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soubi122 · 8 months

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heyy I have a request!! so I really loved reading bite my tongue! it was great!!! it gave me kinda teenage vibes yk? party, sex and just fun. could u write a rindou x reader smut? yk 18 y/o RI doi with his 16 y/o gf? would that work? tell me if not. so I imagined that the reader has it's first te with rindou on rans house party (tenjiku or kantou manji time-line)!!! it would make my day?!! love u <33 !!!

Hello! Sorry it took so long to respond. Unfortunately, I cannot write minor content, though I know some countries consider 16 to be an adult. I will age the reader up to be 18.

WARNINGS: alcohol, smut, virgin reader, unprotected sex, sex, f!oral. oh he's is so soft, i really do love him. IT IS CANNON THAT HE IS VERY SWEET/NICE. (pazuribe shibuya event confirmed lol)

They know you love him - one shot - request.

Having a super popular boyfriend makes it difficult to escape the scathing questions that people ask. How good is he in bed? What's he like in bed? Is it big? How long does he last? It was rather annoying and intrusive. Either way you couldn't give them an answer. Regardless of Rindou’s reputation, he was quite the nice guy - unlike the elder Haitani, Rindou was gentle. You’ve yet to lay with him, or better yet, you have yet to lay with anyone.

Tonight you were going to face those questions again as the Haitani’s were throwing a house party. Of course Tenjiku members were going to be there and you expected quite the crowd. Not to mention the amount of females who were going to be like vultures and circling around your boyfriend.

“Shion and I will be buying the booze - do you want anything in particular?” Ran asks you while you help Rindou set up the DJ booth and lights. “Hmm…what can your brother handle?” You say teasingly knowing that Rindou was within range. The hard smack of his lips made you both turn around and face Rindou - he was smirking. “I don’t know babe, I’ll have you crawling out of here - you can’t out drink me.” Challenging him for drinks was a mistake, but you had something up your sleeve. They’ve tried a lot of liquor before but you wanted to try something new. “Get me the Añejo Tequila, the one that’s in a twisted bottle and the cap looks like it was dipped in black wax.” You say mischievously. We’ll see who will be crawling by the end of the night. You think to yourself.

After finally setting up everything, the first wave of people started to flow in. They brought booze and other things to the mix. Amongst them, the number of chicks slowly increased and began to circle around Tenjiku’s men. Before you knew it, the place was crowded and the music was blaring. Haitani parties were always like this - it was the talk of Roppongi. If you weren’t there, then you weren’t cool or important. Kakucho’s nervous smile always made you laugh, he’s the youngest out of all of them and from what you could see - he has zero experience with women. Shion had two girls on his lap and a third pouring booze in his mouth. Mochi and Mucho were in the crowd with their girlfriends. Izana was making conversation with the girls that were flocking around Kakucho, teasing him and also smooth talking to some of them. Ran, of course, had dozens of girls around him, each of them trying their hardest to snatch his attention with their skimpy outfits or pouty lips.

That left you with Rindou behind the booth. You made your way back and forth between the booth and kitchen. Bringing him drinks and other things he needed. It went on for a few hours, but you never complained. While he was mixing music, he told you to go have fun, just don’t dance with any guys. As much as you liked their parties they threw, it was always hard to enjoy them when he was always behind the booth. “I want to dance with you.” You say in his ear but the crowd kept requesting songs and made it hard for him to leave the booth. “In a little bit. Gotta give the people what they want.” With that he went back to mixing. It made you feel rather ignored. Instead of protesting, you stepped down and went to the kitchen in search of some liquid courage.

“Aw, did he blow you off?” One of the girls said as you poured yourself a drink. “gOtTa GiVe ThE pEoPlE wHaT tHeY wAnT.” You say mockingly and drink. They bursted into laughter, your friends knew the answer but they weren’t expecting you to mock him in such a childish way. “So…are you planning on getting your cherry popped tonight?” Someone asked. Their question made you giggle, there was no way, he was too busy and by the time the party's over - he always passes out. “The only thing that is going to get popped are my eardrums.”

Throughout the night you drifted between the crowd and the kitchen, dancing and drinking. As much as you hated to admit it, he was a fucking great dj and played the best songs, sneaking in some of your favorites. Even though you felt as if Rindou wasn’t paying attention to you, his eyes followed you. Each sway of your hips had him mesmerized, he wondered if there was anyone stupid enough to lay a hand on you. Those who got a little close were met with an elbow pushing them away. You kept your distance and knew that Tenjiku’s men wouldn’t hesitate to start a fight.

There was one song that he played that had people dancing close and sensual. The heat that radiated off of the crowd made you dizzy, they were close and personal. Some were beginning to make out with each other, others were leading each other out of the party or into the bathroom. Even your friends were slowly getting swallowed up by the sounds and their new boy toys. From the looks of it, you were the only one without a dance partner and it made you feel out of place. Yet the pheromones emanating off the crowd had you feeling more than just the effects of the alcohol.

Everything looked like it was moving in slow motion with the flashing lights. “What's wrong? You look lost.” A familiar voice says right in your ear. Turning around you see the tall figure and signature braids. You chuckle and respond “The DJ needs a break.” You say with a smirk on your face. Ran wrapped his arms around your waist, gently pulling you in and moving to the music with you. He was close but not close enough to feel his heat. You were surprised, it wasn't like Ran to do something this bold with you - especially in front of Rindou. As long as he wasn't touchy with you, you shrugged and said what the hell. You needed a dance partner since your boyfriend was too busy to give you attention. This will surely bring him to her. Ran thinks to himself as he glances at Rindou, he is met with furrowed eyebrows and a glare so heavy that a chill runs down his spine.

What followed was Ran spinning you around rather frequently while dancing so that almost the whole floor saw your lace panties. Tenjiku's single men, along with others, only titled their heads down a bit to get a better peek at you. The way you giggled and held on to Ran made it look like he was your boyfriend. “Izana… Isn't she Rindou's girlfriend?” Kakucho asks and gets worried about a fight breaking out. Izana laughed and continued to drink, “That's the point… she shouldn't be alone anyways - he's drawing Rindou in.” Ah, so that was the plan. He was doing you both a favor.

After a few songs, Rindou still didn't come down from the DJ booth. “Ran, I need a break.” You pant and giggle as he continues to move you around. This man was seriously going to give you a workout. “Nuh-uh, you're my dance partner tonight. Besides, Rindou is still busy right?” Ran chuckles and pulls you in, he was close - a little too close. Oops… He thinks to himself when he feels your figure tightly against his. You quickly pulled away from him, this wasn’t an ok thing for him to do - even if you were close friends. Now he knew for sure that Rindou was going to stop the music, however the music continued without interruption. When Ran looked up at the booth he felt a slight sense of panic, Rindou was nowhere in sight. “Finally.” Izana says to Kakucho when he spots Rindou in the crowd. It took him a few minutes to come down from the booth, he needed to set up music so that he wouldn't have to go back up to the booth for a while.

In the blink of an eye, Rindou was now standing in front of you - his face was calm, a little too calm. You knew all too well that he was seething on the inside. “Oh, little brother – don’t take my dance partner away…” Ran kept egging him on and you felt a sudden wave of worry when he placed his chin over your shoulder, he was too close to your face. “Ran, don’t tease him like that.” You say and pull away from him, you reach out for Rindou's hand in hopes that he isn't going to start a fight. Gently, he took your hand and pulled you away from the crowd - he was leading you somewhere. “Rin… Wait, where are we going?” You questioned him and struggled to keep up.

Soon you were pushed through a door and the familiar space felt a little more threatening than welcoming. Strong arms spun you around and now you were facing your boyfriend. Those amethyst eyes were hazy and had a glint of jealousy in them. “It looks like I'm gonna have to claim you right here, right now so that they know you're mine.” His tone was low, his hands were snaking their way around your waist and the heat that radiated off of him was making your core throb. “Wait, Rin…your brother was only keeping me company.” You manage to say before he pushed you on the soft mattress. It didn’t matter, Ran was another man so of course he’d get jealous. The moment he got on top of you, you squeezed your eyes shut and prepared for the worst.

The gentle kiss on your lips made you open your eyes, Rindou was smiling softly and chuckled. “Babe, I’m not gonna hurt you - I only wanted to take you away to spend time with you.” The sincerity in his voice made you feel warmth in your cheeks and butterflies in your belly. “You’re not mad?” You ask him carefully, you weren’t sure if he was tricking you. The tender kiss he placed on your lips answered your question. The sweet taste of liquor that danced between your tongues had you both panting and roaming your hands around each other. He was taking his time and slowly unbuttoning your shirt. The moment you felt his hand try to go between your legs, you stopped him. “What’s wrong darling?” Your hands were shaking, and your heart was pounding. You hid your face under his chin, you didn’t know how to tell him.

He pulled away a bit to take a look at your face but you pulled him in and kept hiding your face. “Babe, hey - look at me. What’s wrong?” Rindou asked and managed to get you in front of his face. The worried look on your face made him feel bad for messing with you earlier. He asked you if you were mad at him for what he did or if you were frustrated with him for not paying attention to you during the party. You shook your head no and blushed even harder. “Rindou, I’ve never mentioned it before but I’ve never been touched by someone else nor slept with anyone before.” You whisper and bite your lip, you were expecting him to make fun of you or get turned off by your confession. Rindou snickered and cupped your face, his expression was loving and comforting. “You think I didn’t know? Baby, we’ve been together long enough for me to know you inside and out. Just for the record, I don’t care about that - whether or not you’ve done this before, you’re with me now and that’s all that matters.” Oh sweet baby cthulhu, this man was truly a prince, a king, a fierce god with a gentle soul.

Looking into his eyes, you could feel a wave of relief wash over you. “A-Are you sure? I thought that-” You barely managed to say before a finger was placed on your lips to shush you. “I already told you, what matters is that you’re with me now. So…can I take care of you?” His words managed to make you let go of your nervousness and fear. With a soft nod, you allowed him to continue. “I promise, I’ll make you feel good. If at any point you want me to stop, just tell me, ok?” He whispered in your ear and began to trail kisses from your cheek to your jawline, and down to your neck. It was giving you goosebumps and making your body tremble beneath him. Soon his kisses trailed down to your chest, leaving open mouth kisses and unhooking your bra and latching on to your nipple. This was nothing like before, you and Rindou never really went beyond kissing, gentle touching over your clothes and dry humping - this was a whole new experience for you.

You covered your mouth with your hand when you moaned a little too loud. However, Rindou moved your hand away and looked up at you with a devilish grin. “The music is loud enough to cover for us. I want to hear you say my name.” A chill ran down your spine, he was totally a different person. He was sweet and malicious at the same time. He went back to sucking on your nipple and rolling the other hardened bud in his fingers. You could feel the way his tongue licked and swirled your nipple, when he pulled away ever so slightly, he blew on to it. The cooling sensation had you arching your back and panting. Your hips were now rolling into the mattress and you felt your cunt ache - the slick was pooling between your legs. The sensation building up inside you felt like heaven and this was just foreplay.

Soon his right hand was under your skirt, teasing your pantyline with his fingertips - you clenched in reflex. “Rindou…” You moan his name and feel your heart pounding against your chest, he was so close to touching your honeypot. Having you like this only made him fall for you even more. It was never his goal to take your innocence but he couldn't help having his pride swell up, he was going to pop your sweet cherry. He's heard stories before about how your first always leaves an imprint… he wanted to make sure you will always remember him.

Once his hand went past that line, he slid a finger through your slit and groaned at how wet you were. “Fuck, darling…” He looked up at you with a mischievous smirk. “I need to taste you, can I do that baby?” He asks and starts to leave open mouth kisses down your chest and belly. Right before pulling your panties down, he looks back up at you and waits for your permission. Your face is dusted in pink and your eyes are hazy, biting your lip you nod a yes. “Use your words pretty girl…” Oh sweet baby Cthulhu… his tone was low and made something feral bloom inside you. This was different from before, he was making you needy and you loved it. “Rin… I want you to taste me.” You pant and grind your hips into his hand. He didn't waste any time and stripped you, those amethyst orbs drank in your bare figure - he basked at how beautiful you looked underneath him.

Positioning himself between your thighs, he teased you with kisses, slowly getting closer and closer to your core. Your essence was dripping and he couldn't help but feel his member throb under their restraints. Your thighs trembled as he got closer, you could feel his breath fan your cunt and you clenched around nothing. Rindou's tongue took a long and slow swipe between your folds, tasting your honey for the first time had him feeling something he never knew existed. It was ecstasy or maybe even bliss to him. “Ngh… oh god, your tongue… it feels s'good!” You barely manage to say before he rips another moan out of you. Lithe fingers glided through your folds, two fingers prodded your entrance and you felt a jolt of electricity.

The deeper his fingers went, the tighter you clenched and felt a throbbing sensation around your entrance. The mild stretch was to prepare you for what's to come. Your walls sucked his fingers in and it felt so different from your own hands - curse your small hands for not preparing you better. Once his fingers began to thrust slowly in and out, Rindou focused on your puffy clit and gently teased it with his tongue. There was a tingling sensation that was beginning to build up in the pit of your stomach - it was faint but you knew what it was. Knowing what could come next only made you drip even more. Now his whole hand was coated in your essence.

“You're gonna take me so well baby…” He pants and continues to eat you out as if it were his last meal on earth. His blonde and blue silky strands were now tangled between your fingers. Rindou took his time, thrusting in his fingers sensually to the point where you were begging him to go a little faster. His lips curled into a smile when he felt you grind your hips into him. He was building up your orgasm little by little, giving your body so much love and affection that you didn't know what to even think anymore. All you knew at this point was that you wanted to feel him, feel his cock between your legs and you wanted him to cum inside you. To feel that close to somebody, to feel that close to him - it was all you wanted.

He could feel how your thighs were beginning to tremble, you were close and as much as he wanted to see you come undone - he stopped. Rindou wanted you to cum on his cock, he wanted to see your pretty face from up top when you hit that perfect O. Pouting and whimpering, you take a moment to catch your breath and ask him why he stopped. “Rindou… I was so close…” The chill that ran down your spine when he sat up and zipped his pants, oh. Oh indeed. His heavy cock sprung out and dripped precum onto your slit. He was panting and pink dusted his face, those glossy orbs of his reflected nothing but love and desire.

Your lips began to tremble when he stroked himself, earning him more beads of precum that dripped on you. Absentmindedly, you spoke and admired his member. “It’s so…big.” Already having an idea that he was well endowed when innocently teasing him before, you thought you’d be able to handle him. However, actually seeing it made you feel as if you were going to be impaled. Removing the rest of his clothing, your eyes feasted on him - his broad shoulders, those gorgeous tattoos and that perfect V cut… oh it had you in a daze. You didn’t even notice the little drool that began to run down the corner of your mouth. The sound of his chuckle made you snap out of it and you looked up to see the alluring look on his face. “You like what you see, baby?” That low and husky tone made your heart skip a beat.

Leaning in to position himself, he placed a passionate kiss on your lips and cupped your face. Rindou was a true gentleman, he never gave you a reason to mistrust him nor to question his loyalty to you. Pulling away ever so slightly from your lips, he whispered “Tell me if you want me to stop…” Too enthralled in his affection, you didn’t realize this was his warning to you that he was going in. Your breath hitched the moment his tip prodded your core and slowly stretched you out. The burn was getting more and more intense as he pushed past your walls. Screwing your eyes shut, you grip his shoulders and moan in pain. Rindou placed tender kisses on your lips and wiped the tears that trickled down your face. “I know it hurts, baby. Do you want me to stop?” He asked and paused his movements. You kept your eyes closed and shook your head no, you didn’t want to stop half way - you didn’t want to disappoint him. “Hey, hey…look at me.” He says sweetly and smiles. Opening your eyes, you were met with those beautiful amethyst orbs - they were glossy and his face was dusted in pink. For the first time you see him, the real him…

“No… please. I-I can take it.” You pant and bite your lip. What you just said and the way you said it, lit an even greater fire inside him. “Good girl…fuck.” Rindou said and proceeded to bottom out in one thrust. The pressure between your thighs and hip made you dig your nails into his shoulder and back. Shaky breaths were all you could hear along with the sound of your hearts pounding against your chest. “Breathe baby…” Rindou rests his forehead on yours and slowly gives you shallow thrusts. His member was so thick, that you could feel him throb and pulse inside you. Slowly the burn of the stretch subsided and was replaced with gentle waves of pleasure. “Ngh…” You moan and rock your hips with his. “Such a good girl…” He moans and crashes his lips into yours. The fire that burned between you two had you whimpering and moaning louder and louder with each thrust.

The high you felt here was nothing like you’ve ever felt before. Your coil was already tightly wound due to his previous actions. He was making you feel special, as if you were truly the love of his life…wait, love? This is what was happening…you were making love. It wasn’t just sex, it wasn’t just a fling or a one time thing - this was love. You couldn’t help but moan out his name and the next words that rolled off your tongue set his heart on fire. “I love you…I love you…” You repeated those words like a prayer. Rindou buried his face into your neck and quickened his pace, the way his cock would kiss your cervix, it made your eyes roll back into your skull. The sound of your slick and skin colliding started to get louder. Such lewd sounds would make anyone’s core throb. For him to hit sweet spots you didn’t know existed had you writhing beneath him. His husky moans in your ear and his warmth on your body brought you closer to bliss. “Rin-Rindou! Ahn-I’m gonna cum!” You scream and clench around his cock.

He slowed his pace and proceeded to sit up on his knees, those slow but deep thrusts had you clenching the bed sheets. Your beautiful nude figure captivated him. His hand reached to pinch your nipple, he couldn’t help but touch your tits while they were bouncing. “...so perfect.” He groaned and ran his hands down your waist. True to his own words, he wanted to see you come undone and wanted to have the perfect view for it. The hand that was toying with your nipple traveled south and landed right on your clit. His fingers place pressure and move in circular motions on your puffy bundle of nerves. Rindou had your back arching and your screams could be heard to anyone who was close to this bedroom. Slamming his hips into you, he focused on how your pretty face was filled with pleasure. The way your lips parted and said his name as your coil snapped made him reach his peak. His hips stuttered and his pace got sloppy, thick white ropes filled you to the brim and you felt him throb inside your velvet walls.

Rindou leaned in and gave you the sweetest kiss, “I love you too.” He chuckles and rolls over to pull you in. His scent made your eyelids heavy and your body felt drained. Both of you were on the verge of falling asleep, well that is until a knock on the door disturbed the peaceful bliss. Rindou yells out loud, a little annoyed. “WHAT?!” What followed was Ran peeking through the doorway with a sheet eating grin. You couldn’t see him as your face was pressed against Rindou’s chest. “The music stopped a little while ago…that is all.” Ran said and closed the door. The sound of what you could only assume were Tenjiku’s men giggling like a bunch of school girls could be heard on the other side of the door. “Oh… OH!” You yell. For a moment you could have sworn your soul left your body. No wonder you two were about to float off into a deep slumber. Rindou proceeded to laugh and snort at the expression on your face. “At least they know you love me…” He says teasingly and pulls you in for another kiss.

END

Tags: @anxious-chick

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live-laugh-lenney · 2 months

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Hi, you are literally the best Clarkeey writer I've seen and I love you for that sm! Please can we get some more fluffy smut for george?

thank you, thank you! i love you! <33 CONTAINS MATURE CONTENT.

sometimes, george just craves closeness.

he longs for intimacy, he longs for the comfort, and he longs for the gentle atmosphere that comes with it. where he is always surrounded by the male gender, living with the two arthur's and chris, he's used to the boisterous and noisy behaviour that comes along with them all living together... so when he finally gets the escape at yn's flat, he just drinks it in. he's thankful for it. the peace, the cosiness, the loving and soft atmosphere making him never want to leave.

and he loves it there.

knowing that she lives alone and it's her own space without someone else to make him feel awkward. knowing that they'll never be rudely interrupted by others wandering around and not knowing what the word privacy means. knowing that it's just the two of them and only them in the flat with no nosey occupants there to listen in to what the two of them were up to. he could lay on her sofa and watch what he wanted on the television when she occupied herself with her chores and her errands. he could eat what he wanted. he could rummage in her cupboards and eat the biscuits she had or each the fruit she had on her kitchen counter. he could walk around in his comfy clothes or just his boxers and not need to worry someone would see him.

it was just her.

and she made the flat hers.

she had canvas prints and tapestries hung around in the bare corners of her living room, fairy lights hanging on the many shelves she had on her walls, candles in every room an an oil burner to accompany it with the same smells being given off by the heat, lots of family photos hung on the walls and photos of himself and her in photo frames on her windowsill and on her bedside table. a television on the wall and a reclining sofa with the softest throw blanket draped over the back that he absolutely loves and fell victim the the warmth it gave when he laid beneath it.

her bedroom was almost the same as her living space. with a double bed and plenty of decorative pillows (and a teddy bear, holding a love heart, that he had brought her for their very first valentines day), an en-suite bathroom, and a window that overlooked london - which he says he could sit and stare at all day. her bedroom walls painted with the colours of the sunset on the good days.

and he loves the vibe it gives. cosy, warm, full of love.

on particular nights, moreso the nights where his days had been busy and he hadn't been able to sit down and have time to himself, all he wants is her.

his yn.

and, as if their feelings were synced up and as if she knows that he's had a long and tiring day without speaking to him, she wants him.

in a way that's sensual. almost animalistic. like it's all that can suffice their feelings on the inside. as soon as he steps foot through her door and before he can kick off his shoes, in the middle of taking off his jacket, and she's attached to his front. hands cupping his cheeks, his stubble tickling her upper lip and his beard scratching her chin, and he can't tear himself away. stumbling in the direction of the sofa, not the bedroom, because they're desperate. craving the pleasure that the other can give. in dire need of something.

and he would take it in any form.

letting it happen anywhere that they felt comfortable.

a blowjob. a handjob. his head between her legs. cowgirl. missionary. on the floor. against the wall. on the kitchen counter. neither of them really cared, just as long as they were happy. her legs around his waist, hands on her bum, arms around his neck, fingers twisting into the tufts of hair at the back of his head.

"i missed you."

it was mumbled against her lips, almost completely incoherent, but she knows what he says.

"you saw me yesterday, doofus," her lips are swollen, his cheeks are flushed pink, and the ache between her legs was positively pulsing as soon as she made eye contact with him, "you miss me that much?"

he nods, almost pathetically, and she smiles ever so softly. her thumb brushing over the skin of his cheek as her other hand combed the brown locks on his head, their breathing rhythmic as their exhaled breaths mixed between the two of them.

"always. hate it when we're apart," he practically whines it out and she feels her heart flutter, "love to be with you. next to you. sleeping with you and sleeping with you."

she smirks and he feels the sofa against the back of his bare legs. his chino shorts feeling tight against his crotch as they stretched across the bulge forming behind the material. her legs unhooking from his waist so he could sit himself down but his hands stay firm to her hips. there was no way he was letting her get off.

"right here?"

he nods to her question and she's quick to attach her fingers to the button of his shorts, unbuttoning the button and unzipping his zip, tips of her fingers tucking beneath the waistband and his hands leave her hips for a moment, just so he could push himself up so she could pull his shorts, as well as his boxers, down. far enough down his legs to free the boner that was silently begging for release.

"are you sure?"

"baby, yes. christ," he murmurs and his hands are back at her hips, hoisting the oversized jumper (which he was sure had come from his wardrobe) up her figure, hooking his thumbs into the sleep shorts on her lower body and pulling them down with ease, "i need you. right now."

her hand wraps around the girth of his cock, thumb brushing over the tip, and he could feel himself ready to burst under her touch. a soft whimper rolling off his tongue, head rolling back, and his hips buck up to the feeling of her warm palm.

"right now?"

"baby," he chokes out, "come on. don't tease me now."

"but it's so fun," she hums softly and he rolls his eyes dramatically, feeling the fingers on one of his hands tickle up her thigh and stop in between her the flesh of her legs, the tips of his fingers dangerously close to where she wanted to feel him, "i'm sorry."

"you're lucky you're just so damn irresistible," he murmurs, brushing his fingers over where she needed him the most, toes twitching at the feeling of the tips of his fingers nudging the bundle of nerves, "like that?"

she hums in delight and bites down on her bottom lip, stopping her hips from moving as she let him do the work, keeping her attention on his cock in her hand. jerking up and down, up and down, as a short form of foreplay before the real thing... not that either of them ever needed a warm-up. he was always rock solid for her and she was always soaked for him.

neither of them need to ask the other if they were ready... his hand takes over from hers, giving himself a few pumps with his wrist, and he takes it upon himself to line up the tip of his cock to the heat of her folds, filling her up and letting her take control of the motions. a shiver running down his spine and a gentle moan leaving her mouth as she takes him in, deep and hitting right at the spot that makes her quiver for him.

and he would be lying if he said he didn't go weak at the knees with the sounds she made.

the grunts, the moans, the whimpers, the soft profanities when he bucked his hips up to meet her movements. her hands tugging on his hair as he covered her neck with kisses, letting his mouth leave a line of wet pecks alongside the occasional hickey that he had gotten a little too carried away in leaving behind. her thighs tensing and shaking, her grinding motions falling sloppy as she felt more and more tired.

"i need-"

"me too," she admits and he lifts his head from her collarbone, lips shining with saliva, and he has a deep and dark, lust-filled look in his eyes that told her exactly what he needed, "me too."

"together?"

she nods and his hands grip tighter to the flesh of her hips, nails deep in her skin, and she can't resist letting herself go. head rolling back as she grunts out her orgasm, loud and satisfied, with george's orgasm filling her up. his own moans mixing with her hers as their movement sounded sloppy and wet, her body convulsing on top of him.

and they sit, in a comfortable silence, that wasn't proper silence due to the rise and fall of their chests as they inhaled and exhaled tiredly.

"good?"

"so good," he grins tiredly and her arms wrap around his neck, pulling herself closer to him, holding him tightly in a hug, "always."

"always?"

"always," he reiterates and he closes his eyes in contentment, "nice to actually be loud."

her cheeks redden and she's glad he can't properly see her because he would have teased her like there was no tomorrow; but, she had to agree with him. be free in her own home, no need to be quiet, and it felt good to take in everything instead of rushing to get their clothes back on in case someone walked in during their post-sex haze.

"you're the best."

"nah," she shakes her head and looks at him, giving his lips a quick peck, "you're the best."

"i love you," he brings his hands up and brings her face closer to his so he could leave kiss after kiss after kiss on her lips, "i love you so so much."

"sex makes you soppy," she teases him and he frowns, "but i love you too. so so so much."

if you made it this far, thank youuuuu! always love the soft smut you guys make me write... blessed to have someone enjoy it as much as you guys do! xx

#george clarkey #george clarkey imagines #george clarkey headcannons #george clarkey smut #george clarkey blurbs #george clarke #george clarke imagines #george clark smut #george clarke blurbs #george clarke headcannons #chaos crew

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casual-tarot · 1 year

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Pick a Pile: What your friends love about you

Pile 1

You're an optimist! You see the good in just about every situation and you see the endless possibilities ahead of you. You're not one to back down just because the going gets tough. If you get beat down by life, you always bounce back up. Your friends admire this about you, they wish they could have your optimism, could see the world from your eyes. You're also an incredibly and creative person. You're dream job may include being a creative in some way; music, art, photography, writing, etc. Your friends love your creations and are inspired by them. You are a very generous person as well, if someone needs your help, you won't hesitate to do what you can. You Love helping people if you're able to. And that's the thing, you know when to pull back and away from things. If you need time to think or to heal, you pull back and spend time alone to rejuvenate. You won't overextend yourself and that makes people admire you. You might also be a healer, a good one at that. You help lift people up without straining yourself. You welcome help from others and pat them on the back for a job well done. Inspiring!

Lucky Colors and Numbers; Shades of Orange, Shades of Pink, Fuchsia, Hot pink, White, Green, Light Shades of Blue, 5, 9, 19, 22, 48, 55, 74

Signs, Symbols, and Phrases; Skunks, Spiders, Foxes, Arctic Foxes, Flowers, Pink Flowers, Snow, Webs, The Moon, New Moon, The Night Sky, Stars, The Galaxy, Uranus, Mars, Wine and Wine Glasses, Leo, Scorpio, Pisces, 2, 22, 9, 3, 33, 12, 99

Some Advice: Spend some time with friends. Hone in on your creativity, make something new. Take a break, go on vacation if you can, maybe somewhere with a beach or a lake, maybe you can even surf a little bit. Focus on some of your hobbies, enjoy yourself. Focus on self love, though I get the feeling that you're already doing that. Buy some new clothes and/or accessories. Honestly your doing pretty well for yourself and I don't feel like I need to give you much advice, it seems you k ow perfectly well how to take care of yourself. Good for you!

Pile 2

You are kind and extremely loyal. Your friends feel like they can trust you with just about everything. You always stand with them to help make the best decisions they can, and you always lift them up. You're very supportive and your friends are incredibly thankful for that. You're very intuitive and you tend to trust your gut. Your friends admire this because your gut is usually correct. You're very good at picking up on vibes and will clock a bad person as soon as you meet them. Sometimes you get overwhelmed with priorities going on in your life, but you always take a step back and let yourself breath. As soon as you realize you're stressed, you stop and think. You plan and map things out, and you make sure to add some leisure time in there as well(although I think you could stand to take a bit more time for yourself). You refuse to let things overwhelm you, too stubborn to let things really pile up. You're friends admire your drive, and wish they could hold that same ambition. You seem to be well connected to people. Maybe you know a lot of people and are good friends with most of them, or maybe you only know a handful that you have an extremely close bond with. Either way, you are well liked and people feel like they can talk to you about anything, even if you just met. You aren't very judgmental, you tend to see everyone's point of view, even if you don't agree with them. You're friends wish they had that same optimistic view in people. You don't focus on the bad things happening in life, you take it in stride with grace. You aim for success, you're ambitious but not in a way where you let it consume you. You are very healthy about taking breaks. Your friends really admire that one lol. You seem like a very compassionate person, you're friends are very thankful for that.

Lucky Colors and Numbers; Light plum, Whites, Lighter Purples, Light Browns, Beige, Caramel Browns, Coffee Stained Browns, Shades on the Spectrum of Light Orange to Hot Pink, Gray's, Light and Pastel Pinks, 10, 8, 99, 48, 22

Signs, Symbols, and Phrases; Whales, Butterflies(especially purple ones), Peacock's(especially males), Ants(especially if they're lined up), Snakes, Seals, Hawk's, Turkey Vultures, New Moon, Waxing Crescent Moon, The Moon as a Whole(Especially Crescent), Uranus, Venus, Neptune, Scorpio, Aquarius, Capricorn, Aries, Taurus, Fire and Flames, Fire signs, Plants, Sprouts, Earth signs, Farming, Wine and Wine Glasses, 10, 6, 12, 3, 9, 2, 4, 22, 33, 7, 77, 66, 1

Some Advice: You may have a hard time listening to friends. Whether that be because you're too busy or focused on your own problems or because they sometimes bring you down, it's good to take a moment to sit down and listen to them. Lend an ear. That being said, don't over extend yourself, I'm not saying to go way out of your way to comfort someone. If you don't have the time or mental strength, don't force it. But it is definitely a good reminder for you to check in on your friends and see how they're doing. I think you have a lot of good karma, and it's coming back your way. All that good you put out into the world if finally coming back to you, good things in your future! I'm getting the vibe that some of you don't think you deserve good karma or didn't do enough good deserve it, but rest assured you did do good. You deserve all the good things coming your way, even if you don't believe it. It doesn't matter if you think you deserve it or not, the universe knows and is sending back your good karma like punch to the face haha.

Pile 3

Immediately getting the vibe that you're adventurous. You like to have fun and chill out. Maybe a night owl? You love going out with friends. You may be the type to buy the next round of drinks if you're able to. Your friends just think you're an overall cool person to hang out with. Rarely do they think of going somewhere without you. You are a strong, confident person. Someone who isn't afraid to stand up for a friend or to send back an order you know is wrong. But you're also kind, in a loud energetic sort of way. If you watch anime, think of those beefy sunshine characters(like kirishima or goku) that are always smiling and yelling, thats the vibe I get from you haha. You have a critical eye, maybe a good sense of intuition, you know the perfect path to take to get what you want. This applies with people, places, and even events. Your friends trust you make the right call in a lot of things. You seem like a leader, it might never be said but you might be the one introduce your friends to new places and experiences. Your friends really look up to you. You're not one to look back at "what ifs," you make your decisions and continue forward assured, knowing you made the right choice at that moment. You know you can't change the past and continue on into the future, knowing it's your past that has made you into who you are today. When you make a decision, you go all in on it, confidently, even if it turns out to be "wrong" later on. You pride yourself in not dwelling on past mistakes. You are very assured of yourself, whether that be in personality, looks, your job, whatever. You know your worth in all aspects and don't let people talk down to you because of it. You are very confident in spending your money, when you go out especially. Like I said before, the type to buy a round for everyone or pay for dinner. Rest assured, you're friends don't love you because of this, they love you because of you. They don't care if you have the money to hang out because they just want you to be there. You're very generous with your close friends, and they love giving back when they can. I'm getting the sense that they love getting you gifts and paying for the check as a thank you. They see your overt generosity as charming, something they fondly roll their eyes at. They are thankful to have you as a friend.

(Note: I had a lot of trouble articulating myself with this one, maybe that's something you struggle with too. You might have so much to say in your brain but your mouth can't keep up haha. I'm hearing adhd for some of you.)

Lucky Colors and Numbers; All Shades of Purple, Peaches and Light Pinks, Salmons, Fuchsia, Dark Blue, Black, White, Light Browns and/or Beiges(especially for accessories), 74, 57, 85, 88, 14, 33, 56, 55, 32, 5, 87, 91, 911

Signs, Symbols, and Phrases; Hawk's, Snakes, Whales, Blue Whales, Mice, Sharks, Cougars, Ants, Coyotes, Spiders, Rabbits, Gray Rabbits, Salmons, Koi Fish, Dolphins, White flowers, the Sea, Waves, Mountains, Snow, Yellow flowers, Blues, Reds, Twilight, Evening Sky, Pink Sky, Webs, Stars, Koi Fish Art, Dark Purple, Dark Purple Sky with Stars, A Dark Purple Sea Glittering in the Light, Chiron, Pluto, The Sun, Mercury, North Node of the Moon, New Moon, Waxing Crescent Moon, Last Quarter Moon, Full Moon, Virgo, Aries, Pisces, Aquarius, Libra, Sagittarius, Windy Clouds, Fast Moving Clouds, Storm Clouds, Puffy Clouds, Fire and Flames, 5, 55, 555, 10, 4, 6, 1010, 1, 7, 44, 3, 33, 11, 77, 444, 333, 777, 7777, 22

Some Advice: I get the feeling that you love hanging out with friends, but remember to take some time for yourself too. Go out alone, just chill, or maybe even meet new people. Maybe take a vacation for yourself, or with a loved one, away from your group of friends and just with the people/person/pet closest to you lol. Balance your alone time with the time you spend with friends, even your extroverted side needs a break sometimes. Take a day off or stay home when you would normally go out. Watch TV, play some video games, or try something new altogether. Try out some new creative hobbies, or get back into old ones. I'm getting the vibe that you haven't been letting your creativity shine lately, let it out. Your work is perfectly balanced, what I mean by that is you can take a break. Everything is ok, they can handle a day or two without you there helping. So take a day off from work too, even if you don't think you need it. It can still help! Some of you definitely overwork, so you people especially should heed this advice. Take whatever resonates with you. I guess the major message here is basically this; take a break, take a vacation, and let yourself relax alone.

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thegr33nc0met · 7 months

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Dating Stu Macher Headcanons ♥︎

Alternative!Reader

CONTENT WARNINGS: NSFW, GN Reader/unspecified anatomy, Switch!Stu (a little heavy on the sub side), Switch!Reader, overstimulation, light bondage, pet names, after care

I’m so sorry this took so long to post and that I forgot to add the cat bit:(( I’ve just been a bit busy with work and stuff but I hope you enjoy!!

SFW

♥︎ Stu loves loves LOVES your style. soft band tees, long flowing clothes and light fabrics? he’s eating you up. om nom nom.

the way they wrap around your body like a silky cocoon is just MAGICAL to him. you’re like a witch covered in fog and spider’s silk bro.

♥︎ if you wear makeup, he is very intrigued by how you do it and will definitely make you put some on him. you know that picture of someone laying on top of another person while they do their eyeliner?? yeah that’s you guys.

he loves when you kiss him and leave a cute little lipstick stamp on his cheek.

same with painting his nails. like if you paint your nails black, he will BEG you to do his as well (i like to imagine he bites his nails, so it’s kinda hard to do with how short they’re bitten down).

♥︎ he’ll discover a band or artist that he thinks is even slightly alternative and he’ll ask if you know them (then make you listen to them if you haven’t). they may not actually be alternative, but he’s trying his best to be supportive<3

LOVES going to concerts with you. the whole vibe of the alternative/goth community is so refreshing to him. he thinks everyone is so chill and nice:)

♥︎ as I’ve stated before, his love languages are gift giving and acts of service. anything you want, he’s gonna get it for you one way or another (whether he buys it or steals it, it’s YOURS). if you guys are hanging out at the local strip mall and you get something, he’ll carry all your shopping bags for you<<33 he’ll buy you things even if you don’t ask for it; you’re constantly getting new clothes and jewelry from him that he thinks you’ll like.

he will hold doors open for you and carry your backpack at school. he’ll even let you hop on his back if you get tired of walking.

Stu definitely calls you cutie. i also think he loves to make up random nicknames on the spot. pookie bear, schnookums, muffin, ducky, sweet potato pie, honey booger.. silly stuff like that, but they’re mostly used in a humorous way. cutie is his favourite pet name for you.

♥︎ loves when you borrow his sweaters, whether they’re big enough to be a dress on you or fit you as a regular sweater, or just a lazy day shirt… it gives him cuteness aggression to the max. he just wants to squeeze you til you pop!!<3

♥︎ MOVIE NIGHTS ALL THE TIME!!! he loves cuddling up against you on the couch, a blanket draped across the two of you as some cheesy slasher film plays on the tv. will go all out with snacks (he’s the type of person to put m&ms in his popcorn so be warned if that’s not your thing).

♥︎ he’s always gotta have an arm slung over your shoulders or hips no matter where you are.

NSFW

♥︎ oh lord… this man.. the first time you guys have sex is a wild ride let me tell you!!

♥︎ STU👏IS👏A👏SWITCH👏!!!

♥︎ he loves going down on you. he wants to give you as many orgasms with his mouth as possible until you can hardly handle it. he wants to give you as much pleasure as he can so you know you’re his. so you know no one else can make you feel as good as he does.

once you’re whimpering and nearly crying from overstimulation, he’ll pull his mouth away from your abused sex and rub his big hands over your trembling legs and coo comforting shushes at you until you settle down before he’s sliding inside. he’ll make you come over and over again until he’s satisfied.

♥︎ but if you wanna be dominant?? USE HIM HOWEVER YOU WANT HE’LL DO ANYTHING FOR YOU AND LET YOU DO ANYTHING TO HIM.

he’s definitely a service bottom when/if you’re dominant. he just wants to make you feel good as possible.

♥︎ if you tease him while he’s bottoming and gets real desperate, he starts giggling like a mad man between broken moans. god he’s just so DESPERATE FOR YOU TO TOUCH HIM.

“hehehehehehha—ungh!~ yes!— heheh..” as a sheen of sweat is covering his hot body and tears are streaming down his cheeks, pooling at his chin, squirming and writhing against the restraints as you teasing drag the pads of your fingers up to his leaking tip. “p-please… just keep touching me like that… you’ll make me feel good? right, cutie? you’ll let me come?” he pants out, biting down on his lip to keep the nervous laughter from bubbling up again, his pretty blue eyes lidded as he stares you down.

♥︎ imagine him throwing his head back and letting out the sluttiest moan when you finally take him inside you after teasing him for so long.

“th-thank you… god, fuck! you feel so fuckin’ good…” he practically growls out, smiling widely in ecstasy as you fuck him. he lets out the most pathetic whimpers and moans when he finally comes inside you, ‘thanks yous’ falling repeatedly from his mouth.

♥︎ he loves giving as much as he loves receiving after care. if it’s not too late at night/if the two of you aren’t too tired, he’ll get a shower running for both of you, and loves to clean you up while pressing gentle kisses to any part of your body he can. he’d love it if you did the same for him. then after the shower, he’ll get you a cup of water before cuddling back up with you in bed and falling asleep<3

comments and reblogs are always appreciated!!🫶

#🐈‍⬛ anon #yandere ghostface #scream x reader #stu macher x reader #yandere scream #stu macher #stu macher headcanons

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leafjoon · 4 months

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Between the Lines - pt. I

tbhc!alex x reader this chapter is bascially a slow burn, fluffy vibe charged w some sexual tension between the reader who is in college n our beloved alix who becomes her editor. warnings: age gap, alex is 33, reader is in her 20's, cursing, alcohol.

In the heart of the university campus, a quaint café served as a haven for students. Seated at a cozy corner table Y/N and her best friend, Sophie, found comfort in the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the hum of hushed conversations.

The soft glow of pendant lights cast a warm ambiance over mismatched wooden furniture, creating a warm atmosphere. Amidst the rustling of students immersed in textbooks and the distant murmur of espresso machines, Y/N and Sophie navigated the labyrinth of academia.

"Ugh, I suck," you groaned, holding your English lit paper in your hands.

"You don't," said Sophia.

"I got a C, Soph."

"Didn’t you do this on three hours of sleep?" she looked at you.

"Yeah," you grumbled.

"You'll do better next time."

"Ugh. I know. It's just such a blow to my confidence," you said, sipping on your ginger tea.

"I know. But this grade doesn't determine your skills. You're great at writing," she said, swirling her spoon in her iced coffee.

"Well. That's debatable," you replied.

She glared at you.

"Fine, fine. I'll stop talking shit about myself," you rolled your eyes.

"Good." She said pleased with your answer.

You scanned the coffee shop and saw students going about their normal routines. Some of them were hurrying to get to their lectures on time. Others were lazing around in their seats, talking to their friends. Chatter filled the room as you let out a stressed out sigh. You sulked, not knowing how you were gonna recover from this grade.

"Anyway, as I was telling you. I asked my dad about Mr. Turner. He said you can give him a call and ask him to check out your novel."

"Oh god,” you groaned. “I mean-thank you so much. I don't wanna seem ungrateful, I just-I don't know. It feels awkward showing someone my short novel. If you can even call it that,” you rambled.

"I get it. I get embarrassed when I show my tutor my paintings. And he always has something to say," she said, rolling her eyes.

"Soph, your paintings are incredible. And your guy is good."

"That's true," she said, a light blush coloring her cheeks.

You smiled at her. You loved your best friend. You met in high school and became close friends senior year. You used to spend hours at each other's places, watching shows and mulling over the characters. She was one of the few people who was there for you through thick and thin and you weren't afraid to show your vulnerable side to her, insecurities and all.

"I'll send you his phone number and you can contact him whenever."

"Okay. Will do." You said, scrunching your face.

"If you don't do it, I will.”

"Ugh, I'll do it, I promise."

"I'll hold you to it."

"I can't wait to go out on Friday. I need to get drunk and forget," you groaned.

"Same. We've been too stressed out lately. We need to let loose," Sophie added.

You and Sophie had a tradition. No matter the circumstances you always went out on the weekend. You often drank alcohol at your favorite bar or club and danced until your feet were numb and your hearts were pounding. Then you stumbled to one of your dorms and ate junk food or watched a shitty movie.

Sophie looked down at her phone, her clock reading 1:47 PM.

"Well, I have to run. I have Literary Criticism soon,” she remarked.

"With Mr. spits when he talks?" you replied.

"That's the one," she said, letting out an exaggerated sigh.

You chuckled. "Good luck."

"I’ll see you later," she leaned down, giving you a quick kiss on the cheek.

You, on the other hand, finished your lectures for the day. Your Mondays weren't as rough, consisting of only two lectures in the morning and god, were you thankful for that.

Your eyes darted to your phone screen, after you received a notification from Sophie.

Alexander Turner

+378 09 998 890

Anxiety gnawed at you. You took a deep breath and told yourself It’s fine. He gets paid for this kind of job. He’s probably seen worse writing.

You decided to be brave and text him as there's no way you were calling him.

Hello Mr. Turner. Peter Herring recommended you as an editor. I am currently working on a short novel and I am interested in hiring you. Would you be interested in that? Thank you in advance.

You typed it out, reading it again. You erased the words ‘short novel’ leaving it blank.

"Ugh." You said out loud. You decided to retype it and send it without thinking too much, letting out a sigh of relief.

As you were scrolling on your phone, it suddenly started vibrating and a number appeared. It read Mr. Turner.

Oh god. Why the hell is he calling me? Doesn’t this guy know how to text?

You answered your phone hesitantly, bringing it to your ear.

"Hello?" you said.

"Hi." a low voice spoke.

"Um. Is this Mr. Turner?"

"Yeah. What's your name, love? You didn't introduce yourself," he said in a thick British accent.

"Oh-um, I'm (Y/N)."

"Alright, (Y/N). You're interested in hiring an editor, is that correct?"

"Yes."

"Great. How's Wednesday evening work for you? 7pm, my office? We can discuss the details then."

"Um, Wednesday evening? Yeah I'm good with that," you said.

"Alright. I'll send you my address then. Don't forget your novel," he added.

"Yes. Thank you," you sputtered.

And with that he hung up the phone. You stood there bewildered at this phone call. You just agreed to go to this random man's office on a Wednesday. You had no idea he was british. Why didn't Soph tell you he was british?

Well I guess you have an editor now.

In the sanctuary of your dormitory, you and Sophie nestled on your sofa as you found comfort beneath your favorite blanket.

"I had no idea he was british! His accent was so thick Soph. Like, I had never heard it before."

Sophie was laughing at you. "I thought I mentioned it."

"Well you didn't. Nothing could have prepared me for that. He was so swift and straight to the point. Skipped all the usual bullshit."

"Yep, that's Turner for you," she replied.

"How did your dad meet him again?" you inquired.

"Oh, he was his student in college. Mr. Turner lived in London for a few years and then moved here after my dad recommended him for this sort of writing position," she shrugged.

"Huh. That's interesting," you said. "Hey, what does this guy look like?" you asked, your curiosity peaking.

"Hmm. Let me show you his Facebook," she said.

"His Facebook?" you asked, furrowing your brows in confusion.

"What? He doesn't have Instagram. He's in his 30s." she added.

"Right," you nodded. You got up and sat next to her, both of you staring at her phone. She found his Facebook page and clicked on his photos.

"He's kinda cute," you said, breaking the silence. Sophie chuckled at your reaction. "He’s good looking," she shrugged.

He had big brown eyes and medium length hair that went past his ears, down to the nape of his neck. His beard seemed neat and trimmed.

"Don't get any ideas now," she looked at you, teasing. "I'm not. I want to see how he looks like so I'm not completely blind sided when I get there."

"Anyway," you continued. "Do you wanna sleep over tonight? My roomie's not here."

"Oh my gosh, yes. I'll go grab my stuff," she exclaimed. "Okay," you said in a singsong and slumped down on your sofa, stretching out your legs.

You couldn't help but feel jittery for Wednesday. You let your thoughts wander for a little, wondering what he was like.

The week was passing quickly, and it was finally Wednesday. You were preparing to leave and go to Mr. Turner's place. To say you were a little nervous would be an understatement. Your palms were sweaty, and you weren't sure what you were wearing was appropriate.

You questioned if you looked like you were trying too hard as you opted for baggy brown suit pants and a red shirt with long sleeves.

Ugh. I'm sure he doesn't give a rat's ass about what I'm wearing.

As you put on your big leather jacket and wrapped a black scarf around your neck, the words he spoke echoed in your mind. "Don't forget your novel." As you went back to your room, you made sure to grab your novel and quickly stuffed it into your tote bag as well as your dorm keys. You couldn't help but wonder if any of his clients had ever forgotten theirs.

You decided to take the bus to his office and followed the instructions he texted you.

102 Ave Street. Nr. 32. If you have difficulties finding it, call me.

As you strolled around the neighborhood, you spotted a house with the number 32. You walked past his charming little garden and couldn't help but admire how nicely maintained it was.

Now, standing in front of his door, a mix of excitement and nerves crept over you. Unsure of whether to give a knock or press the doorbell, anticipation filled the air. You decided to knock.

As you took a moment to take in your surroundings, the sound of the door being opened reached your ears. Stepping into the view was a figure of a pale man.

"Uh, hello," you said, extending your hand for him to shake. "Good evening," he said, a slight awkward smile on his face. He glanced down at your hand for a few seconds before finally reaching out to shake it.

"It's nice to meet you, Mr. Turner," you said, maintaining the handshake. "Likewise. Please, come inside and feel at home," he invited you.

"Thank you," you quietly replied as you stepped into his house, though a slight feeling of uncertainty lingered. It almost felt like intruding. "This way to my office," he directed, gesturing towards the left.

"Would you like a drink? Coffee or tea?" he asked. "Uh, tea would be fine. Thanks."

As you walked into his office, you settled into one of the inviting chairs positioned near his desk. Your gaze wandered to the oak wood bookcase that adorned the room, its shelves overflowing with a collection of books. Your eyes were drawn to the carefully placed plants that created a warm and inviting atmosphere. You wondered if anyone else lived in this house, although it seemed empty by the looks of it.

"Here you go," he interrupted your thoughts, setting down a mug with hot tea. "I brought you ginger. I don't know if you like it or not," he said with a serious tone. "Oh, that's my favorite actually," you said, smiling awkwardly.

"Great. Careful, it's hot," he looked at you and gave you a half smile. You blushed a little and brought the mug to your mouth, taking a sip. "So, did you bring your novel?" he said, staring at you.

You tried to speak and swallow at the same time and ended up choking on your drink. You coughed for a few minutes as Alex stared at you, his face laced with concern.

"Erm.." he shifted so he could tap your back. "Try to look up. It should help," he said.

You followed his instructions and looked up at the ceiling, coughing. Your throat seemed to calm down.

"S-sorry," you barely managed to say. "No worries. You alright?"

"Yes," you exhaled and took out the novel, handing it to him, trying to move past the awkward situation. "Thank you," he muttered.

He took your novel and opened it, setting it down on the desk. Your legs were only a few centimeters away from each other. You shifted slightly, not wanting to invade his personal space.

You realized he hadn't asked you to send him your novel and wondered if you had made a mistake. Perhaps you should have asked him about it.

"Um... should I have sent a digital copy of it to you?" you questioned. "No, it's quite alright. I prefer reading it in front of my clients," he said, his gaze not leaving the book.

You felt awkward, to say the least. It wasn’t pleasant having someone read your work right in front of you. Especially when you thought editors usually familiarize themselves with your work beforehand.

You fumbled with your fingers, unsure what to do with yourself. Bringing the hot mug to your lips, you took a few sips. Your eyes wandered around the room and settled on Alex. He looked like he was studying your work, wearing a serious expression on his face, his eyebrows furrowed.

He looked handsome. When a few strands of hair fell on his face, he tucked them behind his ear. You felt your cheeks heat up and looked away before he could catch you staring.

As you anxiously awaited his response, doubts clouded your mind about whether any of the sentences you wrote were coherent. You nervously retrieved your phone from your bag, feeling the clamminess on your palms. However, before you could reach out to a friend, he abruptly spoke up.

“S’good,” he looked up at you nodding. “Really? But you didn’t read that much.." you weren't sure what to say.

“I don’t need to. I can see that it’s straightforward and has a clear direction. It’s a bit wordy though and needs some work.” He added.

“Oh, okay,” you nodded. He noticed you slumped a little and found it endearing. He had to remind himself of your age and sensitivity.

“But don’t fret. It’s nothing we can’t fix,” he said, a slight smile tugging at his lips. “Right,” you smiled politely. You looked at him for a split-second and then glanced down at your hands.

“Well. I need to read the rest of your novel now. I only wanted to give you a clear picture of what we were gonna do in the upcoming weeks and how this works,” you nodded.

“For now we can meet once every two weeks and then see how your work progresses. Does Wednesday work for you, around this time?” “Uh-yes. I can do that.”

“Perfect. I want to recommend two books for you to read that could help you with your writing. Could you grab “On Writing”, by Stephen King from the bookshelf there?” he pointed to a book with a brown hardcover.

You stood up and spotted the book he was talking about. “This one?” you asked. “Yes. And also the “Bird by Bird” on your left.” You looked around but didn’t see the book he was talking about.

He stood up, approaching you, his chest pressing lightly against your back. His hand reached out just above your head, and a tantalizing scent reached your nose. The subtle blend of cigarette smoke and lavender emerged from his clothing.

“That’s your right,” he said behind you, amused. “Oh, right,” you chuckled awkwardly.

He got back to his desk and handed you the book, your fingers grazing his.

“You don’t need to read these in over a week. This isn’t school,” he chuckled. “But they should help you improve and explore different methods of writing.”

“Thank you, Mr. Turner,” you mumbled. “Oh, feel free to call me Alex,” he said. “Okay. Alex,” you replied.

You felt strange saying his name in such a casual manner. It felt like you were talking to a friend your age, not a 30 something year old accomplished editor and god knows what else.

“Oh uh, how do I pay for this?” “My secretary will contact you for that. The first session was meant for us to get acquainted and make sure that we are a good fit."

“Great,” you said. “Alright.” He looked at you. “Right. Then I’ll be going. Thank you, again. It was nice meeting you,” you mumbled.

“It was nice meeting you too,” he smiled and guided you to the door. You waved goodbye, and exited his house, the cold autumn air surrounding you. Well, now you really have an editor.

Alex didn't expect, well, you. He knew you were younger but god, were you a pretty little thing. His usual clients were a lot older and well, half of them were men.

He tried not to get carried away as his mind swirled with different thoughts about you. He didn't want to be creepy and he never wanted to give you that impression. So he tried his best to be professional.

But you were making it so hard. With your pouty lips and your fumbling hands every time you waited for a response from him. You wore these perfectly fitting tops that hugged your body. Occasionally when you moved around, the fabric would subtly reveal a glimpse of your midriff, making it impossible not to gawk at you. He thought you were simply adorable.

"So, how are your classes going? Anyone giving you trouble?" He asked, genuinely interested. "They're going well," you trailed off, sighing.

"It's one of my professors. I don't think he likes me," you murmured. "Who?" he asked.

"Professor Miller," you slumped a little. "Oh. Well I don't think he likes anyone if that makes you feel any better," you laughed. "No but seriously, what’s the problem?" he asked.

"I have the lowest grade in his class," you said, rolling your eyes, a little embarrassed to admit. "Grades aren't everything (Y/N). I've had my fair share of shitty grades too."

"What if I just suck though?" you asked, finding it unbelievable how comfortable you felt talking to him after knowing him only for a few weeks. "Nah. I would have dropped you by now," he teased you.

You gasped. “I’m only joking. You have a lot of potential,” he said, softly gazing into your eyes.

You smiled, feeling at ease.

"If you want I can help you with your assignments. Give you tips and such. Free of charge," he joked.

Both of you couldn't help but notice that your knees were touching but you felt comfortable staying close.

"Are you sure?" you asked. "Yeah. What else am I gonna do with my time?" he said. "Thanks," you said, feeling like this is beginning to border on inappropriate. But you didn't care.

"How about tomorrow, after your classes, you come by and we can see what we can do."

You nodded. "Okay. Sounds great."

You had entranced him. He knew it was inappropriate. He was your editor, after all. And much older than you. But he couldn't help it. He couldn't stand the idea of any of these college guys having you. You were too good. Too sweet.

He wanted to be the one who owned you. He often imagined what it would be like to graze your delicate skin with his fingers. Make you shiver under his touch. Or how you mouth would feel around his coc-

"I hate writing!" you exclaimed, getting up from his couch and pacing around. You guys had moved from his office to his living room. He wanted you to feel comfortable.

He listened to you intently as you explained what you meant to convey in your latest pages. He could have easily done this over an email, but no, he had to see you. Your low voice, sweet like honey, reached his ears.

You sighed. "I don't know. I feel like I'm losing sight of my story. I have no idea what to do next." You said, biting your lip.

"Maybe you should leave it be," Alex replied.

"Huh?" you questioned.

"Well you've been working really hard at it lately. When was the last time you did something else you were passionate about?"

"I-," you paused, "I don't know," you mumbled, sitting down next to him again.

"See? You need to forget about it for a while. Create some distance."

You mulled over his words. "Is that what you do?"

"Course. Every artist does."

You looked at him like the world hung on his lips.

"Yeah. I can try that," you said, a worried expression on your face.

"No," he laughed. "Don't take this as another assignment. I mean really forget about it. Do something that doesn't make you think about writing."

You thought about it for a while and asked "Like what?"

He hesitated. "Well." Fuck it, he thought. "I have two tickets to the theater tonight," he raised his eyebrows slightly. "One of my friends canceled on me and you can join me if you want.”

His gaze met yours as you registered what he asked you. He looked at you, biting his lip, worrying if he had been too forward.

"What's the play about?" you asked, caving in. He tried to contain his smile and continued "It's ballet. The last swan lake."

"Oh, I've always wanted to see that," you said. "Great. We can meet in front of the theater at 7:30. That alright?" he asked.

"Yeah. Sounds good," you replied, trying to contain your enthusiasm. "I'll see you later then."

As you were getting ready in your small bathroom, you couldn't help but feel nervous about tonight, butterflies swirling in your stomach. We can meet for a drink beforehand, if you want. My treat. He told you a few hours ago, wearing a shy smile.

You had reluctantly agreed. You wanted to spend time with him so badly but you felt like you were doing something wrong. You hadn’t even told Sophie yet.

You got dressed, slipping on your silky tights past your legs. You decided to wear a delicate black dress with long sleeves that exposed your plush thighs. Pairing it with your leather jacket and your red scarf, you slung your small handbag over your shoulder, getting ready to leave.

You decided to take your earphones with you and listen to music to calm your nerves.

When you arrived at the charming bar he had picked, you flung the door open and entered. lThe cozy ambience enveloped you as you stepped inside, a welcoming contrast to the crisp evening air outside.

Alex, already seated at a secluded corner table, looked up from his menu, a genuine smile spreading across his face as he caught sight of you entering.

As you made your way towards him, the gentle flicker of candlelight played on the edges of his features. "You made it," he said, rising from his seat and pulling your chair out for you.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, your cheeks rosy from the cold. You sat down, not knowing what to do with your hands or where to look. This felt strangely intimate.

“What do you want to drink?” he asked you.

“Uh. What are you getting?” you replied.

“Probably a beer.” He said.

“I guess I’ll get a glass of white wine then,” you replied, feeling somewhat awkward. You didn’t expect in a million years to have drinks with your editor.

“You sure? You can get anything you want. Like I said, it’s my treat.” He smiled.

“Thank you. Yeah I’m good,” you replied bashfully.

After the waiter brought your drinks you started delving into conversation.

"So, um, tell me more about yourself," Alex prompted, his gaze lingering on you.

You giggled, sipping your drink. "Well, there's not much to tell. Just a struggling student trying to make it out alive."

He chuckled, taking a sip of his drink. "From what I've seen, there's more than meets the eye."

You met his gaze, and the air shifted, charged with an unspoken tension. "You know, I never expected my editor to be someone who could make me forget about writer's block."

He raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eyes. "Maybe I'm just that good at my job."

The conversation flowed effortlessly, weaving between discussions of literature, shared interests, and personal anecdotes. As the night progressed, the topics ventured into more intimate territories, the subtle dance of words revealing layers beneath the surface.

"You have this way of making the mundane sound interesting," you remarked, now both on your second drink. You could feel your face heat up from the alcohol.

Alex leaned in, his gaze intense yet inviting. "Maybe it's the company that makes it interesting."

The words lingered in the air, a palpable tension settling between you. Unspoken desires sparked beneath the surface.

"Well, I find the company interesting too," you replied.

A hint of a smirk crossed Alex's face as he took a sip of his drink. "Careful now," he said. "Interesting company can be quite... distracting."

A subtle blush crept onto your cheeks. "Distracting can be a good thing." you replied.

"What are you distracting yourself from?" he asked, his gaze lingering on yours.

“I’m not sure. Everyone has problems, I guess,” you looked down at your hands.

“Anything you want to share?” he asked.

“Wouldn’t want to bore you,” you chuckled.

“You could never,” he replied, his tender eyes meeting yours. You stared at each other for a few seconds before you cleared your throat and looked at the time. “Oh, I think we should get going,” you said.

“Yeah, that’s a good idea,” Alex said and he gestured to the waiter for the bill. You thanked him for the drinks and promised you would return the favor next time you saw him. He agreed but knew he wouldn’t let you pay for anything, especially since you were just a student.

You had an amazing time seeing "Black Swan" at the theater. The ballet was captivating, and the music was incredible. You also noticed Alex glancing at you a few times throughout the show.

After the show, Alex walked you to your cab. Under the streetlights, there was a quiet moment filled with something more than words. You exchanged a look that said it all, a shared understanding between you. As you got into the cab, Alex stood on the sidewalk with a thoughtful smile and waved goodbye.

When you arrived at your dorm, your phone vibrated.

Did you get home safely? - Mr Turner.

Your heart fluttered.

Yes.

Great. Good night.

Night.

After washing your face and brushing your teeth, you huddled into your bed and drifted off to sleep, embracing your pillow. The night ushered you into a world of dreams.

#next chapter will be angsty and smutty smut smut i got yall #arctic monkeys #alex turner #alex turner x reader #alex turner fanfic #alex turner fic #tbhc #tbhc alex turner #alex turner x y/n #idk if there r any mistakes but fuq it i guess ive been looking at it for so long

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burntheedges-updates · 9 months

Text

Over Again - main post & chapter list

This is my updates-only blog! Follow me at @burntheedges

Joel Miller x f!reader

summary: you fell in love with Joel Miller in Austin, Texas, in 2001, but you thought you lost him and your whole family in 2003 when the world turned upside down. now it's 2024, and you find the surprise of your life waiting for you in Jackson, Wyoming.

or, five times you and Joel fell deeper in love, on both sides of the apocalypse (and one time you did something about it)

18+ minors DNI

key themes: alternating timeline (2000-2003 / 2023-2024), 90s/00s country and latin music and dancing, romance, family vibes series tags/warnings: fluff, flirting, banter, romance, light angst (plus the angst of thinking the other person is dead for 20 years, aka the TLOU norm), pet names (darlin’, baby, honey, pretty girl), small age difference (reader is 26, Joel is 32/almost 33 when they meet in 2000), no use of y/n, teacher!reader (with vague details), smut (I'll update specific warnings for each chapter, but just FYI for later chapters: Joel calls reader a good girl, neck grabbing (no breath play), a bit of manhandling and spitting, a lot of sex) (feel free to dm any specific questions) a/n about reader: I've paid a lot of attention to how the reader is described in this fic. I've avoided skin color, hair type, body shape/size descriptions, and even clothing (except for one or two spots where you are specifically wearing jeans and boots). You are vaguely shorter than Joel. He does not run his fingers through your hair, and you feel the blood rush to your face or your face heat, but you don't turn red or pink. Please tell me if you notice anything I missed - I want this to be as inclusive as possible. a/n: this is the first fic I've written in almost 20 years. this man, I swear. wordcount: 42.6k

This fic is completely finished and posted! Chapter links under the cut.

Read it on ao3

Bonus: Mix CD (plot related) & series playlist, with headcanons: here.

Chapter List

Five times you and Joel fell deeper in love…

Chapter 1 - Meet Cute - Jackson, Early Winter 2023 | Austin, Summer 2000

Chapter 2 - Breaking the Ice - Jackson, Spring 2024 | Austin, Spring 2001

Chapter 3 - Dinner - Jackson, Spring 2024 | Austin, Spring 2001

Chapter 4 - First Date - Jackson, Spring 2024 | Austin, Spring 2001

Chapter 5 - Staying Over - Boston, September 26, 2003 | Jackson, Spring 2024

… and one time you did something about it.

Epilogue: Together - Austin, December 2002 | Jackson, Early Fall 2024

Outtakes and Snippets

Canned Heat (Austin, October, 2001)

Preview/sneak peeks: fic preview | ch 2 | ch 3 | ch 4 | ch 5

#joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #tlou fic #tlou fanfiction #x reader

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burntheedges · 7 months

Text

Over Again - main post & chapter list

note: I'm moving things to a new blog! I set up a full blog instead of a side blog, so please follow me here. The old blog is now @burntheedges-updates.

Joel Miller x f!reader

or, five times you and Joel fell deeper in love, on both sides of the apocalypse (and one time you did something about it)

18+ minors DNI

This fic is completely finished and posted! Chapter links under the cut.

Read it on ao3

Bonus: Mix CD (plot related) & series playlist, with headcanons: here.

Chapter List

Five times you and Joel fell deeper in love…

Chapter 1 - Meet Cute - Jackson, Early Winter 2023 | Austin, Summer 2000

Chapter 2 - Breaking the Ice - Jackson, Spring 2024 | Austin, Spring 2001

Chapter 3 - Dinner - Jackson, Spring 2024 | Austin, Spring 2001

Chapter 4 - First Date - Jackson, Spring 2024 | Austin, Spring 2001

Chapter 5 - Staying Over - Boston, September 26, 2003 | Jackson, Spring 2024

… and one time you did something about it.

Epilogue: Together - Austin, December 2002 | Jackson, Early Fall 2024

Outtakes and Snippets

Canned Heat (Austin, October, 2001)

Preview/sneak peeks: fic preview | ch 2 | ch 3 | ch 4 | ch 5

#over again fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #tlou fic #x reader

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wayfayrr · 4 months

Note

Hi, Moss!!

First of all, congratulations on 300 followers!!

I'd like to request some soft buttered rum with a yule log to eat in for the event!

I usually lurk in the shadows, but for this milestone, I thought I'll come forth from the darkness hehe <3

You're so awesome, I love all of your stuff, ESPECIALLY the self aware fics!!!!

I hope you have a great day/night <33

~Fi 🐝✨️

here's your order for you fi, it's very nice to see you in the light like this <3

Sorry that this one is shorter than the others so far </3 (there's a little context in the tags but I'm not gonna get into everything rn) soft twi is fun though, he's just a bit of a simp and a menace ain't he? just a soft boy with too many puppy vibes for his own good! even though this one is a little shorter I can promise there's more twi coming soon.

I'm glad you like the self-aware fics too!!! they're my pride and joy to write, seeing how many ways they can be taken and how fun every link could be in the situation. I've got wild on the back burner right now but he'll be one of the first to be up after I finish the event works

[Event masterlist]

“you like the snow Wolfie?”

Twi's acting like a puppy right now, bounding around the field, occasionally stopping to shake off the snow. It’s nice to see him acting more carefree for once, seeing as he’s usually more stressed out about wild getting into trouble and such but for now he can just be more comfortable.

It’s not for too long though as he shifts back after my question, by the look on his face probably because I’ve not been as active as he would like me to be right now.

“Do you not darlin’?”

Why does he look so smug. What is he planning to d-

“LINK! Link that’s freezing come on.”

He’s not even listening, just snickering as he’s preparing another snowball. Well two can play at this game can’t they?

I’ve just got to hit him more than he can hit me, simple enough right, should be fine not like he’s a hero who probably has much more everything than me. If I just -

“You alright rancher? Got a little something on your face there.”

The way his nose scrunched up was downright adorable, even though only seconds later his own snowball was buried into my hair. The melted water running down onto my neck only fueled my desire to throw another. It was simply instinct for me to start making another…

Well start on it before he tackled me anyways.

“Whu- hey. What’s - what was that for?”

“Isn’t this more fun darlin’?”

“Twi come onnn.”

“I prefer this so much more [name]... unless you’d prefer that I go back to covering you with snow?”

“Oh so you’re playing like that then?”

If he wasn’t so stupidly strong I would so have flipped this on him already, but sadly he is stupidly strong even when he’s not putting any effort into it. Not that he’s really doing anything besides holding my wrists above my head and laughing lightly.

“Are you planning on anything then?”

“Do you want me to do anything?”

“I - I mean… why wouldn’t I?”

Something shifted in his demeanour then, as he stopped laughing, his hands slipping to my waist as he stared into my eyes entranced.

“You’d let me?”

“It’s you, twi of course I would.”

"... May I kiss you then?"

#sorry these will be a bit shorter from now on #I'm not doing well at all lol #fighting the urge to go completely awol and delete the entirety of my online presence currently ;-;#which is why I left the discord kgjvkjgv #but anyway writing is cheaper than therapy sooooo #gonna fight tooth and nail to keep on going even if it's a little less overall because I'm burning out a lil ig #january am I right? :)#moss✦writes #tp link x reader #link x reader #linked universe x reader #lu twilight #lu twilight x reader

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jamminvroomvroom · 2 years

Text

these quiet moments

CL x fem!reader

read part 2: a fruit basket and a ferrari ✨here✨

right so here is my first sharl fic. you do not realise how hard it was to type ‘charles’ lmao. so this was inspired by the events of barcelona and then, of course, the absolute shambles of the monaco gp. hey, at least it gave me a plot lmao. anyways, enjoy!! feedback is always welcome, hmu <33

songs that guided the vibes: ivy by frank ocean, woman by harry styles, north by clairo

in which charles feels things for his best friends, ahem, fuck buddy.

warnings: 18+!! angst, smut in a ✨shower✨, fluff kinda i guess, swearing, pierre gasly (affectionate... ish), alcohol, the curse of the monaco gp lol.

6.8k words

the car came to a halt in the pit box, red men frantically changing his tyres and then waving him on his way. the stop was quick, almost perfect, not that it needed to be. he had a lead that didn’t put him in danger of being overtaken coming out of the box. he wouldn’t need to scramble to regain a position under the spanish sunshine that was beating down relentlessly on the crowd, he just needed to get through the next forty odd laps and he’d be on top of the podium. he’d spray the champagne and get a pat on the back and go back to the hotel. it seemed so easily in his grasp.

he needed the win. he needed the distraction. he needed to not think of you.

the longer the good times lasted, the less he had to think of you. he’d be able to bear the torment of watching pierre’s hand linger on your waist if he won the race, because it would mean that millions loved him, even if you didn’t. but if he lost, or came second or third, which was the same thing in his eyes, he wouldn’t be able to cope. he wouldn’t be able to cope when he watched you leave with pierre. he wouldn’t be able to handle it when he saw you at breakfast in the hotel the next morning, knowing exactly how you’d spent your evening. he wouldn’t be able to endure watching pierre saunter into the dining hall ten minutes later, acting nonchalant, as if no one had eyes or the faintest clue that pierre had spent the night on top of you. or beneath you. pierre wasn’t fussy like that.

charles knew that you and pierre were just friends. best friends even. such good friends that sleeping together was like going for a cup of coffee, or going to the movies. your arms were open for pierre on a good day, a bad day, and every kind of day in between and charles had never envied another man more. he loved pierre like a brother but, god, he hated him too. it didn’t matter that pierre didn’t want you like charles did, he still had most of your time and attention. all charles got was conversations over breakfast after your rendezvous with his best friend, or a weirdly deep conversation when you got drunk with him and the other drivers after a long race weekend. it wasn’t enough.

charles continued to fly across the track, light on the curbs but pace simply unmatched. no one on the track was as fast as him. no one could fucking touch him. this was his race to win. and so naturally, his engine decided to call it a day. of course. he heard himself shouting, white noise filling the air as he trundled back to the pit lane, where they’d already cleared a neat and tidy space in the garage for him. the rage just about dispersed and he finally got out of the car. the helmet came off, a quick wave to the crowd, a ruffle of the hair from mattia. he wanted to be alone. he had a good thirty or so laps to wallow.

eventually, he made his way through the garage and back to the ferrari hospitality building. just as he stepped through the door, he heard a voice that sent a pathetic shiver down his spine. he turned around slowly, not quite ready to believe it was you. shouldn’t you be tucked away quietly in the back of the alpha tauri garage so that no one got the wrong idea? so that pierre’s fans didn’t find you on social media and ruin your life, for absolutely no reason at all? it turned out that his tired mind was not playing tricks on him, because there you stood. a weak smile on your face, hair blowing in the same breeze that had put his teammate in the gravel.

“oh. hi.” oh hi? he wanted to punch himself in the face.

“i’m sorry about your engine.” you offered, tilting your head apologetically. he still didn’t understand why you were stood here talking to him, instead of watching the race.

“yeah, so am i.” charles muttered, barely audible. he just wanted to go inside. as much as he would have loved to stay and talk to you forever and ever, he gathered that you’d need to conserve your energy to console pierre later on. he accidentally rolled his eyes at his own thoughts, and then watched on like an idiot when you furrowed your eyebrows and took a step back.

“um, i’m gonna go, i just wanted to make sure you were okay.” just as you were about to turn on your heel, he couldn’t help himself and called out to you.

“no! i’m sorry. i just, i’m not having a great day.” he laughed humourlessly, eyes lighting up when you joined in.

“i should go anyway.” you waved your hand casually, brushing him off.

“you don’t need to.” he spoke a bit to quickly, over eager to get you to stay. he felt his cheeks heat up. he didn’t miss the way your lips quirked up.

“i can’t exactly come and hang out in the ferrari suite.” you challenged.

“you can with me.” he almost recoiled at the way that he sounded, far too arrogant for a guy who’s engine just passed away, but he chose not to care, standing up straighter and letting himself smirk.

you shrugged, following him into the ferrari hospitality through the door that he held open for you. he could feel your eyes on his back, basking delightfully in the fact that you were here with him. you were in his territory now, somewhere pierre couldn’t get to you. as the door to his drivers room slowly shut, that feeling of momentary pride came to an unfortunate end. what the hell did he do now?

“so-“

“so-“ you both spoke at the same time. it was awkward. there was no denying that. you were sat next to him on the small sofa, half a space between you.

“go ahead.” he encouraged, blushing again and averting his eyes.

stop fucking blushing!

“are you okay?” the sincerity behind your words made charles look at you again.

“honestly? no.”

“i appreciate your honesty.” you scoffed.

something about the way you said that, as if you had a bitter taste in your mouth, made charles wonder. what made you appreciate his honesty? more importantly, who had made you appreciate his honesty? nonetheless, he couldn’t stop his heart from hammering away in his chest; you appreciated him, in that moment at least.

“are you okay?” charles asked. you’d piqued his curiosity now.

“fine, thank you.” your smile, although breathtaking, was completely and utterly fake.

you let out a sigh when you saw how he was looking at you. a look that said i call bullshit.

the most notable thing about charles’ relationship with you was the strangely intricate conversations that you’d shared throughout the years. days full of chaos would be broken up by these quiet moments that you shared that held more substance than most interactions that charles had to endure. you weren’t best friends, not even close, but these moments of stillness and clarity meant a great deal to both of you. they usually happened when pierre was ordering another round of drinks, or when pierre went to get the car, or when pierre’s media obligations overran. basically, charles could only have you to himself when pierre was occupied. he had never been so happy to dnf before, as awful as it was. while pierre was driving in meaningless circles, charles was watching you collect your thoughts, watching the way your eyebrows furrowed and your eyes changed. charles certainly knew what he’d rather be doing.

“it doesn’t really matter.” you said quietly.

“yes it does. matters to me.” he couldn’t not say it. it did matter to him. anything bothering you mattered to him a great deal, an embarrassingly great deal. you just stared at him for a second, charles suddenly realising that you were both turned in to face one another, knees touching.

“why?”

well, that was a good question.

“well we’re friends aren’t we?” he didn’t like the way the word ‘friends’ tasted on his tongue, nor did he like the way your eyes changed as he said it. almost as if you knew.

“sure we are,” you smirked, “but i won’t burden you.”

“please do.” why could he not think before he spoke today? you raised your eyebrows at him. he shrugged.

“shouldn’t i be comforting you?” you looked mischievous. he almost felt like you were mocking him, but for some reason he was revelling in it.

“your presence is more than enough.” he didn’t know where he found the nerve to flirt with you but nevertheless, he was. “so, please, what’s wrong?” he ignored the light dusting of pink across your cheekbones, refusing to get his hopes up, and tried his best to move the conversation along.

“i just,” you were fiddling with your skirt, staring down at your hands. charles was practically on the edge of his seat, desperate to know what was going through your mind. “i don’t think i can keep doing… this thing. i know you know about me and pierre.” you averted eye contact. charles had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. anyone with eyes knew about you and pierre. “we don’t exactly want the same things.”

if charles knew pierre, and he knew him very well, he knew that pierre wanted to live his life as he pleased, no strings attached, no obligations. after all, that’s why he maintained the relationship that he did with you. and if you and pierre didn’t want the same things, that meant that you wanted more than a place in pierre’s bed. or that’s what charles had deduced, at least. the room was silent as charles’ heart shattered in his chest.

“oh. i see.”

“do you?”

“i’m sorry?” he was taken aback.

“do you see what i mean? i’m not sure that you do.” you clarified, voice a lot calmer than charles’. you gave nothing away.

“well, i think i do. pierre doesn’t want a relationship. you do.” charles stated simply, growing frustrated. maybe he didn’t want to know what was bothering you, after all.

“i suppose-“ you started, only to be cut short by the monegasque driver.

“then why are you questioning me?” he didn’t mean to sound so irritated.

“who said i wanted a relationship with pierre?” you bit back quickly.

great. so there was someone else?

“actually, i need to do some media. i’m sorry.” he stood up. he instantly missed the contact of your knee against his. you looked up at him with wide eyes.

“no, i’m sorry. of course, i’ll go.” he hated that you apologised to him when it was him that had absolutely annihilated the moment. it was rude of him, negligent. he’d offered to be your shoulder to cry on and as soon as he heard something he didn’t like, he was kicking you out. you left the room in a hurry, looking as flustered as charles felt. the door closed, a visual reminder that he had let you slip away.

the day could not get much worse.

apparently, the day could, in fact, get worse.

charles cursed under his breath as he helped you manoeuvre pierre through the dimly lit hallway of the hotel. charles was bearing most of pierre’s weight while you guided them both back to pierre’s hotel room, a look on your face that charles could not quite distinguish. you looked exasperated. the frenchman was blackout drunk after a more than unsatisfactory race, slurring something about how much helmut marko sucked and how life was unfair. charles couldn’t help but agree with both of those statements.

eventually, you made it to the room, pierre’s body being flung perhaps a bit carelessly onto his bed. you and charles both stood over him like disappointed parents. your arms were crossed, grimacing down at him, while charles stood with his hands on his hips, glaring down at his friend. charles hadn’t wanted to spend the evening with you and pierre but of course, the frenchman roped him in and then got himself so drunk that charles had to practically carry him back to his room. and to make matters worse, you were there too, along for every second of the tragic ride. you’d probably expected a different outcome for the evening, probably assuming that yes, pierre would end up in bed but you’d be there too. alas, that was not the case.

“i don’t know if you’re staying here but i’m going to go. you can call me if you need anything.” charles spoke, not giving pierre the courtesy of whispering. pierre would be asleep for a while.

“no.” you said softly, but with a conviction that told charles that you meant business.

“no?”

“no, i’m not staying here.” you sighed.

“okay. in that case, do you want me to walk you to your room?” charles offered, wanting nothing more than to spend the remainder of his evening with you, whilst also wanting to make sure you got back safely. you smiled. he smiled back. it was hard not to.

“would you?”

“my pleasure.” he said, as if it was nothing. it was everything.

you poured a glass of water for pierre, while charles retrieved the small bin from the bathroom and placed it on the floor by pierre’s bed. what are friends for? you both spared the other driver once last look, before you left the hotel room. you both made the trip to the elevator, which was much shorter without pierre’s deadweight, letting charles push the button.

you waited there together, hands at your sides. when he felt your knuckles brush against his, he almost jumped in the air. if that tiny, minuscule contact was enough to take him down, he could only imagine what kind of reaction your body against his would evoke. he tried to subtly look down, take in the sight of your hand against his. he wanted to hold your hand more than he wanted to win the championship. you seemed to be watching him from the corner of your eye, enjoying the flustered state of the ferrari driver.

the elevator doors opened and you stepped forward first, breaking charles out of his trance. he stepped in next to you, the both of you standing in a silence that lingered somewhere between comfortable and awkward. he wanted to know what you were thinking, dying to know what was going through your head. when he’d first laid eyes on you earlier on in the evening, he hadn’t been able to resist raking them up and down your body, no better than every other man in the bar who was undoubtedly doing the same. he felt guilty, but you were a sight to behold.

whilst pierre had been set on having a wild night, charles was content in the huge booth pierre had rented out for the evening, not up for interacting with anyone who’d seen his shambolic race. you seemed to be on the same wavelength, staying put and nursing a drink. as the night progressed, charles found himself gravitating towards you, and you to him, until you were both sat next to each other. one of your legs was crossed over the other and your knees brushed under the table. charles didn’t even know what the topic of your conversation was, all he could focus on was the shape of your lips when you spoke. he’d been on his way to leaning in when pierre had magically reappeared, whining because someone said he looked like nico rosberg in his white trousers. the annoyance that flashed across your face for a split second at pierre’s not so epic return gave charles hope.

“charles?” your voice cut through the memories of the evening.

“hmm?” he replied, turning his head to look down at you beside him.

his eyes locked on yours for a split second before you were cupping his face and pulling him in towards you. when your lips met his, charles didn’t know what to do for a second. he was so utterly shocked that he just stood there. but it really was only a second, because he quickly realised that he had been waiting several years to kiss you and he could not let a second go to waste in such an important moment. he kissed you back urgently, hands gripping at your waist to pull you in closer. as you kissed him, one hand grazed his jaw and the other one trailed down his neck until it was laced through the hair at the nape of his neck. charles groaned into the kiss, unable to help himself. you unleashed something animalistic within him, something desperate, lustful, pathetic. he didn’t understand how he’d be able to let you go tonight. as his kisses trailed down your cheek and onto the flushed skin of your neck, the elevator slowed. you whimpered.

“charles,” you breathed, “this is my stop.” he groaned in annoyance, pressing an open mouthed kiss right in the crook of your neck. as the doors slowly opened, he watched you saunter out of the lift, turning around as you walked away to bid him adieu.

“i’ll see you in monaco.” you winked at him. he thought he was going to pass out.

he fell back against the back wall of the elevator as the doors shut tantalisingly slowly, finally removing you from his sight. he smiled lazily, just about making out the image of himself in the metallic doors. his smile was contorted in the silvery surface. his hair was an untameable mess. his white dress shirt stood out to him in the reflection, able to see the way it had creased when you’d been pressed against him.

as charles approached his floor, he tried not to think about pierre, and all of his shirts that you’d creased in elevators just like this one. all he could think about was what you’d said.

i’ll see you in monaco.

would you? would you really? it was saturday and charles hadn’t laid eyes on you once. you lurked at the corner of his every single thought and he hadn’t even seen you yet. he held out hope all week that pierre would bring you along to dinner but you never showed. it was distracting, he needed to talk to you, needed to just be near you at the very least. there was something strange lingering in the air that charles couldn’t quite put his finger on. all he knew was that pierre’s eyes seemed to narrow when he thought charles wasn’t looking.

he paced beside his car, getting himself into the correct headspace for qualifying. the noise of the crowd couldn’t quite be drowned out, the way they called his name, restlessly chanting for him. he craved the pole position, craved the honour of standing on the top of the podium tomorrow, almost as much as he wanted you beside him. his balaclava went on, followed by his helmet, a new design to commemorate a weekend at home. he settled into the cockpit, completely clearing his mind. almost.

the laps around his hometown always meant more. it was a nostalgic route around the principality, one that took him back to his childhood, sat on the bus as a child who wanted to drive the red car. he owed that kid a good race, perhaps even a win. at this point, a race finish would do. charles pulled out of the garage and into the pit lane.

he topped q1. he topped q2. he topped q3.

pole position.

he pulled into parc ferme, ignoring the feeling of uneasiness. things were yet to go wrong for him, how long would this last? he gave his interview, deciding to lean into the elation of the situation. pole fucking position on home soil, and he didn’t even crash out. it felt too good to deny himself the opportunity to celebrate. the fastest man in the world. the interviews went by like a blur for once, the media circus usually dragging on. not today. he was distracted the entire time by the crowd. they loved him. he loved them too. it felt good to be loved.

with a spring in his step, he bounded though the paddock, stopping every few steps to take pictures and shake hands. it always felt good to come home. charles watched a young boy run back to his mother, eyes bright as he took in the signature that now adorned his ferrari cap. moments like those made all of the noise worth it. he made it into the ferrari building, exchanging a few more congratulatory hugs and handshakes. he finally made it through the suite, seeking a moment of quiet to make it all seem real, a moment to process that he’d done it. he shut the door to his drivers room, turning around, to be given the fright of his life.

“fuck, you scared me.” he slapped his hand over his heart, feeling the way it raced within his chest. it wasn’t just fear.

“i didn’t mean to.” the sound of your voice was like a break in the clouds, sunshine, the most beautiful song he’d ever heard before. he was already on a high, but the sight of you, hearing your voice, somehow elevated him even further.

“how did you even get in here?” he was puzzled, unsure of how you’d actually made it onto ferrari turf without being swiftly escorted back to the alpha tauri suite.

“that doesn’t matter right now.” you said urgently, crossing the short distance between you.

he felt himself smiling as he kissed you. everything felt better. the stagnant week that had passed by without you seemed to melt into nothing as you pressed yourself against him as close as you could get, hands desperately fisting the material of his race suit, as if you’d missed him as much as he’d missed you.

“congratulations.” you mumbled against his lips. he’d heard it a thousand times today but hearing you say it somehow meant more. you’d sought him out, potentially breaking into the ferrari suite to be here with him, to kiss him and congratulate him. that definitely meant more to him that bumping into a random stranger who just wanted a picture.

he used the opportunity of you breaking the kiss to pepper kisses down your neck, enjoying the way your head instantly fell back to give him access. he wished he could stay in here, locked away with you, but he had a briefing to get to and a strategy to discuss. it pained him to pull away from you, instantly missing the way you were panting under his touch.

“mon amour, i need to go.” he whispered. you looked at him with wide eyes. that was the first time he’d called you that and it was obvious that you’d both realised the same thing.

“don’t.” your smile was teasing but you were very serious.

“where will i find you later?” he watched your face drop, suddenly breaking eye contact. he quickly realised why. guilt.

“i, um, well i’m staying with pierre.” you said weakly, telling charles everything you needed to. the question was, which of the drivers made you feel guilty?

“i see.” charles’ reply lacked any emotion. he didn’t want you to know how much it hurt. instead, he found a solution to the problem, “i’ll pick you up, take you back to my place.” he said, eyes quickly widening when he realised just how suggestive it sounded. yes, he wanted you, but god, he didn’t need to make it quite so blatant. “sorry, er, i didn’t mean-“

you cut him off with your laughter, caressing his jaw with one hand. you pressed a chaste kiss to his lips which you both instantly wanted to take further, but you were both aware of how time constricted you.

“it’s okay. i’ll see you later.” you let yourself out of the room, trying to remain incognito as charles watched you exit the hospitality from the doorway of his room. he hoped that he wouldn’t have to keep watching you walk away from him, no matter how much he enjoyed the view.

sunday morning in monaco was always chaos. there were hoards of people who thought they were important blocking every which way, as if charles wasn’t already frustrated enough. he hadn’t seen you last night. no, all he’d seen was a text from you, telling him that oh no, poor pierre had his strategy fucked and he needs me now! charles was quietly seething, slumped in the seat of his ferrari outside pierre’s apartment complex when he’d received your message. maybe his race weekends in monaco were a little bit cursed.

he’d been trying to steer clear of pierre all morning, quite frankly sick of the sight of him. the only thing that he had today that pierre didn’t was pole position and it didn’t seem like enough. charles boarded the lorry for the drivers parade, trying to keep as much space between him and the alpha tauri driver as possible, which probably looked strange, considering they usually spent such ventures glued to each other. his plan to avoid pierre for the rest of his life quickly came crashing down when the frenchman made a beeline for charles, leaving yuki behind.

“are you avoiding me?” great. pierre’s blatant directness was infuriating at the best of times, but today it managed to get on charles’ last nerve.

“why would i do that? just trying to keep the focus.” it didn’t even sound true. pierre started blankly at the monegasque.

“bullshit. were you ever going to tell me?” pierre narrowed his eyes, just as he had been doing all week, except this time, he made no attempt to try and hide it. charles gulped, feeling the blood drain from his face.

“tell you what?” play dumb, it works with the media, it might also work with pierre. pierre scoffed.

“i’m not mad.” pierre offered. well, he sure looked it. “she’s a great person, i don’t blame you for being interested in her. i just don’t think she’s looking for a relationship.” wait, what?

“i’m sorry?” charles was truly confused.

“listen, i see the way you look at her but i wouldn’t go there. she’s been distant lately, i think she’s interested in someone. won’t tell me who, though.” pierre tutted. what the fuck?

“pierre, i need to tell-“ charles started, only to be interrupted.

“it’s fine, i get it. she’s amazing. i’m just giving you a heads up.” and then he was gone, pulled away into a conversation with daniel.

charles stood there by himself for a second, dumbfounded. pierre had no idea what was going on, yet somehow he’d convinced himself that he knew the entire picture. maybe he should have felt bad. maybe he should have felt awful for the way he felt about you behind pierre’s back, but instead, a feeling of pride blossomed in charles’ chest.

it was him. he was the reason for your distance, he was the person you were interested, he is was the person you wanted. charles had gotten it wrong when you’d said you needed to be there for pierre last night. at the end of the day, you were still pierre’s best friend, of course you’d be there when pierre needed you. finally, your relationship with the frenchman had changed. charles felt triumphant, and the race hadn’t even started yet.

he ended the race weekend wishing that it never had.

he was absolutely mortified, furious. it was a loss, as far as he was concerned, an utterly gut wrenching one. p4 meant absolutely fucking nothing to him. he left the track as soon as he could, trying not to have too much of a pity party. he was still seeing red, literally too, unable to escape the swathes of fans that had come to watch him win. it made him feel sick. he finally seemed able to breath when he’d slammed the door to his apartment, chucking his keys somewhere and his bag down onto the floor.

he wanted another shower, the hurried one he’d had at the track post race leaving him unrelaxed and somehow even more irritated than he already was. he stepped into the large en-suite, turning the water on as hot as it would go, letting the steam fill the bathroom. he stepped back out to get his phone, when he heard a knock on the door. he wondered who would dare bother him now. he grunted, quickly making his way over to the door, ready to tell whoever it was on the other side to fuck off, politely of course. but when he saw you standing there, playing nervously with your rings, a hopeful look in your eyes, he couldn’t find the strength to ask you to leave, no matter how much he wanted to be left alone by everyone. you included.

“i can’t talk right now.” charles was straight to the point, talking a leaf out of pierre’s book.

“i didn’t come here to talk.” you affirmed, standing your ground, your darkened eyes telling him exactly what you were here for.

“then why are you here?” he wanted you to say it. he needed to hear it.

“to see if i can make you feel better.” the way the words rolled off of your tongue dissolved several years worth of self control.

he reached out for you and you met him halfway, lips meeting for the third time. charles managed to pull you inside his apartment, blindly shutting his front door behind him as he guided you over to the nearest wall he could find, holding you against it. your hands were in his hair, tugging deliciously at the short strands and he was groaning unabashedly into your mouth. his hands snaked down your body grasping your waist firmly as he deepened the kiss, fingertips gripping your flesh. he wanted you out of the short dress as quick as humanly possible, after all, the shower was waiting.

charles let his hands wander further, fiddling with the hem of your dress, hands skimming your thighs, before he was picking you up. you almost squealed, throwing your arms around his neck and wrapping your legs around him tightly. he could happily get used to the feeling of you wrapped around him. charles moved you both away from the wall and into his bedroom, not stopping there. he carried you into the en-suite, steam pouring out of the walk in shower, the water hitting the marbled floor in a way that beckoned for you both to get under the stream.

“care to join me?” his voice was low, gravelly, a clear signpost that he’d had a long, hard day. you smirked.

“it would be my pleasure.” you whispered in his ear, hands moving to get your dress off as soon as he let your feet touch the ground. charles tried not to completely lose himself in you already, but it was hard not to. he’d wanted this for far too long not to appreciate every second of you on display for him. all for him. he somehow managed to undress himself, spurred along by your increasing nakedness, desperately needing to catch up. he felt less bad about his obvious gawking at you when he noticed you trailing your eyes hungrily over his skin, in a way that told him that you’d needed this for a while, too.

you turned away to walk towards the shower, slowly making your way underneath the hot water. he watched you go, knowing that he could enjoy the moment, because for once, he’d be able to follow after you. he watched the way the water moved over your skin, leaving you glistening, waiting for him. your hair was slicked back, pushed out of your face, sending tiny droplets of water down your collarbone and over the curve of your breasts. charles watched you for a moment too long, simply trying to convince himself that you were real, that this was actually happening. he didn’t know what he’d done to deserve this, but he wasn’t about to complain.

he stepped into the shower, joining you finally. his arms wrapped around your waist, your back flush against his chest, your body feeling everything he had to offer you, and it felt like a lot. he moved your soaked hair over one of your shoulders, pressing his face into the crook of your neck. he nipped at the skin, soothing the bites with his tongue, slowly trailing his hands that had been wrapped around your waist up your body. you threw your head back as he continued to kiss at your neck, whilst his hands moved to cup your breasts. he pinched your nipples, teasing the hardened buds with his fingertips, your quiet moans hitting his ears directly as your head rested against his shoulder.

charles was growing impatient, and so were you, rolling your hips to grind your ass against him. he moaned at the pressure, placing his hands back on your waist to turn you around to face him. you pulled him in for a kiss as he walked you both further into the shower, until your back was pressed against the wall. it was cold against your heated skin, causing you to shiver, arching further into him. your chests were pushed together, hands back in his hair as you gasped into his mouth.

“what do you want, mon ange?”

“want you to feel good.” charles was sure he felt all of the blood in his body rush towards his cock. you were quite literally a wet dream.

“is that all you want, baby? don’t you want me to make you feel good?” charles would have loved some attention for himself, but knew he wouldn’t last if you gave it to him. besides, nothing would have gotten him off as much as seeing you writhing against the shower wall, all because of him.

he kept one hand on your waist, the other one travelling down your body. he ran his fingers slowly from the top of your thigh down until he was caressing the soft skin of your inner thigh. you were looking at him so desperately, so intensely, that it almost made him dizzy, your eyes never leaving his. one of his fingers ran through your folds, making you hiss, hips instantly bucking at the contact. your reaction spurred him on, two fingers now tracing the seam of your pussy, both digits instantly soaked. he could have cum right then and there, painfully hard at the sight of you, the feel of you on his fingers. the same fingers he used to race around the streets of his hometown. suddenly he didn’t care at all about losing the race. he felt powerful. you made him feel powerful.

he rubbed his fingers over your clit, slowly at first, until you were needy for him, his name tumbling from your lips in the form of a beg. he replaced his fingers with his thumb, sliding two of his fingers inside of you. you were moaning helplessly at the sensation, taking everything he gave you, without your eyes ever leaving his. it was like you’d both somehow entranced one other, neither of you able to look away, no matter how desperate you were to let your eyes flutter shut as the pleasure overwhelmed you.

charles continued to fuck you with his fingers, his actions leaving your inner thighs soaking, nothing to do with the hot water pouring over you both. he traced patterns into your clit with the pad of his thumb, toying with his rhythm to keep you on your toes. charles could feel you tightening, inching closer and closer to your orgasm and it drove him insane, desperate to send you over the edge, spiralling for him. soon enough, you were there, panting and whining as you came, trying to pull him closer.

you kissed him ferociously while he slowed down his ministrations. he pulled his hand away from your wet heat, using it to grab at your thigh and hoist it up over his waist. his body was quickly back against yours, hand splayed across your thigh as he held you against the wall. his nose brushed yours, as he guided his cock through your folds, both your breaths catching as he finally, finally, thrusted into you. as he bottomed out, you melted even further into one another, breath mingling as one of his hands held your thigh that rested on his waist, and the other locked with yours. the hand that held yours raised your clasped hands up and over your head, keeping you pinned against the wall, spread out delectably for him. your free hand was wrapped around his water soaked body, keeping him close as you dug your nails into the muscles of his toned back.

he rocked into you, over and over, both of your moans meeting between your parted lips, electrifying the air between you. you were insatiable, never faltering, making charles feel better than any other person had to his recollection. you were perfectly in tune with him, body moving with his as if this was the way it was always supposed to be. you must have agreed with that, the way your sounds of pleasure were ricochetting off of the bathroom walls, fuelling charles’ ego in the way a race win never could. just when he thought it couldn’t get any better, you started to clench around him, the hand on his back finding it’s way back into his damp hair, as his hips snapped into yours. he let go of your thigh, bringing his hand between your slick bodies to rub your clit, coaxing you right to the edge. the feeling of your body reacting to him sent his eyes rolling back in his skull.

“charles, fuck, i’m so close.” you whimpered. he was in ecstasy.

“yeah? you gonna cum for me, mon ange? hmm?” he managed to get his words out, noting how exhausted, how desperate he sounded.

charles didn’t get a verbal response from you, only a broken, earth shattering moan that set his entire body on fire. you let yourself go, falling to pieces in his arms and all he could do was watch, quickly meeting his own end. everything was white and hot and every single one of his nerve endings were wired all of the sudden, the hairs on his body standing on end. you shook in his arms, crying out his name one last time as you came back down to earth.

charles pulled out of you, fucked out smile lazily creeping onto his face. the entirety of monaco chanting his name didn’t even come close to how good you made him feel. you really had meant it when you’d said you wanted to make him feel better. your eyes met and you looked at him shyly, a coy smile on your face that made him want to kiss you forever and ever.

you both stayed underneath the warm water a little while longer, gently washing each other as you relaxed. once you were both done, charles stepped out first, braving the cold air to hand you a fluffy white towel, smiling to himself as you wrapped yourself up in it. this was what he wanted. quiet moments with you that dulled out the background noise. he didn’t just want them in dark booths in clubs and in the back of taxis while pierre rambled to the driver, he wanted them all of the time. he craved this kind of intimacy with you, the domesticity of seeing you in a towel that he owned.

once you’d both dried off, he found a t-shirt that you could wear, taking your worn dress and placing it with his laundry. he watched your absentmindedly towel dry your hair, the t-shirt hitting your mid thighs as you carded your fingers through the tangles. it was quiet in his bedroom, peaceful. he pulled the covers back on his bed, folding back the covers on the other side of the mattress too. your smile at the gesture told him that you’d stay, that you’d accept his silent offer and join him in the bed. you settled in comfortably beside him, head on his chest, his arm wrapped around you protectively, lovingly. a buzz from the bedside table caused you both to look over, quickly choosing to put your attention back on one another.

you both ignored the name that lit up your phone, blissfully pretending like neither of you noticed.

pierre would have to get through this solemn night without you.

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#charles leclerc #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc angst #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc oneshot #charles leclerc fic #f1 fic #f1 smut #f1 angst #f1 fluff #f1 oneshot #f1 imagine

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seijorhi · 2 years

Text

Heedless, Heartless.

An Iwaoi sorta ;)) commission for another and very patient and lovely nonnie <33 Iwaizumi Hajime x female reader, Oikawa Tooru x female reader w.c 5.2k tw: non/dubcon, yandere themes, nsfw, drunk/drugged reader, non-con filming, sex-tape, kinda stockholm-y vibes, smut

Friendships are a complicated thing.

When romantic relationships go bad – feelings fade or change, or somebody fucks up – you’re expected to walk away. The healthy thing to do is walk away.

Iwaizumi thinks he might hate his best friend.

Wasn’t always like that. As a kid, he’d rather have taken a volleyball to the face than admit out loud that Oikawa Tooru was his best friend; that didn’t mean it wasn’t true, though. He might’ve been a vain, arrogant, childish piece of shit at the best of times, but Iwaizumi knew that was all just surface stuff.

It wasn’t only that he was good at volleyball and helped make Iwa better, too. And it wasn’t that he stuck to Iwa’s side no matter how many times the brunet called him names or threatened to beat him up. Iwa liked him, saw beyond all that stupid shit – to the kid who loved volleyball more than anything, who was kinda weird and a bit too into aliens, who wasn’t nearly so self assured and cocky as he pretended to be, with a drive to win so intense that it worried him a little – and without intending to, gravitated towards the kid.

He used to think that he was the one to ground Oikawa. Remind him that he was human and had human limitations. Somewhere along the way, though, that got all messed up. Maybe he lost his influence, maybe Oikawa was just beyond help in the first place.

Maybe he is, too.

Things were fine between them. Good, even–

Until you came along.

—

Iwa makes the mistake of picking an aisle seat at the back of the plane. He’d been under the impression that if the plane weren’t completely booked out, he’d have a better chance of getting a row all to himself, and he’d be able to stretch out and sleep better.

Whether or not that’s actually true, he doesn’t get the chance to find out – not a single seat is empty as the plane takes off. What it does mean, however, is that he has to stand there in the hot, stuffy cabin, waiting for every single passenger ahead of him to grab their carry-on from the overheads and disembark.

By the time he finally makes it off the tarmac, through customs, waits for his suitcase at the baggage claim and reaches the arrivals gate, what’s left of his good mood is hanging by a thread.

The sight of his best friend, fresh faced, sun-kissed and grinning, tests that tenuous grip.

“You’re looking well rested,” Oikawa comments by way of a greeting.

Iwa snorts, “And I s’pose you come off thirty six hours of travelling smelling like roses?”

He shrugs dismissively, as if to say ‘yeah, alright, fair call’, grabs his arm and pulls him into a hug, clapping him on the back. “Glad you made it in one piece.”

“Yeah. Glad to finally be off that damn plane.” Which is the truth, even if he isn’t necessarily thrilled to be confronted with Oikawa’s personal brand of charm this early in the morning.

The drive to Oikawa’s villa – though calling it a villa is like calling a monsoon ‘light rain’ – takes about twenty minutes, each one of them stretched thin. He’s gotten better at controlling his impatience – or at least the outward signs of it – but it’s a particular effort to stop his leg from bouncing and his arms from folding across his chest.

He’s so caught up in it; his anxieties, the unsteady thumping of his heart, flexing his hands to keep them from curling into fists, that he misses it at first. The glint of gold on Oikawa’s left hand as he turns the steering wheel and it catches the morning sun.

A ring.

A wedding ring.

Wide-eyed, he looks to his best friend, his oldest friend, because how the hell did Shittykawa get married without telling him? When? His pulse pounds in his ear, drowning out Oikawa’s voice. It’s meaningless prattle anyway, all he has to do is throw in a few grunts and nods every now and then to trick him into thinking he’s paying attention.

He married you.

The bastard fucking went and legally tied you to him, and it’s a good thing that Oikawa isn’t expecting him to contribute much to this one sided conversation because there’s a solid minute where he’s physically incapable of saying anything. Not without biting Tooru’s head off.

And in his stomach, that slimy, bitter twist of jealousy rears its ugly head.

—

“Who’s that?”

The two of them are spread out over the bench under one of the oak trees in the courtyard, studying.

Or, they’re supposed to be studying. While Iwa has his calculus textbook open, lazily scanning the notes he’d scrawled in class, Oikawa has abandoned the pretence entirely, lying back on the seat opposite Iwa’s, idly playing with the volleyball he’d stolen from the gym that morning.

At least, that’s what he was doing.

Ignoring the flicker of mild irritation, Iwa glances up from his notes. He’s fully expecting to find Oikawa staring at one of their classmates, another stuttering fangirl, even a substitute teacher – someone in the periphery that his supposedly observant friend has never bothered to clock much less remember.

Instead, he follows Oikawa’s gaze to find a girl he’s never noticed before sitting by her lonesome on the other side of the courtyard, headphones in, completely absorbed in the notebook propped up in her – your – lap.

Pretty, in an unassuming kind of way, he decides, watching you for a beat. You look like you’re ‘round their age, another third year, but he could be wrong. New, most definitely. Otherwise, there’s nothing all that special about you from what he can see.

Nothing that should’ve grabbed Oikawa’s attention at any rate.

“Dunno. Transfer student, maybe?” he replies in a bored tone, already shifting his attention back to his notes.

“…Huh.”

—

“You’ll be good for Iwa, won’t you?”

With his hands cupping your face, smiling down at you with that saccharine benevolence, Oikawa isn’t asking a question so much as laying out his expectation for the coming five days.

You will be good for him. You will behave.

Without so much as a glance in his direction, you bob your head – and it shouldn’t bother Iwa as much as it does. Since his arrival this morning, you’ve gone out of your way to ignore him; speaking no more than a handful of words, avoiding direct eye contact. You haven’t so much as stepped within arm’s reach – not beyond that initial, stiff hug at Oikawa’s prodding.

You’re acting like he’s a stranger, and while he’s more than aware that you have your reasons for that – one of them undoubtedly the tall, brunet currently sucking at your face – that doesn’t stop him from wanting to grab you by the shoulders and force you to just stop for a second and look at him.

“It’s only a week, love,” Oikawa murmurs, parting from the liplock with another affectionate kiss to your cheek. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

If you’re comforted at all by the reassurance, you hide it well.

—

“Hey, that new chick, the transfer, she’s in your class, right?”

“Yeah, why?”

Makki shrugs, downing a quick mouthful of pocari, “Well if she’s new she probably hasn’t joined a club yet.” At Iwa’s raised eyebrow, he elaborates, “We could always use a manager.”

“So get Shittykawa to ask, he’s the captain.”

“Oikawa’s not in her class,” he shoots back, grinning slyly. Asshole. “Besides, I dunno what it is, having half a working brain maybe, but she doesn’t seem like the type to go gaga for him. He’d probably say something dumb and turn her off it. You should be the one to ask.”

While the others have joked about it on and off for years, Iwa’s never particularly cared one way or the other about having a manager. Half the teams in the prefecture don’t have one. Shiratroizawa doesn’t have one, and it’s never held them back from systematically beating their competitors into the ground. Seijoh’s a damn good team with a solid foundation in its coaches, and Iwa can’t really see how some girl running ‘round picking up stray balls and keeping score in practice matches is gonna make much of a difference.

He’s ninety percent sure that Makki only wants one for bragging rights, but when the bell rings for recess the next day, he pulls you aside to ask anyway – and the look of confusion that flits over your face is strangely endearing.

“… Oh, um, thanks but… I don’t, I mean– I’ve never played volleyball?” it comes out sounding more like a question than anything else, and the corners of Iwa’s lips twitch. Cute.

It’d be easy to go back to Makki and tell him you weren’t interested, and yet–

“We don’t need a volleyball fanatic or anything, just someone with a good head on their shoulders who’s willing to help out, y’know?”

You nod, absentmindedly nibbling on your bottom lip as you mull over the proposition, and he feels compelled to add, “Just come try it out for a week or something. See if you like it. If you don’t, you can leave; no hard feelings.”

Apparently, it’s the right thing to say, because a moment later you’re straightening up and nodding once more, a small but nevertheless genuine smile brightening your face.

“Well, I guess ��volleyball club manager’ would look good on my university applications, right?”

Sure enough, that afternoon finds you peeking your head into the practice gym, an application in hand.

—

You don’t speak to him at all on the first day.

Instead, you spend most of it curled up on the couch, shifting your attention every now and then from the book in your lap to the TV he flicks on, playing some random show he’d pulled from his netflix queue on a whim.

Not that he could tell you the name of it if he tried, because he’s too focused on the fact that after years of radio silence, surviving off the barest of updates Oikawa would occasionally throw his way, you’re finally in the same room as him, doing your absolute best to ignore his existence.

And it isn’t that he didn’t expect hostility – he shot himself in the foot with that one a long time ago – it’s that you won’t even give him that much. You’re not glaring or spitting vitriol, you’re not even icy in your detachment, it’s as if you’re trying to convince yourself he simply isn’t there.

He’d be impressed if it wasn’t so fucking grating.

But it’s fine. It’s fine.

Oikawa’s gone for a week, and since he apparently can’t trust his darling wife to be all by herself for that long, he’s left you with Iwa instead.

Settling further into the couch, he takes a long, slow swig of beer. He has time; you won’t keep this bullshit up forever. You can’t, it’s not in your nature.

And Iwa hasn’t come this far to ruin everything by pushing too hard, too fast.

—

“Iwaaaa, go talk to her.”

He suppresses a sigh, “Why? It’s late, her job isn’t to hang around and be your babysitter. She’s allowed to go home.”

“This isn’t about me, this is about the team. We won–”

“A practice match. We won a practice match.”

“–and so we’re celebrating. As a team,” Oikawa stresses. “And if you ask, she won’t say no.”

Iwa glances over to the centre of the court, where you’re still busy helping Yahaba bring down the net. Too far away and too distracted to overhear their conversation. Still, he lowers his voice, just in case. You already don’t like the setter, Iwa’s not in a rush to join him over some stupid comment.

“Because I’m not an asshole who keeps annoying her like you do.”

The setter’s odd fascination with you isn’t something he’s ever taken much effort to hide, pestering you at any and all available opportunities, especially now that you’re their manager. Makki and Mattsun both mock him relentlessly for it, but Iwa finds it more creepy than anything else.

“No, because she likes you,” he corrects, grinning. “And you like her too, don’t you?”

“Fuck off.”

He’s not blushing. His stomach’s fine. Why would it matter whether you liked him or not? You guys are friends, that’s it. Friends – and he’s perfectly happy with that. Oikawa’s just trying to wind him up so he’ll go and do what he wants, and Iwa’s not in the mood to play along.

The brunet snickers. “You do. There’s no need to hide it, you know. She’s cute, and smart, I guess her tits are pretty nice, too. I bet they’d look–”

He’s moving before the comment even truly registers, whirling on Oikawa and grabbing him by his shirtfront, yanking him closer with clenched fists. “Finish that sentence, Shittykawa,” he snarls, “I dare you.”

Oikawa only grins, looking entirely too fucking pleased with himself, and it’s only when the sound of your startled gasp breaks through the haze of anger clouding his head that he realises why.

“Hajime, what the hell?!”

Fuck. His eyes close, breathing in deep, exhaling through his nose. Slowly, he pries his hands from Oikawa’s shirt, stepping away as your footsteps race closer.

The others in the team, the coaches, they’re all used to seeing him blow up at the captain, but you– fuck. He doesn’t want you thinking he’s some violent meathead who can’t control his temper because he isn’t, he really fucking isn’t. Oikawa’s just– the bastard doesn’t know when to shut the hell up.

And he doesn’t care that they’re all watching him right now, Mizoguchi with a hard frown, Kyoutani with barely concealed enthusiasm, Makki and Mattsun both tensed and ready to step in at a moment’s notice. You, on the other hand – yeah, that bothers him.

He tears his eyes away from Oikawa just as you skid to a stop in front of them, mouth opening to, what, explain? Apologise for scaring you? But as usual, it’s Oikawa who gets in first.

“Relax, relax. It’s fine,” he says with an easy laugh, smoothing down the front of his jersey. “Iwa just gets a little cranky when he’s hungry. We’re heading out to get him some food after this, you wanna come?”

“Oh…” Wide eyed, a little crinkle appearing between your brows, your gaze uneasily shifts between the two of them. “Um, alright then. If you’re sure…”

Clearly, you’re not sold.

For your sake, Iwa forces himself to relax and chuckle along with him – a touch sheepishly, “Yeah, it’s all good. Really.”

—

The guest room – the one he’s been set up in – is down the opposite end of the villa to the master bedroom where you sleep, and conveniently situated right by the staircase. Usually, once he’s out he’s out like a light, but jetlag’s still wreaking havoc on his system and being in an unfamiliar place, in an unfamiliar bed isn’t helping – which means he’s wide awake when you creep past his door a little after two in the morning on your way downstairs.

He’s not worried that you’ll try and make a break for it or anything, but nevertheless he drags himself out of bed to follow you. Finds you in the kitchen, holding a tub of ice cream in one hand, a spoon in the other, nudging the freezer door shut.

And it’s so damn unexpected that he can’t help the surprised laugh that bursts out of him. You spin, instinctively shoving the ice cream behind your back in a poor attempt to hide it.

For the better part of two days, he’s been treated to your silence while you walk on eggshells around him, and all of a sudden he finds you raiding the fridge for ice cream in the middle of the night like a kid hunting for snacks after their parents have gone to bed. It’s funny.

You scowl at him, arms folding across your chest (still gripping your prize) – and he can’t bring himself to be mad at that, either, not when this is the first time you’ve actually acknowledged his presence.

“What? Am I not allowed to eat without supervision?” you snap, though the words lack the heat they deserve.

You sound tired. Exhausted, really, and just like that his good mood quickly evaporates.

“You can do what you want, I’m not going to stop you.”

You eye him for a moment, eventually sighing and relaxing your posture. “He’s always so damn healthy,” you mutter, moving past him to take a seat at the kitchen table, popping off the lid to scoop out a spoonful of ice cream.

It’s not an invitation by any stretch of imagination, but Iwaizumi grabs a spoon from the cutlery drawer and pulls up a chair beside you anyway.

“So you’re talking to me now?” he comments, pulling the tub towards him to steal a mouthful. “Or are we going back to the silent treatment?”

“What’s there to say?”

Iwaizumi shrugs, feigning indifference. “I don’t know. I thought that as friends we could talk about some stuff. Maybe like why you’re still here. Why you let him marry you when it’s clear you can’t stand the piece of shit.” Each word comes out more bitter than the last, sharper than he intended, and he can’t deny that small twinge of satisfaction when he sees you flinch as they hit their mark.

Good.

Your hands aren’t quite so steady when you reach for the tub next. “We’re not friends.”

—

He feels sick as he watches it.

Iwa knows drunk, even without the drink in your hand, he can see it all over your face, in the glaze of your eyes when you look at the camera, that dazed, dopey little grin. The way you fucking giggle – you’re plastered.

And he knows the bedroom you stumble into. The shitty plastic trophy on the mantelpiece – they got that when they went to volleyball camp the summer they were ten and won the grand championship. It was the first time he and Oikawa played on the same team; setter and spiker. The best setter plaque on the wall – blurry in the frame as the camera shifts angles – he was standing right fucking next to Oikawa when he got it.

The video never shows his face, it doesn’t have to. Iwa knows his best friend’s voice as it purrs pure fucking filth at you.

It’s like a train wreck, playing out in front of his eyes. All he has to do is close the video, delete it, put his phone away, pretend he never got it in the first place, any of the above, but for the life of him, Iwa can’t pull himself away.

The you in the video is shameless. Clothes discarded, inhibitions gone, you swallow down Oikawa’s cock, let him fuck you face down, ass up, moaning like a two bit whore in a bad porno.

He honestly doesn’t know who he’s more disgusted with; Oikawa, for taking advantage of you while you’re clearly drunk, you, for putting yourself in that position in the first place, or himself, because it’s the third time he’s watching you cum around his best friend’s cock, and somewhere between the rage and nausea, there’s a stirring of envy.

It should’ve been him.

“You’re a real piece of shit, y’know,” is all he says the following Monday, the two of them the first to arrive at practice.

Oikawa, guiltless as ever, just shrugs as he slips off his jacket. “Jealousy isn’t a good look on you, Iwa. You were invited to that party same as I was. It’s not my fault you took too long to make your move.”

He was, but unlike Shitty-fucking-kawa, he couldn’t rely on scholarships and a ridiculous intellect to graduate, he actually had to put in work and study.

His future isn’t laid out on a silver platter.

“I’m not jealous, asshole. I’m pissed off because she was clearly drunk, and you went ahead and fucked her anyway! What happened to being her friend first, huh? You really that desperate to get your dick wet?!”

Oikawa smirks, “Friends, huh. You’re telling me that’s all you want with our darling, sweet little manager? Not to bend her over the nearest flat surface and fuck that perfect pussy of hers ‘til she milks you dry?”

Blood pressure spiking, he doesn’t hear the sound of the clubroom door opening, much less the lighter footsteps approaching. “As if I’d want anything to do with your sloppy seconds.”

He doesn’t hear it, but Oikawa does, his grin twisting into something victorious as he watches Iwa unwittingly shatter your heart in one fell swoop.

And the sound of your gasp – that pained, strangled whimper, like a kicked puppy – haunts him for a long, long time.

—

“What do you think happened after that, Iwa?” you ask him.

“He shared the video, you dropped out. Disappeared off the face of the planet, you wouldn’t talk to me, wouldn’t answer my texts, your parents wouldn’t let me see you, and then six months go by and I find out from Oikawa that you’re off living with him in Argentina. What the hell was I supposed to do with that?”

You laugh, bitter and broken, taking another mouthful of ice cream before you speak. “I didn’t drop out, the school kicked me out, and when my parents found out–” your voice wavers, thick with emotion, “When they found out why I’d been expelled, they kicked me out, too. All my friends thought I was a whore. I had fifty bucks to my name, and that was it. I didn’t have another option.”

He’s silent for a long time.

“And now?”

You swallow, avoiding his piercing stare. “And now what? What’s changed, Iwa? I didn’t graduate, I didn’t get into uni. I’ve never held a job. He’s– he’s all I have. He loves me, in all the wrong ways, and too much, probably, but…” you shrug helplessly, and Iwa’s jaw tightens.

He should’ve known. Iwa did know, technically, because there was no way in hell you should’ve ended up with Oikawa. And he’s not sure whether he’s more disgusted or impressed with his friend; willingly or not, he’s got you wrapped around his little finger, wholly dependent on him.

You might hate him, but you won’t leave. Even if Iwa hadn’t come, and you were left to your own devices while Oikawa was away, you wouldn’t have left. You have nowhere to go.

You’re reliant on the one man who single handedly ruined your life, all because he couldn’t stand the thought of you being happy with anyone else.

Iwa slides an open hand across the table; an offer. “That’s bullshit. You have me.”

—

It takes him longer than he’d like to convince you to come back with him.

You’re adamant that you don’t have anything to go back to. You’d be running away from your husband, starting from scratch with less than nothing, and understandably, you’re terrified.

But Iwa’s there to ground you. Reminds you that you won’t be starting with nothing, because you’ll have him right there beside you the whole way through. He’s your friend, and friends look out for one another. He fucked up back at school, he knows that – will probably regret it ‘til the day he dies – but he’s got all the time in the world to make it up to you.

And he will. He’s never been more certain of anything than he is of that.

Despite the reassurances, it doesn’t escape his notice that you fiddle with your ring finger as the two of you sit and wait at the airport gate. The ring’s somewhere back at Oikawa’s place – he’s not sure where you left it exactly, whether you left a note or not.

He doesn’t particularly care one way or the other, but watching you keep reaching for it bothers him more than it should. Like you’re still not ready to let him go.

Maybe he should give you one of his own when you land. You’ll still be married to Oikawa on paper, but it’ll be his ring you’ll wear.

You’ll be his wife.

And fuck it if he doesn’t like the sound of that.

“Iwa… you’re sure about this, right?” you ask him for the millionth time, minutes away from boarding.

For someone who’s been through so much, you’re still so blindly naive. Too trusting for your own good. It’s hard to be mad at you, though, when you look at him like that, all lost and anxious. “I’m sure. ‘m gonna take care of you, I promise.”

And the smile you give him isn’t quite the blinding dazzle you used to wear, but it’s soft and sweet and wholly his.

He squeezes your hand, and tentatively, you squeeze it back.

—

Four hours into the flight to Houston, you squeeze past Iwa to use the bathroom. That’s your excuse anyway, but the tears you’ve been trying to hide aren’t all that subtle, and Iwa feels that familiar sting of jealousy twisting at his insides.

You’re still thinking about that asshole.

He gives you a minute or two before easing his way out of his seat to follow.

“Just a minute!” you squeak when he knocks on the door, ignoring the unimpressed stare of the air stewardess.

“It’s me, let me in.”

There’s a short pause, “Iwa, I’ll be back to the seat in a sec, I’m fine, I just–” He can hear you sniffling through the door. “I just need a second, and I’ll be fine.”

He knocks again, insistent, “Let me in.”

“Iwa–”

“You’re not fine, and I’m not going until you let me in.”

There’s a sigh on the other side of the door and he waits. Then, finally, the lock slides to vacant and you push the door open.

Cheeks wet, eyes suspiciously shiny, you attempt to say something to him, but he pushes you back, forcing the two of you into the tiny cubicle, shutting and locking the door behind him before you can get so much as a syllable out.

“Iwa, what– I said I was fine, you didn’t need to–”

“You used to call me Hajime.”

Confusion flickers across your face, but he doesn’t offer you the chance to reply before he’s grabbing you by your hair and wrenching you forward into a kiss.

He’s had years to imagine what his first time with you would be like. In his head, he treats you like a goddamn queen, lying you down, stretching you out on his fingers first, then his tongue. He takes his sweet fucking time getting you nice and wet and ready for him.

In those fantasies of his, you’re willing and aching for him, begging for his cock with such pretty little whines.

He’d take care of you, fuck you better than Shittykawa ever could. Better than that video, better than anyone.

He doesn’t have that luxury here. He’s too impatient to wait ‘til he gets you home, and there’s only so much time he can spend buried in your pussy before the queue for the bathroom grows too long and the airline staff start to get pissed and nosy.

If there’s one thing he’s grateful to Oikawa for, though, it’s his obsession with putting you in short skirts and dresses that barely reach your mid-thigh. He doesn’t let you pull away from the kiss as he hitches the fabric up and roughly yanks your panties down.

The startled squeak that leaves your lips, muffled by his tongue stuffed into your mouth only spurs him on.

He palms at your cunt for a moment, frustrated when his fingers come away dry. Only then does he pull apart, letting you catch your breath as you stare at him in wide eyed horror. All you’d have to do is scream. The stewardess who’d seen him knocking probably knows he’s in here with you, it wouldn’t take much to break down the door and rip him away from you if you kicked up a fuss.

You won’t though, even as those pretty eyes fill with fresh tears and your bottom lip – reddened and glistening with your shared spit – wobbles. The quiet, disbelieving, “Hajime?” you breathe strikes somewhere deep. He’s not a monster, he’s not like Oikawa, but he’s too far gone to stop now.

With one hand he covers your lips, and the other he hastily undoes his pants, shoving them just far enough down his legs to free his cock.

He wants to say something, to rid you of that pained, terrified expression, but when he tries the words get stuck in his throat. So instead he lets his forehead fall against yours, closes his eyes as he spits on his cock, mixing it in with the strands of pre-cum oozing at his slit and smearing it along his length.

And the little hitched noise you make when the thick, blunt head of his cock brushes up against your pussy sends a shiver of pleasure shuddering down his spine.

“Shh, be good for me,” he grunts out, and tightening his hand over your mouth, he buries himself inside of you with one brutal thrust.

Iwa groans as the walls of your pussy squeeze and tighten around him, as your body locks up and shudders, a soundless scream working its way through you. He knows it hurts, knows it’s not pleasant for you but fuck it feels like heaven and he can’t get enough.

Hips drawing back, he pants against your sweat-damped skin, kissing your forehead as tears spill from your lashes down onto his hand. He should be gentle with you. He should be careful, but all he can think about is the tightness of your cunt, the dizzying warmth around his cock, and the way you cling to him, nails sinking into his back, your leg slung over his hip as he drives them forward again, stuffing you full. Again and again and again.

Apologies fall from his lips as he pounds into you with a rabid desperation. He doesn't think he means them, he’s not sorry, how can he be when fucking you like this feels so damn good.

He wants to go deeper, bully his cock past your cervix and fill you with his cum, to rearrange your insides so they mould to the shape of him. He wants to fuck you harder, deeper, faster. He wants you screaming for him while you fall apart completely.

And you can’t hate it too much either, because despite the muffled sound of your pitiful cries, with every push of his hips, every stroke of his cock, fucking you deep, your pussy grows slicker, wet, lewd slaps accompanying his harsh breaths, filling the tiny cubicle.

He had every intention of filming this to send to Shittykawa, a final fuck you to drive the message home, but Iwa only has one hand free and it creeps down to rub at your sensitive little clit instead. He might be short of time, but you’re still gonna cum for him, he owes you that much.

He loves you and he’s gonna take care of you, you just have to give him this one, small thing.

And he can always film the next time.

#yandere haikyuu #yandere oikawa x reader #yandere iwaizumi x reader #yandere oikawa tooru x reader #yandere iwaizumi hajime x reader #yandere iwaizumi hajime #yandere oikawa tooru #tw: noncon #tw: dubcon

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