#expect me to add more to this in a few days time

[sheastri]

Hell N Back ft. op81

Pairing: oscar piastri x fem!black reader

Genre: Social Media AU with story

Summary: In which the reader was finally done with love until Oscar came into her life and charmed (all he had to do was exist) her into giving love another chance.

Warning(s): None.

A/N: Recently been thinking about f1 so I decided why not write??Title inspired by "Hell N Back Bakar ft. Summer Walker" because I've been obsessed with it lately!! No specific fan cast, just photos off of Pinterest.

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The First Meeting

2 years ago

Y/n was walking down a street flooded by shops all around her with her best friend, A'lidyah. The two women were in deep conversation about love. Y/n was almost sure she would never comfortably be in love again and A'lidyah was telling her that love comes to you when you least expect it.

"You shouldn't fully mark it off because of a few mishaps. And love comes in so many different forms and can be found in so many different aspects of life." A'lidyah explained while moving her hands to emphasize her point.

"You know what, you're right. I love seeing the smiles of the people who walk the streets, I love skipping through town hand in hand, and I love music. I'm so grateful to have you in my life, like seriously." Y/n said smiling at her friend sincerely. A'lidyah returned the smile saying something along the lines of "life would be so dull without you, i thank God for you everyday." The conversation then resumed, the two girls having smiles seemingly permanently edged on to their faces.

While Y/n was speaking she momentarily shifted her eyes to glance at something on the side of the street that A'lidyah stood on and in that quick second she had walked into someone. He managed to catch her by her waist before she had fallen and she immediately began apologizing before looking up at the man.

As Y/n shifted to meet the gaze of her saving grace, she found she was met with a face that displayed the thoughts crossing her mind at the moment. Wide eyes and mouth agape, the man must've been experiencing the shock that circled her mind at the moment. She only broke through this trance at the sound of a witch like cackling that could come from no one other than A'lidyah. Y/n raised her eyebrow and side eyed her best friend with a smile on her face before turning her attention back on to the man who stood in front of her.

They exchanged eye contact one last time before his hold on her waist loosened and Y/n stepped back and bent down to pick up the things that fell on the floor. Oscar soon joined her and then apologized for almost knocking her over.

"Ah, no worries it was mostly my fault and I was able to be saved by a handsome man so I'd say we're pretty even?" Y/n responded cheekily.

"A handsome man? And then you a beautiful woman? Almost seems like a match made in heaven, wouldn't cha say?" The man said while his face was very clearly flushed and he looked like he had to muster up all his confidence and self-control to not stutter. His pupils then went off to the side catching another woman in his line of sight. Seeing that the man had directed his attention to her A'lidyah began to speak.

"That's actually perfect, Y/n needs someone other than me to add a little bit of pizazz and all that fun stuff to her life, mind giving her a name?" A'lidyah says holding back a teasing smile. "Oh that's my bad. The names Oscar, Oscar Piastri. It's nice to meet you Y/n and..."

"Oh I'm A'lidyah! Her wife, her wingman, her manager, and most importantly her best friend. Oscar meet Y/n, Y/n meet Oscar!" The girl says enthusiastically. The two laugh but greet each other anyway.

They exchanged numbers and that day when Y/n went home she found the idea of love just a bit more appealing and Oscar... well let's just say his google history was flooded with many "Do I Have a Crush?" quizzes, a lot more "How to Know if Your in Love" blogs, and one slightly embarrassing question that his friends would definitely tease him about, not that they wouldn't tease him about what he had already been searching up anyway.

Y/n is now following Oscar Piastri

Oscar Piastri is now following Y/n

♫ Could you tell where my head was at when you found me? Me and you went to hell and back just to find peace ♫

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Current Time

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, whosalidyah, mclaren and 276,943 others

yourusername last photo is from me and lidyah's latest gossip session

view all 7,983 comments

whosalidyah not your boy in the likes...🤭

yourusername guys what is this crazy woman talking about?? username girl... you are NOT slick username not alidyah exposing her😭

carlossainz55 can't wait to meet you at our next race!

liked by creator

username anyone noticed that both oscar and mclaren liked??

username that's suspicious🤨 username that's weird...

oscarpiastri no photo creds after standing in the middle of the road to take that second one??

yourusername you're still alive and well?? landonorris justice for my boy oscar😪 whosalidyah burning all my number 4 mclaren merch landonorris I take back my earlier statement, I was misguided please forgive me oscarpiastri the things that love does to people🤦

username ignoring that 3rd photo for my peace of mind

username not me finding out my wife is cheating on me on my birthday

yourusername never bby 💕 oscarpiastri 🤥

mclaren come visit us in the paddock sometime soon!

yourusername I thought you'd never ask!! username oh?

username Man, I thought I had everything, I was lonely.

oscarpiastri

liked by yourusername, mclaren, landonorris, and 392,487 others

oscarpiastri Thanks to all the fans who came out to support @mclaren today.

yourusername Your nails are gorgg, who did them?? I need the number immediately🤭

oscarpiastri that information is classified🥱 username not y/n tryna act like those aren't her nails...

username babe... who's nails are those??

username why is lando lowkey looking like a snack in that photo??😩

landonorris it's just impossible for me to look bad, truly a gift and a curse😪 whosalidyah don't boost his ego too much now, im scared it might implode...

username just noticed that the nails match the colors on his helmet

username that's actually so cute wtff username oh it's seriousss

yourusername just a girl waiting for her photo creds

oscarpiastri just a boy waiting for the ones he was robbed of😣

username Now you're my everything, now it's on me.

mclaren

liked by yourusername, oscarpiastri, f1, and 203,587 others

mclaren Our papaya boys + Y/n = another good day in the paddock

yourusername I had an amazing time, thank you so much for inviting me (10/10 experience, would recommend).

mclaren You're welcome to join us again anytime!

username ok but who was y/n looking at because I don't think her smile could get any brighter??

username ik y/n was sick of them by the end of this😭

landnorris y/n run they're trying to recruit you

yourusername girl dw i'm already halfway down the road oscarpiastri 🤦 username lmao i love their dynamic

whosalidyah if only I didn't have exams

yourusername never leave me again, oscar and lando almost drove me insane whosalidyah igu next time babes🤞

username hope to see her at the paddock a lot more!

username oh to be y/n rn

username I could you tell where your head was at when I found you.

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Will You Be Mine?

1 year ago

Y/n was very excited for her date with the one and only Oscar Piastri, not like she hadn't gone on many with him before but he had said he had something very special planned which "fit her persona well", his words not hers. She was very suspicious seeing as basically all their dates filled her with joy and excitement, high standards to exceed, if she did say so herself.

She had gotten her nails painted prior to the date and had made sure her hair looked nice. She had also put on a pretty dress but not before playing dress up and have a whole fashion show in her room with A'lidyah. Her whole hype crew in one person, she was so blessed. While doing touch ups she heard the doorbell ring and practically flew downstairs to go and open the door.

Oscar stared down at her, his face leading her to think he was in a trance or something of the sort. Y/n loved the effect she had on him. She did a little twirl to show him the full fit knowing it would fluster him even more.

"Am I pretty enough for the occasion, Mr. Piastri?" Y/n said chuckling softly before leaving a mannequin like Oscar standing at the door in awe as she went to go grab her purse and let A'lidyah know it was time for her to go. She came back down and Oscar swore she looked like an angel descending from the heavens.

"Well, I'm waiting on an answer?"

"You are absolutely stunning, beyond pretty enough for the occasion, although those are definitely everyday qualities of yours."

"What a sweetheart!" Y/n said, once again teasing the man and taking pleasure in the blush that spread across his face, as she closed the door to the apartment and took Oscar's outstretched hand. As they made it to the car he opened the door for her and allowed her to enter before going around the car and getting in himself.

"Ouhh my favorite song is playing, did you orchestrate this or is the universe just working overtime?" The girl spoke softly in a joking manner.

"A magician can't reveal all his tricks." Oscar said jokingly before smiling softly at the girl in the passenger seat and taking in the joy that radiated from her being. They drove with soft music in the background and just the amazing scenery to guide them through the city. Once they got to the destination, which seemed like a garden of some sort, Oscar practically ran over to her side of the car. Once he had opened the door for her he covered her eyes with his hands.

"Oscar, your coordination better be on point because if I trip your days will be numbered." she said seriously with a hint of humor in her voice.

"Wouldn't be the first time you've fallen for me, now would it love?" Oscar teased as he walked her over to the romantic picnic spot he had set up for her.

"Girl, you know what... just don't be surprised when I jump you." Y/n said playfully. They then came to a stop and and Oscar uncovered her eyes allowing her to see the scene that he had put together. When Y/n saw the sign that said "Will You Be Mine?" her heart felt as though it would jump out of her chest. When she turned to face Oscar he got down on one knee and began to speak before she could say anything.

"From the moment I met you I knew that we would be inevitable. You're intricate but gorgeous hairstyles, your dough like eyes, and your beautiful aura had put me in an immediate trance and I remember thinking 'woah'. My friends once told me that when I looked at you it seemed as though stars had been placed in my eyes purposely as if to gaze upon you meant my pupils had seen an unknown galaxy deeply treasured by the cosmos. So, will you allow me a place in your heart in which I beg to stay for an eternity."

Y/n immediately broke down crying before saying yes a million times and jumping into Oscar's warm embrace.

"I will do my best to treasure your heart." Y/n said before pulling Oscar in for a kiss.

That night the stars danced above them as though rejoicing.

♫ Know life been lifin' lately, so I save you if you save me ♫

୨୧–------------------------------------------୨୧

Current Time

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, whosalidyah, and 479,502 others

yourusername I was over love, thought I had enough, then I found you @oscarpiastri

This posts comments have been limited to users mentioned

oscarpiastri I was no doubt, stressed out without you.

yourusername the only man ever🤭

oscarpiastri

liked by yourusername, landonorris, and 923,547 others

oscarpiastri All we got is us, when nobody does, I got you @yourusername

This posts comments have been limited to users mentioned

yourusername For your sanity and my mentality.

oscarpiastri mine, in every universe

yourusername omg I'm literally your biggest fan!!

oscarpiastri well I would hope so🤨

୨୧–------------------------------------------୨୧

♫ Man, I thought I had everything, I was lonely... Now you're my everything, now it's on me... ♫

୨୧–------------------------------------------୨୧

#f1 smau #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #lando norris #hell n back #summer walker #bakar #op81 #op81 x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #x reader #x black reader #x black fem reader #op81 x you #formula 1 fanfic #smau #f1 instagram au #fomula 1 fluff #f1 social media au #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri smau

[verystressedcollegestudent]

if there's one thing i hate more than slackers in group projects its goddamn hypocrites

#this guy did jack shit for two full weeks when we're building the damn prototype #but STILL brought up the fact that most of our team blew off a report till the last minute in the beginning of march #*prototypes don't work* “sEe tHis iS wHy wE nEedEd tO hAvE a cOnvErsaTioN aBouT MS3” #like hon you lost the rights to the “y'all need to contribute more” argument the moment you left me hanging for 2-3 FUCKING WEEKS #like excuuuuuse me you been prioritizing extra curriculars all week get off your high horse stop lecturing everyone else about contribution #he made maybe 3 contributions? maybe? #first he 3D modeled an adapter and sent it to someone else to print (couldn't even do THAT himself smh) #then he sent the gc a sketch of an idea i roughly proposed literally the NIGHT BEFORE as his own contribution (that I ENDED UP BUILDING #then he...screwed on a few pipe fittings and called it a project :) #would be a LOT less pissed if he didn't show up to One Thing outside weekly team meetings/class #then apologize for slacking off BUT then launch into a FUCKING SPEECH ABOUT HOW HIM BEING HERE PROVES HIS COMMITTMENT #all because he DOESN'T LIKE GETTING UP EARLY. like sir. sir i am rIGHT FUCKING HERE. i was up till 4-5am working on this stfu #we've been building for three weeks and he's come into work on stuff wo me there ONCE for an HOUR #for context id spent about fifteen hours in the shop alone working on the fucking thing that WEEK #like im trying to be understanding ik tech week is hell #but i took “stepping back” as “i only have a few hours here and there to be in the shop and will do the writeups” #NOT “won't show up outside meetings AND we're splitting slides and writeups 80/20” #like id been in the lab all fuckin day and notice we have an assignment due (missed a SINGLE meeting due to exam) #and i ask him if theres anything i can do (and im thinking like look it over maybe add a spec or two) #and this fucker has the AUDACITY to ask me to write the full four paragraph summary cause he #*checks notes* copy-pasted some specs from milestone 3 so of COURSE its only fair that despite the fact I've been in the lab ALL DAY #that i write the four fuckin paragraphs too #course we're troubleshooting and he's like “did you clean the pump? did you disassemble it and rinse it?” like yes??? #i did EVERYTHING i could think of before i even bothered texting you cause i know you're fucking useless #and then he raises fifteen different concerns which while valid would have been NICE TO HEAR WHEN I SENT YOU MY INITIAL DESIGNS #y'know BEFORE i spent over fifteen hours of my free time building this damn thing #with slackers i just pick up the work and move on with my life this idiot is trying to gaslight me into thinking that he contributed fairly #when i heard “i need to step back due to play stuff” i thought we'd be splitting it like 65:35 NOT FUCKING 95:5 #and now hes probably going to give ME a poor peer review because I've been passive aggressive with him in the few meetings he showed up to #like i got shit going on too? how the fuck does he expect me to respond to being abandoned to do this shit myself

[bratfiction]

18+ CONTENT — MDNI

loser, college!könig… like actual loser who barely knows how to talk to girls. but god, you’re so cute and small compared to him. he can smell your sweet perfume and has definitely, surely noticed how little your skirt is as you sway on your feet next to him, looking up with those glossy eyes of yours.

“what do you want?” oh. he’s as much of a brute as he looks, you’ve come to realize. straight to the point, a bit scary.

his eyes narrow while your mouth falls open but nothing comes out, your eyes are welling with tears and könig feels the need to roll his own while you blubber about how much help you need in the class you two share. you’re the only one that can help me; you sniffle pathetically, hoping it will persuade him into tutoring you in these trying times.

you’re seconds away from falling to your knees and pleading him— luckily you don’t have to because könig is holding out his phone, expecting you to add your number into his contacts. and of course you do while continuing to sniffle and babbling out thank you’s that he chooses to ignore.

“i’ll text you and we’ll figure it out,” he grumbles before leaving you where you stand in the hallway.

if only you knew that you’d end up bent over his desk a month later, curses falling from your lips with every thrust that shakes your entire frame and rattles his stupid PC monitors on his desk. your hands are planted on either side of his keyboard, trying your best not to accidentally slam your palms down on it in a cock-hungry haze.

you’re unsure of how he even managed to bully his way into your cunt in the first place. all you remember is that his head was under your skirt for at least an hour before you got this far, making you all messy with his spit as his fingers worked their magic inside your pretty cunt. “prettiest cunt i’ve ever seen,” könig made sure to tell you, before flattening his tongue in your folds and forcing your hips to grind down.

fuuuck, könig— you whimper tearfully. but at the same time you’re pushing your bum back to meet his thrusts, savoring the feeling of your cheeks being pressed flush against his hips every time as your back arches perfectly. könig squeezes your waist beneath his giant hands, but they end up cupping your tits eventually, squishing and squeezing to make you tremble even more in his hold.

truthfully he doesn’t know what’s come over him. doesn’t know where this sudden ability to pull orgasms out of such a cute dumb girl came from, especially with his limited but very valuable experience. however he does know that your cunt is heavenly and the way it squeezes him is better than any fleshlight he’s ever had, admittedly. enough to have him seeing white and throw his head back with a breathy groan every few seconds. he thinks he needs it every day.

you’ll be lucky if he lets you leave his dorm after this.

— want more loser, college! könig?

#⌨️.kit's writing #🤍.COD #🤍.loser!könig #könig smut #konig smut #cod smut #cod mw2 smut #cod mwii smut #call of duty smut

[actual-changeling]

we do not talk enough about the moment right before crowley puts his sunglasses back on. the "nothing lasts forever" is devastating and if you're like me your eyes were so full of tears you couldn't see the screen the first time you watched it (just like crowley, look at us all twinning in sadness!).

there is a shift that happens in his eyes and i think it is absolutely fascinating and heartbreaking at the same time.

we begin with crowley averting his gaze from aziraphale's face and staring off into the distance instead, and you can see his spirit break. that crowley just lost the one thing in the world he cannot live without and we can see it written across his face like a neon sign.

then, as you'd expect, he gives into the need to cover up his pain, to try and make himself less vulnerable, and even before he lifts his glasses he looks down so aziraphale can no longer see his eyes.

now, the next part is what would not let me out of its grasp all day. we know it happens because of his demeanour afterwards and up until the kiss, but you can actually watch as crowley makes himself numb to the world.

i am intimately familiar with dissociation as a trauma and stress response, and while you can never fully control it, you do eventually find the switch in your mind that makes you snap back into the haze. crowley has had six thousand years to get really, really good at leaving reality behind when he needs and/or wants to.

that's exactly what he does.

he still looks sad, and yet there's just something distinctly distant in his eyes, the shift from openly heartbroken to "i don't want to feel any of this let me leave".

glasses? on

emotions? off

hotel? trivago

i have stared at those four frames more than any person probably should and i don't know if it's the light, if i am going insane, or if there is a single tear sliding out of his right (our left) eye. i'm probably insane and the light is a bitch so if anyone has some high resolution shots or anything that could answer that question without a doubt PLEASE do add it.

by now you are probably ready to threaten me with a knife in a dark alley but before you do that or drive your car off a cliff, let me tell you the best part:

aziraphale notices.

they might be communicating on two different frequencies but aziraphale knows crowley. he knows and loves him, and, most importantly, over the last few years he has gotten used to seeing crowley without his glasses. aziraphale could probably write a book on the expressions in his eyes alone and watches that shift happen and is devastated.

look.

he tries to make himself hope the same second, tries to convince himself crowley is putting on his glasses so they can leave together, but he knows.

aziraphale sees the light leave crowley's eyes, sees crowley leave, knowing that he is quite literally running away from him. you and me against the world, angel, but in that moment crowley firmly pushes him back to "the world" (or tries to, anyway).

the entire season we see crowley take off his glasses whenever he enters the bookshop to the point where he's running around without them on in broad daylight with jimbriel right there.

can you imagine how hurt and confused aziraphale must be?

because what crowley is telling him, if we really, really break it down, is that aziraphale is no longer a safe person for him. and repairing that trust is going to take time and work, no matter how much crowley loves him, how badly they love and need each other.

anyway to seal this off and really rub in the pain - how it started vs. how it ended. <3

oh one last thing: now crowley no longer has a single person he can be himself around, no one that knows him, no one he trusts. no one in whose presence he can take his glasses off.

and outside of the bentley and his own flat, he no longer has a place to do so either. the bookshop was theirs. with aziraphale gone, is it really a safe place anymore? is it somewhere he can just let himself be knowing he will be looked after and protected?

easy answer: no.

alright, off i go. see y'all on the next angst post or in the tags.

#alex talks good omens #good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #good omens season 2 #go2 #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable divorce #the final fifteen #good omens meta

[dollwrites]

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!nanny!reader, married!toji ( rich toji too lmao hot take ), age gap, noncon, dacryphilia, virginity loss, heavy breeding kink, bondage, all characters featured are aged 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading < 3

𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗸𝘁𝗼𝗯𝗲𝗿 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟯 ∣ day twenty-two [ toji fushiguro + breeding ]

you probably should’ve kept your mouth shut. you should’ve bit the bullet and swallowed your pride when Toji said he couldn’t pay you any earlier than Friday for babysitting the kids. no, couldn’t had not been his word of choice. he wouldn’t pay you before Friday. Toji was loaded with cash. you’d never bothered to ask him how he made his living, but you knew that he had plenty and his massive mansion would not be snatched up by the bank if the prick gave you your well earned three hundred and twenty dollars on a Wednesday instead of a Friday.

and you’d told him so.

which had landed you in the position you’re in now.

on a few occasions, Toji or his wife had asked you to tidy up around the house and that included their bedroom. the room was massive and luxurious, with a king size bed in the center of the room. you’d seen plenty of oddities in there— handcuffs here, a flogger there, vibrators in the drawers and even a black, pleather bench with seatbelt-like straps hanging off it in the corner— but you never thought, in all the time you’ve worked for them, that you’d find yourself on your back in nothing but your bra and panties ( which were both pulled askew to expose your breasts and give him access to your core ) against the mattress, with thick, black straps on your ankles that bind them to a long, silver bar. your legs are spread wide for Toji, he has also fastened similar cuffs to each of your wrists to separate notches on the pole. his fist is wrapped around the center of the metal, gripping it tight. he seems to use it as a lever, pulling your entire body to his.

the tears are far from dried on your cheeks, though the majority of the pain from the initial insertion has dissipated, Toji is none too gentle as he ruts into you. your walls flutter about the girth of his manhood as it stretches you to a capacity you’ve never felt before. he was so big, much too big for him to have been your first, and you felt like he was ripping you apart, especially because he had no regard for how deep he was delving into you— each thrust of his hips sent him hilt-deep into a newly devirginized interior. because of this, your face remained twisted into an expression of discomfort, eyes wide with shock.

Toji chuckles through grit teeth, “What’s with the crocodile tears, slut? Wasn’t expecting I’d pop your cherry? Daddy’s cock too big for that itty, bitty belly of yours?” his dark pair coruscate in the dim lighting as his gaze travels over your stomach, pressing his free palm against the lump just below your navel, the size and shape of his cock. you mewl, head rolling about on the mattress, and your teeth sink into your lower lip; the pressure adds to the sensation of being stuffed full. “Ooh, listen to you whine for me,” he croons with faux sympathy, poking out his lower lip. “I’ll bet you’re used to getting exactly what you want with those puppy dog eyes, aren’t you? But, I gotta tell you, baby girl, daddy’s made more girls cry than just you. You really think those little sniffles are gonna work on me? Make me go easier on you?”

his hips grind into yours as he digs as deep as possible without his thick tip bursting through your belly button ( or, at least, that’s what it feels like ), and you cry out, back arching. your fingernails claw at the restraints, arms tensed unable to do much but sting.

“Ah!” it’s more a bestial growl than a sound of pleasure you’d expect anyone to make, his eyes fiery with even more desire at your wriggling. “See, feel that? How your pussy tremors when she’s gripping my cock? You can glare up at me with those cute, puffy eyes and your makeup streaked down your cheeks, but I can tell by the way that little pussy hugs me that you don’t want it gentle. You don’t want me to be nice. You want to be fucked into submission, and daddy’s more than willing to break that bad fuckin’ habit of talking back to me with my cock.”

it was almost impossible to formulate a coherent sentence, batting tears back, but they fall anyways, squirming as if to escape the cocktail of pleasure and pain, and you turn away from him, angling your countenance towards the wall instead. “W—what— what if I t-told your, ah! Your wife about this—“

the most wicked of grins contorts Toji’s lips, and he reaches through the bar and between your arms to grip your face, turning it back to force you to look up at him. “You think she doesn’t know, girl? I’ve only been planning to breed your little body since you started working for us. I just needed a good excuse to break you in, thanks for that.” he pauses, to groan and close his eyes, pace picking up as his hips begin to buck more erratically. “She thinks you’ll make a better baby factory than she ever could, and she’s more than willing to let me keep you here and fuckin’ ruin you until the only thing you want is for me to swell that little tummy with my bastards—“ even as your whimpering escalated into screams, you can hear him. your eyes close, head wanting to angle away from his grip, his palm makes contact with your cheek in a couple, quick slaps. “You can get used to being my little breed-whore, sweet girl. And don’t you worry, you’re gonna get a nice raise every time I knock you up; as long as you learn that your place is wrapped around daddy’s cock, and that pussy is for him to fill with his loads, you’re gonna be a fine new addition to this family.”

#toji fushiguro x you #toji fic #toji fushiguro smut #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x you #toji smut #jujutsu toji #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #jjk toji #toji zenin #jujutsu kaisen toji #dilf toji #jjk #jjk imagine #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。09:08 AM — GOJO SATORU.

contents. manga spoilers, satoru keeps the scars bc that’s character development ok, post canon, insecure! gojo / reverse comfort, you sit on his lap, ig angst to fluff, embarrassingly cheesy look away pls :,)

satoru, since he’s come home with those scars, has always evaded your hand. you’ve tried a few times, have reached out to cup those cheeks you miss holding—but he’s managed to grab your hand and kiss it every time.

it’s smooth—like everything else he does, satoru dodges your touch smoothly. with an easy grin. with a teasing glint. it’s slick and all too natural, and almost undetectable. but you know him better. you know him better than anyone has had the pleasure of knowing him, you like to think. and you know that satoru doesn’t let your hand meet his cheek, not even the edge of his jaw, on purpose.

“good morning,” you smile, reaching forward to lay a hand over his face. satoru, with his eyes still closed (as expected), grabs your hand and plants a soft kiss to the back as he hums.

you’re almost certain he can sense the way your lips tug into a frown.

“mornin’ sweetheart,” he says lowly, “watching me sleep? that’s a bit creepy,” he teases.

“i can’t help it,” you hum, “you’re too handsome.”

this is rare—giving satoru compliments easily is rare. usually, you make him work for them, keep him waiting on the tips of toes before finally giving him that praise you know will go straight to his inflated ego. but sometimes, like now, you think he deserves to hear it—unfiltered and raw and filled with truth.

satoru is handsome. always has been. always will be.

“aw,” he cracks an eye open, “maybe i should let myself get scratched up a bit more. maybe you’ll talk nice to me more often.”

“i mean it, toru,” you frown, insisting, “you’re handsome. so handsome.”

your hand reaches for his face again. he turns his head this time, feigning a yawn as he stretches before sitting up. there’s a slight bit of tension in the air now, his lips tighter in his smile as he hums before turning to you and poking your nose.

“well, aren’t you sweet,” he smiles almost bitterly.

you haven’t seen his smile reach his eyes for a while. he doesn’t meet your gaze through the mirror in the mornings as you brush your teeth together anymore, doesn’t wink at your reflection and make you roll your eyes. he doesn’t spam your camera roll with pictures of himself anymore when you’re in the bathroom, doesn’t leave you with those silly faces and smug grins that make good wallpapers. he doesn’t even crack those annoying jokes anymore, doesn’t whine for you to admit he’s the most handsome guy you’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting as his face digs into your neck.

instead, satoru dodges your touch. he kisses you briefer these days, avoids looking in the mirror, smiles like he has to—not like he finds a reason to.

“you don’t believe me?” you ask gently, furrowing your brows, “you know i’d never lie to you.”

“i didn’t say that, did i?” he asks, waving a hand casually. “c’mon let’s go brush our teeth. you don’t wanna kill me with that morning breath do you—”

“satoru, you’re still handsome, you know,” you say gently. you decide to rip the bandaid off as you add, “even with these.”

for the first time, your hand manages to reach for his face without him pulling away. you think it’s more out of surprise than anything, that it’s because he wasn’t expecting you to be so straightforward instead of trying to be subtle like usual. for a second, you think he might just put his infinity up—but he doesn’t ever. not around you.

but you can see it, the way his knuckles twitch a little like he’s clenching them. the way he’s so still, it’s almost like he’s willing himself not to tense. the way he doesn’t even lean into your touch like he always does.

he doesn’t want your hand on his face, but you stroke a thumb over a scar anyway, cupping his cheek as you study his face up close.

it’s still him—still satoru with that sharp nose and those rosy cheeks, still satoru with those long lashes and perfect jawline. there’s rough, marred bits of skin that meet soft, supple ones. you feel over the dips of where each scar starts slowly, committing each one to memory.

they’re newer parts of him, ones you don’t know very well yet, ones that remind you of the ugliest parts of the world—but they’re a part of satoru now, and anything that’s a part of satoru can never be ugly. no matter where they come from, no matter what they’re a reminder of.

not if it’s him.

“you think so?” he asks with a tight grin, “is my money maker still money making?”

“don’t be greedy,” you quip, “you have plenty of money.” and then, softly, you add, “but i’d pay a good fortune or two to wake up to this every day.”

“good thing i give it to you for free,” he hums, “i’m generous, you know?”

“what a catch,” you grin, “generous, strong, rich,” you list, making an amused grin stretch across his lips, “handsome,” you add. his smile falters a bit at that. “satoru, i’m serious.”

“oh, i love when you get all serious,” he whistles. he’s deflecting—you expect him to, but you’re not backing down. one leg swings over his hips, and then you’re climbing onto his lap, right there where he can’t avoid you. but he finds his attention to your lips, still smooth as ever as he avoids meeting your eyes.

“satoru—”

“oh? you want to do this already? it’s barely—” he makes a show of glancing at the clock before turning back to you with a suggestive grin, “—nine am. but i guess we can have a little fun before—”

“i don’t care about these, you know,” you murmur, pulling your head back when he leans in for a kiss. your finger lightly traces the scar by his left cheekbone, making him frown.

“see? you’re basically admitting you have to look past them,” he groans frustratedly—it’s the first time satoru’s acknowledges his scars. it’s the first time he’s finally let himself look upset without trying to hide it behind a forced grin and a dry chuckle.

“i don’t,” you frown, “sure, they’re new,” you admit softly, “and i don’t like being reminded you got hurt. but they’re not ugly—you’re always pretty.”

“there’s so many,” he mumbles, “they’re everywhere.”

“i think they’re cool,” you shrug, “they make you look tougher. less like a spoiled princess.”

“hey,” he pouts, “i’m not spoiled.”

“you’re a bit spoiled,” you chuckle, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck—his lips quirk up, and you can’t help but notice how real it looks for once. “but i suppose you deserve it. not because you’re handsome though. because you deserve good things—just for being you,” you insist.

his lips are quivering a bit, and he’s blinking faster now. you ignore it, though, taking your sweet time as you lean down and kiss along the edges of every scar on his face, tracing your lips along where the old skin meets new.

“that’s cheesy,” he mutters, “now you sound like a therapist.”

“i mean it,” you say firmly, “and i meant it when i said you’re handsome too.“

“handsomest guy you’ve ever met, right?” he bats his lashes—they’re a bit hopeful, though, and you smile as you gently kiss the corner of his mouth before nodding.

“definitely,” you nod, “you’re the prettiest.”

“am i?” he grins, “now i’m more spoiled. who’s fault is that really?”

“i’ll allow it for today,” you snort, “today you can be spoiled. i’ll humble you tomorrow.”

“we’ll see,” he hums.

your hands cup his cheeks as you lean down for a kiss, and satoru’s hands clasp over them gently, holding them in place—and when you kiss him delicately, like the sun meets the moon as your lips touch, like your world revolves around him as you pull him closer, you think satoru is unfairly handsome.

and you’ll have to remind him that a bit more often.

he’s my liddol sourpatch :(

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

[emo-batboy]

Battinson on SNL

Idk how popular Saturday Night Live is outside of the US so there will be some links for context. That said, as a New Jersey native, I think Battinson would totally watch the show. And since he's a celebrity...👀

SO

To promote WE’s newest charity fund, Alfred signs Bruce up to be a guest host on SNL (à la this post) The announcement is made, and everyone’s like “oh this is going to be a disaster. That man can’t even hold eye contact or speak a full sentence without crying.”

But oh, that’s why it’s so funny.

Now, hear me out. Bruce’s strengths are displayed best when he’s himself. That’s why he’s so popular in Gotham. That’s why the internet calls him Relatable TM and a Disaster (Affectionate) and “Poor Little Meow Meow.” It’s his ✨ essence ✨

But he tends to get overwhelmed or self-conscious onstage, right? Because he can’t be Himself himself if he has time to overthink something. So after a few meetings with Bruce, the writers of SNL figure out the perfect way to keep Bruce from getting anxious.

They decide to load this episode with as many skits where Bruce plays different caricature-like versions of himself as possible. The objective? Make him break character and laugh so he doesn’t overthink. And if he breaks character, he’ll still technically be in character because he’s playing himself, you know? Genius.

So that’s how they go about structuring the show. During the few days they have to write, they decide to take everything about Bruce’s public image and either ramp it up to 11 or turn it on its head.

He speaks quietly? Turn it into a running gag. He dresses in all black? Make him emo. He tips well? Add that in too. He’s “depressed” and “sad?” Literally, all he does on screen is laugh and break character. What’s not to love?

Of course, Bruce also gets to decide what skits are in each episode as well. (Refer to this if you have no idea how SNL works.) He loves the idea, though, and he has a surprisingly dark sense of humor which bleeds into some of the sketches. They add in a few skits without him, and they’ve got their lineup.

It’s the wildest episode of the season. Here are the highlights:

OPENING MONOLOGUE

It’s the big night, everyone’s excited to see Bruce Wayne hosting a live sketch comedy show with no idea how it will turn out.

To begin his monologue, Bruce walks on, opens his mouth to start talking, and immediately two cast members appear as stagehands to set up six microphones in front of him. He is already struggling to keep himself together.

Bruce: “You may be wondering why I’m host- Cast Member: *adds one more tiny microphone to his chest* Bruce: “You may be wondering why I’m hosting tonight.”

It’s working. The audience loves it.

Halfway through, Kate McKinnon comes out in a dark cloak with a chalice. “Your sustenance, my lord.” *sees camera* “Oh. Sorry. Carry on.” And she shambles off. Bruce has to take a second before continuing.

Bruce knows when (most of) the jokes come. It’s literally on the cue cards, but he still falls into a fit of giggles.

There are a few more gags, including Lex Luthor peeking out from behind the band set-up, all teasing the show to come.

Overall, an amazing way to set the tone for the episode. Expectations have been set. Then the skits begin!

(Oh but before I forget: During every single live skit with Bruce, the writers have scheduled for one of the cast members to run in dressed as a stagehand and put an extra mic on him. They do not tell him when it will happen.)

SKIT #1

Between the monologue and the first skit, he has to do a really fast quick change, but to everyone’s surprise, Bruce is a natural. (Huh, wonder why.)

The skit is called Gotham PTA Meeting. We open in a meeting room full of stereotypical PTA moms setting down baked goods and gossiping. And apparently, there is a new PTA member attending today 👀

Right as the meeting starts, he enters. Bruce walks in wearing the most emo get-up imaginable. He’s got a Nirvana shirt, a comical amount of eyeliner, black skinny jeans, chain accessories, metal rings, AND a clip-in extension to give him fringe.

Someone immediately runs in and puts another mic on him.

PTA Mom: “Oh, Bruce! You made it! Did you bring a snack?” Bruce: “I brought lemon bars.” PTA Mom: “Why are they black?” Bruce: “They match my soul…they’re also vegan.”

He talks like a moody teenager. HE CONSTANTLY has to brush the fringe off to the side to read the cue cards. And because there’s so much eyeliner and he’s sweating a bit from the lights, it starts running everywhere.

PTA Mom: “Bruce, you’re a little quiet. What are your thoughts on increasing the school lunch budget?” Bruce: *eyeliner dripping down his chin* “I think it’s a great idea.”

SKIT #2

For a pre-filmed skit, they bring back the Chad character with Pete Davidson.

It’s 2 am, and Chad is working at a 24hr drug store in Gotham. He’s reading Twilight (the book is upside down) when the lights begin to flicker.

He turns around and tries the light switch, turns back around, and JUMPSCARE it’s Bruce dressed as Edward from Twilight.

Yes, he IS sparkly.

Bruce is awkwardly holding a bunch of items, all concerning. He plops down a few knives, several raw meats, Sudafed. Chad: “Oh hey.” Bruce: O_O “I’d like to check out please.” Chad: “Lit.”

Chad’s “No Fucks Given” energy and Bruce’s “Please Do Not Perceive Me” energy clash like titans. The whole skit centers around it.

Bruce: *sweating bullets* “Oh. You’re reading Twilight?” Chad: “Just the title.” Bruce: *throws the book through the window at lightning speed* “It’s not very good. You should probably read something else.” Chad: *shrugs* “Okay.”

Chad: “ID?” Bruce: “ID? For what?” Chad: “Sudafed.” Bruce: “Oh. I don’t really need that, actually.” Chad: “Already scanned it.” Bruce: “Haha. Of course.” *awkwardly produces a scroll from his pocket that says Bruce Wayne DOB: 1901* Chad: “Okay.”

Bruce checks out, Chad picks up a porno mag or something, and we see Bruce turn into a bat and fly off through the window behind him.

SKIT #3

The next skit they have is Celebrity Family Feud: Billionaires Edition. Again, Bruce plays himself, but he’s more of a background character. Instead, the skit makes fun of billionaires as a whole.

Bruce’s team consists of Kylie Jenner, Lex Luthor, and Oliver Queen. So just imagine three Lucille Bluths standing beside one another. 

Bruce’s bit? He just keeps handing cash to Steve Harvey every time he breathes in his direction.

Host: "We got the richest man in the world: Bruce Wayne!" Bruce: *hands him a roll of cash* Host: "Oh, what’s this for?" Bruce: "It’s your tip. I always tip." Host: "Oh, Mr. Wayne, you don’t usually tip the show host. I’m also a millionaire myself." Lex Luthor: *snatches it* "Well, if you’re not going to use it, I will…for charity, of course." Host: "Uh huh, whatever helps you sleep at night."

Just a ton of fun quips, the usual.

At some point, Harvey says, “That’s batty.” Bruce: *ducks* “Where?!” Host: “Oh, I don’t mean Batman. He’s not here.” Bruce: “You don’t know that.”

This time, the mic bit is a bit different.

Host: “We asked 100 billionaires: How much does a loaf of bread cost? Top three answers are on the board.” Bruce: *hits buzzer* Host: Bruce, your answer is? Cast Member: *runs in with a megaphone and holds it in front of Bruce* Bruce: “TEN DOLLARS?”

Board dings! That was the #1 answer

Brucie Wayne for the win

SKIT #4

Next is a skit that dares to ask Gotham, “Why would anyone live here?”

The skit begins with someone opening a press conference for Wayne Enterprises. “And now presenting: Bruce Wayne!” Bruce walks in…

But it’s not him. Instead, it’s one of the cast members dressed in a black suit with horribly gelled brown hair.

Everyone in the audience is wondering where the actual Bruce is before another cast member runs onstage crying, “Help! Help! I’ve just been robbed! Somebody call Batman!”

A mini version of the bat-signal lights up…

We hear some generic hero music play…

And there he is: Bruce Wayne dressed in a horribly cheap Batman costume

(They got the cowl ALL wrong btw)

Bruce puts his hands on his hips in a weird superhero pose. Bruce: “I’m Batm-” Cast Member: *runs out to attach another mic to his costume* Bruce: “….I’m Batman!”

Cue all of the gags and digs against Batman. The fake Bruce faints then starts crying under a table. Someone calls Batman a furry. Bruce is barely keeping it together the whole time. Lord help him, but he asked for it. He approved the skit.

Bruce: “Looks like a job for my bat taser!” Cast Member: “Isn’t that just a taser with a bat on it?” Bruce: *whispers* “You shut your mouth.”

He saves the day, the police take the thief into custody, then Batman myStErioUsly disappears. Bruce: “Look over there!” *runs off* Cast Member: “Oh my gooood, how did he do that?”

CLOSING SEGMENT

Finally, they have the Weekend Update where Bruce comes on as himself for the final time.

Since they got his permission, the writers switch out some of Bruce’s jokes last minute. (Think Bill Hader’s Stefon which notoriously caused him to break character because the writers would mess with his cue cards.)

News Anchor: “Here to promote his newest humanitarian project: Bruce Wayne!” “Mr. Wayne, what a pleasure to see you today.” Bruce: “Thank you. This is probably the longest I’ve been out of the house.” News Anchor: “Since the Riddler catastrophe?” Bruce: “Since ever.”

News Anchor: “So Mr. Wayne! Before you make your announcement, any life updates?” Bruce: “Yes, actually. Just a few days ago, I adopted five- *starts losing it* five more children.” News Anchor: “Wow, really? So you have eight kids now.” Bruce: “Uh huh. *tears streaming down his face* One more orphan and I get the tenth one free.”

News Anchor: “So where can people find you online?” Bruce: “Well, I don’t have social media because I’m afraid of people, but sometimes I’m on Twitter.” News Anchor: “What about a phone call?” Bruce: “Oh no, phone calls- *giggle* phone calls give me fainting spells.”

It’s a great way of finishing the show, with the most genuine version of Bruce. Then, he gets to what’s really important!

News Anchor: “So if they can’t reach you on social media or on the phone, what else can our viewers do, Mr. Wayne?” Bruce: “They can donate to the Wayne Foundation’s newest charity called The Arts Initiative. It funds programs for the arts in underdeveloped school districts nationwide. I’ve already donated $30 million, and I’ve pledged to match every dollar donated within the next week.”

And that’s what he’s here for :) They share a link for where and how to donate. The anchors praise him for his charity, which he deflects because he can definitely afford this, and the 90-minute broadcast is over.

The camera pans away with the whole cast waving goodbye, and Bruce is seen keeling over with laughter.

Along with some of the other skits, these four specifically go viral. WE raises a fuck ton of money, and everyone loves Bruce.

THE END

LOVE YOU ALL!! Let me know what you think :D

#battinson #bruce wayne #batman #batman 2022 #the batman 2022 #the batman #battinson needs a hug #gotham #dc universe #dc #saturday night live #snl #soft bruce wayne #batdad #batfamily #gotham city #brucie wayne #only in gotham #give battinson a child 2k23

[nelkcats]

The Crime Lord does not stop flirting with me!

When Danny ran away from home and ended up in Gotham he wasn't quite sure what to do, adrenaline was coursing through his veins and all he wanted was a place to be safe.

That's when Crime Alley lit up like a Christmas tree and Danny knew it could be his new home, something about Crime Alley was drawing him in. It wasn't long before he decided to get a job to lay low. Of course, the latter was a bust because Red Hood noticed him almost instantly.

Contrary to his expectations, the Crime Lord took an interest in him but said nothing. He simply asked him to repair his motorcycle like a normal customer in his new job. Danny did and well, he couldn't help but repair some damaged systems and add some modifications. He hoped he wasn't stepping out of line, he just couldn't help himself, it was second nature to repair damaged things.

He thought Red Hood would be angry about it but the man seemed delighted (or as delighted as he could look with the mask), he looked at Danny and asked him what else he could do. Nervously, he told him that he was somewhat good with technology and before he knew it he had been hired by a gang (more or less, they were just asking for some custom orders).

So, technically he established as the mechanic and supplier to the Hood gang, and more specifically to the Crime Lord himself. He gave Hood some upgrades and became his supplier of (mostly harmless) weapons and upgrades. This attracted the attention of most of the gangs that were against the Crime Lord and Batman himself.

Jason, noticing how nervous the guy was assured him that he would protect him and no one was going to hurt him as long as he was around, it was obvious he wasn't from Gotham. For some reason, his new employee blushed every time he said those words.

Danny didn't know if Red Hood understood what he was doing (That was totally a flirt for protection spirits!), every day it was getting harder and harder not to respond to him. His ghost side kept screaming that he got a good match!

Which was technically true, considering that Red Hood had promised him protection and let him stay in his haunt (it became obvious that Crime Alley was his haunt after a few days in Gotham but strangely it accepted him)

Jason continued to promise Danny that he would be safe (poor boy always looked nervous) and Danny wondered how many days he could take the blatant flirting.

#dpxdc #Danny is new in Gotham #he stays in Crime Alley #Jason's haunt was calling him #At first Jason was suspicious about him #but the guy was nice #And an amazing mechanic #Jason loves his new updates #he checked for all the bugs of course #but after confirming it was harmless he returned to him #and asked what else he could do #Danny “I lived between mad scientists” Fenton could do a lot of things #dp x dc #dc x dp #dead on main #Jason hired him after hearing that he could create weapons #even though Danny told him he only made stun weapons #Jason knows he should be suspicious #but something inside of him (similar to the pits) just believes in Danny #Saying “I will protect you” It's flirting if you tell it to a protective ghost #Danny is not sure if he will survive his boss casual flirting #Jason doesn't know what he's doing #but he thinks the boy is cute #deadonmain

[pucksandpower]

Best Laid Plans

Carlos Sainz x Vasseur!Reader

Summary: you were just supposed to be a means to an end — a way for Carlos to get back at your father for dropping him — but the best laid plans often go awry and you quickly become so much more than that

Warnings: 18+ content and manipulation

Note: did I spend the whole day writing this to celebrate Carlos’ win? Maybe …

So much love to @struggling-with-drivers for always giving me the best ideas

The warm Portuguese sun beats down on Carlos as he strolls through the luxurious resort grounds, trying and failing to shake the anger simmering inside him.

How could Ferrari do this to him? After all he has given to the team over the past few seasons? To be so unceremoniously dumped for Lewis fucking Hamilton is a slap in the face he can barely comprehend.

He kicks at the pebbled path, hands jammed in his pockets, catching the eye of a young woman lounging by the pool up ahead. She gives him a warm smile that does strange things to his insides for a moment before he recognizes her — Y/N Vasseur.

The reality of who she is hits Carlos like a truck. The daughter of the team principal who betrayed him.

An idea begins to form in Carlos’ mind, a cruel little seed taking root. If Ferrari wants to play hardball, he can play harder. And what better way to get back at Fred than through his precious daughter?

Putting on his most charming grin, Carlos changes course to approach you. “Y/N, fancy running into you here,” he lies easily. “I didn’t realize you were vacationing at this resort too.”

You sit up, shielding your eyes against the sun’s glare. “Carlos! What a pleasant surprise.” Your smile is bright and genuine, setting off warning bells in the back of Carlos’ mind. He quickly silences them — this is just collateral damage.

“I was just getting ready for a dip. Care to join me?” You gesture towards the welcoming blue waters.

Carlos pretends to consider it for a moment. “You know what, I would love to.”

Stripping off his shirt, he can’t help but sneak glances at your swimsuit-clad figure as you slide into the pool, telling himself it’s just for show. You really are stunning though, he has to admit. This might not be so difficult after all.

“So what’s a beautiful young woman like yourself doing all alone at a place like this?” Carlos asks once he’s waded in beside you.

You let out a tinkling laugh, sweeping wet hair away from your face. “Taking a much needed break from real life, I suppose. My job can be … demanding at times.”

That piques Carlos’ interest — to be quite honest, he had just assumed you did nothing all day. “Oh? Do tell, I’m fascinated.”

With a bashful look, you launch into an explanation of your high-powered career that genuinely impresses Carlos despite himself. You’re whip-smart, articulate, and passionate about your work in a way he can relate to.

“Wow,” he finds himself saying once you’ve finished. “I don’t know why, but I wasn’t expecting that from you. Not that I’m judging a book by its cover or anything!” He adds quickly at your arched eyebrow.

You let out another of those bright laughs. “Don’t worry, I get that a lot. People see a privileged girl and make all sorts of assumptions.”

There’s a hint of bitterness underlying the lightness of your tone that Carlos picks up on all too well. He knows what it’s like to be looked down on and underestimated.

“For what it’s worth, I think what you do is really impressive,” he finds himself saying honestly. “And anyone who thinks less of you for it is a fool.”

The words seem to catch you off guard for a moment before your expression melts into a warm smile. “Why Carlos Sainz, I do believe you’re flirting with me.”

He grins back unrepentantly. “Is it working?”

You pretend to consider it for a moment before laughing again. “Maybe a little.”

The flirtatious back-and-forth continues as you both float lazily in the pool, Carlos quickly getting caught up in the effortless fun of it. You match him quip for quip, parry for parry, in a way he’s not used to from women. It’s exhilarating and unexpected.

In fact, he’s so caught up in your company that he nearly forgets his original intention entirely. Until a stray thought brings the memory crashing back down … you’re Fred Vasseur’s daughter.

The realization is like a bucket of cold water being upended over Carlos’ head. What is he doing? This woman hasn’t done anything to wrong him. Going after you just to get petty revenge on your father is ugly and uncalled for. He should just be the bigger man, swallow the insult Ferrari dealt him, and move on.

But then he thinks about the disrespect, the callousness of dumping him like dead weight after all he bled for the team. Perhaps a little payback is in order after all.

With a wicked grin, Carlos begins swimming slowly towards you, an unmistakable glint in his eye. You seem to pick up on it, cheeks flushing ever so slightly. “What’s that look for?”

“Just thinking,” he murmurs once he’s close enough for you to feel the warmth of his breath. “About how I could make this vacation even more … memorable.”

His heavy-lidded gaze drops to your lips for just a moment, but you catch it. You bite your lower lip unconsciously as heat blazes between you. “Is that so?”

“Mhmm,” Carlos all but purrs, reaching out to gently cup your jaw, thumb stroking over your cheekbone. You shiver despite the warmth of the day, eyelids fluttering. “If you’ll allow me?”

For a long stretch, you seem to be rendered speechless, pupils blown wide as you study his face intently. Then, so softly, “Yes.”

That’s all the permission Carlos needs before he’s crashing his lips against yours in a searing kiss.

The moment your lips meet his, it’s like a jolt of electricity courses through Carlos. He kisses you deeply, urgently, all thoughts of revenge or ill-intent evaporating from his mind. This is pure want, unbridled desire singing through his veins.

You return the kiss with equal fervor, tangling your fingers in his hair and pulling him closer. Your mouth is warm, soft, pillowy — everything Carlos didn’t know he was craving until this very moment. He skims his hands over the slick curves of your body beneath the pool’s surface, marveling at the gasps and sighs he pulls from you with each exploratory touch.

When you finally break apart, you’re both panting heavily, faces flushed. Carlos drinks in the sight of you — hair tousled, lips swollen, and eyes dark with wanting. He’s never seen anything more beautiful.

“Carlos ...” You breathe his name like a prayer and something primal uncurls in his lower belly.

Instead of responding, he simply crushes his mouth to yours once more, walking you backward until your back gently hits the pool’s tiled edge. You let out a muffled moan as he settles between your parted thighs, the heated line of his body flush against yours.

One of his hands slides up over the soft skin of your ribs to cup your breast as you arch shamelessly into his touch. He drags his lips in hot, open-mouthed kisses along the line of your jaw and down the graceful column of your neck, relishing the way you keen beneath his attention.

“You feel so good, cariño,” he rumbles against the feverish skin just below your ear, punctuating the words with a deliberately slow roll of his hips that has you releasing a broken whimper. “So fucking perfect ...”

In this moment, with you writhing and mewling in his arms, Carlos has never been more grateful for his commitment to physical fitness. He knows he can keep this up all day if need be, ravishing you over and over until you’re a limp, sated puddle.

He runs his tongue in a scorching path up the side of your neck before returning to that sinful mouth, swallowing your desperate little moans hungrily. You cling to him as if he’s the only thing keeping you tethered, nails raking deliciously over his back and shoulders in a way that will surely leave marks. Carlos loves it, loves the proof of your passion painted on his skin in thin red lines.

Trailing his lips across the hinge of your jaw, he murmurs “Should we take this somewhere more private, princesa?”

You let out a shuddering breath, hips canting up instinctively to meet each roll of his. “God, yes ... please ...”

The sound of your needy whine sends a molten thrill straight to Carlos’ cock. He’s fully hard and aching for you, straining against his swim trunks with every second that passes. If possible, he wants you even more.

With a grunt of effort, he hooks his hands beneath your thighs and hikes your legs up around his waist in one swift motion. You let out a startled squeak that quickly dissolves into a moan as he shifts against you just right, creating delicious friction. Your arms wind around his neck as you bury your face in the curve where his neck meets his shoulder.

“You feel that, cariño?” Carlos rumbles darkly. “I can’t wait to be inside you. Stretching you so perfectly full of me. Will you be a good girl and take it? Every. Last. Inch?”

He emphasizes each of the final three words with a firm grind of his hips, rutting his rigid length against your clothed heat. Your back bows in response, mouth dropping open on a silent wail of pleasure. Carlos can feel your sticky wetness soaking through the thin material of your swimsuit bottoms and groans harshly.

“P-please ...” You keen, worrying his earlobe between your teeth. “I need you, Carlos. I need it so bad ...”

And just like that, the trance is broken. Carlos blinks, suddenly acutely aware that you’re grinding shamelessly against each other in the very public pool area of this high-end resort. A few pointed looks from other guests are enough to have a flush of embarrassment creeping up his neck.

Clearing his throat, he reluctantly pulls himself back and sets you on your feet. You let out a disappointed whimper that goes straight to his groin.

“P-perhaps we got a bit carried away, princesa,” Carlos huffs out a laugh, running a hand through his damp curls. “Why don’t we go somewhere a bit more … private to continue this?”

You bite your plump lower lip and Carlos has to resist the urge to lean forward and free it with his teeth. Nodding eagerly, you cast a look around before tugging his hand and heading for the exit, leaving a trail of water droplets in your wake.

Carlos follows eagerly, openly ogling the way your soaked swimsuit hugs every tantalizing curve. He’s never been so grateful for his decision to book one of the private beachfront villas at this resort — just a stone’s throw from where you’re leading him, he’ll finally be able to have you all to himself.

The thought has him semi-frantically fumbling for the keycard as you press urgent, open-mouthed kisses to any patch of bare skin you can find — his shoulder, his neck, the line of his jaw. By the time he gets the door open you’re both panting like you’ve run a marathon, desire thrumming white-hot through your veins.

The second you’re inside, Carlos has you pressed back against the door, forearms braced on either side of your head as he towers over you. For the first time, a flicker of uncertainty crosses your features and he’s abruptly reminded of who you are.

“Are you sure about this?” He murmurs lowly, searching your eyes. “Because if we do this, I can promise you there’s no going back for me, cariño.”

You visibly swallow hard but then give a small, determined nod. “I want this, Carlos. I want you.”

That’s all the confirmation he needs before he’s capturing your lips in another searing, desperate kiss that has you melting against him. He walks you backward, never breaking contact until the backs of your legs hit the edge of the plush bed. With a growl, he hooks his hands beneath your thighs and hitches your legs around his hips once more.

You let out a breathless giggle as he tumbles you both down onto the soft cotton sheets, immediately rolling until he’s blanketed by the gorgeous expanse of your body. God, you’re even more stunning like this — hair fanned out in a tousled riot, cheeks flushed and lips swollen, eyes glazed with naked wanting.

Carlos takes a moment just to appreciate the view, raking his eyes over every inch he can see. A tremor goes through you beneath his weighty gaze and he smirks, leaning down to trail open-mouthed kisses along the column of your slender throat.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this, princesa,” he rumbles against your overheated skin. “How many times I’ve thought about having you just like this, spread out beneath me and begging for it ...”

The truth is, he hasn’t thought about it at all until this very day. But something about the way your breath hitches and your hips cant up instinctively at his words makes Carlos want to keep going.

“I’ve watched you, you know,” he lies smoothly, relishing the full-body shiver that wracks your frame. He nips along the graceful line of your collarbone and you whine softly in the back of your throat. “Couldn’t tear my eyes away whenever you were around. Imagining what delicious little sounds you might make with my cock buried inside you ...”

You moan then, loud and unabashed as you tug needily at his hair to bring his mouth back up to yours. Carlos chuckles darkly into the kiss, reveling in how utterly desperate he’s managed to make you for him so quickly.

“Is this what you want, princesa? You want me to fuck you?” He keeps his tone a low, filthy rasp against the plush of your lips. “Hard and deep and ruthless until you can’t remember anything but my name on your tongue?”

“Yes!” The word rushes out in an urgent whine and Carlos lets out a feral growl, slamming his hips firmly against yours in one rough grind that has your mouth dropping open on a broken cry of ecstasy.

Moving with purposeful efficiency, he hooks his fingers in the waistband of your swimsuit bottoms and tugs them down over the swell of your hips and off completely. He shoves his own trunks down just far enough to free his throbbing length, giving it a few firm strokes to spread the pearling bead of precome over the swollen head.

With a low, heated look, Carlos hitches your legs over his shoulders and lines the blunt head of his cock up with your entrance. Just from this angle, he can see how slick and swollen you already are for him, glistening with arousal.

“Last chance, cariño,” he rumbles, rubbing himself in one deliciously torturous swipe through your folds and back again. You moan loudly, back bowing off the bed. “After this, I won’t be able to stop until you’re utterly ruined for anyone else’s touch ...”

The sound you make is practically inhuman, hand shooting out to grasp at his hip almost painfully hard. “Carlos … Carlos, please!”

Never one to deny such a desperate plea, Carlos braces one hand beside your head and slowly, inexorably begins to sink into your welcoming heat.

The tight, slick heat of your core enveloping Carlos inch by agonizing inch is utterly sublime. He has to grit his teeth and squeeze his eyes shut to keep from embarrassing himself right then and there. You’re impossibly tight, so perfectly molded to his shape — he’s never felt anything quite like it.

Beneath him, you keen softly as he stretches and fills you in one steady glide. Your fingernails bite crescent moons into the firm planes of his back as if you’ll fall apart if not anchored to him. Carlos rumbles his approval low in his chest at the sweet sting.

Once he’s fully sheathed, hips flush with yours, he pauses to simply bask in the feeling for a long moment. You feel so indescribably good wrapped around his throbbing length — hot and snug and fluttering subtly like your body can’t decide whether to grip him tighter or ease his way.

“Fuck, cariño ...” The words tear from Carlos’ throat in a ragged groan. “You feel incredible. So perfect for me.”

You whimper wordlessly in response, flexing and releasing your inner muscles in a way that has him seeing stars behind his eyelids. He captures your mouth in a filthy, demanding kiss to swallow your desperate little noises. It’s all he can do not to start pounding away with reckless abandon.

Pulling back slowly until just the thick head of his cock remains inside your clutching heat, Carlos locks eyes with you. Your pupils are blown wide, lips parted enticingly with each panting breath, the picture of wanton desire. He’s never seen anything so erotic in his life.

You must read the promise in his expression because suddenly you’re nodding frantically and chasing his retreating hips with a needy whine.

“Please, Carlos!” You keen desperately, nails scoring lines of fiery pleasure-pain down the rigid plane of his back. “I need it, I need you to-”

He doesn’t let you finish, snapping his hips forward in one hard thrust that buries him to the hilt. The broken cry that tears from your perfect lips goes straight to his dick.

Carlos repeats the harsh, punishing rhythm over and over, relishing the snug drag of your velvet walls against his aching cock. He soon has you a mewling, mindless mess beneath him, whining his name like a holy mantra with each powerful stroke.

“That’s it, princesa,” he rasps against the flushed curve of your neck, lips brushing saltily over your overheated skin. “Take it all for me. Every. Last. Fucking. Inch.”

As punctuation, he slams home with a sharp roll of his hips that has you keening shrilly and throwing your head back. You clutch at him desperately, meeting each heavy thrust in perfect counterpoint as he picks up the pace. The air is thick with the obscene sounds of skin sliding relentlessly together and your punched-out whimpers and moans.

Carlos has never felt so deliriously consumed by physicality before. It’s like his whole world has narrowed down to this moment, this connection of your joined bodies moving as one. He wants to burn the memory of how you feel, how you sound, how you taste, into his mind forever.

“Look at me,” he growls against the sweat-slick curve of your jaw when your eyes start to drift shut in ecstasy. “I wanna see those pretty eyes when you fall apart on my cock, princesa.”

You force your lids open with obvious effort, irises wild and hazy with lust. Carlos feels a molten surge of possessive desire lash through his veins at the sight. He slams into you with renewed fervor, savoring the high, desperate whine it punches from your parted lips.

“That’s it, cariño ... fuck, you’re exquisite like this.” His praise comes out in a ruined rasp but it seems to spur you on. Your nails dig bruising furrows into his lower back as you meet him thrust for bruising thrust.

Carlos can feel the telltale tightening and fluttering in your inner walls that signals your impending release like a vise grip around his cock. He wants nothing more than for you to shatter apart on his length. Slipping one hand between your sweat-slicked bodies, he finds the swollen bundle of nerves and rolls it firmly between calloused fingertips.

You release a strangled scream, back bowing off the mattress as white-hot pleasure spikes through you. “Carlos! Oh my god, Carlos, I’m … I can’t ...”

“Come for me, princesa,” Carlos encourages hoarsely against the side of your neck. He continues to work you over with nimble fingers in time with the punishing snap of his hips. “Let me feel you come apart all over my cock. Fucking soak it ...”

The guttural river of carnal filth coming from his lips seems to be the final straw, sending you crashing violently over the edge. You seize up around him with a shrill, sobbing wail, inner muscles clamping down in hot, pulsing waves. Carlos curses roughly, eyes squeezing shut against the unbelievable sensation of being massaged and milked for every drop.

If he thought the vice grip of your orgasm was intense, the aftermath is even more sublime. You lie utterly limp and boneless beneath him, still aflutter and fluttering in sweet, rhythmic clenches around his cock. He grits his jaw and fights to keep control, knowing he won’t last much longer buried in your intoxicating heat like this.

When you finally regain some coherency, eyes fluttering open with a dazed murmur of his name, Carlos pulls back slowly until just the throbbing crown remains inside. He intends to give you a brief respite before chasing his own thunderous release, but the moment he starts to withdraw your legs lock high around his hips.

“No ...” You keen, nails raking pleadingly down his back. The desperate craving in your tone very nearly undoes him. “Carlos, please. Don’t stop ...”

Growling low in his chest, Carlos immediately buries himself home once more — this time with a single, powerful thrust that has your brows shooting up as the air rushes from your lungs in a strangled cry. Clearly, you still need it as much as he does.

He fists one hand in the tousled hair at the nape of your neck, using the grip to tilt your head to one side as he lays a searing path of nips and sucking kisses along the exposed column. You shudder and whimper beneath him, utterly pliant and receptive to his claiming touches.

“Tell me what you want, cariño,” he rasps between rough drags of teeth over your thundering pulse point. He remains buried to the hilt, muscles bunched and quivering with the effort of holding himself rigid and still inside you. “Use your words and tell me.”

For a long moment, you seem too dazed and overwhelmed to reply. Then, in a small, wrecked voice, “I want … I want you to fuck me, Carlos. Please ...” Your eyes are glazed yet earnest, boring into his from beneath sooty lashes. “Don’t hold back. I need to feel you come too.”

A harsh groan is punched from Carlos’ lungs at your plea. Letting himself go and really taking you the way his body screams at him to would be heaven and hell all at once.

There’s likely no coming back from it — he’ll ruin you for anyone else’s touch, just as he warned. Once all is said and done, you’ll be irrevocably his in a way that frightens and exhilarates him to his core.

For a heart-stopping moment, he hesitates. And then you moan again — a thin, keening sound of utter desperation — and it’s like the last thread of Carlos’ control snaps completely.

“Hold on tight then, cariño ... because I won’t be able to stop.”

That’s the only warning he gives before pulling almost fully out and slamming back home in one brutal thrust that drives the air from your lungs on a high, shocked cry. He doesn’t let up from there — turning you over onto your belly and dragging your hips up onto his thighs so he can take you from behind in a series of ruthless, punishing strokes.

You quickly become an incoherent, sobbing mess beneath his onslaught, hands clawing uselessly at the sheets as he pounds into you again and again like he’s trying to split you apart. Carlos relishes the sharp smack of sweat-slick flesh on flesh, the strained crescendo of your hoarse wails, the drug-like delirium of being utterly surrounded and consumed by your scorching velvet grip.

It’s too much and not enough all at once. He clutches you flush against him, one big hand spread over your lower stomach like he could somehow force his cock impossibly deeper. The other winds around to toy and tug almost cruelly at your taut, reddened nipples — drawing out a stream of broken, overwhelmed whimpers.

Carlos has never felt more powerful. Body and mind, he owns you utterly in this moment. The thought is nearly enough to send him skating right over the edge into oblivion.

Instead, he jerks you up onto your knees fully so he can plunge into your straining, overworked sex at a different angle — this one hitting something deep inside that has you screaming hoarsely. He captures the wild thrash of your head in the curve of one sweat-slick bicep to bare the elegant line of your throat to his hungry mouth.

“Could you possibly have taken any more of me, princesa?” Carlos husks against the side of your neck, relishing the way it makes you tremble and clench even harder around his pistoning length. “You were made just to be split open on my cock ...”

You let out a garbled sound halfway between agreement and overwhelmed protest. Carlos snarls against your racing pulse, sucking a blatant mark of possession just below your jaw where everyone will be able to see before abruptly rolling you both back over.

He looms above you once more, grinding steadily into your core with deep, purposeful strokes that leave you writhing and wailing with over-stimulation. But Carlos isn’t finished yet — isn’t anywhere close to getting his fill.

“Look at me, cariño,” he commands in a guttural rasp, waiting with molten, heavy-lidded eyes until your lust-drunk stare meets his. “I need to see that pretty face when I come inside you ...”

His words seem to energize you somewhat, your eyes snapping sharper with renewed awareness.

And then, incredibly, you cunt flutters and grips down around him again in the unmistakable clutch of another orgasm ripping through you like a livewire. Carlos has to use every ounce of stamina and control not to follow you right over that blinding edge as you thrash and shriek beautifully beneath him.

By the time you come back down, cheeks flushed and chest heaving, Carlos is practically vibrating with the force of his impending release. His movements have taken on a desperate edge, hips snapping in erratic, forceful jabs as he chases that final blissful oblivion.

When your sated, velvety heat squeezes rhythmically one final time, Carlos throws his head back with his own roar of release. White-hot rapture spikes through every nerve ending as his balls tighten in excruciating bliss. His world narrows down to the exquisite pulsing of your sheathed depths rippling and drawing every last drop from him in endless, blistering waves.

It seems to stretch on forever, Carlos unable and unwilling to move from his impaled position even once the final shudders have wrung him dry. He simply remains blanketed over you, lungs heaving and muscles quaking with the aftershocks of his orgasm.

When he finally regains enough presence of mind to open his eyes and look down at you, the devotion burning in your spent, glowing expression makes his breath catch. For a long, fragile moment, it’s like you’re the only two people in the world.

Eventually, your eyes drift shut on a contented sigh and your body goes lax and pliant against the sheets once more. Carefully, Carlos eases out of your swollen, used entrance and rolls to collapse in a sweaty heap beside you. He immediately tugs you into his embrace, savoring the feeling of your damp, feverish skin pressed to his.

As you drift off to slumber coiled against his chest, Carlos presses a lingering, tender kiss to your crown and tightens his arms around you. He can feel the words pressing at his lips, straining to be released into the silence of this moment.

For now, he keeps them locked behind his teeth. But already he knows this isn’t simply lust or passion or a primal need for revenge that will fade with time. This was always meant to be more — something deeper …. everything Carlos never even realized he was missing until you stormed into his life in a whirlwind of smiles and secrets and blinding desire.

He’s in trouble now. Trouble of the very best kind.

***

Pale morning light filters in through the sheer curtains as Carlos blinks awake slowly. For a disoriented moment, he’s unsure of his surroundings — the rumpled white linens tangled around his naked body are certainly not what he’s used to waking up in.

Then the previous night’s events come rushing back in a heated wave. The pool … the frantic, desperate passion as he took you again and again until you were both hollowed out and sated … finally collapsing into a sweaty pile together. Carlos feels his chest tighten with a complicated swirl of emotions.

He turns his head on the pillow to find the source of the delicious warmth pressed along his side. And just like that, everything else falls away.

You’re tangled up with him still, one shapely leg hooked over his and an arm flung possessively across his torso. Loose riotous locks tickle Carlos’ skin where your face is half-buried in the curve of his neck.

He has to tamp down the overwhelming urge to pull you even closer, to wrap you in his arms and inhale the sweet, clean scent of your hair.

Like this — sleep-rumpled and soft in the morning’s buttery rays — you look almost unbearably lovely. An ache blossoms behind Carlos’ ribs as he studies the delicate fan of your lashes brushing flushed cheekbones and the gentle part of those full lips. Disheveled and without a stitch of make-up, you’re somehow even more breathtakingly beautiful.

Unconsciously, Carlos’ fingers find their way into your tangled tresses, lightly stroking and playing with the silken strands. You make a small, snuffling sound of contentment and burrow infinitesimally closer. He freezes, worried he’s disturbed your slumber, but your features remain smooth and serene.

He should get up. He should definitely get up and extract himself from this warm, addictive little bubble you’ve created before things go any further. This was only ever supposed to be a fling — a deliciously vindictive way to get back at your father for how he so callously cast Carlos aside.

Yet even as Carlos turns the thought over in his head, it rings hollow. What happened between you last night transcended anything so petty and cruel as revenge.

When he was sheathed so deeply inside you, your bodies moving in perfect sync like they were made for each other, Carlos felt something far more profound than just physical gratification. It was spiritual … cosmic, even, like every star in the universe had finally clicked into perfect alignment.

He should be disgusted with himself for having such saccharine notions. Carlos has always considered himself a realist — someone grounded in facts and figures, not given to romantic flights of fancy whatsoever. Yet here he is, helplessly mooning over a woman he barely knows all because of one night of incredible sex.

Except … Carlos is self-aware enough to recognize there was more to it than that, even if he can’t put words to the feeling yet. Some invisible cord has been lashed between you in a knot that feels unbreakable. Some intangible shift has occurred in his perspective that he can’t seem to walk back from.

Perhaps you sensed it too in the way you gazed at him afterwards — not just satiated, but glowing with a sort of wondering, naked adoration far too profound for a mere fuck. Carlos knows he should have been unnerved by the depth of emotion in your spent, happy features. And yet, he only felt it mirrored and compounded tenfold within himself.

With a frustrated huff, he tugs you closer and burrows his face into your hair, allowing your warm, comforting scent to soothe his wildly spiraling thoughts. You make another soft sound and your fingers twitch where they’re splayed over his ribs — reflexively trying to pull him in even tighter.

“What are you doing to me, princesa?” Carlos murmurs, low and graveled, against the crown of your head. “This isn’t how it was supposed to go at all ...”

Because the truth is, this was never meant to be anything more than a fleeting dalliance — an explosive joining of bodies and nothing more. But now that he’s had you, had this bone-deep connection to you, Carlos doesn’t think he can let it go so easily. The prospect of never again feeling you wrapped so perfectly around him in every sense of the word is abruptly gut-wrenchingly awful.

Which leaves him at an impasse. Because you … you are the daughter of the very man who unceremoniously discarded Carlos like an old rag after he gave everything to Ferrari. The offspring of the person who threw him away in a way that cut all the way to his core.

How could he possibly pursue anything real with you after that? It would be a horrific conflict of interests and constantly make things unbearably awkward, to say the very least. Not to mention Carlos has no idea if you even want more than just this one night of passion between you anyway. Perhaps to you he really was just an itch to scratch, a bout of impulsive lust to take the edge off before moving on.

The thought makes his stomach churn with jealousy so potent he has to physically swallow it back. Which … is not great, all things considered.

Tilting your head back with the lightest touch beneath your chin, Carlos studies your soft features searchingly. Perhaps if he stares hard enough, he’ll find some hint of deception or shallowness there. Some glaring evidence that this insane sense of yearning he feels is all one-sided — a misguided obsession brought on by the sort of euphoric sex one can never quite recapture once the high fades. He could use that as his cue to bow out now while you’re still tangled up together so prettily.

But even as he looks, really looks, all Carlos sees is the serene picture of a thoroughly satisfied, openly contented woman. There’s no shuttered gaze or pinched expression betraying any darker thoughts and feelings. Just blissed-out joy written in every relaxed line of those lovely features.

Something in Carlos’ chest cracks wide open at the realization that this is real for you too. You’re not just some meaningless one-off fling, but a woman who seems to have had her entire world upended in the same way his has been over the span of one incredible night.

“Carlos?” You murmur then, voice husky and slurred with the remnants of sleep as your lashes flutter open. “What’s wrong, mon beau?”

Your endearment sends a shockwave of tenderness and want pulsing through him straight to the roots. Carlos shakes his head minutely, winding one hand into your hair to hold you steady so he can simply … bask in your presence for a while.

“Nothing’s wrong, princesa,” he assures you lowly, thumb stroking gently over the arch of your cheekbone. “I just woke up early and got a little lost in my head for a bit there, that’s all.”

That small, secret smile he’s rapidly becoming addicted to tugs at your lips as your eyes rove languidly over his face. Your hand comes up to rest over his thundering heartbeat with surprising tenderness.

“Well then allow me to bring you back to the present. Right here with me.”

Your tone has taken on that rich sultriness from last night that shoots straight to his groin. Before Carlos can so much as draw breath to respond, you’re rising up to seal your mouth over his in a searingly passionate kiss.

He groans instantly, every atom of his being tuned to your frequency in a way that’s swiftly becoming terrifyingly natural. Carlos’ hands roam hungrily over your naked curves of their own volition, relearning each dip and swell through the silken glide of skin on skin.

When you break apart at last, you’re both thoroughly breathless and aroused. Carlos splays one big hand over the small of your back and simply holds you flush against him, savoring the feeling of your racing heart thundering in tandem with his own. He brushes kiss-swollen lips along the line of your jaw, prompting a delicious shiver.

“Don’t think for one second that I’ve had even a fraction of my fill of you yet, cariño,” he rasps against the feverish skin just below your ear, using his free hand to tug your head back so he can access the soft column of your throat. “You’ve addicted me beyond any chance of recovery now.”

Your breath hitches as he latches his mouth just above your thundering pulse point and sucks a blatant mark. Carlos revels in the needy whimpers spilling from your lips with each pass of his tongue over the tender patch of skin. He needs to mark you, claim you, render you unmistakable as his in every possible way.

“Carlos ...” You keen, back arching like a drawn bow as he continues trailing open-mouthed kisses down the slope of your neck and over your collarbones. “What are you saying?”

He pulls back to meet your heavy-lidded gaze, searching intently for permission to continue with what he suspects you’re asking. And there it is — desire and hope and invitation burning brightly in your soulful eyes, practically begging him to put words to this singular thing blazing between you.

Cupping your face in both hands, Carlos holds your rapt stare as he slowly, reverently presses a soft, lingering kiss to your slightly parted lips. You melt into him, one hand coming up to clutch desperately at his bicep.

“I’m saying,” he murmurs against the plush give of your pretty mouth. “That I can’t simply let this be the end, princesa. Not anymore. Not after experiencing what it feels like to be so exquisitely connected with someone in every possible way.”

The smile you give him in answer is as incandescent and warm as a living flame. You don’t attempt to contain the rush of emotion threatening to overwhelm you. Instead, you simply wind your arms around Carlos’ neck and pull him down into a molten kiss that somehow manages to convey every single infinite feeling ricocheting between your bodies.

He suddenly feels so overwhelmingly lucky in that moment. Lucky to have crossed paths with you by happenstance. Lucky that, by some miracle, he didn’t allow bitterness or pain or preconceived notions to blind him to your kindness and warmth and inherent goodness despite how this whole crazy thing started in his mind.

Because yes, you are the daughter of the man who turned his life and career upside down. But here, pressed against you, Carlos can feel the truth resonating through his bones — you are so much more than any of that.

And for the first time in his life, Carlos cannot fathom the idea of anything frightening him away.

***

The frantic Melbourne nightlife whirls and pulsates around Carlos in a dizzying kaleidoscope of neon lights and pounding basslines. Normally he would revel in the thrum of energy and excess — drinking in the atmosphere and feeding off the infectious exhilaration. But tonight, seated alone in the VIP lounge of one of the city’s most exclusive clubs, he finds his attention utterly undivided.

You stand out like a siren among the raucous crowd, every tilt of your hips and toss of your hair captivating Carlos completely.

He tracks the line of your body shamelessly as you sway and twist to the driving beat, that tantalizing little red dress riding up to reveal glimpses of toned, silky thighs that make his mouth water. A fine sheen of sweat glistens enticingly along your collarbones and in the hollow of your throat, no doubt making your overheated skin taste like salted caramel.

The urge to slide up behind you and drag his tongue along that slender, tempting slope is damn near overwhelming. He can vividly picture himself molding his larger frame against your softly undulating form, one hand spanning possessively across your lower belly to grind the rapidly stiffening ridge of his arousal against the lush swell of your rear.

He imagines precisely how you would react — arching back against him with a shuddering gasp, fingers threading into his hair to tug his mouth down upon yours in a frantic, needy kiss. How you would whimper and writhe against him, uncaring of the very public surroundings as desire rapidly whited everything else out ...

Almost as if sensing the scorching path of Carlos’ thoughts, you glance over your shoulder and catch his eye from beneath the veil of your lashes. That sly, inviting little smile immediately kicks his pulse into overdrive and lights a slow bloom of liquid heat unfurling in his lower belly.

With a crooked finger and a subtle uptilt of your chin you summon him to your side. And like the hopeless fool he is, Carlos rises instantly and crosses the small distance to enfold you in his arms from behind.

“Having fun out here without me, cariño?” He murmurs in your ear, lips brushing the sensitive shell so he feels the full-body shiver that wracks through you.

You lean back into his embrace, all soft curves and intoxicating jasmine scent. “I’m always having fun when I’m with you, Mr. Race Winner,” you sigh as your fingers trail delicately down the solid line of his biceps. “Even if we’re just sitting around doing nothing.”

The words are simple — honest and unguarded in a way that makes Carlos’ heart seize in his chest. For two people who came together in a wild collision of lust and passion, it’s moments like these that continually remind him of how much deeper your connection truly runs. Far beyond mere physicality into some soul-binding and unbreakable place.

You must sense the shift in his energy because you turn in his arms, expression questioning but so openly caring it nearly steals Carlos’ breath away. Tenderly, you cup his jaw and search his eyes.

“What’s going on in that beautiful head of yours, hmm?”

He shakes his head minutely, leaning down to brush his lips across your forehead before pulling you snug against his chest. You settle easily into the circle of his arms like that’s the most natural place in the world, cheek pillowed over his steadily thrumming heart.

“Nothing to worry about, princesa,” Carlos assures you gruffly, stroking soothing circles over the warm bare skin of your back. “Just feeling … lucky, I suppose. To have found someone like you.”

The words seem to catch you off guard and you pull back slightly to study his face, mouth curved in that secretive little smile that always makes Carlos’ stomach swoop.

“Well, I certainly feel the luckiest woman on Earth,” you tease lightly, booping his nose in a playful gesture that somehow serves to implant roots deep in Carlos’ soul rather than make him roll his eyes.

Instead, he just gazes at you for a long, weighted moment, allowing himself to simply bask in your presence. In the soft beauties that first drew him in — that delicate blush that finds its way across your nose and cheekbones, the little crinkles that bloom when your smile widens to that mega-watt, face-splitting beam, and those soulful eyes that never fail to pin Carlos helplessly in place.

Then there are the quieter, more intimate details he’s gradually uncovered the deeper he delves into your connection. The barely-there laugh lines at the corners of your eyes when you’re feeling particularly pleased about something. The trick of tugging on your lower lip with your teeth when you’re aroused and trying not to show it. The subtle furrow that appears between your brows when you’re concentrating intently on something.

Carlos knows them all now like geography he was born to navigate.

Without conscious thought, he smooths his thumbs over your jaw and guides you up into a slow, thorough kiss that has both your pulses kicking into overdrive. You whine quietly into his mouth, winding your arms around his neck and arching against him in ways that instantaneously have him hard and aching. But Carlos doesn’t give in to the heated urgency coursing through his bloodstream.

Instead, he keeps the languid glide of his lips over yours unhurried and leisurely — savoring the sensation of you pliant and receptive beneath his seduction. You seem to shake off your initial fervor as well, melting further into the molten drag of his mouth claiming yours over and over.

This too is a geography Carlos has long since mastered. The precise angle he needs to tilt his head to slot your bodies effortlessly flush together. The soft, mewling noises he can coax out of you with carefully applied suction to your plush lower lip. The tiny shudders when he swipes his tongue in long, slick caresses over the roof of your mouth.

You’re practically vibrating with restraint by the time he finally releases your mouth with an obscene, wet pop. Your lips are swollen and glistening, glistening with shared wanting. Carlos hums deep in his chest and brushes the pad of his thumb over the slick fullness reverently.

“So impatient, cariño,” he chides with a wolfish grin that has your nipples visibly peaking beneath the thin lace bodice. “You know that’s not what I had in mind for tonight.”

With an adorable little pout, you wind your arms around his neck once more. “And what, pray tell, did you have in mind?”

A dozen filthy scenarios immediately clamor for attention in Carlos’ head. Having you right here, up against the wall of this secluded VIP area. Bending you over the sleek lines of one of the low leather couches. Finding a shadowed alcove and sinking to his knees before you, nosing aside those delicate strips of lace to ...

He banishes each carnal thought before it can take root and produce visible effect. Tangling his fingers through the soft tresses at the nape of your neck, Carlos brings your foreheads together with a soft smile.

“I thought we might enjoy a moonlight stroll along the beach actually,” he murmurs, relishing the way your disappointed huff ruffles against his skin. “Just you and me under the stars, far away from the noise and crowds for a while.”

You regard him dubiously for a moment before seeming to melt at whatever expression Carlos doesn’t realize he’s allowed to show through. As always, you give in far too easily to his indulgent whims.

With a soft, fond roll of your eyes, you press up on your toes to drop a lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Of course, mon amour. Just you and me under the stars.”

Twenty minutes later finds you ambling hand in hand down a pristine stretch of beach in the Middle Park suburb. The warm, salty breeze gusts gently over your skin, carrying traces of coconut sunscreen and the briny musk of the sea. Foamy waves lap invitingly against the silvered sands as Carlos steers you towards a small, isolated cove.

He procures a large woven blanket from his bag and unfurls it in a clear spot before tugging you down into the plush nest of fabric. You immediately gravitate into his space — curling against his side and tucking yourself beneath his arm like that’s where you were always meant to fit. For Carlos’ part, he cherishes the easy affection and careless intimacy of the simple gesture more than you’ll ever know.

You spend what could be minutes or hours like that — exchanging lazy kisses and sipping from a shared bottle of wine as the moon rises ever higher overhead. After a while, Carlos sprawls onto his back and you quickly drape yourself half-atop him so he can leisurely card his fingers through your windswept tresses.

The soft, steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your ear combined with the soothing sounds of the lapping tide soon have your eyelids drooping. Carlos has never felt so at peace — this sublime bubble with you the single point around which the rest of the universe spins, perfectly in balance.

“Hey,” you mumble against the warm, sleep-rumpled fabric of his shirt. “Aren’t you the one always saying we should be living in the present?”

He huffs a quiet laugh, stroking one hand down the dip of your spine to rest possessively at the base. “What brings that up all of a sudden?”

You shift enough to look up at him through your lashes, eyes molten with a familiar heat that shivers down Carlos’ spine.

“I’m just wondering what’s got you stuck in your head so often these days,” you counter smoothly, punctuating the observation by swinging one leg over his hips so you can settle atop him fully, careful not to disturb his still-tender stitches. “We’ve barely been able to share … intimate moments at all the last month or so.”

Carlos sucks in a sharp breath as your weight settles over the rapidly stiffening ridge of his arousal. His hands find your hips of their own volition, squeezing reflexively as you begin moving atop him in a slow, undulating rhythm.

“Perhaps I’ve been overtly romantic,” he allows through gritted teeth, letting his head thunk back against the blanket as desire rapidly thrums through his veins. “Missing out on more … physical expressions of passion just because I wanted to remind both of us that this is built on so much more than lust.”

You hum thoughtfully, sitting up fully and swaying atop him in a way that has Carlos rapidly losing his tenuous grasp on reality beyond this blissful patch of the world containing just the two of you. He’s fully hard and straining against the loose linen of his slacks within moments.

“Then maybe we should do something about that right now,” you breathe huskily, arching your back in an inhumanly graceful roll that leaves Carlos’ mouth dry as the Sahara. His hands track helplessly up the delicious curves of your waist, bunching the delicate material of your dress around your hips.

He sits up to meet you so suddenly your foreheads nearly crack together. You release a breathless giggle that Carlos hungrily swallows with his lips, trapping you in a searing kiss filled with all the smoldering hunger he’s been studiously keeping banked for weeks now.

Mindlessly, he chases the taste of you over and over — salty and sweet and everything he’s been desperately starving himself for. His fingers fumble at the tie closures along your ribs until the bodice finally falls away, baring your breasts to his gaze and seeking hands.

You gasp softly into the heated seal of his mouth when Carlos’ calloused palms close over your soft, pliant flesh. He cups and kneads with reverent, possessive strokes that have you quickly arching your chest further into his touch and throwing your head back on a wanton moan.

“Carlos ...” You breathe his name like a prayer, riding his lap with increasing urgency and bringing your mouths back together in a clash of teeth and tongues. Your fingers slide up beneath the hem of his shirt to map the shifting planes of his abdomen, nails raking over the taut, quivering muscles. “Don’t hold back with me any longer. Not tonight … need to feel all of you.”

A shudder wracks Carlos’ entire frame at your breathy plea. He knows you’re right, can feel that same desperate yearning driving you magnified inside himself. Every cell of his body is vibrating with the need to take you fully — heart, mind, and body aligning in euphoric harmony after so many weeks of well meaning denial.

Seizing your hips in a bruising grip, Carlos surges to his feet and simply holds you against him with easy strength. Your legs immediately wind around his waist as you giggle deliriously against his lips.

“Is this what you want, princesa?” He murmurs lowly, swaying subtly to grind his straining need over the lush juncture of your thighs in counterpoint. “For me to finally have my way with you the way we’ve both been craving?”

“Yes,” you hiss out through clenched teeth, back arching as Carlos nips and sucks a path down the slender column of your neck. “God, yes, Carlos. Will you just fuck me already? Here on the sand and beneath the open sky like something out of one of those romance novels you pretend not to love.”

The easy teasing breaks through whatever lingering threads of Carlos’ control were still intact and he growls low in his chest. In one deft motion, he divests you both of the rest of your clothes and spreads you out on the blanket before him in all your unabashed glory. His gaze tracks over your form hungrily, drinking in every dip and swell as you watch him with dark, wanting eyes.

“Princesa ...” Carlos breathes, gratified to see his own desire and reverent longing reflected back at him tenfold in your heated stare. “No more waiting, no more teasing.”

His meaning is clear even without the punctuation of sinking down to settle fully over your smaller form, blanketing you with his weight and forcing your thighs apart to cradle his hips. You immediately writhe beneath him, winding limber arms and legs around him in a vice grip that sears every point of contact between you.

“Carlos, mon cœur ...” You keen breathily into the scant space separating your lips, every word punched from you in counterpoint to the sensual roll of his hips grinding his arousal through your slick folds. “Please. I need you. Need to feel you all around me again after so long.”

He crushes his mouth to yours in answer, tongue instantly delving deep to taste the exquisite velvet heat of you. You clutch him closer even as Carlos shifts his weight to one forearm so his other hand can roam freely over every inch of bare, pebbled skin he can reach. When his calloused palm finally finds your breast and gives a rough squeeze, you shudder and cry out into his waiting lips.

There’s no more waiting after that. Carlos sheaths himself in one powerful, purposeful thrust that buries him to the hilt and your gasp dissolves into a broken moan. He stills for the briefest of moments, just reveling in the unbearably tight clutch of your molten sheath, every nerve ending alight and thrumming. Then he slowly withdraws until just the swollen head remains inside before immediately surging forward once more.

Your nails score lines of liquid fire down his back at the first deep, dragging stroke. But Carlos barely notices the delicious sting. He’s utterly consumed by the feeling of finally being surrounded by you again — hot, snug, and so utterly perfect. Every sound and shudder and arch of your form against his own is like the sweetest plea washing over him.

He sets a demanding pace, relentlessly pounding into you from that first jarring thrust onward. The only sounds are your mingled cries and the wet, obscene smack of flesh on flesh echoing out over the lapping ocean waves. Carlos wants to make sure there’s no doubt in your mind how much he’s craved every inch of you.

“There’s my good girl,” he rasps hotly against the bullet-hard peak of your nipple before laving it soothingly with his tongue. You release a strangled cry, back bowing sharply off the blanket as you clench down on him in rippling, vice-like pulses. “Fuck … taking me just how you were made to. So damn perfect, cariño.”

Your garbled whimpers and keens of his name drive Carlos to new levels of feverish intensity with each hitching breath. He snakes an arm beneath your sweat-slick lower back to position your hips at a slightly higher angle, seating himself even more deeply inside.

Every purposeful thrust now grinds against that tender cluster of nerves in a way that quickly has your eyes rolling back. You go boneless and whimpering, allowing Carlos to manhandle and use your plaint and plush form in whatever way he craves.

Pressure rapidly mounts within Carlos like an incoming tidal wave as your inner walls begin fluttering around him in telltale pulses. He can feel his own imminent release building in tandem at the base of his spine, that familiar molten curl of pleasure threatening to crest.

“That’s it, princesa,” he grits out raggedly against the sweat-slick arch of your throat. He slides the hand not anchoring your hips down to toy with the engorged pearl at your apex — drawing out a stream of sobbing wails. “Take what’s yours. Fucking milk me with that greedy little cunt. You were made for this cock, made to be split open and ruined on it over and over until you’ve got no idea where you end and I begin.”

The filthy words seems to be your undoing. With a sobbing cry of Carlos’ name, you seize up — inner walls rippling and convulsing like they’re taking him for everything he’s worth. Carlos hardens his jaw and summons the last threads of his control to keep himself from shattering apart at the very first fluttering pulse.

As the shattering waves of your release gradually crest and ebb, Carlos chases them down with powerful thrusts designed to prolong and intensify every aftershock. You writhe and whimper beneath him in overstimulated pleasure, rapidly going boneless and sated.

That’s when he finally surrenders to the smoldering inferno in his belly, hips snapping forward in a few final, erratic strokes before Carlos throws back his head and allows his own orgasm to rip through him. White-hot euphoria explodes across every nerve ending as he empties himself in heavy, throbbing pulses deep inside your spasming core.

“Ah fuck … just like that, cariño,” he rasps out hoarsely, grinding himself as deeply inside you as physically possible and simply shuddering through each exquisite contraction. “Taking every last fucking drop of me right where you were made for it ...”

Utterly spent, Carlos collapses forward with the last dregs of his stamina — just barely managing to catch himself on shaking forearms so he doesn’t crush you beneath his weight. You immediately latch onto him, peppering his flushed face with sweet kisses.

For several long moments, you simply hold each other through the aftershocks, chests heaving and bodies trembling. Carlos has never felt more peaceful or completely at ease in his entire life. His every sense is utterly surrounded and suffused by you in the most blissful of ways.

When his lashes finally flutter open, the first thing he sees is your adoring smile glowing up at him in the moonlight. It nearly steals what little breath remains in his lungs.

“Hi,” you murmur shyly. Carlos huffs out a breathless chuckle and tugs you even closer until your overwarm bodies are aligned from navel to sternum.

“Hi yourself, princesa,” he replies, just as softly against your lips before sinking into another deep, leisurely kiss that tastes equal parts salt and sex and forever.

When you part again, your eyes are sparkling with so much uncomplicated happiness that Carlos nearly melts into a useless puddle on the spot. He’s drowning and he’s never felt more gloriously unmoored.

“I love you, y’know? Like … down to the depths of my soul,” your fingers trail over the sharp jaw and cheekbones you now know better than your own.

The words should terrify Carlos with their intensity and implication. Instead, they simply roll through him in a cresting wave of overwhelming tenderness and clarity.

Of course he loves you. How could he not, when his existence now seems to revolve around your presence as the only fixed point in a dizzying orbit?

So rather than balk or deflect or shove those emotions back down, Carlos allows every infinite but of love and adoration and soul-deep need to shine through unfettered. He cradles your face between his palms and simply stares, committing every minuscule detail of this moment to memory before leaning down to brush his lips over yours in the sweetest, most loaded caress.

“I love you too, princesa,” he murmurs the words directly into your mouth like a sacrament. “With every fiber of my being. You are my everything.”

You tug him down into a heated, clinging embrace, holding him like you never intend to let go.

And at last, Carlos knows without a shadow of doubt that he never will either

#f1 imagine #f1 #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #f1 x reader #f1 x you #carlos sainz #cs55 #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz fic #carlos sainz fluff #carlos sainz fanfic #carlos sainz blurb #f1 fluff #f1 blurb #f1 one shot #f1 x y/n #f1 drabble #f1 fandom #f1blr #f1 x female reader #carlos sainz x female reader #carlos sainz x y/n #scuderia ferrari #carlos sainz one shot #carlos sainz drabble

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

ooooh a fic where reader and Tom reacts to the tiktok edits of them pls✨

Internet Boyfriend || Tom Blyth x Actress!reader

A/n: I LOVE THIS HAHAHHAHA also yes, I did add the links to the tiktok edits 😋

Warnings: none :)

Wc:

Divider by @pommecita

“First of all, congratulations on satisfying this fan of the original series,” The women points to herself, “Thats what we like to hear,” You smile, “Like this film is epic! But uh we need to all about something really really serious first,” You nod, anticipating the questioning.

“Y/n,” You eyebrows shoot up as you tilt your head, “Do you think Tom is ready,” You and Tom look at each other, “to become the internet’s boyfriend? Cause I don’t think he realises what’s about to happen,” Tom looks taken aback as he looks at you.

“I’ve been saying this for so long too!” You meet Tom’s gaze, “I did not expect that question,” He shakes his head lightly laughing. “Beyond the internet boyfriend, it’s just he gives such a beautiful performance in this film and after our first premiere in Berlin, I grabbed his face in the car on the way back to the hotel and I just bawled my eyes out to him, remember that?” You look to him, a smile on your face.

“Yep,” He chuckles, looking down, “Because as an actor and his girlfriend I was just so proud to witness the rise of Tom Blyth in movie making, it’s such a beautiful thing and there’s no one more deserving out there, truly.” You say in appreciation as you and Tom lock eyes.

He puts his hand on his heart, “Thank you,” He says, truly moved by what you said, “That’s so sweet of you,” You lean your head against his shoulder and his arm wraps around your shoulder. “You’re welcome,” You say to him, looking up as you place a light kiss on his jawline.

“Both your performance is honestly just spectacular, I love the two of you, I wish I was there in person to witness it,” She jokes as you all laugh along with her. “Another thing I wanted to ask, specifically aimed to you Tom,” He looks at the women expectantly.

“The girls on tiktok are loving it already, are you ready,” Tom scratches the back of his neck, “Oh God,” As you already start laughing knowing where she was going with this question, “Are you ready for the Snow thirst edits? How do you feel about them,” It’s silent for a few seconds as Tom looks at the floor, a smile on his face.

“It’s begun babe,” You squeeze his arm. “Uh- I’m not on tiktok and I try to stay off online, as much as possible, uhm which is difficult these days- but I don’t see them often until people send them to me- So stop sending them” Tom looks at the camera as you throw your head back, losing it already as you laugh.

“As someone who has tiktok and thoroughly enjoy the edits of the movie, I do send them to Tom-“ “You send them all the time! It’s embarrassinga” You both intertwine hands and laugh out loud. “I don’t really send you the thirst trap ones, mostly just the ones about how blue your eyes are and how great of an actor you are,”

“Well speaking of it, we actually have a few thirst traps of you Tom, lined up for you to react to,” Tom drops his head as you start giggling, “Oh my god,” “Here we go,” You say in as you watch a crew member past you an IPad.

“Oh dear god, this video is going to turn into a try not to cringe challenge video with y/n and Tom reacting to Coryo” You sigh as you watch the first tiktok which is of Tom as Snow. https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSNC4EmV8/

You immediately smile knowing you have already seen this tiktok. The interviewer starts laughing as you both watch Tom’s reaction to it. “I must say, It’s very good,” Tom admits, “This tiktok has 5.4 million views, and everyone is saying that this is the Coriolanus snow edit,” She says as you click on the comment section and read through the comments.

“I agree that is the Coriolanus snow edit aswell,” You chuckle. “Okay next one,” You say as Tom groans beside you, already very much embarrassed. https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSNCVJCRX/

Your jaw immediately starts to drop upon hearing the audio. Tom covers his eyes as you and the interviewer laugh. “I love the beginning!” You say in between laughs, “Wait what was the beginning?” Tom asks, “Did you not watch it?”

“I covered my eyes the second I heard my voice,” He admits with a silly grin on his face as you shake your head and rewatch it. “Oh, I see,” He rubs his chin as you watch the next one. “Oh I’ve seen this one!” Tom says as you both rewatch it. https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSNCVkrxh/

“I’ve always told Tom that everyone obsesses when he says Snow lands on top,” “Yes! The fans go crazy!” The woman laughs along as Tom looks uncomfortable. “Tom say it,” You nudge him as he gives you the ‘don’t make me do it’ look as you give him your puppy eyes, “fine,” He huffs.

He clears his throat as a joke before staring into the camera, “Snow lands on top,” He says in an insanely attractive voice as you fake faint. “Watch them edit this too,” You point out, “Please no,” He covers his face in embarrassment as you pat his back, silently laughing.

“This one, is one my favs actually,” The woman says as she shows you and Tom the tiktok. https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSNC4wS5J/ You both crack up at the ending as actual tears started forming in Tom’s eyes. “Oh my god he’s crying,” You slap his thigh as you lean over in your chair from laughter.

After a good 5 minutes the two of you calm down. “For the next one, Y/n you can just go ahead and search up Tom Blyth on TikTok and pick whatever tiktok you want him to react to,” Your eyes lit up at the offer and you hurriedly take the iPad from Tom’s lap and type his name. Tom leans over to look at the iPad as you hide it from him, a mischievous glint in your eyes that he knows all too well.

You take your time as your scroll before one catches your eye. You watch it and your jaw immediately drops open. “What is it?” Tom says impatiently as your eyes flicker from Tom to the woman. “I don’t know if I can even show this,” You cover your mouth.

“Babe, I don’t think you want to see this,” You continue while Tom becomes impatient and curious. “Just show me!” You give a look to the interviewer as you show him the tiktok. Almost immediately, Tom turns it off and gets up from the screen as you stifle a laugh, watching him as he walks behind the camera, his hands on his hips.

“What did I just watch,” He says as you full on start to laugh to the point where you were on the ground laughing and had a stitch. “I should have stayed curious” Tom runs a hand down his face as he sighs and sits back down on the chair, laughing at you on the floor dying from laughter.

“I’m so glad you find this amusing, sweetheart,” He playfully rolls his eyes as he offers his hand and helps you up. “My eye makeup is most definitely ruined,” You say in between laughs as Tom grabs your face and wipes away the smudged mascara.

“Oh my god! I’m sorry I didn’t even show you the tiktok!” You realise as the woman doing the interview snickers. “We probably looked mentally insane,” You fan your face. The TikTok was of Coryo kissing your character in tbosas and the next clip was of Billy kissing Dulcinea which also happened to be played by you and the writing on the TikTok said “This man kisses like he is starved, like she is the oxygen he needs to breathe,”

Tom was beyond embarrassed as he recalled both moments when he was kissing you on screen. “This may be abit of TMI but ladies, he’s always been like that,” You cover the left side of your mouth as you whisper it to the camera before winking.

#fanfiction #tom blyth #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth x you #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow fanfiction #the hunger games #coriolanus snow x reader #hunger games the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tom blyth x actress!reader

[tasteleeknow]

LIVING IN THE RUINS

minho x fem!reader. 2k words. minors dni. best friends to lovers. soft!minho. angst. fluff. jealousy. emotional hurt/comfort. smut with feelings, in a tent.

“Excuse me?”

You blink at the stranger in front of you. She seems to materialise before your eyes. You’d zoned out again and missed the attention your best friend had clearly been receiving from strangers in the crowded room. “I was wondering if I could get your number?” she asks, eyes fixed on Minho’s. She blinks quickly a few times, her long dark lashes fluttering much like your heart in your chest. 

She hasn’t looked at you once despite your close proximity. You’re so close to the object of her attention in fact, your thigh brushes against Minho’s jeans under the table. 

He shifts beside you, sitting up straighter in the booth. “Oh,” he says, clearly taken off guard as well. “Thank you. I mean that’s — I don’t—” 

“Do you have a girlfriend?” she asks with a small tilt of her head. 

“No,” Minho answers quickly, incapable of lying. His discomfort radiates off him. You’d spent years learning his emotional tells. “I mean—” 

“He’s not into women,” you interrupt, finally drawing her attention to you. She blinks before her eyes drop down to your chest and back to your eyes, like she’s completely taken aback by your presence. It’s impossible, you know that logically. Still, she puts on a good performance. “Sorry,” you add. 

Her lips curve into an unconvincing smile. “No worries,” she says. “The hot ones never are.” 

The whole exchange is as short as it is ordinary. How many tipsy girls work up the courage to ask the pretty man across the bar for his number? You would bet money on it happening multiple times over somewhere across the planet at any given moment. It’s normal. Mundane. Still, you know it’ll chip a little more of your carefully built wall away. A chisel to stone, slow and steady. The only problem is that it’s been chipped at for years. You can feel the fragility of it these days, each chisel etch feels alot like when you’re down to the end of a game of jenga. 

Any move now will cause it to crash and fall. 

She hadn’t considered for a moment you might have been together — not when she’d spotted him across the room, clearly with you — and not when she’d gotten close and blatantly ignored your comfortable proximity to each other. Her question about his relationship status had been an afterthought, a possibility she hadn’t considered until faced with a response other than ‘yes’. She’d been expecting a yes.

The thought that he might be with you, might be attracted to you, was unconsidered. You wonder if she’d discussed it with her friends. ‘No,’ they might have said. ‘There’s no way he’s with her.’

Minho is quiet as the petite brunette turns on her heels and disappears back into the mass of people. His red ears give his embarrassment away. 

You nudge his shoulder, rocking him out of his trance. “Hey,” you prod. “Alright?” 

The smile he offers you is a little lopsided — very Minho. “Always,” he says. 

—

Your annual camping trip is just like the year before. Your small group of friends sets up camp in your usual spot. Everyone climbs into their usual tents. Everyone assumes you and Minho will be sharing, as always. 

You’re not sure why it hurts so much. They assume that nothing would ever happen between you. None of the other girls share a tent with a guy they aren’t dating. You’re the exception. Because Minho would never want you. 

He notices your low mood later that night. The group separates in the dark to play flashlight tag and as you find yourself wandering a secluded patch of the campsite, you know he knows. His attention is on you instead of where he’s walking. You almost scream when he falls into apparent nothingness. 

“I’m fine,” he quickly reassures you, pulling himself up from the ground. “Just dropped my glasses.” 

“God, you scared me.” 

It takes you both at least ten minutes to find them, relying purely on touch alone. It's too dark to see much at all without a light and using your phones would give your position away. 

You’re grateful for the darkness when you reach up and place his frames gently on his face. It hides the heat in your cheeks when you brush chocolate brown hair behind his ears, ensuring you’ve placed them properly. 

“Thank you,” he whispers, close enough that his breath warms your lips. 

You’re also grateful just to be near him, you realise. Just to know him. You love him. 

You love him. 

It’s an earth shattering realisation to have while playing flashlight tag in the middle of nowhere. You need to escape. You can’t. You’re sharing a tent with him. 

The situation isn’t helped when later in the night one of the girls with big bright eyes and a gentle smile makes a very clear move on him. You were used to it. People loved him. 

You loved him. 

It’s a stupid thing to cause the wall to finally crumble. It’s humiliating really. But when he laughs at something she whispers in his ear: it happens. 

It falls. 

You’re pathetic without it. 

All you can do is hide from him, escape to the tent and pretend to be so tired you’ve fallen asleep before he can investigate. It’s not something you do. Not with Minho. He knows you so well hiding from him is just as stupid as it is pathetic. He’ll know. 

Still, you can pretend. He won’t know as long as you’re unconscious. You can put it off until morning. 

It takes a long time for him to fall asleep. You lie there staring at the canvas of the tent for what feels like hours, the sounds of him tossing and turning continuing for so long you almost give up. 

But then he’s still. His breathing seems to even out. He’s asleep. 

That’s when you let yourself cry. Quietly at first; silent aching sobs. 

What a time for the wall to crumble. You wonder if you have the energy to rebuild. You’ll have to find it. The alternative is letting Minho go entirely, removing him from your life and letting the ruins erode away over a long, long time. 

Not an option. 

“Hey,” Minho’s soft voice calls. Shit. You wipe clumsily at your eyes and sodden cheeks. “Hey, what’s going on? What happened?” he questions as his palm rests gently against your shoulder. 

You should face him. You can’t hide. You know it. 

“No-thing,” you whimper, breath catching between each syllable. It’s that awful breathless kind of sobbing, the type that leaves you unable to inhale fully, let alone speak. 

He rolls you over onto your back. He isn’t rough — but it’s with enough strength you’re completely unable to resist him. 

“What is it?” he says again, tone much more forceful now. He isn’t letting it go. He looks down at you with wide eyes, like he’d never been asleep at all. 

You shake your head. 

His gentle thumbs move to your cheeks to attempt to wipe away the mess you’d left behind. He rests on one arm, leaning over you so he can give each cheek the same treatment. It’s a curious instinct, to wipe away someone's tears — like it has any effect on the person’s pain at all. It’s the best we can often do, you suppose. 

“Just focus on breathing,” he says. “Just breathe.” His hand stays against your cheek, fingers resting on your neck by your ear — featherlight. 

Breathing is easy, in theory. Breathing. Breathing. Breathing. His lips part to join you, guide you. His lips are still a little red from his bedtime routine, his tinted vaseline usually lasting him the entire night. 

“That’s it,” he soothes when you finally manage a few steady breaths in a row. “That’s good. You’re okay.” 

They’re simple words of comfort. The kind of thing anyone would say to a person in distress, but they settle something in your chest. You were okay. He was yours in a way that was more than nothing. He cared in a way that felt so genuine it was hard to be dissatisfied with the nature of it at all. 

“Did something happen today?” he asks, still leaning over you. It’s a vulnerable position to be in. It mirrors how you know this conversation will go. Your wall is a crumbled mess. You have no defences against him. 

“Not really.” 

His eyebrows pull together. 

“Nothing worth this,” you clarify. 

“Tell me.” 

“It’s not… It’s embarrassing.” 

His lips curve in a tiny lopsided smile, just a hint of amusement. “Friends are for sharing embarrassing things with. And I’m your friend,” he says. “Aren’t I?” 

You blink quickly a few times, desperate to keep your tears at bay. Then you nod weakly. 

“Why do you look so miserable about it?” he says, tone light and teasing. 

Your lips wobble a little as you struggle with the words attempting to burst forth. They pound and burn and demand to be set free. You lose the battle. “I love you.” 

He blinks, eyes flicking across your face. 

The gates are open now. You’re turned loose. “I love you so much,” you sob. “It hurts. It hurts everyday and it just keeps getting worse and I can’t—” 

His lips cut you off, a warm, heart-stopping, and very much welcome interruption. He’s kissing you. He’s—

“Stop,” he mumbles against your wet, salty lips. “Stop hurting. Please.” His next kiss is unbearably soft, a brush against your upper lip. “Please,” he whispers. 

You nod dumbly.

He rewards you with a collection of gentle kisses across your cheeks, replacing the remnants of your tears with the sticky wetness of his moisturised lips. You imagine the slight red marks he must leave behind. 

He settles over you properly at some point. You’re too distracted by the path of his lips to notice exactly when. But then his arms are by your head, caging you under him in a way that makes you hope for the universe to halt all progression forward. This was enough; everything. 

“I love you,” he whispers against your lips finally. “I’m… sorry for letting you think I don’t. I’m a coward.” 

“No,” you chastise quickly as you tangle your fingers in his hair. “Don’t say shit like that.” 

“I—” 

“It hurts me… and you told me to stop hurting.” 

His head drops to your neck… then, with a soft press of his lips to your skin, “Then I’ll never do it again.” 

Every move he makes is gentle when the slow, indulgent kisses turn into exploring hands and whispered pleas for more. Each of his whisper-soft words of affection sweeps away a crumbled section of your wall, clearing the space to build something entirely new. He’s warm, so warm as his bare torso rests on yours — as he finally presses inside you and sucks a mark into your neck to join the rest he’s left. “Doesn’t hurt?” he asks, stilling as he fills you completely. 

“No,” you gasp. “No, you’re… it’s—” His lips take the words from your mouth, a little messier than he’s been before. When his hips roll into yours you can’t help grasping at him like he might suddenly get up and leave — fingers tangling in his hair desperately.

“I got you,” he mumbles against your lips, heavy breaths mingling with your own. “I got you…” 

When he eventually spills inside you, flooding you with more of his warmth, you’re crying again. But this time it doesn’t hurt; this time it’s a release. The tears that he kisses from your face afterwards — they wash away the rest of the rubble.

#lee know smut #lee know fluff #lee know x reader #lee know fanfic #kpop smut #stray kids smut #stray kids fluff #kpop imagines #skz smut #stray kids imagine #stray kids imagines #kpop scenarios #stray kids scenarios #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #skz imagines #stray kids fanfic #skz scenarios #minho drabbles

[uglyducklingofthe2000s]

Born for Red? - Max Verstappen

Leclerc!reader

Summary: Charles little sister is fighting her way into F1, she's managed to make it into F2 alongside Arthur for 2022. But when it comes out who she's racing under and what junior team she's in, the war begins. Throw in a new love interest, and the world seems to meltdown.

This one is loooooong. 2.6K words.

For the most part y/n prefers for her brothers to remain away from her racing career. She faces enough scrutiny as a their sister, add in she's the only female to make it to F2 in recent years is just another thing the media uses against her. Though they aren't actually aware that she's in F2 this year quite yet.

The rumours had been spinning around about which team she might be in, who would be her mentor if she is in F2. Almost certainly Charles. There was also a debate over whether the bidding war rumours between the junior teams was true.

Apparently no one would truly ever fight over a female driver, at least according to some of the less respectable retired drivers.

Ferrari runs in the blood of the Leclerc's. As proven by Charles one rookie year and immediate move up into the Ferrari team while Arthur is in the Ferrari academy and has been for a few years now.

Ferarri had y/n in her one F3 year.

But her contract was only for her time in F3. Now she's out of the Ferrari family.

"We are very happy to have you in our team." Christian states as she sits in the Milton Keynes office.

"It's good to be joining such a successful team." Y/n smiles almost shivering as she makes the final signature on the contract. Cementing her future. "Thank you so much for taking a chance on me. I promise, I'll not let you down."

"I don't think you could if you tried." Christian chuckles before standing up. "How about I get someone to give you a tour?"

"That'd be amazing." Y/n nods always eager to make sure her excitement and commitment is shown in every form. Including knowing this whole building inside out like she grew up here.

-

By the time y/n gets back home, Arthur is awaiting his younger sister along with their mother. Only by the better part of a year. She was born 10 months after him and he never lets her forget it.

"Where have you been?" Arthur asks as she rushes to kiss Pascal's cheek then moving quickly to join them for dinner.

"Just some prep for F2. We only have a couple more weeks." Y/n smiles while Arthur hums, he still doesn't know what team she's driving for. Even if he knows there's only so many seats left that haven't been announced.

"I know, do you know what team you're in yet?" Arthur asks making Pascal look at her only daughter who has already told her mother of her betrayal to Ferrari. But Pascal insisted it was y/n's choice of when the right time to tell her brothers was.

Definitely not now.

-

Red Bull juniors team announced y/n's union with them only a couple days after her contract was signed. Thankfully she had to fly back out to England to train ahead of Bahrain.

Her phone blew up with more than just her brothers trying to contact her.

What she didn't expect was for her to end up being cornered by the reigning F1 champion, who had been made aware of her lack of communication with her brothers who she is simply fearful to speak to about her change of team loyalty.

"You are a natural." His voice comments making her jump from her seat in the simulator.

"O-Oh, thanks." Y/n smiles nervously, never being sure how to feel about Max. "Could've been better really."

"There is always room for improvement...for everyone. No matter what level, what car, there is always room for error and room for improvement." Max shrugs then nodding at her the screens. "You can spend as much time as you like here. But your brother is reaching out to me and asking if I can talk you into calling him. I think you should."

"He's mad."

"He is."

If Charles couldn't even find it in himself to hide that fact from Max then it really is bad.

"You hid it from him." Max points out as a reason as to why her brother might be mad rather than mad that she chose Red Bull.

"He's not as easy to speak to as you think." Y/n murmurs while Max smiles.

"Then you don't have to talk to him right now. But you do have to get out the simulator. We both have flights to Bahrain." Max states making her nod before she swallows as Max reaches in and undoes the seatbelts with scary ease then offering his hand to help her up. "You will be ok."

"I hope you're right." Y/n hums before she stands next to the Dutchman who is pretty intimidating to be stood next to.

-

Y/n walking into the paddock in Bahrain. The media are all over her and so are Ferrari fans shouting their distaste of her choice to not only leave Ferrari but to join Red Bull.

She moves through getting into the Red Bull unit to hopefully hide. But she knows she has to see her brothers at some point. Especially since Arthur is going to be racing against her.

"Come on." Max states pulling her back out of the unit and through the garages till they're in the pit lane where her brothers are both standing next to the Ferrari pit wall. "Get it over and done with, if they are too angry I will step in."

Y/n isn't even sure where this has came from since her conversations with Max have given no indication that he would be willing to go up against her brothers over something like this. Something that is essentially so personal to her.

Y/n sucks in a breath, swallowing thickly before she looks at him for a moment watching him nod before he moves forward and kisses her softly.

Y/n walks up to the pit wall, watching her brother spot her in her Red Bull kit and fall silent from their conversation. Both of them with unreadable expressions.

"I'm sorry, but not for leaving Ferrari...I'm just sorry I didn't tell you and you found out with the rest of the world." Y/n states quickly making the two brother's faces drop to an unimpressed expression. "I'm still kind of in red..."

"I just don't know why you didn't tell us or why you left Ferrari academy. You were doing well with us." Arthur states while y/n winces at her brother's tone, it's not so much angry but hurt.

Both her brothers had admittedly helped her get into the academy, without them she'd not have the experience and skills developed to impress Red Bull in F3 and gain an offer for her F2 seat.

"But...is it not great that I managed to impress them enough on my own to get an offer? For them to want me on the junior team?" Y/n asks almost desperate for their approval in her career. Then she makes one last desperate attempt, by telling the truth and looking directly at Charles when she does it. "I had to step out your shadow. I can't do that if you're both driving under Ferrari and I'm just following your footsteps. I want to be written as y/n Leclerc in headlines, not as Charles and Arthur Leclerc's little sister."

Charles softens into the older brother she's used to.

"Why did you never just tell us?" Charles questions while she sighs.

"Do you not see how hard it is for me to say this after the fact? Saying it before felt impossible...and easy to avoid." Y/n murmurs with a soft shrug as she looks down before feeling Charles arms wrap around her, immediately making her wrap her arms around him. "I should've told you."

"No, I-We understand, right Arthur?"

"Yes...right." Arthur nods as Charles shifts to give her the chance to hug her fellow F2 driver which Arthur is much more hesitant to return before he does squeeze her.

-

Y/n's first race gave her a rush of energy. She got P3. She got a podium in Bahrain.

Charles was awaiting both her and Arthur, but obviously she got the podium so when she tossed herself onto her older brother in a hug of celebration.

Afterwards, between the F2 feature race and the F1 Grand Prix. She finds herself with none other than Max Verstappen and her need to inform everyone on her news of her first ever F2 race result overcame her.

"I got P3!" Y/n beams bouncing to him and not stopping herself when she jumps up onto him in a hug which earns a laugh and a lung squeezing hug.

"That is very good, y/n." Max chuckles while she feels no sign that he intends to release her. "I have a surprise for you actually, since I knew you would do well."

Y/n frowns a little in confusion but nods and gestures for him to go ahead. Max tugs her to the Red Bull unit till he reveals a random room that has a cake with her name on it and "P3".

"Did you have this made between the end of the race and now?" Y/n pouts finding the whole gesture the cutest thing on the planet. "Max...This is the nicest thing ever. I really didn't expect anything from you."

"You deserve it." Max smiles with a shrug then clearing his throat. "I might not be able to deliver a cake for every win, that'd be a lot of cake I'm predicting. I'll get more creative for Jeddah."

"Well...don't...don't get too cocky for me." Y/n laughs nervously feeling her body flush under his gaze. "Thank you for this. It means a lot."

"You are part of the team and I know you don't realise it, but I have been watching your career for a while." Max admits before looking like he just admitted something that he shouldn't have said. "I should go. Will you be watching?"

"Yes. Christian invited me to watch from the garage."

"Ok, well I'll see you out there." Max nods pulling a ballsy move by both their standards. He leans down kissing either of her cheeks feeling the burning heat of her face from the proximity.

Y/n is left with the cake, feeling almost too alone with it before she smiles a little, shrugging off the upper half of her driving suit off before picking up the cake and carrying it to the Red Bull garage to share with others there who do happily take a piece as she cuts it up.

The camera in the garage does catch her at one point of the race handing out the cake. Although when she sees that Charles has to pull to the side of the track, her beaming mood changes.

She ends up leaving the garage just to meet her brother in the paddock and to make sure he's alright. But Charles is ushered to the media pit before she gets a chance to properly speak to him.

-

When they get to Jeddah, y/n is feeling a little more nervous seeing the track. But once again, the full time F1 driver/part-time hype man for a certain Red Bull junior is there to help her build up the confidence.

"Get in the car, y/n." Max instructs making her look between Max and the F1 car that is already showing serious pace, especially in Max's hands. The mechanics around them also seem fairly intrigued by Max's words to her. "Need help?"

"Please." Y/n nods before feeling Max move around her, hands landing on her waist before he lifts her up and into the cockpit. He reaches to help her sit down comfortably.

"Hold on, you need a helmet for the real experience." Max smiles moving to pick up his own helmet since all of hers are elsewhere.

Now there's only one thing that could ruin this endearing moment. Or maybe two things. First being Charles sees this. Second is a camera from Sky sports of all things catching the moment and when y/n spots Ted Kravitz doing a bit more.

"Oh shit." Y/n murmurs slumping down in the seat while Max knocks the visor down to hide her face while standing up.

It's fairly obvious who it is and more obvious that somethings suspicious what happening from their reactions.

Y/n hears her name being spoken.

"Y/n Leclerc, the newest member of the Red Bull family who seems to be testing out a car she might just have for herself one day." Ted states thankfully not painting anything of this that she feared. "Possibly using Max to envision a championship winning future. People constantly say Charles might challenge for the championship in another team, perhaps another Leclerc might prove that theory right."

Max can't even stop himself from smirking a little at the thought of y/n winning the championship under the Red Bull team.

"What do you think?" Max asks as he leans back into the halo over her, lifting the visor again. "Feel like you could handle this?"

"Yeah, probably handle it straight into a wall." Y/n hums earning a deadpanned expression. "I need to go on the track walk and get a feel for it I think."

"I can go with you." Max states making her smile a little sadly.

"I promise Charles I would go with him. He just wants to still feel involved in my career." Y/n sighs then nodding. "Maybe in Imola."

"Promise?" Max questions growing some confidence with her.

"I promise." Y/n nods with a smile that is trying to hide her giddiness.

-

Charles isn't blind, he's seen the videos, he's seen heard the whispers across the paddock. Even the drivers seem to be noticing Max's attention on the youngest Leclerc. Some even think it might make for a good distraction from focusing on his own championship fight.

But Charles would rather lose a limb than be so ok with his little sister dating his childhood rival. He likes Max, he doesn't think the Dutchman is a bad man, but that doesn't mean he wants his little sister dating him.

"Y/n?" Charles asks deciding to use the time with her in a private jet over to Australia.

F2 doesn't have a race there but y/n is travelling over to be with Red Bull, mainly to support her team but Christian seems eager for her to be as present as possible.

If it's for media attention or whether he just wants her to see the workings of the team and be apart of it all she doesn't know. but she's being brought to Australia despite the next F2 race being Imola.

Arthur is actually going to Italy for some Ferrari academy training ahead of Imola.

"Yeah?" Y/n smiles pulling her headphones off since she'd been plugged into watching the F1 race again. The girl can usually be found rewatching any one of the F1 races from any season. Usually focused on Seb and Kimi's time in Ferrari together.

"Are you and Max dating?"

"Excusez-moi?" Y/n questions in pure shock of her brother's words. "Not that it's any of your business, but no. We are not."

"Do you want to?"

"Charles!" Y/n exclaims then looking to Joris and Andre who are on the flight with them. "Can the two of you please control him?"

"You think we have not tried before now?" Joris asks making her frown at the two. "Ah, but Charles, y/n is right. You cannot ask that."

"I want to know." Charles argues now feeling like he has to defend his position since he only questioned it since she is his little sister and he is protective over her. "Y/n, you and Max are close. I just think that if he is making advances you do not want I can speak to him."

"Charles, I mean this from the bottom of my heart. Stop right now." Y/n demands with a voice chilling enough for Charles to nod understanding that is her putting a stop to it.

-

Y/n looks at Max who is standing in his garage look at her while speaking to his mechanics who notices his gaze redirecting and give up their conversation to let Max speak to the young Leclerc who has been at the forefront of his attention any time she's in the same room.

"Hello, schat." Max greets as she walks over.

It's a new nickname that started in messages during the brief weekend break between the Jeddah race and travelling to Australia. It means treasure in Dutch and she can't hide her burning face.

"Can I ask you something?" Y/n asks making Max shift slightly closer. "Can we go somewhere else?"

Max frowns but nods and gestures for them to go to his driver's room where she walks with him following and before they know it.

"Charles thinks that we might like each other. Which I want to know as well...I need to know." Y/n states making Max look at her for a moment before he smiles a little, amusement sparkling in those eyes before he waits for her to speak again. "Do you want to date? Like be my boyfriend?"

"Will Charles kill me?"

"No. He might try, but I doubt he'll succeed." Y/n murmurs before she is gently pulled forward toward her and the long-awaited kiss is exchange with Max's hands on her waist, where in private they have been finding a new home as he keeps his hands placed there. "So it's official."

"It's official. No hiding it. I will handle Charles...and Arthur if I have to." Max smiles showing his rare slightly cocky side that he has no shame in showing when it comes to y/n.

-

Rather than throwing the surprise onto Charles, this time y/n feels a confidence in her new relationship that gives her the poke she needs to just go ahead to do whatever she needs.

"Charles..." Y/n murmurs as she sits across from him for breakfast at the hotel.

"Yes?" Charles hums, very obviously distracted by something.

"Max is my boyfriend."

"I fucking knew it." Charles mutters tossing his phone down on the table with an unimpressed expression. "I'm not ok with this."

"I'm not asking for your permission, I'm an adult Charles...I'd prefer you to be happy for me. But if you aren't then I guess, I'll just deal with it." Y/n shrugs before she stands up. "I just thought I'd let you know since I didn't want you to discover it in the same way you found out I moved to Red Bull."

It stings them both, her not getting his support and him feeling the jab about her leaving the team he's spent his career loyal and spoken so highly about.

"Y/n...I'm sorry." Charles states turning to speak to her but she's gone and instead he turns back to Andrea who witnessed the whole thing and looks at Charles with admitted disappointment.

"You cannot keep expecting her to make herself a second priority to keeping you happy, Charles. You will push her away." Andrea sighs, not being able to contain his opinion anymore. He can't watch two siblings who were so close, he's watched y/n grow up even more than he's watched Charles grow up and she has spent her life admiring her older brother with shiny big eyes and an unwavering need to live up to the standard that he's set for them. "Have you see just how happy she is with Max?"

Charles has definitely seen the smile and joy in his sister's whole being when she's around Max. She just glows and radiates happiness with him. Max also seems so well fitted with her and in fact the Red Bull team is treating y/n better than Ferrari Academy treats any of their drivers.

-

Y/n and Max being official means Max can finally stop withholding any urge to make small gestures or touches. However, her distance from Charles through the weekend has been noticed and with people noticing her and Max's behaviour with one another. There's rumours churning out of the mill that are making their rounds both in the paddock and online.

"And here we have the newest Red Bull junior driver. Y/n Leclerc, thank you for joining us." Karun smiles as she joins them for the race Sunday. "You are here supporting Red Bull, but are you still secretly here for another certain Red team?"

"We can see you are dressed for Red Bull, you're here with the team." Naomi adds making her nod looking down at her uniform.

"I am obviously here to support Red Bull, they are my team. I want them to win and I think there's a small chance of them not doing well. But Charles is family, I wouldn't be where I am today without his support and I want to see him become a champion. To do that, he's got to have a race win. I don't see why he can't start here." Y/n smiles before she jumped when two hands find her waist. "Merde, Max."

"Max, we were just discussing y/n's support of you." Karun states clearly surprised by Max's appearance while Naomi looks like she wants to ask what everyone currently wants to ask but is just too fearful of offending one of them.

"Just ask." Y/n smiles looking at Naomi as Max is handed a mic and stands beside her.

"Are the two of you possibly dating?" Naomi asks almost sounding like she feels some relief in getting to ask.

"Yes. But it happened after I joined the team, so no I didn't use Max to get this seat."

"No. I can confirm that Helmut would not do that sort of thing for me." Max nods while the two hosts smile though Max is quickly grabbed by some Red Bull media assistants and has to toss his mic to the sky team, though he jogs back to kiss y/n's cheek before he leaves. "Bye, schat."

"Bye." Y/n laughs then pulling a slightly embarrassed face since she wasn't expecting even just a kiss on the cheek. "I think he's enjoying that new privilege a little too much."

"I think the two of you are about to break f1 internet." Naomi laughs then deciding to change topic. "I can't wait to see two Leclerc's on the grid very soon and potentially in a title battle with each other from two different teams."

"That's a lot of confidence in me."

"I think Red Bull is a history making team, you being the first women since 1976 to get on the grid and in a fighting position is not out the question."

Y/n smiles trying not to waver at the thought of fighting against Charles for a title. By that point he might have already won one. Or maybe he'll have left Ferrari? Who knows?

-

To say the Australia race had a bad start for Charles would be an understatement. Y/n is certain he didn't even hit the 30 second mark before he seemed to bounce off of Stroll and into the gravel trap.

Y/n can't stop herself from going to see him once he's back in the paddock. Though following that the race is red flagged by Alex losing his car and crashing out sending a lot of gravel onto the track and apparently being bad enough for the race to be called to a stop.

"It's not the end of the world." Y/n tries once Charles is back from the media pit. but Charles anger is getting the better of him and he has to vent to someone.

"I cannot drive that car. The understeer is impossible to control." Charles exclaims as they sit in his driver's room and y/n grimaces knowing that of the first 3 races in the season. Charles has now DNF'd 2 of them. "I should've had the podium in Bahrain. I could've got through the pack for a podium here. But I am out the race again."

"Charles, it is early in the season. You have time to improve. Remember that Red Bull's cars last year had the worst time at the start of the season. You do not need to write off the year yet."

"I am going back to the garage. I don't even want to talk about it...thank you for coming to see me."

"I'll always come and check on you...you're still family even if you're being a bit of a dick by not supporting me."

Charles looks hurt by her words but the two leave and Y/n gets out to the pitman, bumping into Max in the garage as he heads inside with the red flag.

"What happened?" Y/n frowns, unaware of the race stopping due to focusing on Charles.

"They have red flagged for gravel on the track. We didn't need to red flag. But they red flag." Max states while y/n internally groans at the fact that both Max and Charles are now annoyed. "Where were you?"

"Charles ended up in the gravel. I had to check on him." Y/n shrugs knowing the driver's at the front don't always need to be informed of who behind them is out of the race.

"Oh, is he ok?"

"Angry. I think he is just feeling a bit defeated about the weekend." Y/n sighs while Max nods. "It's alright, it's not like there's a lot of damage. The red flag will be done soon."

Y/n smiles reassuringly, hoping she can at least bring some comfort to one of the men and thankfully Max seems happy to accept it.

Little did Y/n know that the red flag would be one of three with two very late in the race and honestly it’s questionable for the last red flag to even allow for them to finish the race. It all seems fairly obvious the ronaldo lights out seems to be to completely ruin Carlos’ race and points position.

So y/n spends a lot more race time with Max than she usually would. Not that she was complaining but Max certainly was and he was getting more and more frustrated with every time they stopped.

"I think I should climb in your car in your place and finish the race for you." Y/n jokes while Max looks at her with a smile before he tugs her over to sit in his lap and smiles. "You're going to win the race, we both know it."

"What if I don't?"

"Oh well I'll offer myself to replace you." Y/n hums then grinning at him. "I think Christian would let me take over."

"I think you're right." Max hums before kissing her only for his name to be called for the red flag finally being over. "There is no way there can be another red flag."

"No. If there is then I vote I do just get in and finish the race for you."

"I really will let you." Max grunts as they stand up and move out of his driver's room.

-

Imola was cancelled and for F2 the Barcelona race followed next which went pretty well. But the big race which she's beyond excited for is her home race. Monaco. She didn't get to see Max while she was in Barcelona so being back in Monaco, outside of race prep she's been spending time with him.

Arthur and Charles are honouring their home race with a tribute helmet to their dad in the Monaco red and white colours. Meanwhile, y/n is taking another route in the inspiration behind her home helmet design.

Her usual helmet is bright pink because she's unapologetic in her love of the colour. But this time she's taken Max's iconic helmet design and made it all pink, different shades varying to replace all the colours but Max actually looked so touched by the gesture that he asked for a replica the moment she took it out the bag.

"Here we have-oh isn't that cute?" Ted chuckles seeing y/n in her pink helmet with Max lifting the visor wiggling his finger at her while they are too caught up with each other to notice the cameras on them ahead of the F2 practice. "For anyone who doesn't know, y/n's helmet is Max's exact design, without the sponsors, but entirely pink. She talked about it and said that she wants to embody his race success but she had to put her own twist on the design and Max-Max who has been very hush hush about the relationship. He did comment about it and said that he loves the helmet more than anything else about the Monaco race weekend."

Y/n does well until she causes a red flag when her brakes fail and she crashes at the swimming pool chicane of all places. Since she couldn't slow down the impact was pretty bad and in a moment of panic seeing his sister not really moving around much to make an effort to get out her car, Arthur stops his car to climb out and check on her.

"Y/n?" Arthur questions as the marshalls begin to shout in a panic of him climbing out.

"I'm ok. That was big." Y/n winces while Arthur reaches in helping her undo her seatbelts. Her breaths are pretty hard, clearly winded from the impact.

The medical delegate appears moving to help aid her and Arthur ends up in the medical car with her while she is taken to the make shift medical centre.

Since it's a Thursday for the F2 practice, Max and Charles both rush to get there too knowing that y/n was in enough pain to not manage much of a radio message to give the ok.

When the two get there though, she's not impressed and her pain is replaced with embarrassment and frustration as the medic gives her the ok to leave.

"I'm fine. Leave me alone." Y/n huffs stepping around the two men appear at the doorway of the room.

Charles is wise enough to leave her while Max is also wise enough to follow her. Knowing that one of them has to go after her and clearly Charles doesn't want to.

"Y/n, it was only a practice and the brakes failing is beyond your control."

Y/n's eyes are filled with tears as she wrinkles her nose and he sighs pulling her against himself. There's definitely a combination over emotions just overwhelming her right now and Max knows that the crash itself near the bottom of her list of reasons.

"It's ok, I crashed there and my career wasn't over. I've crashed here many times." Max states while squeezing her. "Do you want to come to the Red Bull garage and see a surprise I have for you?"

"I want to hide from everyone and never be seen in public again." Y/n murmurs before looking up and immediately being kissed without much warning but she's certainly not going to complain. "Ok...I want to see a surprise."

Max leads her to the garage and shows her upstairs before he shows her the helmet bag and a helmet that looks like an odd mash up of blue, white, yellow and red. It takes her a couple moments to realise that he's taken her usual helmet design and put his own helmet colours on it.

"Shut up. Stop. Stop it right now." Y/n pouts beginning to feel tears escape but this time for the best reasons. "I can't believe you did this...Max..."

"I like your design, but I think I may need to wait to test out the pink helmet...so I added my own colours."

-

Charles both loved and hated the matching helmets. Seeing y/n gushing over Max's helmet and posting constantly in her own helmet. Charles did make a comment about her helmet being a big improvement on Max's choice of colour scheme. He couldn't help himself.

Y/n's qualifying went better than her practice and following that the sprint and feature races went well. She broke the Leclerc Monaco curse with a P2. Not the worst result, but not the best which meant she was a little harsher on herself than most people thought was fair.

But she was more bothered about seeing the F1 race where admittedly she's annoyed seeing Charles lost his top 3 position due to a penalty for impeding. There's no arguing it but it doesn't stop how annoying it is.

When she watches Max take the win, the radio message actually leaves her running down to the podium awaiting for her boyfriend.

"This win was for y/n." Max states through the radio and when he spots y/n waiting for him with his team, she lifts his visor kissing her fingers and passing the kiss to his cheek.

"You were amazing. As always." Y/n states while Max hugs her with one of his famous hugs that get attention and cry out about how amazing it must be to be on the receiving end of it.

It's not till later that Charles sees the footage and when he does. He's finally forced to confront the truth.

That his little sister and Max might be the perfect pair and that her signing to Red Bull will probably be seen as the best thing that y/n ever did for her career. It's more annoying than hurtful that she's happier now than he's ever seen her. Annoying in the sense that it has to be his rival team and his rival competitor that managed to bring her so much joy and success.

Realistically, of all the drivers. There is worse that she could choose to potentially spend her life with. Max is a nice guy and he clearly adores y/n as much as she adores him.

#f1 #fanfic #formula 1 #max verstappen #red bull racing #max verstappen one shot #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #mv1 x reader #mv1 imagine #mv1 one shot #mv1 x y/n #mv1 x you #mv1 #mv33 #mv33 one shot #mv33 x reader #mv33 imagine #mv33 x you #red bull #red bull f1 #formula one #f1 2023 #f2reader #f2

[gentlyweeps-world]

The “It Girl”

summary: Being a rookie in the world of Formula One comes with challenges, added on with the fact you’re a girl, American and racing for Red Bull doesn’t help. While you do have your “guard dogs” and “it girl” tendencies, it doesn’t help that you’re also trying to figure out romance.

pairing: 2021 grid x fem! driver, romantic interest tbd

warnings: sexism, alcohol consumption, toxic environments, uncomfortable situations

LIGHTS OUT AND AWAY WE GO

Many had said the 2021 grid was the best, the most exciting grid yet. While that was true, it wasn’t fun as a rookie in Red Bull, better yet, a female rookie in Red Bull. But that wasn’t the end of it, an American female rookie racing for Red Bull.

Least to say PR had a field day when they announced you would be replacing Checo after his retirement in 2020.

At only 21 years old you were making history, and you were once again today. Finishing P1 on home soil at the circuit of Americas.

Now here you were, alongside Max Verstappen, your teammate, and Lewis Hamilton, the break in between the two Red Bulls.

“Y/n how do you look so good after a race?”

“Y/n what makeup do you use?”

Only ten minutes ago did the end of race press conference start, and only five minutes did the most sexist and offensive questions start. And only seconds ago is when you were put out of your daze from the most infuriating question you had received.

“Y/n? How do you race while menstruating?”

Suddenly knocked out of your daze, your face contorts into one of shock and annoyance from the question.

“E-excuse me?”, You ask out shocked, not sure if you had heard the question right. I mean after all this was a post race conference, and not one question was about racing.

You glance over to Lewis and Max, who both look equally upset and disgusted.

The interviewer looks at you and smiles while he asks once more, “Can you tell us about how racing while having to deal with menstruation affects race strategy in your car?”

Max and Lewis still have a confused look, while Max looks at the interviewer like he will rip the guy’s head off.

The interviewer smiles and says, “Don’t be offended L/n, but girls and women on their period don’t think as fast or as clearly.” He then pauses for a moment to think about what he’s just said, and he adds, “Of course, it doesn’t matter anyway, women don’t belong in F1.”

You can feel your face contort to bewilderment, taking a moment to realize this interviewer was from DTS. Then you hear Max slap his hand on the table.

“She just got fucking P1 and you expect her to answer these ridiculous questions? Treat her with some respect, she’s done more than you have!”, Max says sternly, his eyes shooting daggers at the interviewer.

The interviewer grows visibly intimidated by Maxs reaction. He swallows twice and his tone visibly changes

“I-I’m sorry, I just had to ask.”

Lewis then speaks up and says to the interviewer, “I want you to listen to what you just said and think about what you just did. Women aren’t allowed to drive just because they are on their period, do you even hear yourself?” Lewis sounds genuinely sad.

Max remains silent, but his eyes are still angry. Instead of adding anything onto the conversation you just sit there, shock still on your face.

You let out an awkward cough, drinking some of you Red Bull, you clear your throat and look up towards the interviewers, annoyance clear in your eyes.

“Could we please move on now? Maybe ask a racing related question”, You say, showing no interest in being there.

For a few seconds, there is complete silence. Then a new interviewer finally manages to speak.

“Of course, a new question. So, Y/n, how do you feel about being the second woman to win a Grand Prix in Formula One?”

A faint smile appears on your face as you hear the question, “About time, a normal question”, You hear Max mumble out, a grin tugs at your lips, thankful Max has your back.

“It feels great, I’m super grateful for my team and engineers”, You say, “But very thankful to win, glad to have proved all of the doubters wrong”

Another reporter then pipes up and asks, “How did you feel about the backlash from a lot of people who didn’t want a woman in F1?”

You take a moment to think on how to respond, taking a moment to consider how much trouble you could get in if you answered honestly, but that was PR jobs right?

“Uh..well I think they’re fucking stupid, and they clearly don’t know who Desiré Wilson is”, You state, a small smirk on your face as you answer, knowing DTS will eat that up.

For a moment everyone is silent, until Lewis breaks out laughing, “I think this would be a great way to end this conference”, He says with a grin, getting up from his seat and moving out of the room. Max soon follows behind, and you’re quick to follow Max, not sure what to do afterwards.

As Max and you make your way back to the garage you hear chants and jeers thrown out, but it wasn’t enough to wipe off the smile on your face.

Finally reaching the Red Bull garage, Max and you get there and are immediately bombarded with cheers, laughter and applause from the Red Bull team.

After a good hour of celebrating with the team, you feel your phone vibrate in your hand, “Who is it?”, Max asks, curious to see who texted you.

Checking the notification it’s from an unknown number, asking if you wanted to go and celebrate with them, you look up at Max with confusion, but his face shows the opposite.

“Didn’t know he would be asking you so soon..”, Max says with a look of shock.

———————————————————————

radio: Hope this was a good one, im quite excited to work on this series!! I’m leaving it up to you guys to pick a love interest in the comments, keep in mind the grid is 2021 not 2023 💙💙 (send in any requests and leave any comments)

next part

#formula one #formula 1 #forumla 1 #williams f1 #williams racing #alex albon #lando norris #f1 x female reader #f1 wags #red bull f1 #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 #f1 fanfic #mercedes amg f1 #ferrari x reader #ferrari racing #red bull racing #red bull formula 1 #formula one x driver reader #x female reader #f1 2021 #lando norris x reader #formula one x reader #formula 1 x reader #mclaren #alpha tauri #aston martin #fics

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。10:07 PM — AL-HAITHAM.

al-haitham asks you to marry him before he even realizes himself what he’s just asked. it’s a random tuesday night. you’re in worn out pajamas, he’s still got slight damp hair from his shower, and the both of you are curled up on the couch.

you’re rubbing his chest and his arm’s wrapped around your waist when you murmur, “we should get a place with more windows.”

he raises a brow, turns to look at you and scan over the side of your face. it’s familiar, the way you look so pretty under the dim light, on the same couch against the same walls in the same living room. but it’ll still feel like the first time even if it’ll be his last.

“is the design of our current home not up to your standards?” he asks, making you giggle.

“it’s nice,” you hum, “but it needs more windows. and a bigger kitchen. and maybe a backyard.”

“this home is conveniently close to our place of work,” he argues, fingers creeping up from under your shirt and rubbing circles into your hip. it’s soft—your skin, it’s warm and familiar under the rough pad of his thumb. it’s a touch that’s routine enough that you don’t squirm in surprise anymore when he finds your bare skin, and then he wonders for a moment if there are other routines waiting for him.

maybe he’ll watch you wait for him through the window as he comes home. maybe you’ll dance in the kitchen as coffee’s being made. maybe there’ll be picnics in the backyard as the sun sets. maybe, when you have a new house but the same home, he’ll find more of you in the walls and the corners of every room.

“haitham,” you huff, “a little extra walk won’t kill you. we should find our dream home.”

“our?” he asks after a moment, like he’s shocked. you only nod against his chest.

“of course, silly,” you chuckle, “i certainly won’t be house shopping with the general mahamatra—”

“we should get married,” he blurts.

“what?”

“my grandmother left a ring,” he instantly explains, “it’s a very nice ring, i promise. you won’t have to worry about having a bare finger—”

“that’s not what i meant—”

“and it can be a small ceremony,” he assures, “it shouldn’t take much planning. but if you’d like something fancier, i don’t mind either, it’s your wedding day just as much as it is mine—”

“that’s sweet, but wait—”

“and if you’re worried about time off for the honeymoon, as the former acting grand sage, there’s still a few strings i can pull for us both. i hear inazuma is nice during spring, so that gives us—”

he’s rambling. he’s figuring it out right here and now and it’s the last thing you expect of him, not having an elaborate plan—and it takes you by surprise. but he’s breathless and his eyes are wide and his chest is warm and his arm is still wrapped tightly around your waist.

and you couldn’t dream of saying no.

“you think you want all this?” you ask gently, “with little old me?”

“there’s no one but you,” he mumbles, holding you closer. and if there’s a slight bounce in his knee as he waits for your answer, you pretend you don’t notice.

“so you want to get married?”

“i want to marry you,” he corrects, “i want you. marriage is just the means of how.”

“okay,” you say with a hitch in your throat. after a moment of silence, you let out a shaky chuckle, eyes watery as you meet his. “okay. let’s get married.”

“okay,” he nods slightly, swallowing thickly.

“and we can have a house with more windows,” you add.

“and a bigger kitchen,” he agrees.

“and a backyard.”

“maybe a bigger study,” he adds thoughtfully.

you grab his face at that, with enough desperation that his cheeks are squished in your hands as you turn him, pressing your lips to his. you taste him, feel him pass through you as a breath of air, hear him ring through your ear as a muffled grunt.

he’s a part of you. he’s every inch of you. he lingers on your skin and knits into your bones. he’s yours now and somehow….somehow he’ll be yours forever.

“i’m going to get married,” you sniffle. “how exciting.”

“i’m going to marry you,” he murmurs, like he’s still processing the fact that you’re here, and his, and you’ve said yes.

“i love you,” you giggle, pressing your forehead to his.

his eyes close and his arm squeezes you gently. “i’ll always love you.”

edit: everyone stop fucking commenting about the authors note it was a joke and the comments are getting old :/ why don’t you actually leave feedback on the fic itself for once and show writers some support as you consume content

you people don’t fucking understand how insanely in love with him i am i want to make a fur coat out of his pubic hair and wear it on a cold winter day idc

#i had a dream about this so i woke up and wrote it and now i’m going back to sleep #teepods.writings #drabbles. #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x you #alhaitham fluff #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin fluff #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact fluff

[cyberp-1-nk]

PLAYFIGHTING WITH THEM + OBEY ME BROTHERS.

☆ Masterlist / Requests?

SYNOPSIS: How they'd react to play-fighting with you!

PAIRINGS. Lucifer x Reader, Mammon x Reader, Leviathan x Reader, Satan x Reader, Asmodeus x Reader, Beelzebub x Reader, Belphegor x Reader.

GENRE + WARNINGS. Honestly, nothing too bad? Just slight NSFW, but that's about it, it's mostly just fluff overall. I'll do a part two for the undateables!

LUCIFER ! 

☆ He thinks it's immature, and he quietly convinces you to just cuddle since it's been such a long day— you usually can never get this man to "fight" with you since he finds it a bit immature.  The only time you'd actually get him to play-fight with you is if he's drinking a little more demonus then he should. You wouldn't even expect it either— He would come home extremely tipsy, and playfully tackle you onto the bed, pinning you down with a little drunken chuckle. You laughed and wriggled, trying to break free, but Lucifer was too strong. It'll be soft nudges from him, and that rare yet playful, mischievous glint in his eyes will be very evident— you'd take a picture if he'd ever let you. The playfighting wouldn't last very long tho. The rest of the night would be just nearly incoherent confessions to you. How truly beautiful/handsome he finds you, how cute you are without realizing it, how much of an effect you have on him— just general things he'd never outright admit when he's sober. Threading his gloved fingers in your hair while he presses drunken kisses to your lips, and it's just pure bliss.

MAMMON ! 

☆ Will definitely play-fight with you. This greedy dork will even try to turn into a bet— whoever wins, gets a ridiculous amount of grimm. Knowing DAMN well he has a physical advantage over you! If you want to win this little bet, and add onto his debt, just play dirty— Mammon starts tickling your sides, causing you to squirm and giggle uncontrollably. Soon, you were both laughing like idiots, your bodies tangled up in the sheets as they playfully wrestled. He manages to pin you down, his strong arms holding you in place as you try to wriggle free. "No fair!" You cried, laughing so hard that tears were streaming down your face. "You're too strong!" He just grinned down at her, his own laughter filling the air. "Of course! Nobody is a match for the great Mammon–" You trail your fingers up his shirt, feeling up his toned body and wiping that smug grin right off his face. Red blush will appear onto his face, and this gives you the opportunity to flip him under you. He will say you're cheating, and how it's not fair, but do you listen? Nope! 

LEVIATHAN ! 

☆ Majority of the time, he's far too shy to even touch you— so he'd let you win…not by choice, he just has an overwhelming blush and it's hard to fight back when he wants nothing more than to just lean into your touch. He doesnt wanna fight his favorite Normie! Levi couldn't help but grin back at your cute little face, feeling his heart swell with affection for his silly, playful little human. "You're such a normie," he said, running his fingers through your hair. You leaned down and captured his lips in a gentle kiss, your body relaxing into his as you sat on top of his lap, overpowering him. You both lay there for a few moments, wrapped up in each other's arms, enjoying the warmth and comfort of your love. Right as you're nuzzling yourself against his flushed skin, he'll take this opportunity to suddenly grab both of your wrists and flip you over. You swear you hear him purring as he rubs his scent all over your body— he even leaves a gentle little bite at the juncture of your neck. He's blushing immensely, but he's trying his best to seem like he knows what he's doing.

SATAN !

☆ Did you really just pick a fight with the avatar of wrath? That's a dangerous game you're playing.. Luckily for you though, he will find the playful banter amusing. He'll probably join as you pull him onto your bed. It was late at night, and the two of you were supposed to be sleeping. But neither of you could resist the urge to playfully wrestle on the bed, giggling and whispering as you tried to pin each other down. As you rolled around, trying to be quiet so as not to wake up his brothers, you suddenly heard a soft thud. Looking up, you saw the cat Satan had been hiding from Lucifer, the cat had jumped onto the bed and was now staring at you both curiously. "Hello there," Satan whispered, reaching out to pet the cat. But as he did so, you took advantage of the distraction and managed to pin him down. "Ha! Gotcha!" You whispered triumphantly, grinning down at the demon with confidence. He laughed and squirmed, trying to break free, but he pretended as if your grip was too strong. "Okay, okay, you win," he whispered, his voice filled with laughter. But just as they thought they were safe, the cat started purring loudly and rubbing his face against Satan's arm. You burst out laughing, your body shaking with amusement. "I think he's trying to help you out," you said, still giggling. Satan laughed a bit, before quickly pressing kisses against your neck, tickling you with how light they were.

ASMODEUS ! 

☆ Egh— he doesn't really like to rough-house with you. You know how Asmo is, he's a little against that sort of stuff, since he doesn't really want to ruin his appearance in any way? He has a reputation to uphold! Even if you do play-fight, it will be gentle and quick— and it usually ends with him letting you sit on top of his lap. Finally, you managed to flip Asmo onto his back, pinning him down with a mischievous grin. "Ha! Gotcha now," you teased. He only chuckled and squirmed, his body wriggling beneath yours. "Okay, okay, you win," he said, his eyes sparkling with amusement. But as you looked down at him, you noticed the way his gaze lingered on your face, his eyes darkening with desire. "What?" You asked, feeling a blush creeping up your cheeks. Asmo just grinned up at you, his hands resting on your hips. "You know, you look really cute when you're on top of me like this," he said, his voice smooth and flirtatious. This ends in something less child-friendly then you originally anticipated, but Asmo is horny 24/7 so did you really expect anything else?

BEELZEBUB ! 

☆ Probably the most gentle— and sweet. He usually lets you win, unless you promise to buy him dinner if he wins— then he'll be a little more rough and pin you down. It's adorable how he nibbles on your skin occasionally, and leans into your touch. "Hey, no fair!" You protested, but your desperate protests were cut off as he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your cheek. "Mmm, you taste like strawberries," Beel murmured, pressing another kiss to your other cheek. "And flowers." You couldn't help but smile at the sweet words, feeling your heart swell with affection for Beel. As he continued to shower you with kisses, each one soft and gentle, your body relaxed into the bed, feeling safe and loved in his arms. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of kisses, Beel pulled back, grinning down at you. "You're so cute," He said, brushing his fingers through your hair. "I could kiss you all day." You blushed, feeling your cheeks warm at the compliment. "You're pretty cute yourself," you replied, reaching up to return Beel's kiss.

BELPHEGOR ! 

☆ You usually do this when you're trying to wrestle him out of bed— or to get him to let go of you when you need to go somewhere. This jealous little prick WILL wrestle you just so he can keep you with him— you're his human, why should he have to share you? You were lying in bed together, enjoying each other's company. You had to go somewhere, but Belphie wasn't ready to let you go just yet. As you tried to get up, he playfully grabbed your arm and pulled you back down onto the bed. "Belphie, I have to go," you protested with a smile. "Can't you stay a little longer?" Belphie asked, a mischievous gleam in his eye. You giggled as Belphie started tiredly tickling your sides, making you squirm and laugh uncontrollably. You tried to push him away, but he was too strong for you. "Belphie, stop it!" You gasped out between laughs. But Belphie just grinned and continued his playful assault, holding you down on the bed so that you couldn't escape. You squirmed and wriggled, trying to break free, but Belphie was having too much fun. Finally, after a few minutes of tickling and wrestling, Belphie relented, letting you catch your breath. You lay there panting, your hair mussed and your cheeks flushed from laughter. "Okay, okay, I'll stay a little longer," you said, smiling up at Belphie. Belphie grinned back, pulling you into a tight embrace. "Good, because I don't think I'm ready to let you go just yet."

#obey me x reader #obey me x mc #obey me nightbringer x mc #obey me nightbringer x reader #lucifer x reader #mammon x reader #leviathan x reader #satan x reader #asmodeus x reader #beelzebub x reader #belphegor x reader #lucifer x mc #mammon x mc #leviathan x mc #satan x mc #asmodeus x mc #beelzebub x mc #belphegor x mc #mammon x gender neutral reader #obey me x gender neutral reader