischievous smile, and the loving gaze with which he looks at you, and you’re sure you have to look the same way.

Your hands have moved down to Lando’s shoulders when you ask him, “You’ll stay with me?”

He squeezes your waist gently and kisses your forehead before murmuring, “Of course, anytime you want me to.”

You give him a quick kiss, which earns a smile in return, before pulling Lando onto the bed. He gets settled before you do, opening up his arms so you can cuddle into him. You scooch closer and nestle your face in the crook of his neck, closing your eyes and sighing softly once you’re comfortable. He pulls you closer to his body, holding you tight, before placing a kiss on the top of your head.

“Thank you, for tonight.” You whisper.

Lando pulls you just a little tighter, and mumbles sleepily “I’ll always come when you call, love.”

You smile, pleased with his answer before you drift off to sleep together, cosily snuggled up.

#Lando Norris #Lando #Norris #Fanfic #Fanfiction #Lando Norris fanfic #Lando Norris fanfiction #Lando fanfic #Lando fanfiction #Lando Norris x reader #Lando Norris x Y/N #Lando x reader #Lando x Y/N #Formula 1 #Formula 1 fanfic #Formula 1 fanfiction #F1 #F1 fanfic #F1 fanfiction #LN4 fanfic #LN4 fanfiction #LN4 x reader #LN4 x you #LN4 imagine #LN4 one shot #LN4 #Lando Norris one shot #Lando Norris imagine #Lando Norris x Fewtrell!Reader

[lovebugism]

shy! reader request: eddie & reader having their first sleepover? reader bein all cautious about her actions and if it’s ok and eddie seeing this just lifts up the blankets to the bed to welcome her in to snuggle :)

love love love this request! hope you enjoy :D — eddie tries to make his shy!gf feel at home in his trailer (fluff, new relationship hijinks, 2k)

bug's one year celebration ♡

Despite what people say, Eddie Munson does not drive like a maniac.

Correction— Eddie Munson doesn’t drive like a maniac when there’s a pretty girl in his van.

Even though you’re pretty much the first girl to be in his van period (and even though you wouldn’t consider yourself all that pretty), you’re glad to be an exception to the rule. Your panoply of anxieties couldn’t have handled anything more than the passably steady car ride from Benny’s Burgers to Forest Hills.

You don’t mean to let out a sigh of relief when he parks in his driveway.

Eddie grins and unlatches his seatbelt with a soft click at the same time you do. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” he asks with eyes just as wild as his hair.

You shake your head with your lips pursed to the side, then peer at him from beneath your lashes. “After everything Steve said, I was expecting a lot worse,” you confess. And even though you duck away from him, Eddie can still see the small smile on your petaled mouth. Just as quiet as you are.

“Well, one, don’t listen to anything Steve says, okay? Like, ever,” Eddie cajoles lightheartedly. “And two, I don’t drive crazy when I have precious cargo sitting next to me, alright? Stevie’s just jealous ‘cause I think you’re prettier than he is.”

Your nose scrunches as you try to worm your way out of his compliment. “So you think Steve’s pretty?” you tease, already knowing the answer.

He scoffs. “Totally! Just not pretty like you. And don’t tell him I said that either— It’ll just go to his hair.”

The incorrect turn of phrase makes you giggle.

He turns his knees towards the door and curls his fingers around the latch. “Wait for me a second, will ya?” you hear him mumble before he hops to the ground. He slams the door shut behind him and rounds the hood on his way to you — sneakers crunching against the gravel, momentarily aglow with yellow headlights.

He’d done this before at the diner. You wait patiently for his arrival like you did then, even though you feel a bit silly doing so. You’re more than capable of getting out yourself, but Eddie always insists. 

He opens the passenger side door for you with a tightlipped, lopsided grin and holds his free hand out towards you. His fingers are larger and much warmer than yours as they wrap around your palm to guide you out. 

The van isn’t that high up off the ground, really. He just likes to hold your hand.

You don’t mind it, though. You’ll take any opportunity to hold him back.

He leads you up the driveway and inside the trailer with his hand entwined with yours. “Wayne’s not here?” you murmur when you’re finally inside, noticing how quiet and empty the place is. 

Though maybe empty’s not the right word. The place is filled with stuff — old furniture, a collection of mugs, and various other necessities. Not a mess, just an organized chaos of miscellaneous clutter. It feels like a home. Like a place that’s been lived in.

“No. He’s at work. Graveyard shift,” Eddie answers, tossing his keys onto the coffee table with a high-pitched clack. 

He starts to shrug off his leather jacket and notices how squirrelly you seem, all skittish with your face twisted with a distant worry. Your neck twitches softly, head tilting once to the side and back up again. Your quiet concern becomes his own.

His brows raise, hidden beneath his curly bangs, as he slides the fabric down his tattooed arms. “Is that okay?” he wonders, eyes wide and twinkling with apprehension.

“Yeah!” you answer, louder and quicker than you mean to. You’re obviously overcompensating, but you shrug it off anyway. You smile sweetly at him, even though it wavers at the edges, and tilt your cheek to your shoulder. “I was just— It was just a question.”

“Are you sure?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“‘Cause it’s okay if you don’t wanna stay the night,” Eddie assures you, giving you an out so you don’t have to make one yourself. “It’s whatever, you know? Give me the word, and I’ll take you back home. I’ll just spend the night all alone… In an empty trailer… In bed all by myself…”

His quiet smirk widens to a broader beam when he nears you. His pale hands curl around your arms, the faded bats below his thumb sitting neatly outside your elbow. 

He’s joking, of course. Well, not about the taking you home part, but about all the rest of it. 

He thinks he’d die if he ever made you feel anything less than totally safe. Dying would feel easier, at least. He’d never make you feel bad about being anxious, or coerce you into hiding your feelings for his sake. He cares about you far too much for any of that.

So his tense heart rests a bit when you smile.

“I’m okay,” you tell him, quiet but still sincere. 

The boy brightens all at once. Excited in such an innocent, boyish way. “So I get to kiss you all night long?” he wonders in a disbelieving murmur.

“Only if you want,” you answer with burning cheeks and clammy hands.

“Well, I do want… I want very much…”

He kisses you then, until your lungs run out of air. Standing together in the middle of his living room, lit by so many yellow lamps, with the croaking of frogs and the chittering of crickets sounding in the navy blue night.

He pulls away sometime after. Maybe a second. Maybe an eon or more. He recovers from being so ardently kissed much quicker than you do and guides you down the short hallway to the single bedroom. You still feel the imprint of his mouth against yours, like he’s still there. 

Your lips tingle with longing, grieving the lack of him.

You still make him turn around before you change, though.

“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” he teases from the very center of his mattress, right before turning onto his stomach and shoving his face into the pillow.

“It’s different,” you murmur, mostly to yourself, as you slide the sleeves of your dress down your shoulders. The fabric falls to the carpeted floor in a puddle at your feet. You make quick work of redressing, as though there were some kinda time limit to what you had asked of him.

“I know,” he replies, muffled into the cushion his cheek is smushed against. “You’re still pretty, though.”

“You can’t even see me,” you argue and slide a pair of frilly sleep shorts over your thighs.

“I’d still think you were pretty even if I never saw you again.”

“Jeez,” you laugh, shoving your head through the neckline of a band-tee older than you are.

“…That sounded kinda morbid, huh?”

You giggle again. This time because his voice is still smothered into the pillow, stifled and utterly faint. “Just a little,” you answer.

“Well, it was supposed to be a compliment.”

“I know. You can turn around now.”

Eddie lifts his wild head and peeks at you over his shoulder, one eye squinted shut just in case he heard you wrong.

You’re less dressed up than before, but still as pretty as you were ten minutes ago. 

The subtle domesticity of seeing you in pajamas makes his chest ache. It’s like doing laundry or making a shopping list — something so utterly mundane that’s so strikingly tender.

“Pretty,” Eddie mumbles some moments later, when his brain forgets every word but that one.

“Shut up.”

Your hands wring together as you idle at his bedside, like you need some kinda invitation to come closer. Your head tilts again, a gentle swaying of your head that seems almost involuntary.

“Why do you keep doing that?” Eddie wonders with a soft pink, inquisitive grin. 

‘Cause this isn’t the first time you’ve done it. You did it earlier, when you first walked in, and a couple times at the dinner. Like when you catch him staring or after he’s complimented you. It’s almost like you have some genuine aversion to his affection.

“Doing what?” you murmur, all innocent.

Eddie swings his legs off the side of the mattress, socked feet melting into the carpet. His parted thighs are enough of an invitation as you settle intently between them. 

“That thing with your neck,” he answers when he’s fully upright. “The uh…” He replicates it for you, drops his cheek to his shoulder and brings it back up again. He doubts he looks nearly as cute as you do doing it.

You get so self-aware that your stomach starts to ache. “I don’t know,” you answer through the frog in your throat. “I do that sometimes, I guess— When I get nervous. I can’t really help it.”

“Nervous?” Eddie echoes, face twisted with sudden anguish. His hands reach for your wringing ones. He musters a shaking smile up at you. “Babe— Why are you nervous?”

You dig your bare feet into the carpet, shifting your weight and ducking your gaze like a nervous child. “‘Cause I haven’t slept over before. And I don’t really know what to… do. Like, what if I snore really loud? Or drool a lot? What if I accidentally punch you in my sleep or something?”

Eddie doesn’t mean to laugh in the face of your genuine worries, but it spills out before he can stop it. It’s so like you to stress yourself sick over something that’s about as likely to happen as getting struck by lightning.

“I’d probably like you more, honestly,” he answers, giving your clammy hands a gentle squeeze. His nose scrunches until the edges of his eyes crinkle. “You’re too perfect. You need something to humble you.”

“Don’t be nice to me, I’m being serious.”

“If it’ll make you feel better, I can sleep on the couch. Or on the floor or something—”

“It’s your house, Eds.”

“Well, I’m not making you sleep on the couch, and especially not on the floor. Even if I was that big of an asshole, I think Uncle Wayne would kill me.” He grows suddenly serious a second later. Still smiling, but with something more earnest in his eyes. “But… I do think we’d be more comfortable, you know, in a bed. Together.”

He’s right, but it doesn’t mean you’re happy about it. Not because you don’t want to sleep in the same bed as him, but because you’re too anxious to let yourself enjoy a good thing.

“I’m just bad at sleepovers, I think,” you confess in a tiny voice, like that fact isn’t utterly obvious now. “Like, one time, I was at a friend’s house in middle school, and I used a poster as a blanket ‘cause I was too scared to ask for a real one.”

Eddie’s smile widens. The rose petal expression blooms so large it makes his cheeks hurt. 

“Of course, you did,” the boy says with a shake of his head, frizzy curls swaying around the outsides of his jaw. “You’re so damn cute, you know that?”

You make a vague, grumbly noise of disdain right before Eddie wraps you in his arms. He pulls you softly down until you’re sitting on his jean-clad thighs, then buries his face into your shoulder. You smell like the soap you showered with and the burgers you ate and the perfume you put on just for him.

Eddie presses his lips there, to your collarbone, where the neckline of your shirt has dipped slightly down. He lingers there for a moment, then pulls away with a soft smack.

“I promise to make this the best damn sleepover you’ve ever had in your life,” he promises, muffled from where his nose is smushed into your neck.

“Yeah?” you mumble into the curls tickling your chin.

He nods, still pressed against you. “And I promise to tuck you in before bed so you don’t have to go using my posters as blankets, either.”

You push him away with a half-hearted hand. His boyish laughter paints the tiny bedroom golden. He pulls you back a second later, and you melt into him without thinking twice.

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson imagine #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #st drabbles #eddie spaghetti drabble #event: bug turns one

[watchmegetobsessed]

MAD MAN

A/N: he looked like a snack, his ce vibes were too strong to hold them back

base of the idea was by @harrysblackcoat

WORD COUNT: 1.3k

SUMMARY: You came to the game to forget about the massive fight you had with Harry a few days ago, but your alone time is soon interrupted by the man you've been trying to avoid.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

You weren’t planning to come today. Well, you were, until about four days ago, but then the whole ordeal happened with Harry and suddenly you didn’t want to do anything else than stay at home, cry or either sleep until you forget about the shit you both said. 

It was nasty. You don’t even remember how it started, maybe it was because he got home too late, or was it because you couldn’t choose a restaurant again and it always drives him crazy.

You have no idea what started it, you only remember how bad it got. Screaming, shouting, saying the worst things you ever did and probably neither of you meant. But you said them and you can’t take them back. 

Maybe packing your stuff and leaving wasn’t your best idea, but you needed time and space. Harry has been blowing your phone up ever since, but you feel like you need just a little bit more time away from him to think about… well, the two of you. 

You’ve had the ticket for months and you didn’t have the heart to miss out on the game just because of what happened. So you pulled yourself out of your depression cave, aka your old apartment you still haven’t sold since moving in with Harry and came to the game. Now you’re sitting in your usual seat, waiting for it to start while trying your best to keep him out of your thoughts at least until the end. 

Looking across the stadium you see the VIP section and immediately, you fail at not thinking about him, because you think of how he is the kind of man that would be standing there, sipping on something fancy and expensive. 

Groaning you turn your attention to your drink, playing with the straw, but then you remember the time you explained to Harry why this is your favorite seat in the stadium.

“Okay, enlighten me, baby,” he smirked at you, pulling you to his lap after pushing himself away from his desk.

“It’s close to the exit, I can leave before the crowd gets moving, the toilet is 20 seconds away and the line is always short, because the one by the F stairs is more popular. And…” You peaked at him, checking if he was still listening and there he was, giving you his undivided attention with a cheesy smirk on his handsome face. “And the drinks are better in the buffet that’s behind.”

“Better?” he chuckled. “Baby, they are the same.”

“Nope,” you shook your head. “It’s less… watery.”

“Mm, if you say so,” he smirked and then kissed you, making you forget about what you were talking about just a moment ago.

You need to blink your tears away. You promised yourself you wouldn’t be crying during this game, that you wouldn’t think about how much you miss him and how even despite the fight you love him more than anyone. 

You dig into your bag for a tissue, right when someone tries to squeeze past you to their seat. The tall man inches into the row, his long coat brushing your knees while you’re still elbow deep in your bag and you faintly register that he sits beside you. 

“Here,” he deep voice speaks up beside you and you know who it is even before his hand moves into your view, holding out a tissue. 

“What are you doing here?” you ask, taking the tissue without looking at him. 

“Why do people come to football matches?” he asks back and you can’t stop yourself from rolling your eyes. “I’m here because you wouldn’t answer the phone.”

“That might mean that I don’t want to talk to you,” you casually reply, staring ahead of you.

Harry exhales sharply beside you and his knee presses against yours, making you gasp.

“Y/N, I hope you didn’t think I would just let you slip out of my hands like that, right? We need to talk.”

“And you thought a football game would be the best place for that?” 

“This seems to be the only way to get you to talk to me, so yeah.”

“How did you even know I would be sitting here?”

“Because you told me this is your favorite seat.”

“I did not. I just told you I have one, I never told you it’s this one.”

You sit in silence for a bit, trying to figure out if maybe you did tell him the exact seat, but you get to the same point: you didn’t.

“I never told you, so how did you know?” you ask and finally look at him. His beauty strikes you, as always, the chiseled jawline, the slope of his nose, the curly lashes, he still takes your breath away. 

He runs his tongue across his lips and then looks at you.

“The drink,” he then finally says.

“What?”

“The drink. It really is better here.” You watch him and he continues. “I tried… I tried them all in the stadium and it really is less watery.”

He tried them all. He went around the stadium and tried them all to figure out where you’re sitting. 

“Now that you’re listening to me, can we talk?” he then asks with a soft smile. “Or it could be just me speaking, but I really want to tell you what I’ve been thinking about the past few days.”

“Okay,” you breathe out. “Talk then.”

His gaze lingers on your face, as if he is taking in every tiny detail before speaking up again.

“I fucked up, Y/N. I said all those terrible things in the heat of the moment and I regretted them right away. I didn’t mean any of them.”

“Not even when you said that all I do is get on your nerves?” you find yourself asking.

“You do get on my nerves, Y/N,” he says and you’re just about to open your mouth, but he is quick to continue. “You make me go crazy in the best way possible. With your silly dancing in the kitchen, the way you sing every song with the wrong lyrics and swear your version is the right. When you get mad at me for using words you don’t know the meaning of, or when you put me in my place when I’m being a total ass… you make me go crazy… for you.”

Your eyes are tearing up again and when his hand moves to your knee you lean closer to him, wanting more of his touch instantly. 

“I love you, Y/N. I never thought I could love someone this much, but you just always prove me wrong,” he chuckles softly and your hand finds his on your leg, your fingers locking together. “Please come back. I’m nothing without you. Come back and get on my nerves every day because I want to be a mad man, but only if it’s you who makes me crazy.”

Now you’re fighting the urge to cry like a baby. You love this man and you can’t imagine a day when you won’t. 

“I’m sorry too,” you whisper, tears rolling down your cheeks. He reaches up and wipes them with his thumb. “I didn’t mean it when I said you must be fucking all your assistants at work.”

“That hurt,” he smiles bitterly.

“I just… I still wonder why you chose me,” you admit with a shrug. 

“Because you’re the one for me,” he simply answers, as if it was the most obvious thing ever. You take a deep breath and exhale it shakily before leaning in and kissing him. The game starts right when your lips meet, but all the screaming and clapping tunes out as you’re back in the arms of the man you love. 

“Do you want to move to the VIP section?” you ask. 

“Nope,” he smirks down at you. “This really is the best seat.”

“See? I told you!” chuckling, you just pull him in for another kiss before making yourself comfortable with his arm around your shoulders.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles blurb

[signedkoko]

Signed with Love - Overlords & Sins

What is this? - A valentines gift to my lovely readers! Its valentines/love letters from your favourites 🖤

Characters - Asmodeus | Beelzebub | Carmilla | Mammon | Rosie | Valentino | Velvette | Vox | Zestial

Series Parts Hazbin Cast - Here! Helluva Cast - Here!

Dear to the dearest,

You've always got me running myself sappy, but I'd like to offer my hand to you this valentines.

You know how popular Ozzie's is on Valentines, so how about a nice spot for brunch and then we pick a song to perform together tonight? Just you and I on stage, surrounded by people who wish they had what we do~

Eagerly awaiting your reply,

Prince of Lust, and yours forever;

Asmodeus

Heya lovely!

I'm so fucking excited to be spending valentines with you this year, and I don't say it enough so here it is in writing!

Normally I throw a party but I don't know, I kinda rocked with the galentines dinner you suggested, I'm thinking we invite some of our closest and have a hell of a good night, yeah?

You're the only party that matters,

Your Queenie Bee🐝

Mi vida,

I think it's about time we get away from work and the girls, how about we take valentines off?

I've always wanted to show you some of the places I used to frequent, since you always ask it only seems fair. I'm sure you'll adore the cuisine, I miss it dearly.

I'll help you get ready before we leave,

C. Carmine

Sup hottie!

How about we ditch my valentines show and leave it to the performers to take care of shit? I much rather be with ya anyways.

Anything you want, just tell me. I'll take care of everything from there babe.

Love ya more than you know,

MAMMON

Sweetest darling,

I reckon its about time I follow my own advice and pursue the one I love this valentines.

We can take a break from everything and go sight seeing! I don't get away from the town much, but everything you tell me sounds exquisite. We can go somewhere with a nice tune and I can really show you how I used to swing!

What do you say?

Your Rosie

Querida cariño,

Theres no reason for me to ask what I already know, and I don't want to hear another valentines joke about my name.

I know work has kept me busy babe, but this Valentines its just you and I. We can laze around all you want or you can drag me wherever, I'll make sure we get in.

Like a moth to a flame, eh?

Val.

Heya gorgeous,

Ive got two outfits in our sizes that could use a little test drive around town this valentines.

Already booked the photographer, so I hope you'll come model with me for my end february magazine, yeah? If you do a good job we can do dinner and drinks after, though you've never disappointed me, dolly!

You know I love you, always have & will

Velvette

Hope you're doing well, angel

You always joke that I can't write for shit so heres proof. In fact, I'm here to ask you to be my valentine.

I already know its a yes anyway, so how about I let you in on the itinerary? I got breakfast at the local spot booked with live music, an afternoon just the two of us, and for dinner I have our main reservation and a backup in case you don't like it.

Romantic or what?

Owner & CEO of VoxTek, Beloved valentine of you, Vox

Greetings,

Tis with great pleasure that thou is still by thine side after such an overwhelming year.

We must beg thou has considered indulging such an old soul in an evening of romance. Perhaps thou would dare to consider looking upon their bed, for there lays a gift.

Yours affectionately and forevermore,

Z

Authors Note - Who are you expecting a letter from? Who will you accept? I'd love to know! Heres to another part of the valentine sseries 🖤

#koko writez #hazbin hotel #helluva boss #hazbin hotel x reader #helluva boss x reader #reader insert #x reader #asmodeus #asmodeus x reader #beelzebub #beelzebub x reader #carmilla #carmilla x reader #mammon #mammon x reader #rosie #rosie x reader #valentino #valentino x reader #velvette #velvette x reader #vox #vox x reader #zestial #zestial x reader

[fxrmuladaydreams]

don’t touch her (mv1)

max x reader , unnamed mclaren employee x reader

summary: max knows his feelings for you are wrong, you have a boyfriend. but all bets are off when that boyfriend gets aggressive with you

notes: this one’s angsty guys, also we’re gonna pretend that japan was later in the season just for timing purposes

warnings: physical fight, blood, a toxic relationship

He knew he shouldn’t be staring at you from across the paddock. He knew it was wrong on so many levels. You were a part of the Red Bull team, one of his coworkers. You were also dating someone from the McLaren team. Max had never wanted to hit Lando over the head as much as he did when the young Brit introduced you to your current boyfriend. But he couldn’t stop himself from searching for you in any room he went into, or at any media events or any meetings.

Max Verstappen could confidently say he was without a doubt in love with you.

He had grown attached to you quickly, being one of the only people he worked with that didn’t fawn over him just because he was good at his job. You treated him like a real person. When he was with you there was no Max Verstappen, there was only Max. You were a breath of fresh air, the calm in the storm that was his chaotic life. You were his quiet, safe space he could escape to when things became too much. He wanted nothing more than to wrap you in his arms and shield you away from all that was wrong in the world, but he’d settle for calling you his friend, his best friend.

Max liked to think of himself as a good person, the type of person that just wanted to see you happy, even if it meant seeing you with someone else. He promised himself he wouldn’t act upon his feelings, at least not while you were dating anyone. He wouldn’t dare destroy your happiness just because of his heart.

Max could also admit he was petty, so childishly petty. He didn’t like seeing you hanging around the McLaren garage during race weekends, weekends where you would usually be by his side, making sure he was ready to drive. Instead he had to watch your navy blue stand out against the bright orange at McLaren. It didn’t suit you, being surrounded by papaya, Max thought.

He knew he could complain about it to Christian. He could use his power to make you come back to him, but in doing that he may end up hurting you or your job. So he sat quietly and let his annoyance fester inside him.

He could tell when things started to shift with your boyfriend. When your long hugs and visits to the McLaren garage turned into brushing shoulders and arguments in an empty walkway outside.

Max tries to ask about, tries to help make you feel better, but you shrug him off, telling him that you’ll work it out, it’s nothing but a rough patch.

He asks if you’re okay, if there’s anything he can do to help. You give him a sad smile and shrug your shoulders.

“There’s nothing you can do Max.”

He’s never felt so helpless in his life. He hates that he has to see your face with tear stains over it, that your smile has dimmed in the garage. That you no longer search him out for comfort.

Part of him thinks he should have a conversation with your boyfriend. He thinks he should give him a talking to about how he’s ruining someone so special. But he knows he’d probably end up throwing punches if your boyfriend ticked him off anymore than he already has.

You don’t seem to get any better as the season comes closer to an end. Max tries to help you open up to him again, asking if you have any plans over the winter break. He even invites you to join him on his trip back home to the Netherlands. He tells you that his mother and sister would love to have you with them during the holidays.

You frown, telling him that you planned on staying near Milton Keynes to do some work at the factory.

He scoffs and shakes his head. “It’s winter break, I’m sure they can spare you for a little while.”

“I can’t take time off work just to hang out with you Max.” The words are much harsher than you mean for them to be, you can tell by the way Max takes a defensive step back.

He nods. “Right. Sorry.” Then he leaves you standing there to go to his driver’s room, or somewhere that just doesn’t have you.

Everything becomes clearer to Max at a party near the end of the season. It’s just after the Japan race, and Lando had insisted on celebrating the McLaren 2-3 as well as another tally to Max’s list of wins this season. The nightclub is filled with drivers as well as team members from each team hoping to let off some steam before the next race weekend.

Max doesn’t want to be there. He wants to go back to his hotel and sleep before he has to fly back home just to fly to Qatar a week later. But Lando and Charles keep putting new drinks in his hand, which promptly end up being left on random tables, and dragging him around to converse with everyone else that’s there.

He keeps an eye on you the whole time, watching as you wrap your arms around yourself, staring into the crowd on the dance floor. He can tell you aren’t really looking at them though, that you’re staring off into space. Your boyfriend comes up to sit on the stool next to you. He says something in your ear, to which you shake your head and leave, walking outside.

Max quickly pushes his latest drink into Charles’ hands and follows you outside.

You lean against the wall, attempting to get some fresh air after feeling a bit too claustrophobic in the club, but the heat doesn’t help as much as you hoped. You see Max as he steps outside and quickly walks to you.

“What’s wrong? And don’t say nothing, because I know you, I know when you’re upset and you can’t hide it from me. Is it me? Have I done something wrong?” He asks, his words spilling out quickly.

“Max, it’s not you, it’s just-”

“Y/n! Come on, we can talk this through!” Your words are cut off by your boyfriend who looks around for you, the smile falling off his face when he spots Max standing next to you. “Are you fucking serious Y/n?” He storms over to you, and grabs your forearm, yanking you away from Max. “Always running back to Max, huh?”

You yelp when he roughly pulls you to him.

Max is quick to put himself between the two of you, pushing your boyfriend with just enough force to make him let go of you.

“Don’t touch her.” He snarls.

You already know how this is going to end. Max stares at your boyfriend with fire in his eyes. While Max isn’t quite as tall as him, he makes up for the height difference in his strength. He’s got enough muscle to knock him to the ground in seconds if he wanted to.

Anyone with half a brain would know they’re in dangerous territory, being on the receiving end of Max’s intense stare, but your boyfriend refuses to back down.

“She’s mine Verstappen. I can do whatever the fuck I want.” He says quietly, taunting Max.

That’s all it takes for the first swing to fly. You think it’s Max, but your boyfriend is quick to throw up his own fists in defense.

It’s a mess of navy blue and orange as the two end up rolling on the ground, throwing punch after punch. Max ends up on top, straddling your boyfriend, lifting his fist to swing. You grab his arm and pull him off and away from the fight. You catch a glimpse of your boyfriend, well now ex-boyfriend’s bloody nose and black eye.

Max huffs, pulling his arm away from you and stalks towards his car. You follow him, practically jogging to keep up. You stop when you’re standing between him and the driver door. The lamplight illuminates his face. He’s got a bruise on his cheekbone, a split lip, his hair is a disheveled mess, and his fist is coated in blood, whose you aren’t sure. He’s avoiding eye contact with you, instead looking up at the sky.

“Max, why-”

“I’m fine.” He says when he finally looks at you. “Let me drive you back to the hotel.”

The drive back is quiet. You can’t help but keep looking over at Max, the streetlights passing by spread light over his face. He pulls a plain hoodie from the back of his car, pulling the hood up over his head. He keeps his down as he walks inside, attempting to avoid any interactions with fans that have decided to hang around the hotel.

He walks you to your door, then turns to leave, stopping only when he feels your fingers thread themselves through his. You gently pull him inside your room.

“Bathroom.” You tell him, steering him towards the small bathroom.

He sighs, knowing that there’s no use in trying to argue with you. He tugs the hoodie off and tosses it on your bed. He lifts himself up to sit on the counter of the bathroom, just next to the sink. There’s barely any room between where his legs hang off the counter and the wall opposite the sink, but you manage to squeeze between them with a small towel in your hand.

You run the towel under warm water, then bring it to his face, softly dabbing at his lip. He flinches slightly, pulling away. You apologize softly, then continue to wipe the blood from his lip.

You do the same with his hand, gently holding it in your hand and wiping away the red. It turns out to be mostly blood from your ex boyfriend, his skin only slightly bruised from the impact.

“You shouldn’t have hit him. You could’ve broken your hand. You wouldn’t have been able to drive.” You scold him quietly.

He gives you an incredulous look. “I should’ve done a lot more than hit him.”

You don’t answer, continuing to absentmindedly wipe at his hand. The blood is long gone, but he can tell you’re too lost in thought to notice.

He lifts your head up to look at him with his other hand. “Why didn’t you tell me?” He asks.

You shake your head. “You heard him. Always running back to you?”

“I like it when you come to me.” He shifts slightly. “I mean, I like feeling like you can come to me for, well for anything really. You should’ve felt like you could’ve talked to me.” He drops his head down now.

You can tell he’s starting to close in on himself, that he feels somehow at fault for this. It’s your turn to lift his head up this time. His eyes are welled up with unshed tears. He tries to blink his tears away putting on a brave face for you.

You gently swipe your thumb under his eyes, then hold his cheeks in your hands.

“This is not your fault Max. It’s my fault. I let it get bad, I should’ve ended it a long time ago. I just have a talent for being self destructive I guess.” You let out an unconvincing laugh.

He leans into your touch, letting his eyes flutter closed.

After a few minutes you begrudgingly pull your hands away from Max. He immediately misses the warmth on his face.

“You should put some ice over your bruise.” You tell him.

You step back, giving him space to hop down from the counter. He stands over you, but his height is anything but daunting. He looks down at his now clean but bruised knuckles then back up at you.

“Thank you.”

“I should be the one thanking you.” You tell him.

He clears his throat then shuffles around you, back into the main part of your room. “I should probably go.”

You follow him, itching to give him a reason to stay.

He grabs his hoodie from your bed and walks back to your door. He opens it, ready to step through when you call his name. He turns back to see you standing near the door as well, shifting your weight on your feet.

You take a deep breath then throw caution to the wind. You take a quick two steps to him and press your lips to his cheek.

Max freezes, only regaining a semblance of composure when you pull away from him.

“Thank you Max. Really.” You smile.

He gives you a sheepish smile and a nod, his cheeks colored with a light pink blush.

“Goodnight Y/n.”

“Goodnight Max.”

#max verstappen x reader #formula one x reader #mv33

[mrpenguinpants]

Low Battery Warning - Touch Starved HCs

— If he goes too long without you by his side, he starts to get irritable and too frustrating for anyone to deal with. For the sake of everyone, please remember to recharge your battery before leaving for extended periods of time.

— Tartaglia, Kaveh, Ayato, Alhaitham, and Dottore

[Masterlist]

I JUST WANT TO WRITE WHIPPED MEN OKAY? What do you mean I have to write a part 2 for two different fics??? I'm honestly surprised I managed to finish this. Also, ALHAITHAM NATION REJOICE, YOUR BOY IS HERE AND I CAN FINALLY MAKE A BANNER. I wasn't going to write him (I'm a kaveh stan) but now that he's here...

Tartaglia

While Tartaglia is the most favored to work with compared to the other Harbingers, that's only by a very slim margin. The closest you'll get to death is when the man gets bored and randomly picks someone to fight, but they usually make it out alive. Maybe a couple weeks in the medical bay and a few broken bones but they aren't dead for the most part. He's also the youngest and therefore the most easy-going even if he's a bit childish. He's a soldier first so he knows the pain of listening to someone verbally beat you down and not having the power to do anything back. But he's still a person at the end of the day and after so many people messing up and delaying his work, he's starting to get irritated. First, it was someone spilling tea onto important documents that he just finished signing, then the Fatui agents stationed near Jueyun Karst being defeated by some no-named treasure hoarders, and then finally being held hostage in his own office because the Liyue Qixing wouldn't leave him alone. God, he slumps over his desk, he just wants to go home and see you!

By the time he finally stumbles through the door, you're already passed out on the couch. He can't blame you, it's very late into the night and he would probably be more upset if you forced yourself to stay awake just to welcome him home. But he can still pout that he was taken away from you for so long, he didn't even get to see you all day. That's borderline torture. But he supposes he can forgive you since you look so cute bundled up in his red shirt. If he happens to take a picture or two that's for his knowledge and eyes only. So he easily scoops you up into his arms, taking a couple seconds to just stand there as he basks in the comfortable weight before he takes you to bed. Just for tonight. This will be the last time work takes him away from home for so long.

It lasts for two weeks. Usually, Childe could hold himself together, he's been away for far longer, but the fact that you're right there and he can't hold you is driving him insane. By the 14th day, Childe is ready to snap his pen in half and hurl it at the next person that comes through that cursed door. He doesn't though because it's usually Ekaterina, the only one that has the balls to talk to him right now, and she deserves far more than she's paid to deal with. But he's touch-deprived and tired. Even Zhongli with his infinite amount of patience advises him to sort himself out before inviting him out to lunch next time. He tried to deal with it on his own, this isn't the first time he's felt claustrophobic, but after the fifth Hilichurl camp he doesn't feel any better which only makes his mood sour further. He might even beat Scaramouche in how short-tempered he is right now. There's heavy air wherever he goes and whatever carefree persona he usually has on is thrown out the window.

It's Zhongli who clues you into how bad Childe's demeanor has gotten, the rascal looks horrible both physically and mentally. Despite the consultant and Childe being on friendly terms, you don't really know the man that well. But he doesn't seem like the type of person to lie so you thank him for the information and make your way to the Northland Bank. To be honest, you've been feeling the effects of not seeing Childe as often as you usually do. You know his work can get so hectic that it keeps him cooped up in his office but it's been a while since you've even seen that fluff of ginger hair. He usually doesn't want you near his work considering how it might put you in danger, but if he isn't taking care of himself then what kind of partner would you be if you didn't help?

Even outside the building, you can feel the effects of what Zhongli talked about. All the agents look like they're on their last legs, there's a gloomy atmosphere surrounding the building even though the sun shines brightly across Liyue harbor, and you can vaguely hear an annoyed Harbinger scolding someone. As soon as you set foot into the building Ekaterina nearly tackles you off your feet. Desperately thanking you for coming and looking at you as if you're the Tsaritsa herself.

As soon as Ekaterina says your name, Childe whips his head around at such a speed that you're afraid his head might fling off as his eyes lock onto yours. You know Childe wouldn't hurt you, never you, but he's looking at you like he's about to devour you and you're suddenly very glad you've never been on the receiving end of his anger. He shoves the papers in his hands into the agent's chest he was probably reprimanding and marches over to where you are.

"C-Childe?" "S-Sir?"

Ekaterina mirrors the wary call of his name until he's finally in front of you and without a word, throws his arms around you. You stumble a bit under his weight but you quickly circle your arms around his back and hold on tight so you don't trip over your own feet. You can only imagine what it looks like for Ekaterina to see her stiff boss suddenly deflate in your arms. A pleased groan escapes from him as he basically lifts you off your feet just so he can hug you closer to him. You almost feel like a child's teddy bear with your legs dangling in the air trapped in a crushing hug. You know that your relationship with Childe isn't a secret but you both don't show any displays of affection, you don't even really interact in public in general, so this is pretty open for the two of you. Well, for you at least. You don't even think Childe is registering anything around him except that you're here.

"Are you okay милый?" you whisper into his ear, nuzzling into the side of his head that's nestled into your shoulder. Your snezhnaya is a little rough around the edges but from how he seems to purr you think he enjoys it nonetheless. "Although I'm happy to see you too, don't you think we should move so we aren't blocking the main entrance?"

He sleepily blinks awake and slowly starts to acknowledge that you're both very much standing at the bank's entrance with everyone shamelessly staring. He frankly looks like he doesn't care, people have working legs, they can walk around you both. But he also doesn't want anyone to find another reason to take him away when he's very comfortable.

"If you need me, don't," is the clipped order that rings out through the bank. You know he's heavily censoring what he actually wants to say but from how everyone cowers away, they can probably tell what would happen if they disobey him. They all give him a nod and a salute before he's picking you up, cradles you into your arms, and swiftly walks upstairs. With a kick of his boot, the door slams shut and he sinks into his chair, you seated pretty on his lap.

"Please never leave me, I think I might die," he groans, re-wrapping his arms tight around your waist. You can only sigh fondly as you gently run your fingers through his hair, rubbing small circles into his scalp and he melts into goo. As if you would want to leave.

Kaveh

You know Kaveh is a bit...eccentric to say the least. He always says what's on his mind and most of the time his thoughts are things he should keep to himself. Even you're not totally immune to his blunt honesty despite the fact he tries to watch how he phrases things when directed to you. He doesn't want to accidentally hurt your feelings, regardless if you know he means no harm. It's rather cute that for someone who doesn't care about what others think of him, he's a bit insecure around you. He likes you, really likes you, and he often finds himself plotting out what he's going to say hours before your lunch date with him. But as soon as you greet him with that charming smile and a brief hug, he turns into putty and whatever flowery language he conjured in his mind is swept away. The confident architect that graduated with honors is reduced to a red-faced mess of stumbling words. It doesn't help that you find it adorable enough to press a chaste kiss to his red cheek and he swears that he's going to pass out from a heat stroke.

He's both extremely glad and terribly conflicted that your love language seems to be touch. He loves it when you brush your fingers through his hair but it always lulls him into sleep so he doesn't get any work done. He loves it when you hug him tightly but then he never wants to leave so he doesn't get any work done. He loves it when you cup his cheeks and pull him into a kiss but then he goes in for seconds, then thirds, and so on that he doesn't get any work done. If he went into alchemy rather than architecture he would dedicate his life work to studying why you have the touch of an Archon that compels him so. But he didn't and now that he's drowning in debt, he really needs to concentrate and finish his work before the deadline.

So now he has the painful task of trying to find an extremely polite way of asking you to leave him alone without you taking offense and breaking up with him. He would be devastated if he couldn't see your loving gaze on him again. But the situation is dire because as soon as he sees you, all he wants to do is curl up in bed with you in his arms. Preferably forever but he'll cross that bridge when he gets there. But every time he tries to bring it up it only takes one look from you for him to stutter and wave off his words. He tries to pep talk himself and every single time he claims that this will be the day that he, very politely, pushes you off, it ends with him melting into goo and waking up the next day with all his untouched work judging him from the table.

It gets to the point that he begins to air his grievances to Alhaitham of all people. To be fair, he doesn't expect the scribe to listen to a word he says and if he did, it would only be because Kaveh needed to pay his share of the rent. But he's pleasantly surprised when you pop up with a guilty smile and that Alhaitham explained his circumstances to you. He tries to clear up the situation, he has no idea what Alhaitham said specifically but it must have been put in the worst way possible, but you take his hands and he shuts up immediately. You give him a light giggle that melts his heart and you tell him to call for you once he's completed his work.

It was the worst decision he's ever made. Second to moving in with Alhaitham. Maybe his judgment of you being an angel was a lie and you were secretly the devil from how often his thoughts were plagued by you. He could draw a circle and think of your eyes. He knows that he's smitten in your presence but he didn't expect that to double when he's suddenly alone. His only motivation is that as soon as he's finished, he'll be able to see you again. But his mind and his work bleed together and he ends up drawing your face instead of buildings and pipes.

He ends up locking himself in his studio and slowly deforming into slime with how awful he's taking care of himself. Alhaitham has to pry him from the table only for Kaveh to flop in his arms that the scribe gives up and hauls the corpse over his shoulder and makes his way to your home. Kaveh still needs to pay his share of the rent so he's not allowed to die before then.

When you opened the door you weren't expecting Alhaitham at your doorstep with Kaveh over his shoulder. He doesn't seem to want to be in this situation either because it looks like he's two seconds away from throwing your boyfriend across the room. But he manages to reign everything in front of you and quickly explains Kaveh's situation, dumping said man into your arms, and telling you to fix it. You shoot him an apologetic smile that he waves off, it's not like it's your fault, before turning around and making his way back to his own home.

"Kaveh?" you whisper gently against his ear to not startle him. It only takes him a second to register your voice before he's perking up and beaming at you. He easily shifts positions so you're in his arms instead. Twirling you around and using the momentum to tuck an arm under your knees and smoothly picking you up, somehow supporting your entire weight in one arm while the other closes the door. Sometimes you forget that Kaveh is really strong despite his lean stature. He is a claymore user after all.

"Darling! What are you doing here?" Kaveh questions while he makes himself at home. If only your living space was big enough for him to store all his work otherwise he would have moved in with you by now.

"Alhaitham mentioned that your recent commission was taking up all your time and you weren't taking care of yourself. Are you alright?" you ask, wrapping your arms around his neck to steady yourself while Kaveh takes his shoes and coat off. In these types of moments, no matter what you do or say he'll refuse to let you out of his arms. If he has to live with one arm then he'll gladly do so just so long as his other hand is wrapped around you.

"Never better," he replies with a smile. He's obviously lying given the dark circles under his pretty red eyes but the soft look he sends you is enough to tell you that right now, he's never been more comfortable. It makes you a bit flustered to have such an intense gaze on you but Kaveh is always forward with his affections and this isn't any different. With you in his arms, there's nowhere for you to run to when he tilts your chin down and brushes his lips against yours.

"Be still for me..." he whispers, the vibrations of his voice tingling against your skin as both of your eyes slowly close. Only for the moment to shatter by loud knocks on your door. You both jerk apart and turn to the disturbance with varying expressions. You're a flustered mess while Kaveh scowls as if the door offended his entire life's work. He finally sets you down on your feet and gives you a quick peck on the cheek. Before marching to the door, flinging it open, and telling the man on the other side to shoo before slamming the door in his face. Unless the world is ending, don't knock.

Ayato

To say Ayato works hard is an understatement. There are several nights when he's glued to his desk rather than resting in bed. Such are the woes of him being forever dedicated to his duties as the Yashiro Commissioner. On days when there are big events and everything needs to be perfect, he's nearly inconsolable that Thoma weighs how much he can get away with if he knocks Ayato out with a frying pan. His pondering doesn't go far because even though Ayato looks like a corpse from the lack of sleep, he'd probably knock Thoma off his feet before the housekeeper could even raise his arms. Ayaka has better luck but she's only able to drag him away for a few minutes before he points in a random direction to divert her attention before disappearing as soon as she turns back. It's just something everyone is aware of and they try their best to support Lord Kamisato. But if it starts to look really bad, like Ayato might drop dead at any second, then you're called in. The last defense and their ace up the sleeve. Not to brag or anything but you have a spotless record and you intend to keep it that way.

It only takes one word from you to have the dignified and cunning Ayato turn into a scared rabbit. His name. None of the wary calls of Lord Kamisato, a dismissal of his titles, and certainly not your affectionate terms of endearment. It always brings the temperature of the room to zero and Ayaka has to double-check that her cyro vision didn't accidentally activate. Unlike Thoma and Ayaka, you're not soft on him and you set your foot down when it comes to his extremes. One of the many reasons he fell in love with you but it's coming back to bite him now. He hates seeing you unhappy, doing anything possible to wipe that frown off your face, but when it's him that's making you so displeased he can't help but look like a scolded puppy.

It doesn't take much for you to know that Ayato has overworked himself to the breaking point again. You understand his duties mean that he's going to be riddled with work but you're his partner first and foremost. You're there to care about Ayato, not the Yashiro Commissioner. And Ayato looks like he's falling apart at the seams. Heavy eye bags, pale complexion, and his body swaying back and forth before he catches himself from falling over. It pains your heart to see him like this and yet still push himself to keep going. So you take one, two, and three steps towards him to delicately take his hand in yours, rubbing soothing circles into his palm before intertwining your fingers together.

Unlike Thoma and Ayaka, he doesn't disappear as soon as you take your eyes off him. Just stands there and stares dopily at you while you issue orders to take over his work. God, you look so attractive when you're in control. It's been a while since he's seen anything but paper and ink but did you always look this beautiful? He's so glad he's going to marry you. Maybe he can force the elders to move the ceremony date up. Everyone in the room politely ignores the fact that Ayato is saying these thoughts out loud and how red your face has gotten.

He doesn't object when you pull him out of the room with you, blindly following you wherever you happen to lead him by the hand. As long as your hand is in his, he'll follow you to the ends of the earth if you'll allow it. It's a bit comical how the dignified Yashiro Commissioner recedes into himself and crumbles away into a love-sick man just by a simple touch. At much as it makes you feel a bit shy, it's nice to know that Ayato won't try and weasel his way out of your grasp and return to his work.

If anything he clings to you like an onikabuto on a tree. You have to waddle your way to the baths with an oversized blue-haired man refusing to let go and draping himself over your back. You know he's making this as hard as possible on purpose, just do you can dote and pamper him a bit longer before he succumbs to slumber and has to return to work. It dampens his mood thinking of the future but it's quickly ushered away by the warm water poured over his head. It's fitting that his vision is hydro because he fits himself into the space you provide as you begin to scrub his hair clean.

There's something meditative about having his hair washed by your hands that no one else can replicate. It's a luxury that he only receives when he works hard enough that his arms hang uselessly at his sides and his body slumps into itself. Soft and malleable, completely willing to bend and mold in whatever shape you wish. But your hands scrub through his hair gently, rubbing all the stress out of his body and never complaining. Right now there's nothing else that matters more than being here with you and you with him.

"I'm going to rinse your hair out. Close your eyes now," you softly say and he follows your instructions. The rush of warm water is soothing to his ears although it sparks something in his memory that momentarily takes him out of this romantic moment. He reaches blindly behind him to take your hand, rubbing circles into your palm to halt your actions.

"It's just occurred to me but aren't you supposed to be on a trip to Watatsumi island?" he opens his eyes to peer up at you, his long eyelashes tipped with water droplets reminding you of just how pretty Ayato is. It's almost a good enough distraction for you to forget why exactly you're here rather than speaking with Kokomi right now. Almost.

"I was but someone had to go and work himself to death again. You need to take better care of yourself Ayato. I don't want to see Thoma running across all of Inazuma just to drag me back because you can't seem to sit still for a few seconds," your frown deepens with each sentence. Your free hand that's not in his grasp is knocking against his forehead, albeit not hard enough to cause any actual pain. He only chuckles before pulling you into the water with him until you're sitting on the edge of the bathtub. His head lay comfortably against your thighs.

"Apologies." He's not sorry at all. "When you're not beside me I have to throw myself into my work or else I may go insane."

"Oh so now all of this is my fault," you huff exasperated but he can hear the undertones of how happy that sentence makes you. "Come on, you'll catch a cold if we stay here any longer."

"Mmm, indulge me," he mumbles into your skin, his eyes closing once again with a content smile on his face. He doesn't need to see to know that you have an equally fond expression.

"Oh, so now my lord wishes to relax?"

"Only because you're here."

Alhaitham

You know that your relationship with Alhaitham is unusual to onlookers. You're both polar opposites and yet somehow stumbled into a rather healthy and committed relationship. To others, Alhaitham is a talented and intelligent man. The perfect bachelor if it wasn't for his "extraordinary sense of individualism" that he doesn't pay attention to people around him. He's notorious for being hard to get along with that not even his handsome face is enough for people to sit around for too long. Meanwhile, there's you. A wandering traveler who takes work whenever anyone needs an extra pair of hands. You're a bit well-known for accepting any job that pays well regardless of how dangerous or weird it might be. But unlike Alhaitham, you're more than happy to make conversation and you're often seen conversing with scholars from every one of the Six Darshans.

To everyone's knowledge, it's you that's the clingy one. You always have a hand around his arm or throw yourself at him shamelessly. Everyone assumes that Alhaitham tolerates it because he never pushes you off but he doesn't reciprocate affection to the degree that you do. If only those nosy scholars could see him now. Your newest job has you traveling to the Chasm to help collect and study the newly opened area. While the Chasm is close to Sumeru, a series of mysterious accidents led the entire mine to be closed. With the Liyue Qizing gradually reopening the area there's a lot of ground to cover. Alhaitham doesn't care much for the details except that this means you'll be away from him for a few years rather than a few weeks. As soon as you told him the expected date you'll return his face instantly soured. It was so cute that you couldn't help but press kisses to the corners of his mouth until they lifted. But one thing led to another and you're now trapped underneath his strong figure for the past couple of hours with no signs of him letting go. Every day you're gone equates to one minute he gets to keep you here.

No matter how much Alhaitham wishes to make you stay, even going so far as to bribe you, you eventually gather your things, press one last kiss to his lips, and leave him in his too-quiet house. He doesn't want to admit it but as soon as he closes the door he already feels lonely. But he'll learn to cope and continue with his life. He's been through more challenging obstacles and made it through. It's only two years, 3 months, 14 minutes, and 58 seconds. Alhaitham sighs and leans against the door. He's not going to make it.

Everyone else is content to whisper behind their hands about how the scribe seems to be more hostile. While Alhaitham doesn't have the most friendly personality, he's still somewhat polite until someone gives him a reason to exit the conversation. But now Alhaitham can barely get two sentences in before insulting someone. He doesn't even mean to do it on purpose, it just slips out. A girl who happens to share your eye color is met with a backhanded compliment that she should eat more fish. A man whose skin color is just a shade lighter than yours is met with an irritated scowl before he could even say anything. It's only now that people start to miss your presence because anything is better than a walking warning sign.

It only takes a few weeks for him to crack. He's not usually this starved of attention but the knowledge that he won't see you for another two years has him itching at his wrists. While on the outside there doesn't seem to be any changes, he's perfectly calm and collected, but his facade breaks when he starts making rash decisions. When he heard that his senior Kaveh needed a place to stay due to his financial situation, he offered to live with him much to everyone and his own surprise. Even Kaveh suspiciously asks why Alhaitham is being so generous. He doesn't dignify it with a proper answer, only that he better get his situation fixed within the next two years or the scribe is kicking him out.

As the second year rolls past, it's Kaveh who brings up Alhaitham's sudden mood change. He seems...excited. Kaveh chalks it up to Alhaitham being happy that Kaveh is finally moving out but that'd be kind of low even for someone like Alhaitham. As someone who cares about the arts and romance, there's a certain care in how Alhaitham cleans the house. Every systematic movement is laced with a longing gaze. His wrists are rubbed raw that Kaveh has to physically step in or he might rub so hard he reaches the bone. But above all the dangerous aura around Alhaitham is replaced with something Kaveh can only describe as restless patience.

"Honey, I'm home!" your happy voice is accompanied by the loud slam of the door crashing against the wall. Kaveh is startled by a random stranger entering their house but mostly at the term of endearment. Alhaitham only lowers his book at your voice before going back to reading. A bit rude in Kaveh's opinion but he can see the small smile that Alhaitham tries to hide behind the pages of his book. It's not like you aren't a bit devious yourself. So you retaliate by plucking the book out of his hands, taking a quick glance at his page number before placing it on the desk.

"Welcome back. I assume your job went well?" Alhaitham sighs as you kick his legs apart, plop yourself down into his lap, and rest your head against his chest. If you weren't so enthralled by the masterpiece that was Alhaitham's physique, you would have laughed at how the blond-haired man seemed to stare owlishly at the scene. His eyes almost fall out of their heads when Alhaitham doesn't push you off, doesn't throw you over his shoulder, or even make the slightest hint of being irritated or embarrassed. He just places his hands around your waist, rests his chin on your head, and sends an icy glare to which the blond-haired man scoffs before excusing himself. It's not anything different from what he usually does to onlookers although this is you and you can tell just how weary he is. How deeply he relaxes in your hold as the tension melts from his shoulders. How his eyes search over your body for any injuries that you might have gotten. It does look like you got a bit roughed up during your stay at the Chasm. Your hair is cut shorter than he remembers, you've put on some muscle, and there are a few nicks and cuts running along parts of your skin that are visible. But none of that matters because you're here. You're finally here.

"Aww, Haitham did you miss me?" you tease only to quickly eat your words when he manuever's you sideways so he can pin your back against the couch. You're hit with a sense of deja vu back to two years ago when you were about to leave for this trip.

"The next time you take a commission that lasts longer than two weeks, I'm coming with you or you're not going at all," he grumbles as he tucks himself into the crook of your neck with no signs of leaving. You laugh now but he's dead serious.

Dottore

You aren't sure when it started but at some point, you've been labeled as "Dottore's Favourite". He always seems to be the slightest bit nicer if you happen to be there, his voice a smidge less aggressive, and a lot more touchy. He's a Doctor first so he doesn't want to be contaminated by whatever bacteria people have gathered. But with you, he always seems to have a hand on you. Either harshly pinching your cheeks like a child with a crazed grin whenever you mumble something he deems stupid or pulling your arm of out its socket as he yanks you through the hallways of his lab. You act almost as his shadow, permanently glued to his feet and forced to follow wherever he goes.

You wouldn't consider yourself exceptional at your job but you did know how to listen. Perhaps it was your blatant disregard for your lack of safety since your head was always in the clouds that let you do your job with a steady hand. You don't blame your college's, it's hard to work under so much stress. If you had to do quantum physics and whatever the hell smart people do with someone who could, and would, kill you on the spot if you couldn't tell him what 3567 x 438 was on the spot, you think you could have exploded and crumbled on the spot. But you were just the ditzy receptionist who twirled a pencil on her nose more than on a paper. The only thing you were required to do was make sure Dottore was never bothered and let him know if anyone important needed his attention.

You've seen the Regrator the most compared to the rest of the Harbingers. You don't know what a banker needs from a doctor but you're not about to ask. It's not your business and you aren't paid enough to care about what your boss does. Besides, for such a handsome face his presence creeps you out which is saying something considering there's a maniacal doctor that treats human lives like numbers on a stats page. But since you are his "receptionist" you have to make conversation with him. Most of your interaction extends to him asking if the Doctor is in and you politely saying that he's out. You both pointedly ignore the loud crashes and angry yelling from one of his segments behind the closed steel door.

Once again, you don't consider yourself exceptional at your job. You're just a lousy receptionist at a place that doesn't require it and who spends all their time spinning in the office chair than doing actual work. You're just as replaceable as any grunt in this hell hole. So when Tartaglia waltzes through the doors, blinking at you with his dead fish eyes, before nodding to himself and hauling you out of your chair you can only hope that Dottore manages to remember that he has a meeting with Pantalone at noon.

You're hardly gone for an hour. Tartaglia was just bored, bored enough to come to Dottore of all people, that he happened to spot you who looked equally as bored. He just roughed you up a little before he deemed you completely useless and a horrible fighter before sending you back on your way. Seriously, if he wanted a fight he should have just picked one of the skirmishers instead of a damn receptionist. Although you may have to reconsider your position because as soon as you walk back into the lab, a girl is throwing herself at you and demanding where you've been.

You don't get the chance to answer before she's hurriedly running down twisting hallways, down the stairs, and punching in codes so complicated it looked like she was trying to make music out of them. Whatever questions you have are ignored in favor of getting you somewhere as fast as possible. It begins to make sense when you're finally shoved into a room, the girl who dragged you all this way throwing herself onto her knees and begging for forgiveness for letting you wander off.

The lab is an absolute disaster. This isn't the organized chaos you're acquainted with but the aftermath of a manic episode you're familiar with. Glass shards dripping with fluorescent liquid, research notes torn apart that flutter around the room as faux snow, and one mad doctor in the middle.

"Where have you been?"

For someone who destroyed years worth of progress, he sounds oddly calm and collected. His deep voice is firm while he fiddles with a test tube of blue liquid, watching it slosh around before placing it onto a broken table. He barely pays any mind to the girl currently on her hands and knees, forehead pressed to the ground while she glares at you to say something.

"Out," is your reply. A casual shrug of your shoulders even though the Dottore's back is to you. He's not wearing his usual white coat. That's too bad, you think it looks kinda cool. Really goes with his bird aesthetic.

"Out...out you say. Out. Out. Out," he mumbles softly, each time he say's the word "out", he taps the test tube harder onto the table. The lull in conversation only makes the pressure of the room drop lower before the tension snaps and he hurls the test tube at the girl still on her knees. It's only thanks to your reflexes that you manage to grab the collar of her uniform and throw her back just as the test tube collides with the floor, the liquid melting away the concrete where her head was. You can only give her a nudge and a look towards the door for her to scramble to her feet and flee as far away as she can. The slam of the door behind her acting as the nail in the coffin as Dottore's body seems to slump in on itself.

"Where have you been?" he asks again, running a hand through his messy hair. He sounds and looks far more tired, his fingers twitching to reach out and hold you but his pride stopping him. So you push yourself and step forward into his space, reaching your hands out to cup his face and rubbing soothing circles into his porcelain skin. He doesn't lean into your touch but he doesn't push you away either.

"Getting tossed around by Tartaglia. He came by saying he was bored and I just so happened to be there," you say absentmindedly, twirling the long lock of blue hair that hangs off the sides of his mask. He responds by snatching your wrist, squeezing hard enough until your bones creak. "Were you worried? Did you think I ran away?"

He doesn't dignify your question with a response. Simply shrugging your hands off his face before he reaches up to pinch your cheeks, a familiar cackle vibrating from his chest.

"As if you would have anywhere to go."

———

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[captainreecejames]

Pick Me Up?

Charles Leclerc imagine

summary : the four times Charles picks you up and the one time you pick him up.

pairing : Charles leclerc x fem!reader

I believe there is no mention of YN, but I'm not 100% sure.

word count : 3.5 k

warnings : none that I can think of

note : I only read over this once so if there's spelling errors or other mistakes that's what happened. Next up should either be Logan Sargeant my ex is a footballer or the social media accompanying fic. Anyways, enjoy and me if you like it!!

1. Charles picks you up from a bad date

The date had started fine.

Actually more than fine. He showed up on time, was pleasant to the waitress, and had good manners. Really, he would have even gotten a second date, if he hadn’t brought up Formula 1.

It’s a topic you tend to avoid when meeting new people, as they either tend to know a lot already and want to use you to get to Charles or they don’t know anything and assume that you are using Charles, when they know nothing about your relationship. It was a hassle you learned to shut down before it even began.

But back at the date with Vince, he had brought it up and that’s when things started to go down hill. 

Despite your best efforts, when people brought up Formula 1, you grew taller and more focused on the conversation, it’s like a switch flipped. While Charles driving for the best known team certainly helped your interest, everything about the sport was fascinating for you and you couldn’t help but geek out when the topic came up. 

Vince noticed your reaction and his casual demeanor turned critical. “You only know about it because you think the drivers are hot.” That had made your smile drop instantly, brows furrowing as you tried to respond. “Probably can’t even name all the teams.” He thinks that stumps you, but you’ve dealt with enough shitty men in this sport, you’re not taking anything more from this wanna-be investor.

“I don’t have to prove my knowledge of F1 to you,” you state, deciding that this dinner is now over.

“Oh, now I know you can’t even name five drivers.” Your frown deepens, picking up your napkin and placing it on the table next to your plate. It had gone down hill so fast, how disappointing.

“Your attempt at insulting me into submission is falling flat.” His eyes are wide at your comment, and he must not have expected you realize his move. You flag the waitress over and she walks quickly back to your table, noticing how you’re not smiling anymore. Seems like this date is a bust, so another twenty note must be added to the jar of bets amongst the staff of this restaurant.

(You and Charles visit the place often as it was the sight of your first job, but also the food and people were lovely, and bringing a first date here was the safest option.)

(So they all knew you and were betting on when the dam breaks and you two admit your feelings for each other.)

You hand Lucille enough money to cover both yours and Vince’s meals, not bothering with the change. Your goal now is to get as far away from Vince as soon as possible. He  opens his mouth to say something again, but you are already out of your seat and walking towards the front door, phone calling Charles to pick you up.

He answers on the first ring, always on alert when you go on dates.

(Not because he’s jealous or anything, but because he’s worried about you and needs to make sure that you stay safe. He’s been tempted to bribe the staff of your little restaurant for information during dates after a particularly bad one, but his mom talked him out of it.)

“Ma cherie, is everything alright?” You roll your eyes at his question, just knowing that there’s a smirk on his face right now. He didn’t have a great feeling about Vince, but he wouldn’t say I told you so.

“Can you pick me up please?” You barely need to finish your question before he answers with an ‘of course, I’m already on my way.’

“Need me to stay on the phone?” You glance back at the restaurant, looking in the window to find Vince scrolling away on his phone, oblivious to the movement around him.

“No, focus on the streets. I’ll be fine.” Charles hums his answer and hangs up, leaving you to look busy on the streets of Monte Carlo.

He pulls up not even two minutes later, stopping the car haphazardly in a tow-away zone. You rush to the side, opening the door and shimmying in as fast as you can because even though this is Charles Leclerc’s very recognizable Pista, you don’t want to risk any tickets. While he pulls away you realize how fast he showed up and a question forms on your lips, but he speaks before you have the chance to ask.

“I was only down the road at the marina.” He seems sheepish, like the answer is rehearsed, but you don’t push it because you’re still grateful that he showed up. What would you do without him to pick up after a bad date?

2. Charles picks you cause your car breaks down

This time when you call him should feel less embarrassing than other times, but really it only feels worse. How are you going to admit to him that the car you’ve been saving up for and desperately wanting since you were 7 just crapped out on you before you could even get out of the parking garage? Especially when he advised you against such car. It would be humiliating. 

Alas, you made the call, practicing in your mind what you would say to him. 

Again, he picks up on the first ring, though this time you’re not sure as to why he answered so fast.

“Is everything alright, ma cherie?” You blush, grateful he can’t see your face.

“I’m stuck,” you exhale, ready to face what ever he has in store for you.

“Stuck?”

“My car won’t start and I’m still at work, everyone else has left and I’m in need of a ride.”

“Okay,” he answers, relief filling you. “I’m leaving the gym with Andrea, I should be there in 15 minutes. Don’t talk to any strangers.”

“Love you too, Charles.” You roll your eyes, hanging up on him and sitting in the drivers seat of your beloved, but broken, car. That’s some good money about to go down the drain for the tow and mechanic fees. As you debate calling your dad to help you out with diagnosing what’s wrong with the car, a familiar rumble enters the garage, and you see the ever famous Pista pulling up next to you, a smirking Charles in the driver’s seat.

“Someone call for a pick up?” You want to roll your eyes at him, but the smile on his face makes the irritation melt away. After a long day at work, made even longer because your stupid car that you really wanted wouldn’t start, all you feel is relief and affection for the man in front of you, and it’s a little too overwhelming.

Tears pool in your eyes and Charles frowns, cutting the engine and climbing out so he can hug you. He only admits it to his mother, but holding you is just as good a driving when he’s driving on the track with a car that responds to his every command.

(And what he won’t admit to anyone is that if holding you feels like that, then kissing you must feel like he’s just won a world championship.)

“Ma cherie,” he whispers, pulling your body into his own and stroking your hair to soothe you. He doesn’t ask any questions, which you’re grateful for, you don’t actually know what’s wrong other than everything is just too much and him showing up makes you feel safe enough to let it all out.

When you’ve finally slowed your breathing and made yourself relax he pulls away, looking at you with so much love in his eyes that you’re not sure if you’re dreaming. “Now you know what it felt like to drive under Binnotto.”

The comment is a shock and it makes you snort, which is what Charles was going for. Your laugh that he thinks could make him smile even in the darkest moods. “You can’t say that Mr. Ferrari.” You smack his chest while shaking your head, but the rueful smile on your face tells him that you still haven’t gotten over the team principle screwing him over.

Then the smile eases into something much more natural, and he knows the tense moment has passed. “Takeout?” he suggests, ushering you to the passenger side of his car. You nod at him and he’s pretty sure that he would do anything to make you smile.

3. Charles picks you up for a spontaneous lunch date

The next day it’s he who calls you, but you still an answer on the first ring.

(You’ve dedicated a Måneskin song as his ringtone so you always know when he’s calling)

(He made your ringtone a Mika song after you dragged him to a concert)

“Charles,” you answer, confusion in your tone.

“Ma cherie!” he sounds excited and you can’t help but want to follow him anywhere he goes when he sounds like that.

“Is everything alright?” You ask it this time, because shouldn’t he be packing for a race now?

“I’m outside, we’re going to spend the day on the water.” After leaving your home last night, Charles decided that you needed a pick me up, and what better way but to spend a few hours lounging around on his yacht, soaking up the sun and enjoying each other’s company.

(No one else would be there, but this wasn’t a date.)

(Seriously Arthur, it wasn’t a date.)

You spare a glance around your room, laundry begging to be done and dishes waiting to be washed. Yeah, you could use a day away from chores.

“Let me grab a bag,” you tell him, already throwing more clothes around the room in search of your favorite bathing suit. He hums through the speaker and you put your phone down to keep searching for the bathing suit. It was your favorite red crossover one piece and you be damned if you didn’t wear it today, anything to manifest a Ferrari win.

When you finally manage to find it, in the pile of clean but not put away laundry, you pick your phone back up and tell Charles you’ll be right down.

In two minutes you’re out the door of apartment, eyes landing on Charles leaning against his car. He looks so handsome with the windswept hair and Ray-bans on, you really have to wonder why he’s spending the afternoon with you and not some model he met in a garage.

(He’d say it’s because it’s the weekend before a race and this is a tradition, spending the afternoon with you before he leaves is the only way to ward off bad luck.)

(Seriously, before the Netherlands race last year you'd been unable to make it because of a bad cold and he had to retire the car that race, so safe to say you were forced to the boat, or his apartment, or he came over before the plane every time after that.)

Maybe the question is what would he do without you?

4. Charles picks you up from a girl’s night

This time Charles doesn’t pick up on the first ring, in fact, he barely makes it to the phone in time to answer. That’s because it’s not you who is calling, but rather a friend.

You and few girl friends had decided on a girls night out for one of them going through a bad break up, but after a few pregame shots and then drinks at this club, you were pretty intoxicated.

Looking for your group after coming back from the bathroom and the bar, you had spotted Lando and Max across the room, which made you think about Charles.

(Not that he ever really left your mind.)

And when you think about Charles, you wonder where he is, so you went to your friends. Both their faces lit up when they saw you, indicating that they were also not sober. After a quick hug for both of them you turn to survey the rest of the bar, looking for your Monagasque. 

“He’s not here!” shouts Max, trying to be heard over the noise. Your shoulders drop, turning back to the two racers with a pout on your lips.

“Where is he?” you ask, trying to seem nonchalant, but drunk you can’t hide her feelings as easily as sober you.

(Many would argue that sober you can’t hide her feelings easily either, but all that matters is that Charles doesn’t find out. And since he’s too occupied in hiding his also obvious feelings, you’re both oblivious to the other’s pining.)

Lando says that Charles stayed at home, something about playing the piano and having an early night was more tempting than drinks. The real reason being that if Charles went out he would not have been able to stop thinking about you and your potential suitors, which would lead to him drinking to forget. He was not up for another heartbreak hangover.

Your eyes light up at the mention of Charles playing the piano, sitting down in the booth with them. “Oh! I bet it’s going to sound wonderful!” Both drivers roll their eyes, and to their disappointment, you’re not drunk enough to miss it. “You don’t like his music?” The accusation in your tone makes them readjust their face. It’s not that they don’t like his compositions, it’s just that when Charles explains them, it’s almost always about how you looked on a certain day and he just was so inspired he had to put something down. They’re really tired of the back and forth between you too.

You begin your speech on how talented Charles is at the piano, which then morphs into how talented he is as a driver, and then as a person. It all turns into a ramble about how proud you are of him, something they’ve all heard before.

When you’ve somehow made it to Leo and how Charles chose the perfect puppy, the man himself shows up.

“Ma cherie,” he interjects, placing a hand on your shoulder to get your attention. You turn towards him, and Max swears that there should be cartoon hearts in your eyes.

“Charles!” you yell, wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug. “What are you doing here?” You’re slightly too loud for being in his arms, but he doesn’t care if you yell his ear off, it’s still you.

“Max said you were ready to come home.” Your brows furrow at that, because you don’t remember ever saying that, or even Max disappearing to call Charles, but you can’t be mad at him showing up.

“One more drink?” you ask, eyes pleading with him. Charles shakes his head, he can feel how much he’s supporting your weight even while sitting and knows that any more alcohol will likely end with you tripping over yourself.

“Water,” he answers and you’ve agreed to the words coming out of his mouth because it’s Charles, and he’ll never steer you wrong.

Charles heads to the bar to grab a water, running into your group of friends there. He tells them your status and that’ll he’ll be taking you home after this drink. They all nod along, most of them predicting that the night would end like this: Charles showing up and driving you home.

When it’s finally time to leave and Charles has ushered you out of the packed club into his Pista, you remember that you came here with a completely different group. “The girls!”

“Don’t worry, ma cherie, I saw them before we left and told them I’d take you home.” The gentle smile on his face is enough to put one on yours. Where would you be without him, indeed.

+ 1. You pick Charles up from the airport

You’ve got a new car now, thanks to Charles, and since he needs to be picked up from the airport, you’ve decided to take it for a nice spin. The roads are relatively clear for the drive, and you’re there in the usual 30 minutes. That makes you early for Charles, but you take the time to work out what you’re going to say to him.

Before you get out of the car you text him your location, so that he can head right out and find you, rather than you going into the terminal to look for him. He always was better at finding you.

The last night out had not only ended with Charles taking you home, but with a revelation. You couldn’t keep living like this. Loving him so much and not telling him was suffocating. It made you feel like you were on the edge of a cliff with nothing to keep you safe, and you were tired of it. So the question was, how did you tell him.

“Charles, I’ve been in love with you for ages,” you said, but shook your head. That didn’t sound right.

“Charles, I have to tell you something really important. I think I’m in love with you.” No, you shook your head again and groaned. “I don’t think I’m in love with him, I know I am.”

“Charles, you’re the most important person in my life, I don’t know what I’d do with out you.” Okay, solid start, you might have something with that.

“Charles light of my life.” No. “That’s too cheesy.”

“God, I wish I could put into words how much you mean to me. I love you so much I don’t know what to do with myself most of the time. It’s like I need to feel you to be able to breathe properly. All I really ever need is for you to look and smile at me and I’ll know that everything will be alright. I can get through anything with you there. If you love someone else it would break my heart, but knowing that you’re happy is all I need to be okay. I’d live with the thought of you loving someone else, because if they made you as happy and good as I feel, then there’s nothing more I could ask for.” Yeah, that sounded-

“Well it’s a good thing I love you too.”

You screamed, turning around to see Charles behind you in all his glory. Black sweatshirt and baggy jeans, hair messy like he ran his hand through it multiple times.

“How long have you been there?” you asked, face turning red enough to rival Ferrari.

“At Charles, light of my life.” He shrugged, like you hadn’t just bared your soul out to him. “Though, I disagree, it’s not too cheesy.” Could you get any redder? Feels like this is as red as a human being could get before self-combusting.

He’s just standing there, with a dopey smile on his face that you want to kiss, but you can’t. Something is holding you to the spot. You force yourself to say something. “Can you say something else?”

“Like what?”

“Anything else, I feel like I’m going to explode if you don’t say something.”

“Thanks for coming to pick me up.” He adds a shrug to the end and you narrow your eyes.

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

“Oh, you want me to say that I love you too.”

“I don’t want you to say it if you don’t mean it.” If you were a kid you’d add a stomp to the end, as if you were throwing a temper tantrum. He furrows his brow like he’s confused and still you want to kiss him senseless.

“Well, I mean it.”

Now you’re the one confused. “What?”

“I love you too, and I don’t think I’d be okay if you loved someone else as much as I love you. Because I’m selfish and a terrible man and I want you all to myself.” He shakes his head. “I need you all to myself,” he corrects. “You’re the love of my life and if I wasn’t yours then I don’t think I could go on. But you said you do love me, so everything is so much easier now.” Each sentence is punctuated with a step closer, until he’s just a few inches from you, like he needs you to take the last step. You do, without hesitation, because you really would do anything for him.

Eyes glancing at his lips and back, you catch him doing the same thing. “I love you more than anything in this world. I’d give up racing if you asked, I do anything for you.”

Another glance at his lips. “I’d never ask that of you, Charles. But, I love you too, and I’d do anything for you.” His smile at those words would normally catch you off guard, like you’d stop breathing at it, but somehow it just makes everything easier right now. So you kiss him.

Leaning forward those last few inches to grab his shoulders and pull him down so you can kiss him with as much love as you can muster. If words can’t explain how much you love him then maybe kissing him will convey it. That you love him more than words, actions and thoughts can combine. You love him.

(And he loves you.)

#charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #Charles leclerc x fem!reader #Charles leclerc smau #formula 1 #formula 1 smau #formula 1 imagine #my stories #read #my writings