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natailiatulls07 · 6 months

Note

Hi Ivan you please do teenage reader is Jules bianchi daughter and Charles raised her as he’s her godfather and she’s his pride and joy and grew up basically at the paddock so all the drivers knew her and are like uncles to her and there all wrapped around her finger cause of how sweet she is ( she’s like sunshine ) and can you do them and Charles reaction to her getting her first boyfriend?

Marguerite

Jules Bianchi x Daughter!reader

Charles Leclerc x little sister!reader

Summary - Charles’ little sister, is now dating but that’s not much of a celebration to her brother and the three other drivers

Warnings - swearing in french, probably horrible french translations lmao, Jules Bianchi's death, funeral

A/n - Charles and Y/n aren’t blood related but consider each other brother and sister

Marguerite

2015

Front row in Nice Cathedral sat Y/n Bianchi. She was dressed in a lacy black dress, her hair in curls tied up in a half up half down hairstyle. Beside her was Charles Leclerc, her older brother. He kept glancing over at the nine year old girl.

In front of them sat her fathers coffin surrounded with daisies, his favourite flower. It was also what Jules nicknamed Y/n.

'Marguerite'

She was playing with the lace, this isn't the right place for a nine year old to be. Outside were a plethora of media and press, ready to capture the drivers attending the funeral, Jules' coffin or Y/n Bianchi. There was little to no pity for the young girl on this hard for her from the media or press.

"Charlie?" Y/n's small and unsure voice pulled his attention to her. "Who are all these people?" Pointing to the many people attending the funeral around the cathedral, Y/n made a face of confusion.

Charles was quick to look around the cathedral. "They are here to pay their respect to papa...just like us" He took a deep breath, trying to keep composure for the nine year old. "Papa is a very loved and respected man by many"

Y/n knew of the love and respect her father had, but still couldn't understand that. "But they didn't know him like we do?" It was true, these people don't know Jules like his daughter and godson does.

They didn't know that he was doing formula one for Y/n, they didn't know that he was both terrified and proud of Charles for following in his path. They didn't know this stuff, personal stuff.

The Monégasque loved how observant she was, he loved that she could seperate personal love and platonic love. "That's why you don't need to give them anything today, just focus on loving and saying goodbye to papa..." Nodding her head, Y/n listened to Charles' request.

"Focus on papa..."

2023

After Jules' death, Charles' practically adopted his daughter. Only a couple months after the funeral, Y/n moved in with Charles. He became her legal guardian.

Y/n, now seventeen years old, was sat at a lunch table with Alex, Charles' current girlfriend and Rebecca, Carlos' current girlfriend. On any race weekend, she would attach herself mostly to the two girls and looked up to them a lot .

"So babes any more news on that boy, what was his name? Tom?" Alex asked curiously. With Charles being Y/n's legal guardian, Alex would take on the role of big sister and would give anything to talk about the seventeen years olds love life.

"Oh my god yeah! Has it moved any more from the dms?" Rebecca would chime in, she was also a great lover of listening about Y/n's love life.

"Well..." Y/n dragged this bit out, seeing how anticipated the two older women were getting. "We've been on a few dates, Charlie doesn't know though"

Both Alex and Rebecca were quick to gasp, drawing the attention of those around them before snickering slightly. "Oh and when I asked what we were, he said that I'm his and he's mine!"

All three females were grinning at that last piece of information and Alex was about to say something when the two ferrari boys had made their arrival at the table. Both dressed in the racing suits, red head to toe.

"What we talking about ladies?" Charles asked excitedly, giving Alex a quick peck on the lips before checking on his adopted sister who was trying her hardest not to laugh.

"Oh nothing! Just asking Y/n how she's finding college at the moment..." The oldest of the ladies, Rebecca, spoke up and quickly covered up their previous conversation with a lie.

Y/n let out a nervous laugh, glad that Rebecca had managed to cover it all up. "Yeah, it um...great at the moment, love it"

She was about to say something else but Charles was quick and swift to step in and essential boost about the girls success in college. "Better than great! Marguerite is at the top of her class, studying media and communication!"

'Marguerite'

It warmed Y/n's heart to know that Charles had carried on her papas legacy.

"Oh wow! Go on Y/n!" The tall spanard celebrated, clearing proud of her success much like his teammate. "Top of the class! You really are a smart lady, you gonna conquer the world!"

The whole table laughed at Carlos’ enthusiasm to praise the seventeen year olds success in her studies.

It was two am in the morning, Charles and Alex were asleep in their room however the teenager was not.

No, she was pulling on her Jordans. Wearing a white and baby pink tracksuit, Y/n grabbed her phone before quickly and quietly rushing to the front door of the apartment.

She was going to hang out at Toms house, yet Charles still didn’t know. Also the Monégasque had a curfew for Y/n, two am was much past that curfew by now.

Y/n went to unlock the apartment door but when she accidentally dropped her keys on the hardwood floors, she panicked. The walls are paper thin.

Of course this meant that she had woken up Charles and Alex. “Fuck!” Y/n quietly cursed herself for ruining her plan.

As she went to pick up the keys, the hallway light flickered on. “Y/n? What are you doing up?” It was Charles. “And dressed?”

“C-Charlie…hi” He gave her a confused expression, clearly not oblivious to her nervousness.

“Y/n what’s going on?” Charles asked again, more firm now.

“I um…nothing” Y/n replied to his question horribly, it was evident that she was lying. He held a intimidating glance over the girl, prompting her to open up and spill. “I was sneaking out! I’m sorry Charlie!” She pleaded.

“Where to? A party?”

“No…um my boyfriends house…” She knew it would come out eventually so it was better to rip off the bandaid and fast.

Silence filled the hallway, Charles looked shocked and unsure of how to react whilst Y/n felt ashamed and anxious.

Another voice filled the air, Alex. “How about we all go to bed, yeah? Talk about this in the morning” She waited for the two to nod, Y/n much quicker than Charles but he did still nod. “Y/n, I suggest you text Tom and tell him you can’t come over”

“Okay…” Charles look even more shocked and angry when he realised that Alex must of known about this the whole time.

Waking up the next morning, Y/n could hear distant voices from the kitchen. Getting out of bed and making her way to the kitchen, the voices became more identifiable.

There were four, all with various accents. Monégasque, Spanish, British and finally Dutch. That could mean only four people.

As she walked into the kitchen dining room, it was confirmed to Y/n that she had Charles, Carlos, Lando and Max there, all seemingly waiting for her.

"Morning..." It hadn't seemed to click in her mind as to why they were all there staring at her disapprovingly.

It was only when she realised that Alex was not there and the usual bubbily behaviour the men would have was no where to be seen that the penny dropped. "Oh..."

"You wanna tell the guys whats happened?" The sarcastic tone Charles had set the tone for the rest of the conversation. Plus it was bullshit. The Monégasque would have already told them the whole story, it was evident on their faces.

"Go on Y/n, do tell..." The third time world champion pushed.

Looking down, Y/n had now instantly found her acrylic nalls very interesting. "I was sneaking out...and Charles caught me..." The seventeen year old mumbled.

"Where were you sneaking out to?"

"My boyfriends place..." The girl finally looked up and was met once again with disappointed facial expressions. "I'm sorry, I know you like me dating but he's a really sweet guy..." Y/n tried to reason with them but before anyone else could say anything, there was a knock on the front door.

"I'll get it and you." Charles got up from his seat, pointing to Y/n. "You are still not off the hook." He was quick to make his way to the front door whilst Carlos, Max and Lando spoke to Y/n a little bit more, slightly softer now.

However, their conversation was cut short rather quickly when they heard Charles shout. "You got to be fucking kidding me!"

Turns out Tom had decided to come over, expecting only Y/n to be home. So now he was being dragged into the kitchen dining room by his shirts neck line. "Carlos, Max and Lando meet the boyfriend. Go on introduce yourself."

Tom and Y/n locked eyes, his more panicked and hers more guilty. "Charlie come on, let him go! He hasn't done anything wrong!" The twenty six year old did thankfully listen to her, but dropped the boy to the ground in the process.

“Except violate our Marguerites innocent mind” Lando snapped back, truly believing that Y/n’s mind was completely innocent.

The young boys hands went up in defence, smirking slightly. He knew that Y/n was far from innocent. “Oh don’t smirk!” The Spaniard caught Toms smirk, and was not happy about it.

It was Maxs turn to speak again. “Okay okay, right Y/n and Tom sit down on the couch” He demanded.

Listening to the Dutch man, the two seventeen year olds were quick to sit down on the couch. Toms hand unconsciously moved to rest on Y/n’s thigh but drew back to his own lap when he felt the sharp glare from all four of the drivers.

“You explain yourself” Max pointed toward the female.

“Me and Tom met through a mutual friend, we’ve been on a few dates and I love him” A deep crimson blush covered her cheeks. Giggling softly.

It was hard for the drivers to stay annoyed at Tom, they could see how happy this one boy made her.

Happiness is all Charles ever wanted for Y/n especially after losing her father. Happiness was something the Monégasque always deeply prioritised whilst raising his little sister.

“He makes me happy…Charlie please”

That same deep blush covered Toms cheeks, he was still a young and awkward teen. “Oh I didn’t know that…you love me?”

They were like love sick puppies, anyone could tell even if they were blind or deaf. “Yeah of course I do…”

This stumped Charles, Max, Lando and Carlos. They wanted to be angry at Tom but they simply couldn’t. Why? Because it was obvious how happy and loved Y/n felt with Tom.

“Putain!” Cursed Charles. How is he meant to be angry now? “You know, you are really making it hard for us to be angry at you”

Lando nodded in agreement. “Yeah fuck you for that guys”

A smirk cracked through Y/n’s rosey cheeks, well aware of what was happening. She knew full well that they weren’t annoyed at them anymore.

“So does this mean that you approve?” As soon as Y/n asked the question, Tom became confident once again and moved his hand back to her thigh, caressing it slightly.

All the older men just groaned, knowing that they’d just have to endure with the relationship. It was gonna happen eventually, Charles just wished it didn’t come round so soon. “Yes fine, just keep it pg thirteen around us please”

Nodding excitedly, Y/n happily jumped up from the couch before wrapping her arms around Charles hugging him tightly. “Thank you thank you thank you!”

This made him reminisce on when Y/n was younger, hugging was on of her favourite things to, especially with Jules.

Whilst the brother and sister hugged tightly, Tom with his new found confidence also got up. Shaking the hands of the three other drivers.

“You protect her, you hear me.” Carlos warned. Tom was quick in nodding, not wanting to cause any more bad impressions.

And in those moments where Y/ns relationship with Tom could come free, letting them love each other openly and without fear, both Charles and Y/n could feel Jules’ presence.

They could feel how he was looking down on them, protecting them, loving them and being their guardian angel.

Watching over his dear godson and his Marguerite.

Marguerite

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sluttywonwoo · 8 months

Text

oct 3rd

bang chan x f!reader

smut mdni; unprotected sex, lil bit of degradation/dumbification

“ready for bed, rockstar?”

chris laughs, shaking his wet curls out with the same towel he’d used to dry his body after showering.

“not quite,” he calls from the bathroom as he hangs the the towel up.

you wrack your brain, going through the steps of his nighttime routine in your head. “what’s left to do?”

he smirks. “you.”

you roll your eyes but giggle as he leaps onto the bed and smothers you with his body weight, not even putting up a fight when he starts yanking at the covers to get the blankets off you.

“i don’t even know why i bother with pajamas,” you complain, again not stopping your boyfriend from unbuttoning the top of your matching set. “i always end up naked anyway.”

“i know,” chris hums. “you should be more like me.”

“yeah? showing myself off shirtless to the whole world all the time?”

he pouts. “that’s not what i meant.”

“i know, i know. but you’re lucky i’m good at sharing, by the way. the amount of pictures of your tits that pop up on my social media feeds would make a lot of girlfriends upset.”

“you know the algorithm curates said feeds based on what you’re interested in, so you’re really just telling on yourself,” chris mumbles, slipping your shorts off along with your underwear.

“who wouldn’t be into your tits? i’m not ashamed!”

“well, they’re all yours, baby.”

“tell that to stays,” you mutter.

he chuckles and strokes your face fondly before pushing his thumb into your mouth to get you to suck on it. “they can look but only you can touch.”

you release his thumb from between your lips with a smug grin.

“lucky me.”

the aforementioned smug grin falters when your boyfriend brings his hand down and starts using that same thumb to rub your clit.

“fuck, chris,” you moan, fingers curling around his wrist.

“god, you’re soaked already… what’s this about?”

“seeing you on stage tonight,” you choke out, “you know what you did.”

“ah, did you like my solo stage, baby?” he taunts.

“fuck you.”

“yeah, i thought you would. didn’t know you’d like it this much though.”

he speeds up and you arch your back, pushing your hips into his touch. he kisses you as he works you to the edge, trying to swallow your moans so you don’t get another noise complaint. chris tries to think about who you’re sharing a wall with tonight. he knows it’s one of the boys because he was the one given all of the room keys to hand out to the members when they checked in but he couldn’t remember which one was supposed to be right next door. was it seungmin? lino? whoever it is, he hopes they're already asleep.

“what is it, baby? are you close?”

you start to nod but then shake your head. “want you,” you whine.

“you have me,” he whispers.

"want you to fuck me," you clarify.

"oh really?"

you tug at his arm, motioning for him to get on top of you. he obliges and you wrap your legs around his waist to pull him even closer. it works but he doesn't slide inside of you just yet. instead, he teases you with it, moving his hips like he would if he were fucking you.

“need me to stretch you out first?” he asks.

“nah, you have to get up early in the morning we should make this quick.”

“how romantic,” he scoffs.

“you felt how wet i was! i don’t need anything else. just your cock.”

he sighs, hanging his head. "fine."

"don't be so dramatic," you murmur. "if you're that torn up about it you can wake me up with your fingers. or use them to push your cum back inside of me after you fuck me."

chris buries his head in your shoulder, whimpering out a quiet "fuck" against your neck as his cock twitches between your legs.

"i love you," he moans.

"i know," you reply. "i love you too."

chan finally pushes into you, just the head at first, but it's enough to get you to moan.

"shh, baby. don't want the neighbors to hear."

you nod in understanding, biting your bottom lip. "sorry."

"s'okay. i know it feels good."

"feels so good, channie," you agree.

he lifts an eyebrow. "channie already? wow, baby, you're even further gone than i thought."

"c-can't help it."

"i know. only takes an inch of cock to turn you into my soft girl, huh?"

"mhm."

"what'll happen if i give you more? are you sure you'll be able to take it?"

you tighten your thighs around chan's hips, trying to force him deeper inside of you. he's much stronger than you, though, and easily resists your efforts.

"i can take it!"

"you sure?"

"yes, i'll be good! i'll be so good!"

"i know you'll be good," chris chuckles. "you're always- almost always good for me. i'm just worried any more of my cock will make you completely brainless."

"so? when has that ever stopped you before?"

"good point."

"please, chris," you beg, tears gathering on your lash line.

"it's back to chris? what happened to channie?"

"i'll call you whatever you want if you fuck me," you promise, moving on from begging to bargaining.

"i don't care what you call me-"

"oh, hyun-"

"except my friends' names," he mutters, scoffing in disbelief. "that desperate you're resorting to brattiness now? i should just pull out and-"

"no, please! i'm sorry!"

"i'm sure you are."

you want to point out that you know he loves it when you're a little bratty, that he gets off on it, but you also know that it won't help your case.

"i'll make it up to you," you say instead.

"yeah? how?"

"you'll find out."

"is it by making me cum?"

you purse your lips. "maybe?"

he rolls his eyes. "fine, but i bet i'll make you cum first."

you offer him your hand and shake on it despite not discussing any terms or stakes.

"you're on."

#hbd channie #stray kids smut #skz smut #bang chan smut #chan smut #bangchan smut #bang chan x reader #bang chan x female reader #christopher bang smut #chris bang smut

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mickyschumacher · 11 months

Note

hi love!! Could you write something about Charles x actress!reader where he gets jealous of one of readers ex boyfriend who’s famous and maybe leads to smut?

(i really hope it makes sense, english is not my first language 😭😭)

thank you !!🩷🩷

𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔 .ೃ࿐

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: jealousy is a disease. and it's latest victim is your boyfriend, charles leclerc.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+ (minors DNI), jealousy obviously, zayn is kind of a dick bless him 😭, unprotected sex (wrap your tippy pls), praise, blowjob, fingering, oral sex, p in v, orgasm denial, mutual orgasms, cumming inside, mentioning power couple tomdaya ♡︎, sucky media as per usual :/

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: charles leclerc x famous actress!fem!reader, ex!zayn malik x reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 4k+

𝐀/𝐍: if i don't get to see charles and zayn in one room irl, i'll just write them in one room if that’s okay :( on another note, i hope this was what you wanted anon! and your english is fine, love. sorry for the wait ♡︎ // questionably written and proof-read on a jetlagged mind

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

⋆ •°. 。 .°• ⋆

There were many things Charles understood well. Family, racing, the politics of racing... but one thing he would never truly understand was how he got you.

The Y/N L/N. An Oscar-winning, multitalented, down-to-earth, and gorgeous actress who had entirely won the public's hearts along with Charles'. The actress who had managed to rule the industry that most were born into.

How on earth had he gotten so lucky?

Charles couldn't deny that he was Ferrari's golden boy nor that he had become a fame athlete. But got you were on another level.

For what it was worth, Charles was a confident man. He thought he cleaned up quite well, he knew his mother raised him right, he knew that charisma itself was scared of him.

Yet, all that confidence came crashing down when it came to your ex.

Zayn Malik.

If Charles could ignore him, he would. But Zayn was everywhere. On his Twitter, on his TikTok, on his Instagram... his fans and your fans especially loved him. Why wouldn't they? He was a literal Greek, well South Asian, god part of arguably one of the best boy band's in history with a voice that had been blessed by Heaven's angels themselves.

When fans questioned why you and Zayn had broken up and you had moved on with an F1 driver, Charles found himself quietly agreeing.

But then he realised that by his side was you. You weren't next to Zayn or anyone else. You were with Charles because you loved him and he loved you. And that was more than enough.

That being said, Charles couldn't help feel a bit maddened at headline he had woken up to this morning.

You let out a small yawn. Sunday mornings were the most calm for you. Especially when you had managed to snag Charles for the week. You turned to your awoken boyfriend with a smile before frowning. "What's on that screen that made you look like this, amour (love)?" You queried, rubbing a finger over the crease between his eyebrows.

Charles looked up from his phone, smiling at the sight of your face. "Nothing, mon amour (my love)," the Monégasque dismissed, pressing a kiss to your forehead before pulling you close to him.

Naturally you would've snuggled yourself into him but you could tell he was upset. "No, Cha. Tell me what's wrong. What can I do to turn that frown upside down? Hmm?" You softly asked, peeking up at him while you rested your head on his chest.

You could feel Charles' body convulse as he let a gentle chuckle pass his lips. "I can never hide anything from you, hmm? It's really nothing, Y/N. Just a stupid headline."

You mended your brows, taking his phone from his hand. If you knew anything about headlines, most of them were never good. Your eyes had captured the photo of your ex first, making you deflate a little. You continued to read the headline that made you and Zayn sound like you were still together and then went to the little summary below it.

"They're 'dying to know what happens?'," You huffed, closing his phone. You pursed your lips and peered over Charles. "I swear I didn't know he was coming, Cha. I promise. We can totally skip if you don't want the drama. I'm okay with that. We can lounge in the house and do nothing," You offered.

Charles smiled softly at your words. You were always thinking of everyone but yourself. "Thank you but I wouldn't miss you winning these awards for the world, ma belle (my beautiful). You deserve to win these awards and I'm going to watch you do it. Nothing could ruin tomorrow for me."

━━━━━━━━━━━

A few hours into the Oscars, after parading the red carpet and gushing over you with interviewers, Charles was quite sure he was right. Nothing could ruin tonight because, god, were you a sight to behold.

You had captured everyone's eyes. Talking to your stylist months ago, you had accomplished your two wishes about your appearance at the Oscars: simplicity and red.

Red on a red carpet was always a bold choice but this year's carpet was a light grey. Dressed in a custom red ball gown, a matching silk shawl and a simple necklace, you had blown everyone away.

The amount of people that had solely come to your table to compliment you was surreal. But Charles couldn't argue with them. You were surreal. When he first saw you come out of the dressing room, he could've sworn his heart had stopped and for a moment, he seriously considered your offer yesterday morning.

The most beautiful person in the world loved him. Nothing could ruin the storm whirling in his stomach. The same storm he had felt when he was trying to muster the courage to talk to you when you first met at a tennis match in Monaco.

As you two conversed with your manager about the after party activities you were considering attending, Charles and you heard a voice that was all but too familiar.

"Y/N," The voice greeted.

You knew it was Zayn. You also knew how Charles felt. So you turned around with what you thought was enough confidence and greeted him. "Zayn," You breathed out with a small smile.

"It's been a while. You look out of this world. Beautiful as always," Zayn grabbed your hand and left a small kiss.

Oh good lord.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Charles tense. You cleared your throat. "Thank you. You look.. uh, amazing as always too," You complimented awkwardly, eyes darting anywhere but his face.

Before Zayn could fill the upcoming silence with any unnecessary compliments, you linked your hand through Charles' arm. "This is Charles. My boyfriend," You smiled proudly.

Charles' could feel his heart speed up. He gave a kind smile to the singer, jutting out his hand for him to shake.

Zayn poked his tongue against the inners of his cheek, eyeing Charles' hand before returning the gesture. He locked eyes with the Monégasque, tilting his head to the side. "Right. The driver, right?"

Jesus. For a second you had forgotten why you broke up with him.

"Yeah... the racing driver," Charles responded with a tight voice and slightly narrowed eyes.

A nervous laugh fell from your lips. "O-Okay. I think we're gonna head over to Tom and Zendaya. Uh, see you around, Zayn, hmm?"

Zayn moved his eyes from Charles to you. He gave his usual charming smile. Putting his hand on your shoulder, he said, "Yeah, sure. I'm always around as you know."

Charles felt his jaw lock as he watched Zayn's hand fall from your shoulder and trail loosely down your arm before he left. "See you, Y/N. Goodbye Charlie."

━━━━━━━━━━━

The after parties were a no go. For the first time in your life you couldn't tell what Charles was thinking. The silence after Zayn left and the car ride home was unbearable. You tried to comfort him by putting your hand over his and assuring him that Zayn was just a classified dick, but nothing came from Charles.

What you did know was that Charles was pissed. The tight grip on the steering wheel, his flexed jaw, the hardened eyes... all signs of an angry Charles.

Arriving home, you both entered your bedroom after taking your shoes off. You looked over to Charles. God the silence was unnerving. "Charles? Amour, are you okay?" You asked once again.

Charles sat on the bed, looking at you stand in front of him. His mind was going as fast as the cars he drove. 'Out of this world?' All Charles could think was that he was going to fuck you out of this world. He wasn't angry about the snide remarks. He was angry that he was even jealous of such a pathetic human being. Moreover, he was furious over those small touches of his.

"Chérie (Sweetheart), come here. Let me help you change," Charles smiled, his hand beckoning for you to come towards him.

You sighed, walking over to him. You could see his hands aching to grab you but instead you stretched out your hand to touch his hair. Charles closed his eyes at the feeling. "Cha... I'm sorry about him. He's an asshole," You apologised, now rubbing his cheek gently.

Charles leaned into your caress, fluttering his eyes open so you could see those soft baby blues you had completely fallen head over heels for. "It's not your fault, chérie. I think he's regretting leaving the most smartest and beautiful woman in the world. You have nothing to apologise for."

You chuckled softly, trying to disguise how touched you felt. Charles complimented you like this all the time and it never got easier. No one had treated you like this before and especially not Zayn.

"Now come on," Charles stood up from the bed and turned you around, "Let's get this off." A small kiss was planted on the side of your cheek as Charles' eyes twinkled through the mirror across you.

You smiled warmly at him and nodded. You watched him take the red straps off of your shoulders, leaving a trail of warm kisses on either side. You sighed calmly. His hands trailed to the zip of the dress, pulling it down, he explored the smooth of your back, placing a kiss on the back of your neck. Charles gently pushed down the red gown, letting it pool at your bare feet.

You reached to the back of your neck to take off the gorgeous silver necklace you had worn but Charles stopped you by grabbing your wrists. "Leave it," He whispered, grazing your arms with his touch.

An involuntary shiver came over you at his voice and from the air rushing against your bare skin.

You could feel Charles' lips quiver at the side of your face. "Cold? Let me warm you up, mon amour."

You drew a quiet, sharp breath as you felt him move your chin so you could properly see him in your mirror. His ring-adorned hand travelled from your neck and down the valley of your breasts, ensuring to make the extra effort to glide over your nipples with the metal band.

Your breath hitched as one hand began to rub your hardened nipple while the other continued to travel down your stomach. "Charles..." You sighed out, feeling a familiar burn spark in the pits of your stomach.

Charles hummed in response, meeting your eyes in the mirror with lust and a tint of smugness. The corner of his lips quirked up, feeling you tense as he neared your pussy. Through the thickness of his own clothes, he could feel your skin begin to burn.

His cock hardened at your reaction. He had barely even done anything and his name was already falling from your lips.

His fingers continued to creep down your stomach, feeling the heat from your core radiate. A sigh of pleasure fell from his mouth as he pressed his two fingers into your folds. He could feel your arousal encompassing his fingers.

"So wet, ma chérie," Charles moaned in your ear, making you return the sinful sound back. "All for me, hmm? No one else gets you this wet, do they, chérie?"

You squirmed against him as Charles' fingers moved from the soft lips of your pussy and ghosted your clit so damn slowly. Your hips bucked involuntarily with the crave of more.

Suddenly, his juice-ridden fingers were pressed up against your bundle of nerves while his other hand tugged at your lip, waiting for your answer.

"Shit, no. No one. Only you make me this wet, Cha," You whimpered, grinding your hips up against his fingers for more pressure.

Charles smiled in satisfaction. "Let's sit, hmm?" He said, tapping your clit.

You jolted at the action, feeling his hands wrap around your waist, seating you on his lap as he sat down on your bed. Your pussy throbbed at the loss of touch but ached for the hardness pressed up against you.

"Feel that, amour? That's what you do to me," Charles grunted, feeling an obscene high come over him when you started to grind down on his cock. God did you have him under your spell. Only you could put your bare pussy down on his cock and make him want to cum in seconds.

But how could you not. In the mirror you could see a sex-hazed Charles, skin flushed at your actions. It turned you on to see him lose control.

"Fuck," Charles moaned, stilling your hips from moving any further. Ignoring your whines, he pushed opened your legs, taking in the glistening view from the mirror. Bringing his two fingers to your mouth, you opened your lips and lapped at your arousal on his fingers.

"Merde," He sighed out, moving his lubed fingers to your pussy. He teasingly rubbed his fingers fully up and down, make you gasp at the coldness of his ring. Shit.

"Charles, please. I want your fingers," You groaned in frustration, thighs taking his fingers into a tight grip.

Charles chuckled, "Anything for you, princesse." He pushed his to fingers into the soft walls of your pussy.

The both of you moaned in unison, your head falling back on his shoulders. He watched eagerly as you enveloped his fingers entirely as if it was a magic trick of some sorts. The lewd sheen of you glimmered over his fingers while he thrusted them in and out.

"Look at you, chérie. Making a mess all over me," Charles smiled against your cheek as he looked down at his black trousers which now sported a darker stain.

Your warm walls clenched around his fingers, sending Charles on a journey to find that right spot both he and you craved so much. Charles could tell by the sudden parting of your lips and the jerk of your hips that he had reached it. His eyes flickered over to your face, bringing a small smug smirk to his mouth.

Your eyes brows were creased in the middle, laden with trickles of sweat building up while your mouth remained in a constant state of opening, letting those beautiful moans fall out as your chest heaved, craving more and more of him.

The trembles, the moans, the pure state of bliss you were in... it was all because of him. And Charles loved it.

Charles brought his thumb to your bundle of nerves, rubbing you in slow circles as he continued to push his digits in and out. He whispered softly, lips dancing against the curve of your ear, "You don't know how beautiful you looked tonight, mon amour. So many eyes on you. I bet they all thought the same thing... that you looked like a goddess. Sometimes I wish they could see what I'm seeing right now. This gorgeous body, your wet pussy trembling all over me, your swollen lips.... hear those pretty little moans of yours. Then they would realise... you are perfection. Unfortunately for them, they aren't the luckiest man alive. I am."

All of a sudden, all your emotions were rushing towards you. Hearing Charles' thick voice while his fingers fucked you sent you overboard. The ache of your core was climbing higher and higher, hips convulsing. "Fuck, Charles, I'm going to cum," You murmured with staggered pants, eyes fluttering shut.

Charles smiled softly, cock throbbing at the sight of you reaching your climax. But as much as Charles loved it, he needed his cock in your warm walls.

Your eyes snapped open as you felt Charles remove his fingers from your pussy, leaving his thumb circling your clit aggravatingly slow. Your walls clenched around nothing in the effort to grab the last sliver of euphoria that Charles had brought. "Charles," You whispered, almost with a sob, eyes shaking in both annoyance and lust.

Charles brought his lips to yours, softly hushing your cries. "I'm sorry, chérie, I need you." His baby blues bored into yours, taking you in.

Looking at Charles when he had said that, given how the night had played out, the tone of his voice told you everything you needed to know. "I know, amour. I need you too," You whispered back, giving him a long peck.

You sat up from his lap, turning to undo the buckle of his belt. The clangs echoed throughout the room as the tension between the both of you became heavier and desperate. Your hands raced to take off the strap while Charles itched to take off his stained pants, cock aching to come out.

Charles let out a low groan, feeling your warm breath on his bare cock as your removed his boxers. His Adam’s apple hitched as he felt your tongue take a long wet stripe of his cock.

His fingers itched to move you away and fuck you like he initially intended to, but the moment he felt your mouth sink down his shaft, his hand naturally fell into your hair. His cock fit perfectly in your mouth as if they were made for each other.

Charles' teeth sunk down on his bottom lip, baby blues eagerly watching you on your knees for him. His hand tightened around your hair as you hollowed your throat. With your eyes flickering to him as your teeth just grazed his cock, sending a tremor down his spine, he let out a series of soft moans. "Just like that, amour," He encouraged while you sucked him up and down.

Taking long licks at the shaft of his pulsing cock, you removed your lips briefly, resting them on his tip. "Only for you, Cha," You reminded him.

Charles held your gaze, feeling another shudder rip through his body. Jesus. Speechlessly he watched you bring your swollen lips back down his cock, hand gently reaching out towards his balls. Charles' hip jerked up at the sudden action, pushing his cock further down your throat.

The rasp of his grunt made you clench your thighs, feeling your pussy drip with arousal. You could feel his cock begin to move with Charles' control, high on the pleasure. Your throat fought to keep itself open, wanting every inch of him in your mouth.

Charles' pace began to speed as the sheer euphoria began to climb up. He averted his eyes to your face, feeling himself tighten further in your throat as seeing you take his cock was a different high on it's own. Your eyes were glassy, brimming with tears of brought of lust and arousal; saliva and sweat painted your skin with a glow he cherished. But what did it for him was the small bulge in your throat; all of him just in your throat.

God, did he just want to thrust himself harder till he came. He needed to cum... but not in your throat.

"Mon amour," Charles grunted, tapping the underside of your chin.

You moved your mouth from his cock, feeling his hand gently lift your chin as you stood from your knees. No words were needed as your eyes searched his.

Bringing your lips to his, Charles wrapped his arm around your waist, flushing your burning body to his unfairly clothed chest. Yet, you could feel the heat pouring off of him. You could barely breathe as you kissed Charles; the fervent need for each other was almost overwhelming.

You could feel his puffy lips slowly detach from yours, eyes staring into yours as he positioned his cock to your wet folds.

Something about this moment felt nostalgic, reminding you of your first time with Charles. The slow and careful movements, the way Charles looked at you as if he had the whole world in his eyes... as if everything was okay as long as you were by his side.

Fuck Zayn. Fuck everyone else.

All he needed was you and he had you... entirely.

You whimpered loudly, feeling his cock drive into you, filling you entirely. "Merde," you heard Charles cuss as he flung his hands onto your bare hips. The air that was once full of your pants and the obscene sounds of your lips sucking his cock was now full of your lewd moans and the sounds of your skin slapping and sticking against one another.

His hands gripped your hips tightly as Charles thrusted into you, losing himself in the feeling of your warm folds enveloping his cock, acting as some sort of siphon that he couldn't escape while he watched your breasts bounce. No... he was under your spell.

Those same thoughts wandered into his head as he rutted into you. How had he gotten so lucky? All he knew was that he must've been a good soul in every past life of his in order to get someone like you.

"Fuck," You cursed, back arching as your body welcomed each hit of euphoria. You burned with desire, humming with approval; cheeks aflame and moans slurred. Your pussy tightly wrapped around his cock began to clench as Charles' fingers had found their way to your clit.

A shiver shoots down Charles' spine as he watched your breasts come on full display. He bent his head down, hot tongue swiping over your nipple. He moaned against your now flushed breast. You were driving him insane. He couldn't think, he could barely speak. You had taken over any stability he once had.

"Charles," You rasped, feeling the coil at the bottom of your stomach tighten.

Charles softly smiled against your breast, detaching his mouth and increasing the pace of his hips against yours. His eyes flickered down to where his cock met your folds, falling into an entrance while he watched your arousal coat his cock.

"Cum for me, chérie," Charles encouraged, feeling your hands travel up his back, pressing into the fabric of his shirt, leaving no inch of his skin missed by you.

"Charles, Charles, Charles," You moaned his name; your favourite song. Your body trembled, melting against him as he tightened his grip on your hips, steadying you as a white light ripped past your eyes, hips bucking involuntarily to fully grasp the high of your climax.

Charles takes his turn at own favourite song; your name slipping from his lips, stuck on repeat. Your folds act as a vice, gripping him tightly. His cock throbbed, the heat of his skin rising. His pants turned higher and irregular, hips coming to a falter as he felt the hot white stripes of his cum coat your warm walls.

Charles' head fell back against the bed, slowly removing his softening cock from your pussy.

You let out a small sigh, almost collapsing against Charles if he hadn't wrapped his arms around your waist and brought you close to him. His blues eyes skimmed over your face, a small smile playing on his lips while he brushed your sweat ridden hair back; his fingers trailed over your swollen lips, tracing the trails of red lipstick that had escaped it's confines.

"You're coming to Monaco, right?" Charles asked softly.

You smiled at him, running your hand through those soft brown locks of his, trailing down his face and ending at his small dimple. Rubbing the spot in small circles, you earnestly whispered, "I wouldn't miss it for the world, Cha."

Charles' eyes softened, pressing a kiss to the side of your forehead. "I'm sorry about tonight, amour," He apologised, feeling a slight bit childish and guilty over his reaction.

You chuckled, shaking your head, moving to rub the familiar crease between his eyebrows. "He's an asshole, Cha. I don't know if I tell you enough, but you're the man that I love... forever. There's no one else for me."

"So cheesy," Charles jested even though you could tell what you had said meant a lot to him, especially given that he had tightened his grip around you.

"Only for you, Charles," You rolled your eyes before holding his gaze. "Only for you."

#mickyschumacher #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 smut #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #charles leclerc #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fanfic #formula 1

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goldsbitch · 5 months

Text

Right? p3

summary: Y/N is a photographer for McLaren F1 team. Hard working, goal oriented professional who would never put her career in jeopardy for some stupid crush, right?

That is until a photoshoot gets out of hand and there is no way to go but forward.

part 1, part 2

"Y/n!"

You slowly turned. The plan was to leave with the rest of the team, not staying behind with Lando - alone.

"I just have few ideas for the next phoshoot, if you'd like to talk about it," he said, loud enough for everyone to hear.

Professional. "Of course!" And with that, the last person left the room and closed the door.

The media meeting room was one of the few rooms without glass doors or windows. The only light present was from the projecting screen, still showing a big photo of Lando fucking Norris.

He was leaning on the table, light reflecting in his face while he was observing the picture.

"Narcissist much?" you teased and also leaned next to him. It's like his body was sending magnetic signals to yours.

"Always. " He paused for a moment. "If I recall correctly, these were all shot in the forest." You chose not to react. He gave you a questioning look. "Where is the rest?"

You should have expected this. Wishful thinking was not working in your favor. Or was it?

"I'm missing the car pictures, the ones where you stood above me and perhaps even those where you sat on me. Am I right?"

You turned and looked him straight to the eye. If tension was a fog in the room, you'd be able to see at arms-lenght only.

"I guess the battery gave out sooner than I noticed," you replied nonchalantly.

Lando stepped into the projector light. "Yes, that must be it...Or, there is a reason why you don't want to show them."

He was standing way too close. You had no defense for his charm. The damn scent again. The only thing you had on mind was burying your face in his neck and leaving your own mark on him. Would he be the one to moan? How would that sound?

"You know, I also like to take photos."

"Is that so?"

He was facing you directly. With a noticable hasitation, he put his finger on your chin, tracing the lines of your jaw. He ended up with him finger and his eyes on your lips.

"I would love to be on the other side of the lens. Take photo of you for once."

We are sorry to inform you, that all traces of professionality have left the room.

He slowly traced your lips with his finger and while remaining direct eye contact, you opened your mouth and licked it. It was slow, with a little pause and then suddenly the mouth that kissed yours, like he had once in real life and several times in your dreams. .

Almost as if he had read your mind, he proceeded to kiss your neck, softly not to leave a mark, but enough for him to find out you in fact do moan. His hand, wrapped around your hips, squeezed you as a direct response to the soft sounds coming out of your mouth.

"Lando," you whispered.

"Yes, baby?" his voice was shivering as well. This should not make you proud. You should stop now, anyone could walk in. You managed to break out of your paralysis, even if it was the last thing you wanted to do.

"Lando, stop."

He stopped kissing you promptly. Your foreheads pressed together.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. You almost laughed. The only thing he should feel sorry for was the fact his mouth was not exploring your body anymore.

With heavy heart, you pulled away. This was probably a silly game for him, one with potentially horrible consequences.

"I can't risk my job like this."

He nodded. "I understand. I guess. I mean, I think the times are changing a bit."

"Like having an affair with essentially your boss is not bad anymore?"

"I'm not your boss."

Oh maybe he should be.

"You know what I mean. For me it's not just a job."

He took a moment to think. "That's probably the hottest thing about you. The passion. I can understand that."

Your stomach spun. Lando called you hot?

"It's impossible for me to keep passing you around as if it's nothing. Been too long." You remained calm, knowing well enough you'll have many night to think about this sentence.

"Do you say this to all the female staff?" you joked, but tiny part of you had a legitimate worry. You were not going to be one of many, too proud for that.

"I'd have to quit if there were even only two like you, one is enough to handle."

This time you approached him and kissed him first. A little bit slower than you kissed before. It was quick, as you heard some steps on the hallway.

"Let's go on a date. Privately. So we can think clearly," he insisted.

"I don't think other people are the reason why I'm not thinking clearly."

"Come on, say yes."

"Yes, let's."

Lando stepped away, becoming more of his work self again. You went to turn on the lights again. "We can either go and take photos of you for this time, or you can show me the ones you hid from others."

The door opened and you were relieved it didn't happened a minute ago.

"Yes, let's do another photoshoot," you smirked at Lando.

part 4

______________________________________________________________

@i-wish-this-was-me

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris fanfic #ln4 imagine #formula 1 #formula one x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #lando norris angst #mclaren

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finelinevogue · 1 year

Text

he’s just harry

summary - a couple of fan interactions with harry on the streets of london

word count: +1.1k

pairing: boyfriend!harry x reader

Even though the media make it out that Harry hates being out in public on his days off, you know it is actually one of his favourite things to do.

Especially with you.

Harry is known for being a private man, but he can’t help what fans secretly record and post on the internet. He would do the same for Stevie Nicks and you would do the same for Taylor Swift, so neither of you are opposed to reporting anyone for secretly filming.

A favourite pastime of yours and Harry’s is to actually watch back story-time videos of fans, from when they have met you and Harry. Which is what you were both currently doing, after having your dinner.

Harry is laying on the bed in your shared hotel room. You lay against his back and are held tight to him by his arm wrapped around your waist.

He leans down to look at you every few minutes and leaves a kiss on your forehead, just because he can. His fingers around your waist snake under your Pleasing sweatshirt - the one that is actually his - and stroke tiny circles on the skin of your tummy.

With some light jazz music playing in the background, you and Harry can’t feel anything but peace.

He has your phone in his hand whilst he scrolls through the latest videos on TikTok with the tag # harrystyles.

The next video he scrolls to after and edit of himself on stage is from a meeting of a fan in London.

“I just met Harry Styles.” The girl screams from the inside of her car. The video pans around and her boyfriend is sat there with a grin, no doubt because his girlfriend is so happy.

“I get to say that every day.” You comment, making Harry pinch the skin at your waist. You laugh and carry on.

“Can I just say, first of all, I have been waiting for this moment for years. Always in my mysterious girl era, just in case. And the one day I am wearing slouchy clothes I stumble upon him on a random back road in London. Life clearly hates me.” She begins her story.

“She looked great, I thought.” You said and Harry made no comment. Most likely because he never paid attention to looking at anyone with interest anymore - not since he had found you.

“And Y/N. Oh my God! She’s fucking stunning. Like, I understand why Harry snatched her up.”

“I did find a pretty good egg.” Harry agreed.

“I am not an egg.”

“Whatever you say, baby.”

“But they were both so lovely. Harry was really kind and thanked me for supporting him. I asked for a photo but they politely declined, which is a little frustrating, but maybe it was for the best since I looked so bad today!” The girl continues her story.

“Fuck sake.” Harry mumbles out and you pause the video, already knowing what thoughts were relaying through his mind.

You turned your head so you could see his whole face before speaking to him.

“You’re not a bad person for not taking a photo with them. You shouldn’t make yourself feel bad either. You’re a person, just as they are. People are allowed to close off their privacy for the day if they want. Okay?”

“Thank you.” Is all Harry responds with. Well, that and a minutes worth of kisses.

You move onto another video, so not to upset Harry any more with the previous one. You couldn’t know whether she might say something else bad and you weren’t prepared to make Harry sad, so the next video it was.

This came from a girl in London airport.

“Oh fuck.” Harry instantly says when he sees the girl on the screen.

“What?” You asked, confused. You hadn’t even been aware this interaction had taken place and you were with him in the airport. Now you were just curious as to what had gone down.

“This is going to be so embarrassing for me.” He wines and tries to bury his face in your neck. You kiss the tip of his nose and push him away.

The video starts by the girl looking really nervous, before Harry pans into view on the other side of the screen. It was only their chins in the view, but it was still a very lovely view of your boyfriend.

“Hi.” The girl fumbles over her words.

“Hello.” He says, removing his sunglasses from his face since he had been found.

“I just saw you from over there and had to come and say hello. I know this is probably really annoying for you and I’m going to leave so as to not be a burden to you, but I really love your music and you are an amazing human being.” The girl rambles, but that might be the nicest of things you have heard a fan say to Harry.

Before the girl can leave, Harry asks that all important question.

“Thank you so much. Would you maybe like a photo?” He asks.

“Aw Harry.” You pout and he pinches your waist again. “Quit that, will you?” You hit elbow him in his ribs gently.

“Yes please. Wow, thank you.” The video then tilts so Harry and this girl come onto the screen. Harry smiles a small smile and holds up his fingers in a peace sign. He looks very cute.

“Have a safe flight.” Harry says and goes to hold his hand out for the fan to shake, but instead knocks her phone out of her hand and it drops to the floor.

“Harry!” You gasp and sit up a little more attentively.

“I know.” He cringes.

Luckily the phone was alright, but Harry had to prolong the conversation with the fan and even offered her a new one. She turned that down and thankfully he didn’t have to owe anything to anyone. You can tell at the end of the video he is embarrassed though.

“You dickhead.” You laugh at him.

He puts the phone down and joins his other hand under your sweatshirt so they are both enjoying tracing over your skin. You hum in delight and breathe in the air that is scented by him.

“I’m tired.” He says, knocking his head against yours to rest. It had been a long day of rehearsals and meetings for him today, but he didn’t mind because he knew that it would be worth it to spend an evening of peace with you.

“I know, baby.” You say, reaching a hand up behind your head to stroke over his curls. “We can go to bed now, if you want?”

“Okay.”

You and Harry end up spending the next twenty minutes getting ready for bed and cuddle before you are both fast asleep, awaiting the first, last, ‘Love On Tour’ show tomorrow.

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfic #ask finelinevogue #harry blurb #finelinevogue #harry styles concept #harry oneshot #harry styles blurbs #harry styles fic #harry styles fluff #harry styles boyfriend #love on tour #love on tour fic #finelinevogue fic

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 15 days

Text

The Quiet Ones 7

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You live a quiet life, but your peace is fractured by a chaotic man.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen, short!shy!reader

Note: like Staind said in that one song, it's been a while.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

Lloyd brings you down the flight of stairs, his arm through yours as you teeter in the heels. You’ve never been one for anything besides flats or sneakers. You’re getting acquainted to the painful arch of your feet and it’s doing little for your agitation.

While this man might be entirely too direct at times, he can be just as vague. You still have no idea why you’re dressed like some dainty rose. Whatever delusion he’s living in, it’s not the fairytale he believes it is.

Savoury aromas waft in the air and draw your nose towards the kitchen. You glance at Lloyd curiously. He puts his hand over yours and winks. You quickly turn your head straight.

“Don’t worry, jelly bean, I got everything sorted. Can’t have you sweating up a storm in the kitchen. Private chef,” he clicks his tongue, “besides, our guests won’t settle for anything less.”

You arch a brow but don’t ask. As much as you want to know who he’s expecting, you dread finding out. You highly doubt it’s good company.

He takes you into the living room. A large chandelier dangles from the high ceiling, the long crystals casting marbled pale light around the space. The tall windows peer out onto the green lawn, dim in the rising evening hue. The ornaments are just as sleek and precise as every other room. Polished marble and spotless porcelain.

As you take in the curved couch and round ottoman, Lloyd shifts your hand from the crook of his arm and tugs you to face him. He raises your knuckles high and kisses them. You blanch and resist the urge to pull away. His mustache tickles your skin.

“Baby, you look spectacular,” he purrs, “did I mention that dress hugs your ass in all the right ways.”

You bite down and nearly snatch your arm away. No. Don’t rile him. Tolerance will keep you safe.

“You didn’t,” you murmur as he clings to your hand and places it against the chest of his jacket. He wraps you up in his arms as if he means to dance with you.

“Well, shit, it really does,” his hands crawl down your sides and he scoops your ass up in his large hands, forcing a squeak from you as you press against his chest. “How about an extra dessert tonight?” He winks. “I bet it’s sweet, huh?”

He leans in, nuzzling your forehead as he growls. You shudder, but he might mistake it for excitement. His nose brushes yours but his lips stop short of yours as a chime interrupts him. He freezes and reluctantly draws away.

“Wait here,” he smirks and flutters his fingers longingly as he struts away.

You blow out through your lips and swivel to glance around. It’s a nice place but you miss your apartment. You miss being alone. You miss when you didn’t know this man.

You mash your hands together and wring them. You hear voices. A man and a woman. Great. This is really strange. You don’t understand what exactly he’s up to. Is he not afraid you’ll start begging for help? Somehow you don’t think that would do you much good.

“She’s in here,” Lloyd’s voice carries through ahead of him, “mom, dad, my lady,” he waves towards you.

You stand frozen to the floor. Uh. Mom? Dad? Oh gosh, it’s a family dinner. You blink and slowly step forward as Lloyd waves you closer.

“My mother, Delores, and father, Lawrence,” he introduces the two other figures.

The woman is tall and blond and statuesque. You feel even smaller in her presence. She looks down her long nose, her irises blue as ice, and her lips a soft shade of rose. Her hair is so icy, you can’t tell if it’s blonde or silver.

The man is as tall as Lloyd, a little broader, and wears a cerulean jacket over black. His hair is streaked with the same sandy shade as his son, mingled with shocks of white. He tilts his head as he measures you, his eyes narrowing.

“Hm,” that’s all you get. You feel much the same.

“We’ve come all this way, tell me supper is ready,” the woman, Delores, tuts. “Crab cakes, right, honey?”

She looks at her son and he frowns. His mustache makes the expression even more theatrical. You hate to disappoint but what did he expect? I mean, look at you.

“And I appreciate you coming,” Lloyd says, sounding unlike you’ve ever heard him in your short acquaintance. Something about it is disingenuous, for as honest as that man can be. “We’re super excited to have you.”

“Have you had those windows looked at?” The man stops to scope the ceiling to floor panes, “impractical things.”

Lloyd’s shoulders square. You can’t see his face but you’re certain he’s not happy. You don’t see anything wrong with the place. It’s a bit over the top, too sleek, too shiny, but it’s not horrid. Most people can’t afford anything like it. People like you in your boxy apartment.

“This way,” Lloyd says and waves them towards another doorway.

He takes them across the entryway and you follow behind. The dining room has high ceilings and an overly long table. You can’t imagine anyone would ever need that many seats.

Lawrence sneers with disapproval as Lloyd pulls out a chair for his mother. Delores primps herself as she sits, popping a compact out of her purse to touch up her lipstick. You stare from the doorway, drawn forward as your host clears his throat and eases another chair away from the table.

You near and sit. His parents have even you on eggshells. You can tell they won’t be much help to you. You’ve got more than enough with their son.

“I’ll just go check on dinner and you can get to know each other,” Lloyd declares as he claps his hands.

You wince as his mother snaps the mirror shut and puts it away. She looks you up and down as you keep a dull stare. His father examines the butter knife as if searching for any speck of filth.

“So, dear,” Delores begins. “Aren’t you a quaint one?”

You scrunch your nose up. Quaint? You’re not a house.

“Quiet, aren’t you?” She chuckles, “well, what do you do then? How’d he find you?”

“Probably one of those websites again,” Lawrence grumbles and curls his lips. “Women these days, they’ll jump at a dollar sign.”

You shake your head and tilt it. You’re not a mean person. You wouldn’t consider yourself malicious at all but he annoys you. And her. Their judgement reminds you of your schoolyard bullies.

“I do data entry,” you answer, ignoring the snipe. “We met... uh...” you frown and look at the table.

We met when your son stalked me and starved me out of my apartment. Yeah, you don’t think that’s going to get more than another condescending trill from her and indifferent grunt from him. You pick at your nail, the movement catching her eye, and you pull your hands apart and hide them behind the table.

“We met...”

“At the cafe,” Lloyd strides in and approaches the chair next to you, standing behind it, “supper will be out shortly.” He sits and grabs your hand, bringing it onto the tabletop, “you know, I saw her from across the coffee shop. Just waiting. I was just taken by her. Her effortless beauty--”

“Effortless indeed,” Delores comments.

You flick your lashes and glance over at your abductor. How is he preferable in this moment? You blink and turn your dull gaze ahead, staring through the blonde. You don't do well with confrontation, you're more the type for avoidance.

Lloyd quiets and brings his other hand up, chewing his fingertips before ripping them away from his mouth. He keeps his grip on you with his other and sighs. He looks up and shrugs.

The silence doesn’t last long as several bodies enter and lay out plates in front of each seat. A man in a black jacket and chef’s cap emerges and announces the appetizer; crab cakes with black truffle crostini. You stare at the food. It doesn’t look very tasty; it’s too curated.

“Mm, crab,” Delores sings as she picks up her cutlery, “how delightful.”

“Yes, see, I remembered,” Lloyd utters.

“All this flash,” Lawrence clucks as he lifts his fork, “you know, there’s more too life than show. Your fancy car, the house, your women...”

“Dad,” Lloyd goes rigid, “she’s not just another woman. I wouldn’t bring you here if--”

“Oh, no? The last one, I recall, was wearing a bright red thong. How do you think I know that?” The older man snips.

“She’s not like that,” Lloyd rebuffs. “I told you, she’s different. She’s the one.”

“Well, she definitely doesn’t talk as much as the last one,” Delores remarks tritely. “And Lawr,” she nudges her husband with her elbow, “she does have a certain allure. She definitely is... different.”

Your brows nearly meet in the middle. You close your eyes to hide the roll. You exhale through your nose. You don’t care about these people. You don’t even want to be here. So, why try?

That's it. Don't try. You don't need to impress any of them. You're not going to dance for them like they want you to. They aren't your parents and your own parents don't earn enough of your concern. You don't care about them and you definitely don't care about the man beside you.

Defence is the best offence, right? You're not going for an outright attack, that won't work. It's about repulsion.

You wiggle free of Lloyd’s grasp and surpass the cutlery to pick up the crostini with your fingers. You shove the whole cracker in your mouth and chew without caution. You hum and nod as you swallow it down. Maybe if you can disgust his parents enough, they’ll make him get rid of you. It’s not much of plan but more than you had before.

“Oh my,” Delores hovers her cutlery over the crab cake and gapes at you.

“Mm, oh my, good,” you speak through a full mouth.

“Uh, right, mom,” Lloyd raises his voice, “did you try the wine?”

“The wine,” you say through another mouthful, “mmm.”

You slurp messily. Your heart is racing and your skin is tingly. You don’t talk in front of strangers often. Always mindful of every single action. You never want to draw attention. Never step out of line but now, you’re toeing every one. It’s embarrassing.

“Lloyd,” Delores breathes.

“Honey,” Lloyd touches your shoulder, “let’s slow down.”

“I’m starving,” you argue and nearly choke, coughing into your hand.

“We still have several courses,” he lowers his voice, “please, jelly bean, don’t do that.”

“Do we have any more of this stuff,” you hold up the second crostini.

“Please,” he begs and puts his hand on your thigh, squeezing.

You smile, food in your teeth, and show it to the table. You’re going to barf, not just from the soft cheese but your humiliation. Hold it together, just a little longer.

“She definitely is... something,” Lawrence says and sends his wife a look of disgust.

You clear your plate as quickly as you can. The food is like rocks in your stomach. You’re not used to eating that much, not to mention, that sort of fare. It’s rich to the point of too much.

You wiggle your nail between your teeth and pick at them until Lloyd grabs your hand. You flutter your lashes in his direction. You really think you might throw up. Not only because of the fishy taste in your mouth.

Before you can think of your next move, the plates are cleared away and replaced with the next course. An entree of filet mignon and seasonal vegetables, as announced by the chef. You imagine it’s similar to what they serve in those fine restaurants you could never afford.

“Fine cut,” Lawrence offers as he turns over the steak with his knife and fork.

You saw through your own and look at the middle, “ew, is it supposed to be this colour?”

The table is quiet as you poke at the steak with your knife. You push it to the edge of the plate and make a face. You poke at the roasted potatoes instead.

“Rare,” Lawrence sniffs, “I’ll take the chef’s name.”

“Can he make cheeseburgers?” You ask.

“Jelly bean,” Lloyd hisses, “what’s going on? What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” you shrug and look at your plate and huff, “fine.”

Like a bratty kid you pout. You pick up the steak with your hand and gnaw on it, making it into an effort. Lloyd reaches over and takes it from you, putting it back on your plate.

“Stop, please,” he begs.

You shrug and wipe your hands on your dress. He latches onto your hand, gripping it tight until your joints hurt. You wince as he stands, still clinging to you.

“I was meaning to wait until dessert but... she’s had a long day. She’s not feeling herself,” he reaches into his jacket with his other hand and turns. He looks down at you and clears his throat, lowering himself to his knee. His blue eyes meet your grimace. Oh, god. “Jelly bean, sweetheart,” he pulls out the velvet box and your stomach lurches, “will you--”

You bend over your lap as you lose all control. You spew onto the floor, the sick splashing onto your feet and Lloyd’s pants. You cup your mouth as you puff, bile staining your tongue. You groan and stay folded over your knees.

“Oh, Lloyd, you can’t mean to marry that?” Delores sneers.

“Truly, son, you brought us here for... her? Really?”

Lloyd looks at you and his forehead lines. He shakes his head and opens the ring box, picking the ring from the cushion, and grabs your hand. He shoves the row of large diamonds onto your finger. You stare at the sparkle in horror as you slowly sit up and he stands.

“We are getting married,” he insists, “and I didn’t bring you here for your blessing. I only brought you to let you know.”

“Married?” You and Delores echo in fraught unison.

“Yes!” Lloyd stomps his foot, nearly stepping in the puke. “You can’t stop me, she can’t stop me,” he jabs his finger in the air, “no one can stop me!”

“Settle down, boy,” Lawrence says.

“Come on, baby,” Lloyd snatches your wrist and pulls you to your feet, “let me get you cleaned up.” He winks and wiggles his tongue out at you and his parents groan. He curls his arm around you and lowers his voice to a whisper, "I got something else for you to choke on."

Well, that didn’t work.

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #the quiet ones #series #the gray man

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wingedtrash · 10 months

Text

Rick Grimes x Reader with an oral fixation

||CW|| NSFW be careful. MDNI (I’m not responsible for your media consumption). Blow Job and that’s about it.

AFAB/GN Reader, Reader isn’t mentioned to have a gender, no body parts mentioned for reader

This is my first time posting my writing, don’t judge too hard.

(Slightly self insert)

At first he didn’t understand why you were always chewing on things/putting things in your mouth, whether it be the strings of your hoodie, your fingernails, your thumb, your knuckles, water bottle caps, pens and pencils, pretty much anything you could put in your mouth.

It wasn’t until a pen burst in your mouth that he confronted you.

You turned around from sitting at a table where you were writing in a journal. The ink of the pen dripping from your mouth. “Darlin’ that’s what happens when you chew on things that aren’t meant to be chewed on.” He said before grabbing you a glass of water to rinse your mouth with.

“I can’t help it Rick.” You responded, frustrated and embarrassed with yourself for chewing through the pen.

“What do you mean you can’t help it? Just stop puttin’ things in your mouth.” He shrugged.

“It’s not something I can just stop, it keeps my brain and mouth occupied. I don’t know, I can’t really explain it in a way that you’d understand.” You try your best to explain, but you really don’t know exactly why you do it, it’s not something you think about before doing.

After that he never bothers asking about it again.

He does however replace certain things. For example, if your chewing on a pen, he takes it away from you and gives you a pencil so it won’t explode in your mouth like last time.

He starts looking for gum on runs for you in hopes that it’ll help stop you from chewing on your fingers because he finds it very unsanitary, especially when you’re away from Alexandria and don’t have soap or clean water. He’s just trying to keep you from getting sick.

He doesn’t mind watching you with your fingers in your mouth though, he gets off on the sight.

After a little while, he starts offering his own fingers. (Only when you’re in the comfort of your shared bedroom.)

He enjoys watching the way your mouth suckles on his large fingers.

He also loves the feeling of your wet mouth around his fingers.

He eventually thinks of something even better that you can wrap your mouth around.

His cock

“Darlin’ you know what else I think you might enjoy havin’ in your mouth?” He’d ask one night as he was walking out of the bathroom from taking a shower.

“Hmmm?” You hummed, turning to look at him, towel draped over his hips, messy wet hair framing his face.

“C’mere, I’ll show you.” He said, unraveling his towel, still holding it up so he didn’t uncover his hard cock yet.

You could obviously already see where this was going, considering he was completely naked. (And that towel couldn’t hide his bulge no matter how Rick tried adjusting it.)

You were now stood in front of him, trying your best to act like you didn’t know what was to come.

He finally drops his towel and there, in all of it’s glory is his rock hard dick, waiting so patiently for your mouth.

“Knees.” He commands. And you do as you’re told, dropping to your knees in front of him.

He reaches down and grabs your chin with one hand. Fisting his cock in the other.

“Open.” He squeezes your cheeks.

You open your mouth and stick your tongue out waiting for him.

He slaps his cock against your waiting tongue, sliding himself into your warm, wet mouth.

He groans at the feeling of you taking him into your mouth.

You push yourself as far down as you can go on him making yourself gag.

He definitely loves the sound of you gagging too.

He slowly starts fucking into your mouth, being as gentle as he can to not hurt you.

He ends up completely face fucking you.

Tears and drool streaming down your face, making a complete mess out of you.

He’s a sweetheart after though.

#rick grimes #rick grimes smut #twd smut #the walking dead smut #andrew lincoln smut #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes x gn reader #rick grimes x fem reader #rick grimes x male reader

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httpiastri · 3 months

Text

okay so i started writing on a boyfriend!paul blurb for after the race today, but then i deleted it and wrote this instead: a short snippet of a future chapter of the "the way i loved you" fic 😋 pretty short but it's all i can produce rn lol. will likely have some changes when i post the actual chapter. aiming to post the first things from the fic soon !!! hope u enjoy 😚

series masterlist

paul is beaming when you see him stroll back to the paddock after his media duties. his cap is perched on top of his head – the right cap, finally – and his fingers are still tightly wrapped around the neck of his champagne bottle. when he notices you leaning against the doorframe leading into the f2 hospitality, his smile grows even bigger.

you meet him halfway, arms wrapping around his shoulders easily, just like they have so many times before. one of his arms drapes around your waist and he holds you close, a hum vibrating from his chest. "congrats, paul," you tell him. "that was amazing. you were amazing."

"thank you," he says before pausing. then, he lets out a chuckle. "to be honest, i wasn't sure if you would care."

you frown at him when you pull slightly away from him, just enough to look into his eyes. is that what he really thought? that you wouldn't care about his driving? "oh, please. you still mean a lot to me, okay?" your hand moves down to his upper arm, giving it a soft squeeze. "i still consider you to be one of my closest friends."

friends. the word stings like a knife in his heart. it's been months since you broke up, and yet, it still feels like a raw wound.

paul forces a smile. he understands that despite how painful it is, there's something good in it. there's still a place for him in your heart, even if he's forced to share it with someone else.

he pulls you in again, and the hug is even tighter now than before. it's a comforting feeling; you're both at peace, with a good weekend behind you, in the arms of someone so close to you. after everything you've gone through together, but especially everything he has gone through these last few months with the mercedes academy and so on, you're finally through to the other side. "it all worked out in the end, huh?" you ask after a few moments of silence.

"i guess it did." you part from each other to leave that oh-so-familiar gap between you yet again. "will you be celebrating with us tonight? i think pepe had something planned. you know how he is."

you snort. "yeah, i do know. maybe i will." you shift uncomfortably, crossing your arms over your chest as your eyes dart to the ground. "but, um... i'll have to check with..."

you don't even say his name – you don't have to. ollie didn't just have a bad race today; the entire weekend has been so far from everyone's expectations. and if you know him correctly, he will not be in the mood for celebrations tonight.

paul just nods slowly, pressing his lips into a thin line. "right."

the silence that follows is so awkward you can't help but chew on your bottom lip, a tiny sigh escaping through your mouth. he must be hating this, you think – today is supposed to be only a good day for him, he shouldn't have his ex's new relationship pushed up in his face.

"well, i have a debrief to get to," you make up, flashing him a quick smile. "congrats again, paul."

"thank you." he gives you another nod, before turning away and making his way towards the paddock. "pepe will text you!"

and just like that, he's off, and your mind wanders to the thought of actually going out to celebrate. ollie will definitely not join you, though you're not sure why you don't want to go without him. is it because you'd rather stay and comfort him?

or is it because you're scared of what you'll do, or feel, when you're alone with paul for the first time since you broke up?

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ronearoundblindly · 6 days

Note

I loved how you answered for Jake 🥺

If your still doing them, no pressure!!! How about Fools rush in! Steve for..

4. Who initiates affection? Why does the other not initiate affection as much?

14. Do they enjoy PDA, or are they more private with affection?

20. How do they comfort each other when one of them is upset? Is this method of comfort effective?

Questions are from this ask game and for the Fools Rush In series with Steve Rogers x lab tech!Reader.

Lol ok, I love his frustrated face, but I will also attempt to include some new info in this since I don't want to beat the Fool's struggle bus to death. *mild cursing

**Dude, this took an ANGSTY turn and I'm sorry-not-sorry.

This, too, is an evolution. Those very early days, you were both so tentative. Steve showed affection by spending time with you—as best he could while so busy—because that’s his love language. Being near was enough for probably a lot longer than it should have been. The exact reasons are hard to parse, but basically, Steve needs permission to show physical affection and then he still had trouble communicating why he was so unsure of himself. Not you. He’s sure he wants to show you affection. He’s unsure how to.

He needs you to take the lead, just at first, just until his confidence builds. He’s so private with his personal life that he became comfortable completely closed off. Each little step is a big deal.

First, he needs verbal assurance, then gentle touch—innocent things like dancing to a song, holding hands, or a sweet hug. After that, Steve could kiss you without explicit permission. He could always read your body language. He knew all the non-verbal cues that meant you wanted more. Finally, though, Steve realized what he was doing wrong.

He kept everything so private for so long, Steve was living out affection toward you in his mind without making any moves.

He’d see you sitting at a table and think how nice it would be to kiss the crown of your head and rest his hand on your shoulder. He’d walk in the woods with you and think about how your fingers would lace with his. He’d enter a room where you were mid-conversation with others and think to wrap his arms around you from behind.

But he didn’t do any of that, only imagined it.

Steve would experience all these little familiarities as if they happened, but it took him a very, very long time to understand you didn’t know he wanted to do them. He took equally as long to realize something very important: he’d been teaching you not to touch him.

Because he held back, you held back.

After all of that is figured out—and god knows, it’s A LOT of stuff to figure out,—you both are quietly affectionate.

Quietly because…

…public displays of affection are essentially a no-no. Captain America is a public figure while Steve Rogers is an unbelievably private man. He’s more reserved by sheer fact of Cap being so f**king visible.

Honestly, that's the long and short of it.

If he could be in public and no one would care, yes, Steve would throw his arm around you and kiss your cheek once every few minutes. He'd hold your hand right on top of the table at any restaurant, or he'd pull you to sit in his lap whenever possible.

The problem is that it feels like everyone cares, and even though Steve has no clue why there always seems to be an antagonistic attitude in the media about you, he's not going to encourage their shitty behavior. He would rather give them nothing, and so he keeps things very simple in public.

He can't win, however, since this is one of the biggest things that upsets you. It looks like he's cold, and you tell him it feels as if he doesn't love you when public events drag on too long.

Steve used to just push through the discomfort of being 'out,' but he's now aware enough to take breaks. He'll find a hallway or a quiet corner (or a bathroom, if desperate) where you two can check in, some place secluded where you can breathe with him or be sweet with each other. That's only for if it's the public crap that's upsetting you.

Sometimes, it's work that upsets you, and that requires listening to comfort you. Most of those times you neither want nor need advice; he simply has to listen. He can relate to most of it anyway because he works with various teams constantly, and there is always friction between groups of people.

Steve has/had a large slew of deaths in the years after being woken from the ice. Veterans aged and passed away constantly, and he touched the lives of so many during the '40s, Steve was/is invited to speak or attend many funerals. He makes a point of going as often as he can and has a running list of families in different areas that he could visit or write to when time allows. It's important to him and exhausting. The frequency of funerals (including those of agents who were young or not retired) very much upsets Steve. The way he handles it publicly is stoicism and gratitude. In private, you listen to the real stories.

Oftentimes Steve feels guilty for romanticizing or idealizing war, but he also knows that the truth of what soldiers go through isn't appropriate for eulogies. It is healing to him to explain to you how imperfect, how mundane, and, yes, how horrific what those men and women went through really was. He heals by admitting some of them were racists or told truly sick jokes to anyone who would listen. He heals by confessing some of them stole from their friends or off the bodies of the fallen. He heals when he can be honest, when he can say that none of it really feels like winning unless you turn humans just like you into enemies.

Operation Paperclip (where Nazi scientist were recruited in order to help America develop more weapons and technologies) upsets Steve, deeply, wildly, frustratingly, because he understands why it happened. Steve is upset at how often he's wrong about people. He believes in those morals and ideals of humanity, and he's disappointed by how often he finds the bullied becoming bullies.

None of that has ever been cut and dry, but the reality weighs on him. You listen. For the most part, that's all you can do. You also hold him. You say you're proud of him. You're proud of him for choosing to be good over and over and over again even when it seems useless, even when it is hard.

Steve is comforted when you bring him back to a very small part of the world and you focus on his 'small' life with you. He actually takes very well to light jokes about how he doesn't fold some clothes the way you like and so no one's perfect. He's grounded in the knowledge--when you remind him--that, to date, he has never managed to put away an entire load of dishes in the correct spot, and that it's weird that it's a different utensil or plate that he misplaces every time.

When you assure Steve that he is just one man, just one sorta-average man, he is greatly comforted. That's a big one for him.

Thank you for asking!

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory

@brandycranby @buckysprettybaby @ellethespaceunicorn @late-to-the-party-81

@rogersbarber @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes @deandreamernp

@im-a-slut-for-fluff @fangirl-swagg @georgeweaslysgirl @austynparksandpizza @claireelizabeth85 @jamneuromain

#ro answers #ask game #fools rush in series #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers angst #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fic

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seungiepop · 6 months

Text

𝑵𝒐 𝑵𝒖𝒕 𝑵𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓

L number one pt 2

pairing: enha x best friend reader

characters: all enha members, Shin Yuna (itzy), Choi Beomgyu (TXT), and Mark lee (NCT)

caution: sexual context (only implied on the legal line), cursing, the reader is an 03’ line with sunoo and yuna

genre: social media au and one shots

wc: 1.2k

L number one p1

Masterlist | previous | next

ⓝⓝⓝ

Heeseung stepped into the warm apartment, the smell of fresh baked goods roamed in his scent. Walking through the crowded hallway towards the kitchen he saw Y/n cutting up some fruit “Hey pretty girl!”

“Hee! You scared me!”

“Sorry angel.”

“The Vacuum is in the closet down the hall.” she tells him, placing down the knife and wiping her hands with the kitchen cloth.

He nodded his head walking back to the hallway quickly grabbing the cleaning device, walking back to the kitchen. Taking a good look at her he was quick to notice how skimpy her outfit was, the small sleeping shorts with the loose tank top, obvious that she didn’t bother to put on a bra. “So I uh notice Mark and Gyu walking out?” Clearing his throat, pulling out the stool across from her. “Oh yeah! They were playing the game but Mark got a call from Sun that their espresso machine broke.” she huffed, placing a piece of strawberry in her mouth.

“Yikes! the new one?”

She nodded head “Yup, poor Sunoo sounded so done.” she chuckles, placing some of the fruit in a small bowl.”You want some?” gesturing to the fruit. He nodded signaling her to get closer, with a small smile she walked around the counter standing a little closer to him than she normally does.

Y/n had this all planned, knowing how much he loved when it came to her feeding him any type of food. Picking a piece of the fruit she gestured to him to open up to feed him. She watched the way his plump lips wrapped around the silverware and humming at the sweet taste bursting in his mouth.

Fuck how does she make a piece of watermelon taste sweeter than it is?

“S’good” he swallowed

She smiled, glad that he enjoyed it. “Have a strawberry, they’re very juicy and delicious”.

Taking a bit of the red fruit she was feeding his way, he felt a bit of the fruit juice drip on the side of his lips. “Shit-” he pulled back about to wipe his lips off but was stopped “here let me get that for you” she whispered wiping the juice with her thumb making sure he was looking right at her before sucking it off her thumb.

Heeseung cursed to himself, watching the way her glossy lips wrapped around her thumb to suck off the excess juice. Biting his lip he placed a hand on hip pulling her to stand in between his now spread legs “You know, I was really sad that you chose to study with your college friends instead of hanging out with us.” she pouted, wrapping his hoodie string around her finger pulling him even closer so their faces were now inches away from each other.

Heeseung cooed at her expression “I'm sorry doll, but school has really been kicking my ass with finals and stuff that I really haven't been able to go out with.”

Y/n nodded her head understanding, she truly admired him for dedicating so much of his time towards his studies. “You seem really stressed-'' she hummed carefully, running her fingers through his hair and slightly messaging his scalp. Heeseung felt himself lean into her touch, her hands were like magic or something he could bust a whole nut just from her head scratches. His mind was turning into mush “-is there anything I could do to help let out all that tension?”

Why can I feel this on my dick?

“Huh?”

She chuckled at his droopiness “Does that feel good seungie?”

“Mhm..”

Her fingers are fucking magic

“Come on, let's go to the couch, you can relax better over there.”

Taking his hand she led him to the living room, telling him to take a seat before heading back to the kitchen to grab the bowl of her fruit.

“You should take your hoodie off seungie. I turned on the heater not too long before you arrived.” Gesturing to the hood he had on. Making a move Y/n leaned closer to help him remove the piece of clothing, her fingers lightly grazing over the tone muscle of his stomach.

Fuck

He was wearing a plain white shirt, it was so simple yet he made it look good. “You look so tired..” she frowns,

the bags under his eyes are more prominent than ever. Y/n truly wondered if he even gets the right amount of sleep every night. “Don’t worry about me pretty-“ he smiled cupping her cheek with his palm “-i’m fine.” His eyes looked down at her lips, he kissed those lips so many times yet something about the fruit made them look so irresistible.

Y/n inspected his handsome face, his slender nose, brown bambi shaped eyes just looking at her with something she couldn’t read between lust and admiration maybe? Who knows but she loved it.

“Kiss me seungie.”

He didn’t need to be told twice pulling her by the waist his lips connecting with hers. She couldn’t contain the smile that broke out, her hands cradling her face to deepen the kiss. Heeseung couldn’t help himself she needed to be closer

His lips trailed down to her neck, smirking as the noises leaving her lips began to increase. His lips felt like heaven on her neck, the way he sucked harshly yet ran his tongue over the forming bruise sending shivers down her spine. Letting out a breathless giggle she trailed her hand down to his crotch, feeling his bulge harden under her touch.

Heeseung groaned as she continued to palm him through his sweats when was the last time i even nutted? he wondered feeling himself almost cum from her light touches. It truly has been so long since Heeseung has fucked someone properly, is it even worth it lasting a whole month when he hasn’t gotten a single orgasm in four? (not counting his hand).

fuck this bet

I need to get laid

it’s been way too long

Heeseung's grip on her hair tightened, pulling her up against his sweaty chest, his hips slapping against her ass. The new angle makes her eyes rolling back at the new sensation of pleasure, she’s never felt this type of pleasure when it came to anybody. Her tight pussy felt so good wrapped around him, the warm tight feeling of her gummy walls just sucking him in perfectly he was so gone of the pleasure that he had almost forgotten about the bet.

“Hee- faster please!” she whimpered out.

Eyes screwing as he sped up his thrust, the tight pit feeling of her orgasm building up in the pit of her stomach just threatening to snap.

No wonder Chenle spoke so highly of her

Heeseung stop that’s disgusting

Just the thought of their ex-friend alone pissed him off so much he let go of the grip he had on her hair and turned her over so she was now facing him. Sitting back on the couch Heeseung held her hips thrusting in and out of her. Her legs began to shake as the soreness took over her body, almost about to give up. But Heeseung grabbed her by the waist thrusting upwards, hitting her spot every time. Her vision began to blur as the pit tightened with each thrust of his cock.

“I'm cumming, I'm cumming!” she let out the loudest moan of the night as her body shook out of pleasure, her walls spasming around his cock.

He cursed as her orgasm triggered his, he thrust into her a few more times before pulling out, admiring their juices mixed together.

$1200 down the drain

∙ ₒ✰. ∙✧. ∘ ₒ® ✦. ✰∙ ★ ∘ₒ © ∙ ₒ ✰ ∙ ✧ ∘ₒ ® ✦ ✰

Authors note: Here is the long awaited “L number one” part 2. I apologize for making you guys wait so long, it was supposed to be posted two days ago but something came up but here you guys go! Hope you guys enjoy <3

taglist- @ilovecheese09 @namdeyuoi @moonshoon @xrr-s4sha @yannew @cup1dton @eternallyreid @heewonenthusiast @rikisly @parkhonnie @wvnkoi @slugism @yizhoutv @jakewife @bahngchatsfx @kangseulgithegreat @jinnisbaby @heeseungshim @wonswondrland @underneaththestarlight @theskzvibe @enhaz1 @kkaelie @firstclassjaylee @wonniie3 @lol6sposts

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wjhik · 7 months

Note

Hiii!! How are you? Can I ask for a jude request where both the reader and him go on Ridiculousness and it’s just all fluff and jokes, thanks anyway

Cuddles (Jude Bellingham)

Soft moonlight seeped through the curtains, casting a gentle glow over the room. The walls were adorned with pictures of cherished memories, and the bed is a cozy haven of warmth and comfort. I was scrolling through movie options to watch. I worked my ass off all morning to get all my uni work done, so I could enjoy my weekend, not needing to stress about having to get anything done. As I picked an M&M out of the package I heard the door open. I perked up and listened. I heard keys being dropped on the table and bags being put down. I heard footsteps moving towards the bedroom, where I was. The door swung open to reveal my beloved boyfriend.

“Hey, baby.” Jude says with a sigh. “Hi.” I smile at him. He rushed into the bathroom to settle himself.

Jude came out in a t-shirt and his boxers. “Hey.” He says, settling himself in bed, next to me. He laid his head on my chest and wrapped his arms around my waist. “How was your day?” I asked him. He always got clingy after a hard day. “It wasn’t bad. But I got cold, and wet.” The rainy season was hard for Jude. All he wanted to do was cuddle in bed with a warm cup of hot chocolate. “Yeah? I’m sorry, baby.” I comfort him, running my hands through his hair. I moved my hand to grab his under the blanket. Once contact was made, he immediately pulled away. “God, woman. Your hands are so cold. What the fuck?” He exclaims. “Why do you have to freeze my ass every night?” He whines. I don’t understand why he thinks it’s so cold. It’s really not. I only keep the thermostat at 16C. (that is really cold for me, but that’s what i keep my room at so wtv)

I playfully grabbed his face, enveloping him in my coldness. “AY! GET AWAY!!” He yells out. “You’re such a drama queen.” I giggled. “I’m not. You’re fucking insane.” He says, referencing my temperature preferences. I simply rolled my eyes at him.

“What are we doing tonight, girlfriend?” He says, poking my side. “You tell me, boyfriend.” I replied, my eyes stuck to the T.V., struggling to find something interesting. “Well, I thought we could have some fun.” He whispered. “Stop being a horny teenager. Let’s watch Charlie And The Chocolate Factory.” I dismissed him. “You’re genuinely such a child.” He said.

“I never want to leave this bed.” I said, seemingly out of nowhere. Jude makes me feel so comfortable and safe. Nights like those were my favorite, because it was just me and him. No cameras. No media. No interviews. No judgment. Just a man and his girl. It was perfect.

“I second that. It's like a fort of coziness.” Jude replied. He held me in his chest tighter, and kissed the top of my head. He put his finger under my chin and made me look at him. I looked in his eyes, but instantly got nervous. I looked down, blushing to myself. He lets out a breathy laugh. He lifted my face once again, and kissed me. I felt all the butterflies that have ever been in my stomach all at once.

I pulled away and kissed his nose. I propped myself up on one elbow, gazing up at Jude with a mischievous glint in my eye. “What’s going on in that brain of yours, huh?” Jude asks, seeing past my eyes. “You know, we could stay here forever. Build a tiny world of blankets and pillows, and never face the world outside.” I say, holding him tight. Jude flashes me a heartwarming smile that I will never get tired of. “I'm all for it. We'll need to hire a breakfast delivery service, though. Can't survive on cuddles alone.” Jude jokes. I rolled my eyes and asked, “Why do you have the humor of an 86-year-old grandpa that gets called ‘pop-pop’ by his grandkids?” I ask him. He gasps loudly and places his hand on his chest. “For your information, girls would die for this humor.” He huffs. “I am girls.”

We shared a laugh, our fingers playing an intricate game of interlocking puzzles. My hand found its way to Jude's cheek, and I stroked it gently. “I love you so much. You don’t even get it.” I say. Jude quickly reciprocated by kissing me. He pulled away with a dramatic smooch to my head. “You do realize we've been in bed for hours, right?” I observed. “Hours? More like days, I think. Time ceases to exist in our cuddle kingdom.” Jude said. This guy is such a dork. “Please, stop. I think I’m going to be sick.” I said. “You love me.” Jude said, rolling his eyes. “You know I do.”

We laid there in silence, savoring the tranquility of the night, enveloped in a cocoon of love and comfort. I lifted my head to plant a soft kiss on Jude's lips, and he responded with a gentle caress, our affection speaking volumes without the need for words. “I’m so sleepy.” I said, yawning into Jude’s chest. “I know, sweetie.” Jude twisted at an awkward angle to reach for the T.V. remote on his side table. He grabbed it and turned off the T.V., as well as flicking off his side lamp. He reached above me and turned mine off as well. He shimmied down slowly, trying not to disturb me. “Sleep, my love.” He whispered quietly, kissing my head.

“I love you, you know.” I say, dreamily as I doze off into a deep sleep. “I love you more.” Jude whispers, knowing I can’t hear him. Our embrace tightened, as if trying to fuse our souls together, seeking solace and strength in each other's arms. The world outside may be calling, but for now, in the safety of our love, time stands still, and the only reality that matters is the one we've created in the quiet sanctuary of our shared warmth.

Dm for Requests

Wattpad: Funkyfishfeet

#football x reader #footballer x reader #jude bellingham #jude bellingham fanfic #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham fluff #jude bellingham blurb #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham angst #jude bellingham drabble #jude bellingham fic #jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham smut #wjhik

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luveline · 2 years

Note

hiii i LOVE your writing so much so i was wondering if i can request maybe rockstar remus with a shy reader? i don’t have a specific scenario so it can be about anything :)

tysm!!! modern au, shy!reader meeting bassist!remus ♡ fem!reader | 1.5k words

He's darker than you'd thought he'd be. In the magazines and on TV, Remus Lupin seems the lightest of the Marauders. Lightest hair, pale skinned, moderate temperament. He doesn't dress elaborately like the band's frontman Sirius and is certainly never shirtless like their drummer, James.

A quiet presence on stage, he laughs sparingly and says maybe one or two dry words in response to his bandmates' infamous bantering.

You can understand it. You're shy on your best days. Today is not one of your best days and it's worse now that you've found yourself alone in a room with a total rockstar.

He's not smiling. He's not really doing anything, slouched back on the sofa with his arms crossed over his chest.

He's also staring at you, entirely unabashed.

You feel pinned under his gaze.

"What are you reading?" he asks. His voice is scratchy, as if disused.

You'd been expecting him to ignore you entirely and so his question catches you off guard. You pull your book from your lap and stare at the title, having completely forgotten as soon as he'd asked.

You prepare yourself to speak and likely take too long. "It's called the Left Hand of Darkness." You try not to make it sound like a question.

Luckily for you, Remus Lupin seems in no hurry. Soft, the suggestion of a smile on his face as his eyes melt from an impassive disinterest to something brighter. Something that makes your heart skip.

"Are you enjoying it?"

You can't work out his voice. You suppose it's one of those things that only his friends and family could understand, how his sincerity seems to be wrapped in amusement.

Or maybe he's messing with you.

Again, you've taken too long to answer. Again, he doesn't seem to mind.

"I…" Your gaze drifts to the book in your hand. Easier to look down than at him. He's the kind of handsome that gets distracting.

"I read A Wizard from Earthsea, when I was a kid," he says.

You're more than thankful for the helping hand. "Right- I mean, me too. I really liked it and I thought that this would be the same. But it's not. Obviously." And now you're rambling. Brilliant.

"It gets easier. The more you read it. She's a heavy world builder, but it's worth it."

You blink in surprise. He's read it, you think. Oh.

Remus drops a hand between his spread legs and sits up, fingers closing around the underside of the sofa. You feel your heart skip again. He looks very much like a rock star like this, face tilted down, knees pushed in, one converse shoe tapping the floor.

"Who do you know?" he asks.

"Macy. She's-"

"The venue's social media manager."

Why would he remember something like that? You find yourself liking him that little bit more. "Yeah. I'm sorry. To be in here for so long. She told me to wait."

"Hey, that's okay. Can I tell you a secret?"

Your face burns hot. You hesitate and then nod. He smiles properly for the first time since you'd walked in on him.

"I'm not supposed to be in here."

"No?"

"I'm hiding."

"From who?"

As if summoned, a wolfish laugh echoes down the corridor. Remus stands with little urgency. "Tell him you haven't seen me."

"What?" you ask, startled.

He stops at your side and looks down at you. You look up in return, his gaze jolting you to the core.

"When he comes in here asking for me, tell him you haven't seen me. Please." He's careful to be clearer.

"Okay," you say weakly.

"Attagirl."

He disappears into an unmarked cupboard. You sit on pins as footsteps grow closer and hug your paperback to your chest, trying to look as inconspicuous as you can.

The door opens. Sirius Black walks in. If you hadn't already been exposed to one rockstar today Sirius really would've had your eye out – he's one of the most famous men in the world right now, and for good reason. He's shockingly handsome and looks maybe a little high, his shirt unbuttoned and untucked, tight trousers boasting thighs almost as good as his bassist's.

"Hello," he says, as smooth as you'd expect. "Aren't you something sweet?"

You bite your lip. "Hello," you echo.

"Haven't seen Remus around, have you?"

"It's only me in here," you say apologetically.

"What a shame," he says, sounding like it's not a shame at all. You get the distinct impression that he might eat you alive if he weren't so busy. "Thanks anyways, sweet thing."

He closes the door behind him.

Twenty seconds of silence before Remus reappears. He looks about as unbothered as he had before when he sits in the chair next to yours, the rubber toe of his shoe hitting into yours.

"Sorry," he murmurs, pulling his legs in closer. "Thank you for hiding me."

"Why… Why are you hiding?" you ask.

"He's in a mood today." He inhales loud and leans towards you. "Antagonistic. I'll stick around for a while, if you don't mind."

"No, of course I don't. Is he always like that?"

"Flirtatious? Salacious? Chauvinistic?" he supplies, adding a word for each time you giggle.

"Terrifying."

"No. He's usually worse. He was being nice."

It must be obvious on your face. Why was he being nice to me?

"Pretty girls like you are one of his many weaknesses," Remus says, crossing his arms until his hands cover his shoulders. He scratches the side of his neck, the column of his throat a distinct and tempting sight.

You know you should flirt. Say something risky, say, Well what about you? But you just can't get the words out when he's looking at you the way he is.

"We have that in common," he adds. Bravely, in your opinion, as you'd never say something so open.

You smile, cover your lips with your fingertips and then stop smiling. Is he messing with you?

"I'm Remus," he says.

"I know." You can barely talk.

He grimaces and rubs his throat, his pinky finger disappearing under the collar of his black and white baseball tee. "I don't like to assume. What's your name?"

The door is thrown open.

Remus groans and flops back in his chair, covering his eyes. Sirius Black has returned, looking wildly peeved to discover him but unsurprised.

"I knew he was in here. You've not got a very good poker face, little lady."

"Could you be any more overbearing?" Remus asks him.

"Wanna try?"

You force your hands between your legs and don't know where to look. To Sirius, his wild curls, his scary smile, the dark chest hair climbing the valley of his chest. To Remus, his long-suffering expression, frustration a very good look on him. His hands, the thick gunmetal grey of a ring around his middle finger, a smaller one around his index.

"Don't be rude, Moons, introduce us."

"I can't, you've-"

"I'm Y/N," you say. It's quiet enough that you assume they've missed it, but Remus repeats it to himself with a grin.

"Well, Y/N," Sirius says, "I'm sorry to cut our meeting so short, but Remus has things he should've been doing all day." His smile is saccharine as he turns to Remus. "Lily is enraged."

"She can hardly blame me. You and James are in twin moods today."

"Whatever."

Remus is all sorries as he starts for the door. "I'm sorry to leave so rudely," he says.

"That's okay."

"It was nice to meet you. Enjoy your book."

You nod and he nods and lingers at the door until Sirius pulls him out. You sit there then, disappointed, mad at yourself for being disappointed, deep in your head when the door opens for the third time.

"Ask for my autograph," Remus says abruptly.

You wince. Is he, like, a sociopath? Have you offended him? You thought the right thing to do was not ask for one. "I'm sorry-"

"No, don't be. Just ask for it. I was really hoping you'd ask for it."

You squint at him and try to hide your suspicion. "Could I get your autograph?"

He turns to the desk and swipes a pen and somebody's business card, his hand moving fast as he scrawls down words you can't see. He clicks the pen up against his chest and offers it to you.

"Thank you," you say, shell-shocked.

Remus doesn't smile but his eyes are sweet as he tosses the pen and leaves again.

Your hands shake when you bring the card to your eyeline.

A phone number atop bumping letters.

Tell me how the book was? Remus L.

He's drawn a small book besides his initial. You stare at it until your eyes burn and rub your thumb over the ink. It smudges, still wet, so you know it's real.

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin #remus x you #remus x reader #james & peter & remus & sirius #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin fic #bassist remus #bassist!remus #marauders era #marauders #marauder x reader #x reader #rockstar!au

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lixzey · 9 months

Text

The Story of Us.

In which you are Timothée Chalamet's high school sweetheart. After a messy break up ten years ago, Timothée is Hollywood's it boy, while you are a rising star. The two of you will star in a new movie, what could possibly go wrong?

2009, freshman year

You took a deep breath before stepping inside the classroom, your palms sweating as you gripped the strap of your bag tighter. Today was your first day of freshman year at LaGuardia, and you were absolutely terrified. It was your first time at a new school where you actually had a chance to finish an entire school year without moving to another state because of your mother's job.

As soon as you stepped inside, you felt everyone's eyes land on you. Was it because you had a Hello Kitty shoulder bag? Was it because you had a mass of frizzy hair that looked like a bird nest? Or was it because you were the only one wearing a pink floral dress with a white long-sleeved cardigan? You gulped before making a beeline towards a vacant seat at the very back of the classroom, hoping to try and stay out of everybody's way.

“You're going to be alright, y/n. You're gonna be here for the next four years; you can do this,” you muttered to yourself, trying to calm your anxiety.

You still couldn't wrap your head around the fact that you got accepted to the Fame School, as everyone called La Guardia. You were pretty sure that you weren't talented enough to get in. Yeah, you could sing, act, and write, but you thought that it wasn't enough to get you in, but to your surprise, you got accepted. Your mother was absolutely proud of you, supporting your every dream, but your father? It was a different story.

Your parents got divorced when you were eleven, and it wasn't a delightful experience. You saw how your parents fought almost every day since you were ten because your mom accused your dad of cheating, which was true. Having had enough of your father, your mother filed for divorce. The divorce was traumatic for both you and your mother. Your father was insistent on getting sole custody of you, as you were his only child. In the end, your mom got full custody of you, granting your father only visitation rights along with paying child support.

You haven’t seen your dad ever since, but you still had contact over social media. You hated it, but for the sake of formality, you just went along with it.

“Is this seat taken?”

Someone asked, snapping you out of your thoughts. You huffed before looking up, your eyes meeting bright green, making your breath hitch in your throat. God, he’s beautiful.

“Is this seat taken? I really don’t want to sit up front,” he asked, a hopeful look in his eyes.

“Uh, no, it isn't.” you smiled nervously. “Go ahead.”

He sat down beside you, a grateful smile on his lips. “I'm Timothée.” He introduced himself, his hand out for a handshake.

“Uh, I'm Y/n.” you said, taking his hand in yours.

“Nice to meet you, Y/n.” Timothée grinned, shaking your hand before letting it go. “I hope you don't mind me sitting beside you; I really don't like sitting in front.”

“Nice to meet you too.,” You chuckled nervously, feeling butterflies flutter in your stomach. “I don’t mind; I mean, I don’t own that chair, you know?”

You tried acting normal, but the way he smiled at you made your cheeks heat up in a way you couldn’t understand why. Timothée had a beautiful face, like he was some sort of Greek god trying to flirt with you and wanting to have demigod children with you. You were pretty sure that his chiseled jawline could cut your finger if you tried to touch it. His eyes? Like emerald jewels set in ivory. His gaze, luring you in like an enchanted forest.

“So, where are you from?” Timothée asked, turning his full attention to you.

“I live nearby,” you answered, tugging on the sleeves of your cardigan. His attention was solely on you. He didn’t pay attention to the girl in front of you, who was batting her eyelashes at him. Stop looking at me like that! “Lincoln Square.”

“That's nice. I’m guessing you walked to school?”

“Uh, no, my mom dropped me off on the way to work.” You felt your cheeks heat up. Gosh, he must think I’m a mommy’s girl. “What about you? Where are you from?”

“Hell’s Kitchen,” He answered. “Yeah, I know; it’s a little bit far from here.”

“It’s only twenty minutes away, not that far. I heard famous artists live there.”

Timothée’s smile widened. “Yeah, some do." A faint blush covered his face. “I'm going to be a big actor someday, like Leonardo DiCaprio.” He leaned closer to me, so only you could hear him. “I'm gonna be the star of the next big blockbuster movie when I’m all grown up.”

“I bet you will.” You smiled, patting him on the shoulder.

Timothée looked at you with sparkling eyes, his head slightly tilted to the side. “What about you? What do you want to be when you’re all grown up?” He asked, tilting his head to the side. “Are you gonna be a big, famous person like me someday?”

“I don't know; I guess a writer? I mean, I do love to write poems and stories. Though I can sing and act too,” you shrugged. You really didn't know what you wanted to be. Your mom said you’d become an actress because, when you were younger, you loved to put on little plays for your mom and begged her to attend a few workshops along the way.

But you loved writing; it was your safe haven. Writing was a way for you to let out everything you felt. You wrote stories, songs, and poems every time you felt the weight of the world—the weight of your father’s mistake. You were the scar, the bruise, and the result of the pain that he brought to your mother. Your mother knew that you write based on what you experience, of course. She told you that it was okay to write about how you feel and that it was better than keeping it bottled up. She didn’t want you to go through what she went through with your father; she didn’t want you to bottle all your emotions up and, one day, just explode.

“Maybe you can write one of my movies someday?” Timothée said, snapping you out of your thoughts, a big smile on his lips. “Or I could be the star of a movie you’ll one day write. How about that?” He grinned, his green eyes sparkling, making it hard not to stare at him when he looks at you like that.

“Maybe.” You chuckled. “Maybe not.”

“I know it sounds silly, but I know it's going to happen. I can feel it.” Timothée sighed dreamily, his eyes glittering. “I really wanna be someone like Leonardo DiCaprio or, like, Johnny Depp, you know?”

“If I'm going to be an actress, I want to be like Anne Hathaway.” You smiled as you thought about your favorite actresses. You absolutely loved her in The Princess Diaries, the movie that had you believing at some point that you were a princess.

Timothée raised an eyebrow. “Anne Hathaway?”

You looked at him incredulously. “What? She’s a great actress!”

“No, yeah, she is, but I bet you'll be even better than Anne Hathaway if you want to be.”

You scoffed. “Oh, please, I’m not as pretty as her to get any roles.”

Timothée seemed surprised that you said that you weren’t pretty. “Oh, please,” Timothée scoffed the same way you did. “You are pretty!”

You rolled your eyes. “You need to get prescription glasses.”

Timothée scowled. “My eyes are perfectly fine; thank you very much.”

"No, they’re not, because I am neither pretty nor beautiful. I mean, look at my hair." You pointed to your frizzy hair, trying to prove your point. How could he tell me I look pretty when I literally look like a mess?

“You are beautiful; don’t ever think that you aren’t.” Timothée waved a hand dismissively. “With your talent and your looks, you’ll definitely be a star someday, just like Anne Hathaway; I'm sure of it.”

“How are you so confident that I’m going to be this star? You don't even know if I'm talented.” You asked, rolling your eyes playfully. “I mean, we only just met.”

He placed a hand over his heart, a mischievous smirk on his lips. “I have a pretty good instinct when it comes to people, and I just have a feeling about you. Besides, you won't know unless you try, right?”

“When's your birthday?” You asked, changing the subject.

“Wow, changing the subject already?” Timothée looked surprised that you suddenly asked him that question. “You want to know when I was born? That’s a new one.”

“Just answer the question.”

“December twenty-seventh, why?” He seemed curious, a faint smile on his face.

“I'm older, October nineteenth.” You smirked.

“Oh really?” Timothée laughed, raising a brow. “I didn't realize I was talking to an older girl,” he teased, his smile growing wider. “Does that mean you can boss me around?”

“Maybe.” You giggled, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Do you want me to boss you around?”

He looked at you, his head slightly tilted to the side, as if he was contemplating his life decisions. “Yes, please.” Timothée nodded his head up and down like a little kid, a cheeky grin on his face. “I love being bossed around by older, powerful women.”

“How do you even pronounce your name?” You asked with a cheeky smile.

“Oh, my name...” He scratched the back of his head. “You say it like tee-moh-tay. It's French, so it's a little tricky for some people.”

“Sounds kind of pretentious.”

“You know what?” Timothée grinned. “I think that's exactly what my parents were going for.”

“So, you're French?” You raised an eyebrow at him. “I mean, it would explain the fancy schmancy name.”

“Yes, yes, I am.” Timothée nodded and smiled confidently. “My dad is French, and my mom is American.”

“French boy, huh? Do you like escargot? Since you know, you're French?” You teased, grinning at him.

“Escargot?” Timothée scrunched his nose in disgust. “No, thank you. There's no way I'm going to eat those slimy snails,” he shrugged. “I mean, I'm half French, but I am a New Yorker through and through. But I do like croissants, though.”

“You're funny.” You giggled.

“I know, I’m hilarious,” Timothée grinned. “You want to hear a joke?”

“Go on, Frenchie."

Timothée raised a brow. “Frenchie, really?”

“Would you rather that I call you french fry?”

Timothée rolled his eyes, a playful smile on his lips. “Do you want to know why you should never trust stairs?” He asked you with a cheeky grin, making you roll your eyes. “Because they are always up to something!”

You laughed at his joke. “Yeah, you aren’t destined to be a stand-up comedian.”

“How could you?” Timothée gasped, feigning offense.

Before you could answer Timothée, the teacher came in. “Good morning, class,”

You looked at Timothée. “Talk to you later, I guess?”

“Do you want to, maybe, join me for lunch? I mean, I’ll understand if you don’t want to.” Timothée asked, a hopeful look in his eyes.

“Of course, I’d love to.”

“Okay, okay,” Timothée smiled, and suddenly you felt time stop.

Oh gosh. He’s too darn beautiful; it’s a crime. He was only wearing a dark gray t-shirt, but he still looked effortlessly handsome.

I’m not the kind to fall for a guy who flashes a smile, right?

Maybe you were.

@helens3amstuff @gatoenlaciudad @thebetawolfgirl @lovemelikecrazyiloveyoucrazy @tchalamss @ashlynnmalfoy @crazycat-ladys-blog @michakune @mxltifxnd0m @spencerr3idd @dangelnleif @sthkate @ferrjulie @imnotoverlyobsessive @mel-vaz @elsagreeer @lovely-maryj @meowmeowmau @bobthe-turmpetman29 @saintcosette @ashisabitgay @ladyladybuggg @nyrasunderwrld @remussbitch @jadahxx @starrystormwritings @ell0ra-br3kk3r @dreary-salem @drewsandsebastianswife @greenapplegrass @lilianelena39 @haybellewrites @cloudlst @si4a @ev3ningrain @ttulipwritezz @lilmaymayy @bullets-from-another-dimension @siriuslycaptainofthedawntreader @reg-arcturus-black @marina468 @3stelar @timhalamet @st4rf00k3r @idli-dosa @jimins15thhair @blacksgarden

#timothée chalamet #timmy #timmy chalamet #timothee chalamet #timothee #timothée chalamet imagine #lil timmy tim #timothée chalamalabingbong #timothée chamalet #timothee chalamet fanfiction #timothee fanfic #timothée chalamet x reader #timothee x reader #timothee chamalet

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jojotichakorn · 7 months

Text

ok listen. look at me. look me in the eyes. the reason why i've repeatedly stated that NOTHING that might happen in the ofts finale would disappoint me is because i knew it would be entirely in character and whatever mess those messy characters would create, it would make sense. i am the author of the "i stand with my cancelled wife [boston]" post and that's still true. i have said before that i dislike top almost as much as i hate mew. so, why did i enjoy that finale? because it made sense.

best way i can suggest you to perceive everything that happened - since you are clearly not used to perceiving media that way - is by imagining that these are just real-life events a friend is recounting to you. this is exactly what happened. now tell me and tell me honestly: does it not all fall into place? and does your friend telling you about these things automatically mean they agree with them?

isn't top and mew hanging onto one another - while a random appearance of Some Guy instantly makes top feel like his relationship is under threat - completely in character? doesn't it make you look at your friend and go "damn, well that relationship is SO fucked"? and does it truly make you feel like your friend would disagree?

isn't boston trying to reconcile with the friend group and change for nick because he clearly needs friendship and close relationships completely understandable? doesn't it make you look at your friend and go "damn, well - regardless of how it happened - thank fuck he ended up leaving to new york alone and starting a new life, finding people who would understand him"? and does it truly make you feel like your friend would disagree?

isn't mew considering himself the judge, the jury, and the executioner and eventually not forgiving boston and consequently essentially removing him from the friend group completely realistic, considering the fact that he is highly moralistic and has ray and chueam wrapped around his little finger? doesn't it make you look at your friend and repeat "damn, thank gods boston moved on with his life"? does it truly make you feel like your friend would disagree?

isn't sand with his "yes, when i'm in love, i'm like a dog" thinking nick deserves 'better' than an open relationship completely true to his character? doesn't it make you look at your friend and go "damn, someone's projecting"? does it truly make you feel like your friend would disagree?

i can go on for-fucking-ever. throw something at me, if it doesn't make sense to you, and i will tell you why it does. because all of it does.

and i am sorry if you were expecting this series to be wrapped up in a pretty bow, ready for shipment to "everything is right and fair in the world" factory, but this was definitely not the series for that.

#i'm not tagging this and it better not breach containment #but for the anons that have flocked to me due to having the same opinions but percieving the series differently #here's my answer #archer speaks

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psychedelic-ink · 6 months

Text

We Fall Like Snow ║ Part IV

series summary: After the events that took place at the Cliff Beasts set, needless to say as his bodyguard (and friend) you became overprotective of Dieter. You have all your worries under control until you accidentally flip over a young fan by grabbing her wrist, causing the media to stir with speculations as to why. Luckily Dieter's family arrives in the nick of time, scooping you both from New York to their cozy cabin; however winter wonderland can't last forever and you need to face the consequences of your actions sooner or later.

pairing: Dieter Bravo x bodyguard!ofc; Amina Addams, written in reader format

chapter summary: labeling your relationship with dieter as romantic one was never an option.

word count: 4.9k

chapter warnings: morning oral sex (giving), dirty talk, mouth fucking, little bit of cum play, lot of holiday fluff, adaline breaks out the karaoke machine; dieter is not amused, tinsy bit of angst, secret relationship, fluff fluff fluff

**dividers by the amazing @saradika

The winter sun filters through the window, casting its warm glow upon your face as you awaken. You hear the soft breathing of Dieter beside you, and turn to look at him. His face is peaceful in sleep, his hair a disheveled mess that you can't help but gently brush away from his forehead. He stirs, waking up with a sleepy smile, his eyes slowly flutter open. The way the corners of his eyes crinkle makes you want to lean in and kiss each and every line individually— You really have it bad for him, and you're not sure if it's a good thing.

He wraps his arms around you and pulls you closer, his nose nudging into the crook of your neck. Dieter hums at the warmth of your skin and you shudder at the feeling of the cold tip of his nose. The morning feels fresh and new. Your mind still lingers on what Shannon told you last night. You take a mental note to tell Dieter when the two of you are fully awake.

“‘Morning,” he says, voice deep with sleep. “I can’t believe you’re actually here. I was scared that I dreamt it all,”

“Nope,” you answer with a chuckle. “I’m afraid it was very much real. You’re stuck with me now,”

“You work with me, we were already stuck together.”

Dieter's hands slide down your waist, his fingers grazing your skin before they come to rest on your buttocks. He cups your asscheeks firmly, his touch sending shivers down your spine as he pushes your hips into a slow, sensual roll. Your chest heaves at the feeling of his cock hard and bare against your thigh. Swallowing, you place your hands on his shoulders for some sense of stability.

“D-Dieter,”

“Yeah, baby?”

His lips touch your forehead and you bite the inside of your cheek. You can’t ignore the way heat pools between your legs, you’re still wearing one of his shirts from last night. Dieter’s hand moves to your sex, dragging his fingers between your folds. The way he groans makes your heart nearly leap from your throat.

“Still wet,” he hums. “Can I fuck you?”

Your head falls back, your body arching into his touch. You close your eyes hoping to clear your mind. Before he fucks you senseless, you have things you need to say. You two worked together, which meant any semblance of a decent relationship is thrown out the window. You breathe in through your nose and exhale from your mouth. His fingers circle your clit, forcing a moan to drop from your lips.

“Before you do,” you say, opening your eyes to meet his gaze. “I need you to promise me not to tell anyone about this,”

“About what?”

“About—” you avert his gaze, gesturing vaguely between the two of you. “Whatever this is. This can’t be a regular thing, at least not when we go back. They already have pictures of us,”

“Pictures?”

“From yesterday when we were ice skating. They got a shot of us skating together,”

“So?”

He sounds agitated, which in turn annoys you. Of course, he doesn’t understand, Dieter understands nothing when it comes to responsibility.

“Shannon called me last night, she doesn’t want this to snowball into anything bigger. People are going to think I attacked that fan because I’m in love with you or something,”

“And that would be bad because…?”

“Because I’m not in love with you. And that’s not the reason I accidentally threw that girl over my shoulder,” you snap, the tension between you growing thicker with each passing moment.

“Ah,” he says dumbly. “Okay. Yeah, that makes sense.”

You’re not a fan of the way he’s looking at you; his eyes glossing over and dropping to your neck to avoid looking at your face. You’re not sure what it is that makes sense to him, but you let it go. This is harder than you thought. Dieter had multiple one-night (or two-night) stands, and you want him to treat you no different.

At least that’s what your common sense is telling you.

You continue to lay in his arms, and your heart steadily beats, the sound of it filling the silence.

The sadness on Dieter's face makes you feel uneasy. You can see it etched in the lines around his eyes and the downturn of his mouth. He withdraws his fingers, they now lay on your hip, leaving wet streaks on your skin. Your eyes frantically search his face, and a beat later you wrap your fingers around his softening cock, squeezing it lightly.

Dieter jumps, a garbled moan dropping from his lips. He squeezes his eyes shut, and his hips stutter forward.

“What—” his voice trembles and he gulps. “What are you doing?”

You can feel the warmth and pulse of his arousal. You’re not sure what you’re doing either. The only thing you do know is that you wanted to wipe that sad expression from his face. It's a small gesture, but it's enough to chase away the shadows from his eyes. You swipe the pad of your thumb across his slit, a bead of precum caught against your finger. With a smile, you lazily begin to move your hand up and down his hardening length.

“I was just thinking I should return the favor from last night. Is that okay?”

“It’s more than okay—” his breath hitches as you disappear underneath the sheets, your lips ghosting the length of his cock. “If your pretty mouth feels half as good as it did in my imagination I’m in for a ride,”

Dieter pushes the sheets down enough to free your head, you look up at him between heavy lashes. You drag the tip of your tongue from the base of his cock to the tip, he whimpers.

“Did you think a lot about my mouth?”

“Every time you opened it,”

The words send a ripple of arousal through you, you press your thighs together, ignoring the slippery feeling of the skin in between. You tentatively give the tip a kiss then swirl your tongue around the fat head of his cock. Now that the fog of your near-death experience has been lifted, he seems and feels bigger somehow. It’s hard to believe last night he was inside, drilling into you like there was no tomorrow.

His cock twitches when you wrap your lips around the head and push forward, taking half of him in. Dieter groans with need, hips thrusting into your mouth. You choke and swallow as your mouth fills with saliva, precum coats your tongue, the taste bitter.

“Fuck, sorry sorry,” he breathes out a chuckle, hand finding the back of your neck and stroking it. “You’re taking it so well, sweetheart. ‘Look so good down there, lips spread with my cock.”

An involuntary moan rattles in your throat and you slowly spread your fingers across his thighs. Dieter takes a sharp inhale through his nose, his fingers tightening around your nape. You take him all the way and your chin aches at the pressure, you swallow repeatedly, mouth filling with the taste of him and spit. A bit of it trickles down the corner of your lips and you feel the pad of his thumb swiping at your skin.

“So pretty,” he says, voice hoarse. “I kinda wanna ask you how it feels but your mouth is full,”

You roll your eyes at that, a ghost of a smile tugs at the corner of your lips; barely noticeable as you begin to bob your head up and down his cock. Your tongue slides along the length of him, teasing until he breaks and moans out in pleasure. Your hands slide up along his hips, thumbs softly caressing the curve of his stomach, you feel him trembling underneath you.

The effect you have on him is intoxicating, blinding, and deafening.

The sounds he makes grow louder, deep down you want to tell him to be quiet, that his family might hear, but some other twisted part of you screams the hell with it—You want to hear his moans. You want him to scream your name when he inevitably comes in your mouth.

With a gasp, you tear away from him, and his sharp whine cuts through the silence as you wrap your fingers around his length. Stroking him, you kiss the skin right above the base of his cock. Everything feels so wet.

“Dieter,” you hum and press another kiss into his skin. He shivers. “I want you to fuck my mouth,”

A line of precum drips down the head of his cock and you swipe it away with the flat of your tongue. You groan at the taste.

“Oh god—fuck—are you serious?” he looks down and you nod, your hand leisurely moving along his length. “You’re going to be the death of me,”

He breathes heavily through his nose, both hands cradling the back of your head, thumbs gently stroking the skin.

Dieter gives you one last look before indulging himself completely. His hips thrust up with vigor, nails biting into your scalp as he buries his cock all the way down your throat. Much to your surprise, he holds you there, your nose buried in his soft curls as you breathe heavily around him. Your throat convulses and he groans, pushing himself deeper. You can barely breathe, your lungs burning. But you can’t bring yourself to pull away, not when his cock is twitching so deliciously on your tongue.

Your eyes are fogged with tears when you look up. Dieter’s lips are parted, the most sultry noises falling from his lips. The back of his head is buried in the pillows, his back slightly arched off the bed.

“That’s it, take it just like that,” he groans. “I’m going to come down your pretty throat, and you’ll swallow like the good girl you are, right?”

As soon as you give a barely perceptible nod, Dieter starts to pull back his hips. The sudden movement catches you off guard and you're momentarily taken aback. You feel a rush of oxygen fill your lungs, a sense of relief washing over you as you take in a deep breath. It's a fleeting moment, however, when he rams his cock back in, drawing a strangled moan from your throat.

You quickly flatten your tongue against the underside of his cock, savoring the taste of him and the warmth of his skin. You hollow out your cheeks, spit and cum dribble down your chin and down your neck.

“Fuuckkk—You’re doing so good— I’m so close. So so fucking close—Shit—”

Dieter spills into your mouth and your nails dig into his burning skin, a weak attempt to ground yourself to reality. You swallow him down, desperately fighting the urge to pull back in a coughing fit.

The most sinful sigh leaves Dieter’s lips as he holds you there, your nose touching his skin. His cock throbs and lays heavy on your tongue, you feel your own arousal dripping out of you. Your chin starts to ache as you continue to swallow him down, he rolls his hips one last time before pulling out, softening cock falling onto his stomach.

“Come here—” his hands reach down, helping you move up his body. “Come here right fucking now,”

The way Dieter kisses you is intoxicating. He licks into your mouth, tasting the remnants of himself. The same hands that roughly pulled you up now slide down your back, firmly cupping your ass. He stifles your moan by sucking your tongue. At this moment you swear that you’re the only one occupying this earth, you and him, dancing within time and consuming one another. The room around you spins and spins—It spins until you’re gasping for air.

“I want you to sit on my face,” Dieter says, wet lips touching your forehead. “Wanna see how wet you got while sucking my cock,”

You heave out a laugh, heat licks the bottom of your spine. “I don’t think we have time baby boy,”

Your eyebrows raise with amusement when he shudders, his eyes fluttering closed.

“Call me that again,”

“Hmm baby boy,” you start grinning like this moment is going to last forever. “We have work to do,”

His face drops, eyes immediately opening wide. “What work?” he pouts, his brows knitting together in a cute frown. “I’m on vacation, and so are you,”

“God, do I really scare you that much?” you ask with amusement. “Look, you’re going to be wrestling Everrett tomorrow and I refuse to eat my own words. You’re going to beat him,”

Dieter sighs and starts to draw lazy circles on your hip bone with his thumbs. "I hate to break it to you, but I've never actually beaten him. You betted on the wrong horse."

“I most certainly did not.”

The air is crisp and fresh, with a slight hint of frost. It's invigorating but also makes your skin feel dry and tight. You pull your jacket tighter around you, trying to shield yourself from the cold. Despite the chill, you feel a sense of exhilaration as you take in the cold air.

You take a few steps onto the snow-covered ground and feel the chill of the frozen earth beneath your feet. You can see your breath as you exhale, white puffs of steam in the cold air. You turn to Dieter and give him a nod, signaling that you're ready to begin.

"First things first," you say, "We need to get our footing right. See how I'm standing with my feet shoulder-width apart and my weight evenly distributed on both legs? That's called a neutral position. It's the starting point for most wrestling moves."

You demonstrate a few different footwork drills, moving around the snow-covered ground and showing Dieter how to shuffle his feet and change direction quickly. As you move, you can feel the cold rushing past your face.

"Now let's work on some basic offensive moves," you say.

You stand with your feet shoulder-width apart, fists raised in front of your face as you watch Dieter mimic your stance. But as you begin to demonstrate the first punching combination, it becomes clear to you that Dieter is struggling. His punches are weak and unsure, and he keeps fumbling as he tries to follow your instructions.

You can see the frustration and disappointment written all over Dieter's face, "Come on Dieter, don't give up now," you say, trying to sound encouraging. "You’re doing great,"

But Dieter shakes his head, "You’re lying. I absolutely suck at this," he says, looking up to the sky. "And it’s not surprising considering the only workout I've ever done is... well, you know."

"Don't sell yourself short, Dieter," you place both hands on his shoulders, forcing him to look at you. "How about this, you’re an actor. I’ve seen you do similar stunts, just think of this something you have to do in order to land the part."

He groans but takes a fighting stance anyway, you tackle him but much to your surprise, Dieter manages to get the upper hand. He takes you down to the cold, hard ground, his weight bearing down on you as he straddles your waist. You can feel his breath on your face, hot and heavy. For a moment, you think he's going to lean down and kiss you, and your heart races.

Despite the chill, you feel a warmth spreading through your body. Now regretting not taking up Dieter’s offer to sit on his face earlier this morning— You feel alive and electric, every sense heightened and alert.

Dieter hovers above you, and you can feel the cool breeze on your skin. You're lost in the moment, completely focused on each other.

Just as you think Dieter is about to lean in and close the distance between you, you hear a voice calling out from afar. Reality comes crashing back, and you reluctantly break apart, both of you laughing awkwardly as you stand up and dust off the snow.

“I don’t care how much you two train, there’s no way he’s going to win,” Everett calls out with his trademark grin. “Anyway, we’re decorating the tree. Adaline told me to call you two inside,”

“Sounds to me you’re nervous,” you say, walking up to the door with Dieter. “And you know what? You should be,”

The three of you step inside, you sigh happily at the warmth hugging your body, a small shiver running along the sides of your body.

When you take another step, you feel a pair of nimble arms hugging you tight. Shocked, your hands hover in the air momentarily before returning the gesture.

“Dieter told us what happened last night when you were sleeping,” Adaline says, her voice filled with worry. “I’m glad you’re okay. It must’ve been scary,”

When on earth did he tell them?

“That’s kind of you but I’m alright, thanks to your son,”

Adaline reaches out and pinches Dieter’s cheek, “He has his moments,” she answers with a wide smile. “Anyway, come on in, get cozy and hang an ornament,”

Dieter rolls his eyes and grumbles. "Geez, Mom. You sound like an infomercial. 'Get cozy and hang an ornament! Order now and receive a free tinsel strand!' "

“Oh, hush.”

You’re not immune to the way Dieter looks at you when a snort cheats its way through your laughter. You clap your hand over your mouth but he only smiles.

You stand back and observe as Dieter's family bustles around the Christmas tree, hanging ornaments and stringing lights. Adaline hums along to the festive tunes playing on the radio as she carefully hangs a delicate glass angel on a high branch. Claus, grumbles good-naturedly as he struggles to untangle a string of lights. Everett playfully teases Dieter as they both hang shiny tinsel on the branches.

The scent of gingerbread fills the air, making your mouth water. Adaline must’ve been busy baking while you and Dieter were wrestling in the cold—You do feel slightly guilty for not offering to help.

Dieter notices you standing off to the side and beckons you over. "Come help us instead of just staring," he says with a grin. You smile and join them, picking out a bright red ball ornament to hang on the tree.

As you hang the ornament, you feel Dieter’s heat right next to you. "We always used to put the angel on top of the tree," he explains. "And my mom would always hide a pickle ornament somewhere on the tree, and the person who found it got an extra present on Christmas morning."

“Oh that’s adorable—”

“Ask him who always found the pickle,” Everett chimes in. “He cheated constantly,”

“I did not!”

Everett sticks his tongue out and from the corner of your eyes you see Dieter’s mom smiling from ear to ear, something tells you she has a pickle ornament hidden somewhere in the tree. She catches your gaze and her smile widens into a grin.

The tree starting to take shape, you can't help but sneak glances at Dieter as you work. The soft glow of the lights and the happy chatter of the family has you feeling like hot chocolate with marshmallows floating on top. If everything could stay like this forever you wouldn’t have any objections whatsoever.

You stand back and admire the fully decorated tree. It's a true masterpiece, filled with sparkling ornaments and twinkling lights. Dieter's face lights up as he points out his favorite ornament, a hand-painted wooden nutcracker.

You smile at Dieter and squeeze his hand when no one else can see.

“Absolutely not.”

“Pleaseeeeee--”

“No.”

“Why not?” you whine. You’re sitting on the floor with Dieter’s mom next to you and between the two of you sits an old karaoke machine. “It’s just one little song,”

Dieter looks down at you from the couch, the crease between his brows deep.

“I don’t sing, sweetheart.”

Claus cuts in, eyes rolling at his son, “You’re really going to make your mother and friend sad just because you might look silly?”

“I’m doing you guys a favor. Your eyes will bleed as soon as I start to sing,”

Everett waves his hand, “I’ve heard you plenty of times in the shower. You’re not that bad,”

“How about I sing with you…like…like a duet?” you say, the living room falling into silence as soon as the question leaves your lips.

In response to the silence, you hold your breath and look down. You feel his eyes moving across your face— a curious yet warm gaze that makes your pulse quicken.

After a moment of contemplation, Dieter sighs and nods. "Fine," he says with a smile. "But you have to promise to never tell anyone about this."

With a grin you stand, Dieter takes his place next to you, uneasy as Adaline plugs in the machine and hands you both the dusty microphones. Dieter touches your shoulder and gestures for you to turn your back to the rest of the family, he does the same.

“What are we going to sing anyway?” Dieter grunts, his eyes fixated on you.

“First give me your hand,” you say and he does so with a raise of an eyebrow. You start to trace his name into his palm, slowly. His eyes widen, his breathing quick as his eyes drop to your fingers. “Feeling better?” you ask when you’re done tracing the R.

“Baby It’s cold outside.” he says suddenly.

“Uh, what?”

“We should totally sing that! Baby, it’s cold outside. It’s perfect!”

He promptly turns around and you follow, albeit your turn done more hesitantly. He leans into you, breath ghosting your skin.

“You’re the one who got me into this so you better not be getting cold feet,” he mutters quickly, then turns his gaze to his mother. “We’re going to sing baby, it’s cold outside,”

“Ohh, good choice,” Adaline nods, turning on the karaoke machine.

The cozy living room aglow with the soft light of the Christmas tree, you can't help but feel a flutter in your chest as Dieter approaches you. You’re absolutely dreading the fact his family members are watching you intently from the couch. You try to push your insecurities to the back of your head.

The music starts to play, you and Dieter look at each other a spark flaring between you two. He shoots you a wide grin and your heart sinks into your stomach when he starts to move, his demeanor reminiscent of the famous scene. He truly is a great actor, being able to change his entire being so effortlessly.

Hesitantly, you start to sing, your nerves getting the best of you as you try to decide whether to move or stay rooted to the spot, staring at the Christmas tree. You can feel the eyes of Dieter's family on you, and you feel self-conscious.

Dieter takes your hand and starts to sing along with you. Your voices blending together perfectly as you playfully flirt and tease each other through the lyrics.

You can't help but laugh as Dieter playfully tries to keep you from leaving, pretending to be the charming yet persistent suitor. You play along, teasing him and pretending to resist his advances.

When the song starts to come to a close, you and Dieter stand close together, gazing into each other's eyes. The tension between you, electric and charged.

You know that you should step back, but you can't resist the pull you have to him. You lean in closer, your lips inches away from his.

In that moment, everything else fades away. There's just you and Dieter, caught up in a moment of wishes and dreams.

But then the song ends and the moment fades along with it, excited and eager claps fill the room urging both of you to pull away from the other. Dieter smiles sheepishly as he scratches the back of his head, his eyes glued to the floor.

“Happy?” he asks, voice only a beat above a whisper.

“Very.”

You’re already outside on the patio when your phone rings. The soft light coming through the window warms your back, and you watch the soft flakes dance down from the sky. Dieter said he would join you in a bit with a glass of mulled wine; His father’s specialty.

Absentmindedly, you fish out your phone from your pocket, and without even looking you press the cold screen against your warm ear.

“Hello?”

“Hello is this Amina Addams?”

Regret of not checking the caller ID starts to sink in, “It is,”

"Hi Ms. Addams, my name is Sarah, and I'm a reporter with the Hollywood Insider. I'm just following up on a story we received about you and Dieter Bravo. Can you confirm that you two are in a relationship?"

You take a deep breath before responding, trying to keep your emotions in check. "I'm sorry, but I don't see how my personal life is anyone's business. I'm not going to comment on my relationship with Dieter or anyone else."

"Oh, I see," Sarah says, undeterred. "Well, maybe you can tell me how you met Dieter then? Is it true that you attacked that fan because you were jealous?"

You can feel your annoyance rising. "W–What? No! It was an accident and again, I'm not going to discuss my personal life with you or anyone else. I think it's inappropriate for you to be asking me these kinds of questions."

"I understand your concern, Ms. Addams," Sarah says, her tone turning more conciliatory. "But as a public figure, Dieter's relationships are often of interest to the public. Can you at least tell me if you're enjoying your time together in the ski resort?"

You can feel your temper flaring at this point. "I'm going to end this call now. I don't appreciate being harassed about my personal life. Goodbye."

With that, you hang up the phone and let out a sigh of frustration. You can't believe the audacity of some reporters, trying to invade your privacy like that. The peaceful Hallmark movie bubble that you formed bursts, reality hitting your skin in the form of cold shards of glass.

“Who was that? Are you okay?”

You jump at Dieter’s voice, when you turn you see him looking uneasy, two steaming cups of mulled wine occupying both his hands. You pinch the bridge of your nose and shake your head.

“It’s nothing. A reporter called, interrogating me about our relationship,”

Dieter walks up to you and hands you the glass, you take it with a smile and you both turn towards the view, elbows resting on the wooden railing. The snowfall is gentle and peaceful, a soft blanket of white covering the world around you. The flakes dance and twirl in the air, caught in the soft glow of the patio lights. The temperature is just below freezing, a crisp chill in the air that bites at your cheeks and nose, but the mulled wine in your hands is warm and comforting.

You and Dieter stand side by side, shoulder to shoulder, both of you gazing out at the beauty before you. The trees are heavy with snow, their branches bent low beneath the weight. The ground is a pristine expanse of white, unmarred by footprints or tire tracks.

“How did they even get your number?” he asks, taking a sip.

You let out a soft chuckle, “I should’ve asked. I have no idea,”

“It’ll die down soon enough. You worry too much about it,”

You worry too little, is what you want to say but you bite your tongue, taking a sip of your wine instead.

“I wish I could go back in time and slap myself before doing something so rash,”

“You regret it that much, huh?”

You pick up hints of sadness in his tone, your gaze moving toward him, his face doesn’t give away much but once again the need to comfort him engulfs your very being.

“I don’t regret coming here,” you whisper. “I am enjoying meeting your family and getting away from it all,”

You feel relief when you see traces of a smile, “That’s good,” he says nodding. “Speaking of, why did you do it anyway?”

“Do what? Attack the fan?” you blink heavily when he nods again, your mouth goes dry. You’re not sure what to tell him. You can’t tell him that you’ve been afraid something will happen to him ever since the Cliff Beasts Set fiasco, he’ll think you’re crazy.

A forced chuckle drops from your lips, “I don’t know, reflexes I guess.”

“Some reflexes,” he mutters, his eyes briefly glancing up.

Minutes pass and the snow continues to fall softly around you. Unexpectedly, you feel Dieter's arms slip around your waist, pulling you close. His lips brush against your ear, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. "Look up," he whispers, his voice low.

You do as he asks, and your eyes meet a sprig of mistletoe hanging above your heads. You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks as Dieter grins at you, his eyes twinkling.

"Well, I think tradition dictates that we have to do this," he says, before leaning down to press his lips gently against yours.

The kiss is soft and sweet, a perfect blend of tenderness and something more and honestly could stand there forever, wrapped in Dieter's arms and lost in his kisses, but eventually, you reluctantly pull back, both of you smiling and breathless. He cups your chin and pulls you so your foreheads touch.

“You taste like cinnamon,” he whispers.

“And you like oranges.”

You know that all of this, the snow, the mistletoe, the warm glow of the patio lights, is only temporary. Soon enough, the snow will melt and you'll have to say goodbye to…whatever this is.

But in this moment, none of that matters.

#dieter bravo x oc #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x fem!reader #dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter bravo x ofc #dieter bravo x fem!oc #christmas fic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfic

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