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#oh god i gotta tag em all

hereforthefunnyguys · 3 months

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analyzing the most popular ships for katsuya jonouchi/joey weela and coming to the conclusion that this man prefers either a) polite short goths (e.g. ryou, yugi, atem) or b) tall mean leggy people (e.g. Mai, seto, honda, feared crimelord marik ishtar his friend namu :}). his bisexual swag is off the charts fr

#katsuya jonouchi #joey wheeler #oh God do I gotta tag all these ships lmao? I’m so sorry in advance #violetshipping #dragonshipping #wishshipping #puffshipping #irateshipping #(my friend Irateshipping)#polarshipping #buddyshipping #thats all of em. Goodbye #ygo #yugioh #My stuff

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cacowhistle · 11 months

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crosses one game off my list. stares at the dozens of others beneath it. big sigh. anyways heres some games i highly recommend:

a short hike: in their words, "a little exploration game about hiking up a mountain." it rewards exploration. i went into it thinking it'd be like, a twenty minute experience? i played for at least an hour or two. very cute, very low stakes emotionally. i really enjoyed the graphics and characters :]

co-open: this game is genuinely the cutest fuckign thing i've ever played. you're a kid going to the store on your own for the first time. lotta queer characters. so much to explore. at first you're like "woah store" and then you somehow end up in the vents and then you're on the roof?? there is so much to this game. i love it. it's so cute. maybe an hour or two or three in playtime.

everhood: i will admit. i have not finished this game. however. it is so stylish. the graphics are so bright. the characters are WILD. the music goes SO HARD. the combat and gameplay is entirely centered around the music. they describe it as a "psychedelic musical bullet hell" and tbh that is literally it. the puzzles aren't too hard. i haven't finished it only because it feels, to me, like it doesn't really... tell you where to go? i get lost very easily if i'm not being funneled in a particular direction when it comes to these kinds of games, ones that aren't necessarily meant to be open-world. that being said. everhood goes fucking hard. play it. it slaps. i need to finish it. i keep fuckign thinking about it its that good.

dredge: this isn't like, an obscure indie pick. but dredge is so good. the story left me wanting a little more, but the gameplay is fun, the graphics are gorgeous (the style is so nice), there are some real good scares, and tbh there is nothing better than a good fishing game. it mixes exploration and inventory management really well! and i thoroughly enjoyed exploring every inch of the game and completing all the side quests i could. also theres a dog and you can pet it.

eronoctosis: put yourself together: this game is about being TRANS and DYSPHORIA and SEX!!!! it's a two-player game but it's free!! (there's a paid dlc you can get too but the base game is free) (the paid dlc includes sexual content, the base game does not). eronoctosis was really fun. my boyfriend and i were so bad at it at first (hi babe if ur reading this. we should get the dlc i wanna play this with u again). but once we got into the swing of things it was honestly really fun. the scares are REALLY good even when you know what you're doing. really makes you dread going around corners <3

two little bonuses are inbento and sudocats. it's literally just. a puzzle game. and sudoku. but in my defense. both games include cats. which makes them cute. very nice little experiences :]

#girl help i have too many games not enough oh my god tags canceled theres a cat outside #hes orange #and small #and sniffing around in the grass in the driveway #holy shit #HES ITCHING HIMSELF ON THE BUSHES #BABY BOY #i love him what the fuck #ok he left where was i #i still gotta play heartbound off omori little nightmares little misfortune pinstripe fuckin uhhhhh #indivisible.... gotta finish spiritfarer... wandersong and underhero. maybe replay transistor. celeste and inmost!!!#lots of games not enough time....... thats ok. ill get 2 em all eventually :]

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thevirgincherry · 5 months

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LOVEY-DOVEY !

ft. leon s. kennedy x fem!reader

tags. ddlg, daddy dom/little girl duhh, leon feeling guilty for no reason, age gap, princess parts used once, an abundance of pet names, honestly just icky sappy smut, typical stuff like penetration n oral, praise kink

note. haiii :3 so insanely embarrassed to post this it’s insanely icky and soft for me .. but ignore typos as always :333 rbs n feedback greatly appreciated :33 crossposted on my ao3 clitkiss as usual, this is like very.. ddlg like he dresses u at one point but it’s only mentioned briefly

stocking filler

You and Leon are trying something new. Now, he’s no stranger to it, his moonlight trysts with Pornhub show that he’s an expert at it in fact. But that was back in his late twenties. Op in Spain made his brain go funny, and maybe it’s ‘cause Ashley is the perfect subject for it - DDLG that is. She batted her lashes up at, clung to his arms, and she needed him, relied on him. In turn, he spent his days balls deep in videos like Daddy’s Little Girl Punished For Staying Up Past 8 PM, and even classier ones like Big Cock Daddy Fucks Tiny Tit Teen Girlfriend Till She Squirts (ANAL + THROATFUCKING)! Even the occasional Step-Daughter Chokes On Step-Daddy’s Fat Cock While Mommy Sleeps! Very tasteful, very nuanced, very discreet. So yeah, not to brag, but Leon’s kind of a porn connoisseur. Dabbled in every category.

The DDLG thing got boxed up and shelved away quick. Made him feel guilty, post-nut clarity set in the second he’d milked himself dry. Then he’d lay there for hours with a sticky palm and a heavy heart. Hasn’t thought about it in years, these days Leon’s more into Busty Dom Mommy Pegs Scrawny, Ugly, Sissy Slut In Business Suit! and if he’s really feeling up for it Stupid Fucking Bitch Takes Two Dicks At Once! The titular bitch actually only took one dick at a time despite the two dicks present, quite misleading in his humble opinion. No more creepy daddy stuff though. Those days are over; he hasn’t thought about it in twenty years give or take. Claire sent him this ‘Get porn sites taken down for women blah blah blah’ petition, he signed it, clicked out of the tab and got down to watching some silly slut get fucked within an inch of her life.

It’s more of a boredom thing. Honest. Leon watches porn to fill in gaps of space throughout his day; he nods his head thoughtfully when the man so affectionately titled Blue-Collar Bear slams into the Preppy Spoiled Twink. This is all getting away from him, the point is, Leon hasn’t thought about the dreaded topic of DDLG for literal decades. Then you walk in, and Leon’s sat there listening to you prattle on about Pompompurin and Chococat, an entire lineup of characters that he now knows off by heart.

Oh, is that right, sweetheart? Cinnamoroll’s a puppy, not a bunny? Wow, I didn’t know that, baby, fascinating ain’t it? Miffy‘s from the Netherlands, god, she’s gotta be careful over there in Amsterdam, honey. They don’t call that place Sin City for no reason, the red light district is no joke. Oh, I see, she’s from Utrecht? Ah, guess she’s safe then, I’m glad. What’s her name? That’s your favourite, Cogimyun? That’s a mouthful, ain’t it? She looks like a cloud. No? She's not? She’s a what-? Made of wheat flour? Oh! Well, that’s real funny, baby. Bet she don’t do well on windy days.

You don’t tell him outright. But he knows. Leon tries to tell himself that you’re just like this, that you buy cutesy, girly stickers to make yourself happy, that you fill his bedroom with soft toys ‘cause you simply like ‘em, turn them around when you fuck as a joke. But it’s clear, the headspace you’re left in after sex gives it away, haven’t let the D word slip so far, Leon’s banking on it being soon though.

He pets your head before you leave the house one day, you beam up at him, apples of your cheeks rounded with how hard you're smiling. “Love you, daddy!” You chirp all too loudly, jaw dropping open a moment later at your own blunder. Then you skitter out the front door unnervingly like a deer with CWD.

Called it. Made a bet on it even. Leon takes fifty out of his savings account, owes it to himself. You looked awful upset, he sends you a message, tells you to be safe, text him when you meet your friends. You do. Somehow, even the message is clipped. Poor baby, you’re embarrassed. The colour had drained from his face when you said it. You’d noticed for sure.

You’re younger than him, much younger. Too many years younger. An age gap that makes his head spin. Leon tries not to dwell on it, but it gets real hard. Claire’s always down his throat about it. When you go out in public together, he’ll sneak a hand in your back pocket and get stared down by every passer-by. He’s been asked if he’s your dad before. Blow to his ego. Considered botox and filler for the entirety of the following week. Certainly not your dad, possibly your daddy. Now you’ve cemented that in place - you want Leon to be your daddy, and he’ll fill those shoes.

Even if it leaves a bad taste on his tongue, even if it makes his skin crawl. Leon is willing to lay down his life for you half of the time, best thing that ever happened to him, so what harm is a little DDLG gonna do? He just needs to get comfortable with it, refamiliarise himself with all the lingo. How hard could it be? The guilt? He can get over it, even if it clings to him like a festering scab.

When you come back home it’s late, he barely hears your footsteps. You’ve learnt how to make yourself scarce when returning on late nights, Leon’s a light sleeper. A jumpy one at that. He smells jasmine when you pull back the covers, the mattress dips and he turns to face you.

“Fuck!” You gasp, brows pinched together, he runs his thumb over the divot that’s formed between them. “You scared me, Leon.”

“Not that ugly am I?” He juts his bottom lip out, it pulls a laugh out of you, and that makes him smile. You were emanating gloom and doom the second you stepped into the bedroom. Clear skies now.

“Never, you’re sooo handsome.” You kiss the tip of his nose, smear pink Vaseline on it.

“You know just what I wanna hear, don’t you, baby?” Apart from daddy. He’d make the joke, but you’d likely flip out. Leon shuts his mouth. He’s gotten better at doing that lately. Must be the effect you’ve had on him. “Baby?”

“Yes?”

“About today—“

“Leon.” It’s a warning.

“Baby.”

“Leon.” Clearly you want to brush it under the rug. “It was just a slip-up, I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, so can we just drop it?” Uh, woah, someone’s defensive.

“Baby, it didn’t make me uncomfortable,” Leon strokes your cheek, his cold hands warmed by the heat of your dewy skin. It made him mildly uncomfortable. That’s ‘cause he grapples with all these I’m a dirty old man that deserves to be crucified, Claire’s right I’m a fucking cradlerobber, I should let her go, I’ll be dead by the time she’s ready to get married thoughts. You’re this pretty young thing and it makes him tremendously nervous.

“I saw your face, Leon, I’m not stupid.” You’re getting huffy now, fluffing the pillows and turning away from him.

“Babe, I was just surprised, pinky promise.” Leon sticks his pinky finger into your line of sight, there’s silence, then the sheets ruffle and you’ve lifted your hand, shorter pinky wrapping around his.

“Like, pinky swear, Leon?” You sound so small, so scared, his heart aches.

“Baby,” he coos, “light of my life, angel, apple of my fuckin’ eye, sugar, dollface,” you hang onto every word, eyes getting bigger and wider by the second, “I knew the minute you showed me those Sylvanian Families.” You smack his chest and he laughs in your face.

“You’re an asshole and I hate you so much.” When he touches your cheek again, you’re burning up, he places a kiss behind your ear. “Stupid old man.”

“C’mon, baby, you think I’m dumb? You gave them names.” The Persian Cat triplets are named Serena, Nate and Blair. From Gossip Girl of course, he didn’t know what that was. Tedious is his review. Leon thought Henry, Tommy and Jimmy were more fitting names. You didn’t understand the reference. “You buy ‘em little plates and forks and cups, they’re living better than us, baby.” And that’s a fact. You splurged on a Red Roof Country House. Far nicer than his apartment, once empty, now filled with junk like that. No, it’s not junk, it’s his baby’s stuff, trinkets that make her happy.

“What if I just liked them?” You’re glaring at him, cutely of course, everything you do is saccharine.

“Just adds up, don’t it?” Leon gives you a big, wet kiss on your pouty lips. Tastes roses. Literally. He just swallowed a bunch of pink Vaseline. “What I wanted to say ‘fore you got all pissy on me,” he swallows the lump in his throat, fuck it, how bad could it go, he’s just making his favourite girl happy, “I don’t mind tryin’ it out.”

Rules are implemented the following morning, albeit loosely. Leon doesn’t have a lot of control over things, the DSO has jurisdiction over him, got him by the balls. And in turn, Leon’s just learnt how to take it like a good bitch. You handed him a pink glitter pen and a page from your Hello Kitty notebook. Asked him so sweetly to make a general set of rules, so you know how to be a good girl for daddy. Leon sprung a boner so fast he got nauseous. And that’s not even the sex part of this arrangement. He uses his black ballpoint pen, pink glitter isn’t his thing. Plus, it doesn’t show up on the paper.

You giggle when he hands them over to you; Leon’s ears flush pink. He’ll get better at it, swear. He wants to do well for you. Wants you to feel satisfied with his quote caregiving unquote.

It starts off slow, you hand him your toothbrush in the morning, Leon blinks at you in pure and utter befuddlement. You say Ah! like you would at the dentist and he gets it. Leon sits you on the closed lid of the toilet seat, making sure to get your molars, your canines, front teeth, and all the remaining ones. Five seconds each. Or he tries at least. You’re quite meticulous in this headspace, letting out a disgruntled noise when he fails to be precise.

Then you sit on the mat while he showers, like a puppy, didn’t even notice you were there until he opened the sliding door. “Hi there, babydoll.” Leon wraps a towel around his waist, “whatcha doin’ down there?”

“Waiting for daddy.” You tell him plainly, then trail after him as he gets ready. Right. He’s gotta pick out your clothes. What if you don’t like them? You’re so fussy with your style, spend hours tossing piece after piece out of the wardrobe, stomp your feet when the blouse you wanted to wear is in the laundry. Right now, you’re totally placid, lifting your arms when he asks as he puts you in a ribbed pink sweater and the frilly skirt you’re so fond of, knee high socks per usual, Mary Janes to finish it off. Oh. Yeah. This is bad. He’s in deep. You’re too cute. He thinks he wants to be your daddy forever.

“My dad’s been wanting to see you, Leon.” Ashley’s all grown up now, which makes him feel a bit sappy. Hypocritical really, he’s got a college girl back at home calling him daddy.

Dad… Daddy, I love you, when are you coming home?

Leon blinks to clear his mind, gives Ashley a plastic smile. “How’s he been?”

“Oh, you know how it is, he got a little sick over Halloween, but that guy, he’s always up and kicking.” Ashley brings a vanity out of her pocket, reapplies her lipstick. “Overall, he’s been good.”

Good girl, am I a good girl, daddy?

Jesus Christ, get a grip, man. “I’m glad, should take a rest that guy.”

“I know!” Ashley moves her plate to the side and lays out her entire makeup case on the table, picking out mascara. When he looks closely, her round mirror is printed with a vaguely familiar cartoon bunny. “He never listens, hasn’t been President for decades and he just works and works and works. That’s why you should call, tell him to take it easy.”

“What’s her name?” Leon frowns, jabs his thumb towards the compact.

“My Melody!” She answers, grinning at him with her pearly whites.

My Melody, Kitty, Keroppi, and Mimi, did you write that down, daddy? And there’s—

“Aren’t you too old for that, Ash?” Leon raises his brow, he’s not serious though, and she can tell.

“Hey, I liked Sanrio before it was cool in 2004, okay?” She tosses it all back in her clutch. Ashley’s too nice, if it were Claire she’d bite back with Aren’t you too old for your girlfriend, loser? And that would shut him up. “It was nice seeing you, Leon, I wanna meet your girlfriend next time, she seems sweet. And don’t forget to call dad, I’ll drop his number later.”

Call dad… Daddy? Daddy.

“Leon, don’t you think Chris looks like our dad?” Claire’s hijacked the DSO break room once again, she’s in town for some TerraSave presentation thingy. He wasn’t listening. Eyes glassed over as he gazes endlessly at her phone screen.

Dad. Dada. Daddy, daddy, daddy, daddy.

“Huh?” Leon says dumbly.

Claire levels him with her stare. “You’ve been out of it today, what’s up?”

“Nothing.” He shrugs nonchalantly, wipes his clammy palms on his jeans. “Just didn’t sleep well.”

“Uh huh.” Claire’s not convinced. Shit. She totally knows. She sees right through you, Leon. She knows what dirty shit you’ve been up to, can see the shame on your face, and she’s building her case against you. “Anyway,” she begins, voice holding onto it’s suspicious edge, “I was saying, I found this photo album of our parents, doesn’t Chris look so much like dad?”

Daddy. Daddy. Daddy. Fuck. He needs a lobotomy. Stat. This is taking over his fucking life. A sizable chunk of his brain was removed in his sleep, and it’s been replaced by pink mushy goo. Different to the pinkish brain matter that resides inside one’s head. More a glittery pink goop that morphs into the shape of you. You’re jumping around in there, sliding down the sulci and fissures in his brain, lodging yourself deep in his mind. Making it your playground.

“You’re fucking impossible to talk to, Leon. You know that?” What’d you say Claire? He can’t hear you over the impossibly disgusting, perverted thoughts running through his mind.

The second he gets home, Leon is on you. Face between your tits, knee keeping your thighs open, kissing you breathless. “Daddy!” You giggle, delighted by the wave of affection.

“Babydoll,” Leon rubs his stubble against your cheeks to hear you squeal, “Daddy missed you so much.”

“I missed daddy sooo much too!”

“Oh, yeah? How much did you miss daddy?”

You stretch your arms as wide as they go. “This much, daddy!” Fuck. Holy fucking shit. He needs to start going to weekly mass again.

“Yeah?” Leon peppers kisses all over your little face, forehead to your neck, “what’d ya get up to?”

“Mmm,” you hum, tapping a finger against your lip thoughtfully, “coloured, ate ‘n got sleepy, daddy.”

“What an eventful day that is, baby.” Leon kisses your nose. “You colour something for daddy?” He needs to put his dick in you before he explodes.

“Mhm,” your lashes flutter when he sneaks a hand up your loose sweater, hanging off your shoulders, swallowing you up, “I put it in daddy’s office…” Your breath hitches when he rolls your pebbled nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

“Daddy’s gonna hang it on the fridge tonight then.” Leon mumbles, too busy shoving his naughty hand down your pyjama shorts, cupping your mound. Your fingers tremble as you lift the hem of your sweater, baring your tits for him, he takes your nipple into his mouth. Bites down to hear you gasp. Latches on like a damn baby, groping the other tit roughly.

“Daddy,” you whimper, and the sound alone makes his dick twitch. Leon pulls off with a pop, spit dripping down his chin.

“I know, baby,” Leon coos, “daddy’s gonna take care of you.” Dirty old man! blares Claire’s voice in the back of his mind. Leon can’t find it in himself to care. Watch this, bitch. “You want daddy to play with your princess parts, babydoll?” You heard that right, princess parts. He’s been sucked in that deep.

You nod, brows pinched together as you bunch up the sheets in your curled fists. Leon clicks his tongue, presses a kiss below your belly button. “Words, baby.” He reminds you, his tone delicate, only lightly chiding.

“Need daddy… need him to play with me,” it’s barely a mumble, but Leon takes it. He knows how jumbled your head gets in this mindset. Poor baby, play with your clit and it turns you all stupid.

Leon gets to work. He’s been waiting for it all day, to get his mouth on this perfect cunt. He spreads you out, urges you to go wider, as far as you can. Licks over the fabric of your cotton panties, his nose nestled against your swollen clit, sucking on the wet patch on the gusset. The constant nudge of his nose against your clit is making you antsy, your chest rises and falls, your fingers itch to tug at his hair, but you’re an obedient girl so you keep them down by your sides. Clutch at the sheets till your nails break.

He continues to lick and suck at your leaky centre through the fabric for an eternity. You have your complaints, but you can’t say no to daddy. That’s, like, against the rules. So Leon has his fun, maybe a little too much fun. You let out a strained noise, and enough is enough, you’re being so good for him, so patient. His little girl deserves a treat. Once you’ve creamed your panties that is.

“God,” you toss your head back and melt when his tongue flattens over your bare folds, he’d thrown your panties into the laundry basket a minute prior, good aim.

“Hey, give me some credit, baby,” Leon takes a break from tongueing you down, “God’s not doing shit down here, it’s all your daddy.”

That makes you giggle. Then you call out daddy so sweetly his brain blanks. He spits on your sticky core, you’re wet enough, but Leon likes it sloppy, wants to feel your mess dripping down his chin. His teeth scrape your clit, pulls the hood back, kitten licks it, kisses it three times for good luck.

“Don’t cover your mouth, baby,” Leon places a big hand on your hip, holds you in place, “Daddy didn’t say you could do that.”

“Sorry… ‘M sorry, daddy,” you whine, the hand once clasped over your mouth falling limp, and you’re moaning like a fucking pornstar. He can’t handle it. That word does something to him, something evil and degenerate.

He pushes your cushiony lips together, pinches your clit when it sticks out, makes the nastiest sounds known to mankind. Messy eater. Schlurping, schmacking, gulping. What he’s gulping down? God knows. Two fingers slip into you, knuckle-deep, wriggle around, scissor you open, his palm mashed into your clit. Leon’s face is resting on your plush thigh, admiring his own handiwork. Your slick cunt, drooling all down his wrist, covered his face in it, now you're cumming in messy spurts.

“Atta girl,” Leon croons, lays it on thick with the praise ‘cause he knows you get shy about this, “that’s right, dollface, just let it all out for, daddy, huh?”

Panting, you curl into yourself, kick your legs a little when his nimble fingers find your sticky clit, he can feel you throbbing. “No more, daddy.” You beg, rubbed raw from the back-to-back orgasms.

“Too much, baby?” Leon’s hand comes to cop a feel, his nose pressing into the nape of your neck. “Can you get daddy off?”

The energy seems to zap back into you within an instant. You nod, head bobbing up and down like it should be doing on his dick. You love having your mouth full, keep his cock down your throat till you go numb. Suckle on it with pride and integrity. You gaze up at him with those eyes, heart-shaped pupils and all, blowjob eyes.

“How’d you want daddy?” Leon asks, you roll over, laying flat on your back, you want him like that? Alright, naughty girl. With your head between his meaty thighs, Leon guides his weeping tip past your swollen lips, you lap at the slit, collecting droplets of his precum on your tongue.

“Shit,” Leon gets out through gritted teeth, covers it with a cough, he shouldn’t really be saying bad words, not setting a good example for his baby. The suction is crazy, feels like he stuck his dick into the tube of a vacuum cleaner. Your cheeks hollow out as he thrusts his hips forwards, tip hitting the back of your throat, making you gag each time. Still take it like a champ though. You always do, his good fucking girl. “Doin’ so damn well, baby, makin’ daddy cum.”

Your little hand comes to rest on his abdomen, Leon eases up, lets his fat cock slip out of your mouth, he thinks you’ve had enough, but you go for his balls instead. Open your mouth wide as you try to fit ‘em in your mouth. “No chance, baby.” Leon smiles, patting your head, you lick along the seam and his dick is fucking throbbing. Hail fucking Mary. “Not gonna last, babydoll, can daddy fuck you now or ya need a break?”

You nod, he raises a brow, “No, daddy, I’m fine, daddy. Need daddy in me so bad.” You croak out, throat sore from the time spent with his cock lodged in your windpipe.

That makes him groan. The non-explicit dirty talk is fuckin’ weird, turns him on in ways he can’t explain. He loves when you avoid saying the word pussy, can’t say cock, makes it sound even dirtier. Maybe it’s the control aspect. You can’t say those words ‘cause daddy said so, ‘cause Leon said so.

His dick jumps the second he tries to slide in, bumps against your sensitive clit, shit, that hasn’t happened since he was twenty. Leon grabs your ankles, kisses one before he throws them over his shoulders, uses one hand to guide his dick to your sloppy hole and the other is intertwined with your smaller one. Tender, sappy, sweet. Oh, don’t make him tear up, princess. With age he’s softened up. For you Leon has softened up. Brought back part of who he was before it all went wrong.

“My pretty girl,” he pets your cheek like he does the neighbour’s well-fed cat, and you lean into it all the same. He fills you up so well. No matter how much Leon plays with your pussy, there’s always a stretch, and he can tell by the look on your face. Nose scrunching, lips parting, letting out a sharp breath as the weight of his cock knocks against your cervix. “All done, baby.” Leon tells you, and you open your eyes, sit up on your elbows to see where the two of you meet in a sticky, squelching embrace. “Well done, baby, you’re such a big girl, takin’ all of daddy, aren’t you?” Leon presses his hand down on your lower tummy, his cock angles upwards so he can hit that spongy spot deep inside, the one that makes you sob. “Is it there?”

The cry you let out is the confirmation he needs. He bullies his cock into you, fucks you rough ‘cause he loves you. Making love is for mornings, when you’re sleepy and pliant, nasty fucking is for after work. When he’s pent up, when you’ve been on his mind all day. Leon pulls out, only his tip keeping your cunt spread open, then he slams back in, and you begin to sniffle, squeezing his hand so tight you cut off his blood circulation.

“Daddy,” You drop his hand, nails clawing down his back, his lonely hand suffering from a severe case of pins and needles, “daddy, daddy, daddy— oh, daddy!” It’s the only thing you can say. Stuffed your cunt and your head is full of him too. Leon adores you. Prettiest girl in the whole world and you’re here speared on his cock. Dexterous fingers find your clit once more, helping you reach the edge.

“You can do it, baby, don’t worry, daddy’s here.” Leon dips his head down, kisses you and swallows up your sounds, stringy spit keeping the two of you connected. Red string of fate or whatever. “Daddy’s right here, daddy loves you.”

All it took was the L word, and you’re squirting. Pushing his cock out, dripping down his heavy balls, digging your nails into his back, chanting daddy like your life depends on it. And Leon can’t take it, he’s been ready to bust the second he got home, his stomach contracts, spills his seed into your wet cunt. Messy just how he likes it.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Leon lets his full weight drop on top of you.

You grunt softly, “Heavy, daddy.”

“Yeah, I know, gimme a second.” Leon grumbles, teeth tugging on your earlobe. “How’d you rate me? Five stars? Ten out of ten?”

You yawn into his hair, “Stop bein’ silly, daddy.”

#leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy smut #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x you #resident evil smut #resident evil x reader

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bunni-v1 · 6 months

Note

hii,

Can i request che‘nya, neige and rollo finding out you‘re a girl please?

(Just if u weite for em)

Freaking love ur serie 😍

Side Characters Find Out You’re A Girl?!?!?! (NOT CLICKBAIT!!!)

TW: Rollo

Info: Che’nya, Niege, and Rollo x Reader

🍓Thank you! I'm glad people enjoyed this series so much, it was very fun to write. This is the last part I'm afraid, but I hope it is a fitting goodbye to what has been a very long-running series now lol. Excited to move on to other things!

Tags: @kitsun369 @bloomstruck @squidsailing

Che’nya

-Oooooo, Che’nya knows something is up the moment he (creepily) stalks you and the others from the garden.

-His sniffer isn’t as good as Leona’s — he’s just a tomcat, after all — but he can smell that something about you isn’t right.

-Plus, he’s a master of bending the truth, he can see through your lie a mile away.

-Still, he has no reason to bother you about it — he doesn’t even know you.

-He just thinks you’re a little funny that you’d hide something as pointless as this.

-Doesn’t really have confirmation on it until he asks Cater at the tea party.

-Then he later asks Trey who is like ‘Yeahhhhh…’

-Again, he doesn’t really know you, but he does think you’re cute and stuff.

-He sees your around when he sneaks on campus, and he was happy to bump into you at the VDC.

-(He scored your number there, lets go Che’nya).

-Nah, you two don’t really get to interact until Noble Bell College.

-He’s excited to see you again, and really chats you up this time (everyone there thinks its weird, he literally has no reason to talk to you).

-You’re alone with him and Niege and Grim when he drops the bombshell of “A pretty girl like you should be wearing a dress, right?”

-You don’t know if Trey or Cater or even Riddle told him, but you were gonna deck them across the face the second you found out.

-Still, despite him outing you to Niege, he’s really only mildly annoying about it.

-He teases you and picks on you about it, but he’s more like an annoying older brother than a creep.

-He will hang it over your head though, because they way you get all huffy is funny and cute to him.

Neige

-Other than Che’nya— Neige really doesn’t suspect much.

-I mean, look at him and Vil. Feminine men is not his biggest concern.

-He respects you and your pronouns and he’s a real big sweetheart.

-He is… drawn to you, just a little.

-You’re different from the other students, and you managed to make friend with Vil, so excuse him for being a little curious.

-Despie Vil being vehemently against it, you and him exchange numbers and start talking casually.

-It’s pretty normal stuff, and it’s not like you’re talking every day, but you consider each other friends at the very least.

-You’re both very excited to see each other again at Nobel Bell College.

-Neige feels bad that you’re sort of forced to go and babysit, but he gets to see you again!

-You bump into him and Che’nya at the fesitval, and Neige is… notably weirded out by Che’nya’s overt friendliness with you.

-“He’s never this nice with people he doesn’t know — never. It’s so weird.” He tells you.

-You brush off his concerns, and you live to pay for it too.

-You and Neige were just chilling, talking, and hanging out for the first time in person and Che’nya walked over and joined the conversation.

-All is good until he drops the one-liner of a century, leaving both you and Neige in shock.

-You because how did he find out, Neige because oh my god you’re a woman.

-He feels even WORSE for you now.

-I mean, being the only woman at NRC has gotta be awful.

-He doesn’t make a big deal out of it, bless his soul.

-He just shrugs it off and also offers his room as sanctuary on the weekends if you need it.

-He does agree with Che’nya, though, you would look very pretty in a nice flowing ballgown!

Rollo

-Bless this little freaks soul. He is about as sheltered as Malleus and about ten times more evil.

-He, somehow, knows something about you is different from the get-go. Not just your inability for magic, no something more.

-Naturally, he is drawn to you, and evermore curious about you and your life at NRC.

-He, being observant, takes note that you are treated slightly differently by your fellow classmates.

-They are generally more respectful and courteous toward you — gentlemanly in some cases.

-It only makes his interest in you grow. What is it that is so special about you?

-Then he overhears a conversation with Niege and Che’nya, and it all makes so much sense!

-You are a woman, of course you are. No wonder you were so captivating.

-Rollo holds this card close to his chest — he needs not reveal his secrets.

-Malleus is fond of you — as are the other magicians here. That could be useful.

-This information could aid him in his ultimate plan — and he could be your savior from the beasts you live amongst.

-He reveals that he knows your gender in front of everyone at the festival, and takes you captive as his own.

-He is so diluted in thinking that he is your saving grace, and that what he is doing is so right and justified that he can’t hear you curing him out over his own thoughts.

-Obviously, you get saved by your friends and all is well, but now a whole lot of people who shouldn’t know you are a woman do, and Crowley has to do a LOT of PR work lol.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #x reader #bunni's treats 🧁#che'nya x reader #che'nya twst #rollo flamm #rollo flamme x reader #neige leblanche #neige x reader

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letstalkaboutfandomsbaby · 2 years

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Pretty cow hybrid reader who's just so cute and precious that the big strong farmers taking care of her can't help but grab her plush body and fuck her on all their cocks 🥺 she gets so tired that they gotta work together to move her back and forth and up and down on whoever's cock is filling her up 🥺

Oh my god. How could you do this to me

CW: fem reader, cow hybrids, smut, ovulation/heat cycles, breeding, gangbang, double penetration in vagina, borderline bestiality? maybe petplay?? Furry content??? I have no clue how to tag this sksksk it's a mess but it's my mess

Naurrrr bc that's so cute 😖 thinkin bout the big strong farm hands who always look after you, keeping you groomed and well fed. Maybe you're a show cow, going to fairs and cattle shows and winning prizes for your beauty 🥺 your owners treasure you so much, they want the absolute best for their pretty cow girl, and ofc that includes the best care!! You get 24/7 care from a handful of workers who love you to bits 🥰

You're such a good girl that the farmhands don't have to fret too much about you. Occasionally you'll wander somewhere you shouldn't, but one of the guys will lead you back to your pasture without any trouble. You're such a sweetie, always rubbin your cheek against em, silently asking for pets or a yummy treat like an apple or sugar cube. Sometimes they share a beer together at the end of the night and you're laying right beside em, tail flicking happily while one of them pets behind your ears. They're all so good to you and you're so good to them... in so many ways

The first time it happened was an accident, they swear!! You were going into heat for the first time, squirming and moaning, calling out for a mate, for a bull hybrid to come breed you. Your handlers felt so bad for you, they hated keeping you cooped up in your barn stall like that, but they didn't wanna risk any outsiders coming in and hurting you!! They saw how much you were suffering and they didn't want to leave you alone during such a rough time, so they elected on taking shifts with you, staying in your pen and keeping you company.

God... what a bad idea that was.

You were fine at first, pacing your pen, occasionally going to a corner and whining, hips grinding against the air for some kind of friction. The first handler thought you looked delicious, but you were like a pet! He couldn't think about you that way! So he kept himself occupied with a hobby he brought. The second guy couldn't keep his eyes off you, but he kept his hands to himself, adjusting his aching cock every now and then but not acting on his desires, that would be going too far.

The third guy... the third guy was weak 😔 he followed the advice of the first two men, keeping his distance, keeping his mind preoccupied, but you were just too cute! You kept giving him these puppy dog eyes and snuggling close, and each time he gave you pets you would moan. Eventually you ended up presenting to him, physically begging to get fucked and oh god your chubby pussy was so cute and hot and you were dripping wet and it looked so nice and inviting...

The other farmhands came running when they heard you moaning louder, practically screaming. They came in to find the third handler fucking you from behind, his hands barely able to hold onto your plush wide hips. For a moment they were distracted by the loud slapping of his hips against yours, but they came to their senses and pulled him off, scolding him for taking advantage of you, threatening to beat him to death if he ever touched an angel like you again—

But then you started whining, damn near sobbing as you pushed your hips up into the air and wiggled them, grabbing all of their attention.

"P-Please... 's so hot... it hurts..."

They hesitated, looking at each other, unsure. The last thing they wanted to do was see you suffer, but they worried that they'd be crossing a line by giving you the help you needed. They stepped aside for a moment, huddling and whispering to each other before returning to you.

"What's the matter, baby? Where's it hurt?" You spread your legs farther apart, reaching between your legs, hand crawling over your fupa as you gestured towards your clenching hole.

"H-Here... it-it itches..."

"Yeah?" another one asks, his cock straining against his overalls. "Do you want us to try and make you feel better?"

"Yes!! Please!!" you cried, hiccuping. "Need your help, need it so bad, please, it's too much—"

They shushed you, petting along your soft fur to soothe you. One of the men cautiously moved his hand to your cunt, gliding his thumb between your chubby pussy lips before pressing down on your aching clit.

You cried out, and all their restraint left them.

They take turns inside of you, filling up your weeping cunt, trying to quell your desires. They run their hands over your hips, your legs, your plush tummy and arms, squeezing your tits. One of them audibly wonders if they could get you pregnant and make your tits fill up with milk, and the rest can't stop thinking about it. Even when you're out of energy, you still beg for more, beg for them to fill you up and give you calves. It makes them all the more aroused :( they try several positions, on your hands and knees, on your back, legs in the air or around their waist. Their favorite was when two of them stuffed your pussy, filling you up so well you squirted all over them. They praise you the whole time, calling you their good girl, their sweet girl, pretty girl, pretty baby, angel, princess, their words like thick molasses, drowning you in the love you deserved.

By the time you're all done, the group of men are drained and braindead while you're curled up in a pile of hay, sleeping soundly, a content grin on your lips.

They agree to never do this again, to keep you at a distance the next time you go into heat, to protect you and keep you safe. They never keep their promise, always caving in when you beg them so prettily to fill you up, to breed you. You still want a baby, you want their babies, you wanna give your sweet handlers a calf or two. And you're just so sweet and pretty, they can never really resist you :( it's always a group activity, and you always wear them down to practically nothing.

Your farmhands start getting over protective with time, bordering on possessive. Your owners think about getting a bull hybrid so that the two of you can make a few babies, but your handlers convince them not to. The last thing you need is for some huge raging bull to come in and tear you apart. He'd be so careless with you, not caring about your wants or needs, driven only by his pleasure and need to breed you. Poor thing, you'd never survive a bull hybrid!! They're too big, too strong, a bull hybrid's cock would rip you in half and they wouldn't even care.

But it's alright dear, your handlers always have your best interest at heart and would never let anything bad happen to you. You're their prized heifer, their special girl, and they'd go to the moon and back to make you happy 💕 you can always count on them to keep your best interests at heart

#ask #smut #cow hybrid au #pls don't judge me im ovulating i can't control my desires ok??#☀️ favs #☀️ asks

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earthtoharlow · 9 months

Text

SERIES MASTERLIST

Previous Chapter

yourinsta just posted to their story!

THESHADEROOM

liked by 478,085 users

theshaderoom: #TSRBreakups: Looks like things may be over for #Drake and #Y/N Y/L. According to @tmz_tv, the two have separated after almost two years of dating. The former couple share a child together.

view all 6789 comments

user: ok maybe she’s the problem

user: probably because she’s fucking that Urban guy

user: we been knew she never keeps a man

user: Y/N just wakes up one day and be like “unhand me, get out.”

user: She really hasn’t been the same since Jack

user: what if Jack is her soulmate

user: she just needs to focus on herself and be the best mom she can be

user: Jack is unusually quiet during all this

THATGIRLSTACEY

liked by jackharlow, cassie, iamkaylanicole, joiechavis, diddy, ladylondon, meekmill, djdrama and 697,368 others

thatgirlstacey: “Willow darling, go grab daddy’s Amex and tell him you’re going shopping with mommy cause we have some celebrating to do” 🤣❤️‍🔥

view all 9,578 comments

user: your karma is coming bitch just wait

user: nasty individual

user: teaching your daughter how to be a hater and a weirdo….?

user: Y/N put her through hell and now she can celebrate her downfall????

user: caption crazy 🤣

user: anyone scared of how Jack is going to react

user: notice how you asked Willow to get Jack’s card and not yours, cause you’re broke!!

YOURINSTA

liked by urbanwyatt, flomillishit, summerwalker, saweetie, kehlani, druski, 1dessdior and 789,468 others

yourinsta: Broke up with em and a bitch just got badder

view all 12,688 comments

user: um

user: so tmz was right damn

user: don’t tell me Drake fumbled!!!

user: the baddest 🔥

saweetie: love you sister ❤️‍🔥

user: well that explains why she didn’t publicly wish him a happy Father’s Day

user: damn well anyway it’s my turn

user: you can not keep a man to save your life on god

user: man fuck all that noise!! You look fine af

user: single looks good on you

user: that momma weight 🥰

CHAMPAGNEPAPI

Liked by neelamthadhani, icespice, partynextdoor, chubbsview, ayeshacurry,nemoachida, thedanielclark, druski, and 1,425,116 others

champagnepapi: There’s no ribbon givin’ to anyone that you dealt with. No badge of honor, no ceremony or benefits, I gotta start us up a support group with a membership.

comments are turned off

URBANWYATT

liked by yourinsta, selenosunni, joeywagner, cozane, yungmiami305, SZA, dojacat, jharlowupdates, and 467,086 others

urbanwyatt: when you convince your best friend and god daughter to leave Canada and move in with you in Kentucky >>>

view all 7,679 comments

user: Jack still hasn’t said anything y’all, I’m scared

user: Y/N back in Kentucky???? Stacey and Jack are going crazy I’m sure

yourinsta: don’t know what i’d without you 🥹

user: Stacey will be commenting in…

user: 3…2…1

thatgirlstacey: you got a lot of nerve! this exactly why Jack isn’t speaking to you…what kind of friend are you

thatgirlstacey: glad you’re out our lives

thatgirlstacey: never liked you

user: that didn’t take long

user: oh the karma that’s gonna hit Stacey is going to be amazing

urbanwyatt: won’t engage with the foolishness going on in my comments but I will say this. I’ll go to war for @yourinsta and if you got a problem with her you have a problem with me. Don’t need anyone in my life that doesn’t love or appreciate her

user: FINISH HER!!!

user: I know she’s sitting there gagged 🤣🫵

user: GET HER AGAIN FOR ME!

***

An: hated breaking them up i really did, I promise :) Who leaked the voicemail any guesses??? 🫣 Months ago an anon gave me the idea of a voicemail leaking, kisses to you anon 🫶

also a bitch just hit 900 followers that’s insane!!!! thank you all so much I can't believe this 🥹🫶 thanks to everyone who reads, comments, likes my work. It means so much to me

Tag List:

(message me if you’d like to be added or removed)

@heavyhitterheaux @hoodharlow @neon-lights-and-glitter @babiefries @toocriticalharlow @mace23477 @jackmans-poison @dstark-0706 @harlowsbby @itsyagirljaz @leftapricotprofessorlover @comehomeimissyou @minkookie95 @harlowcomehome @jackharloww @jaydaaasworld @blossomluvv @fdl305 @khiyah @kkrenae

#jack harlow #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow x y/n #jack harlow reader #social media au #toxic #urban wyatt x reader #urban wyatt

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solaneceae · 5 months

Text

blind devotion

a team bolas oneshot. codebreakers-centric (philza and étoiles) (read on ao3) found family, ambiguous relationships, fluff @apthotiosis tagging u because codebreakers heehee

“They’re not crow wings,” Jaiden remarks, tracing the sharp edges of the long feathers meant to catch on updrafts. “They’re too big. And you got extra bones and joints going on.” Phil hums, a hesitant eeeeeh with a twist of his hand. “There’s some crow in there. But most of it is actually—”

“Elytra!” Baghera quacks, awe lacing her voice as she croons over the white diamonds that appear beneath the grime and dust she’s cleaning out. “You’re part Elytrian, Philza?”

“Not exactly,” he laughs, pointing at the very human features on the rest of his body. “I’m not actually a hybrid. Not like Jaiden, or even like you. Those wings were a gift.”

Étoiles perks up. “From Kristin, yes?” he nails down, perceptive as ever. The rest of the flock oooohs, a little chorus of yes, of course, makes sense. “I like your wife, Phil,” the duck smiles, brushing out a crooked feather. She remembers the Goddess’s voice, soft and warm as late spring’s sunlight, pouring out of Phil’s mouth as she borrowed his body to greet them. “She’s so nice.”

“She’s awesome,” Étoiles nods, unseeing eyes reflecting invisible stars. He cannot see anymore, he’s told them, but he still fights like he can, somehow. “I see her, sometimes, when I don’t have enough sugar and I almost die. She tells me to take better care of myself, but I’m dumb and shit so it keeps happening.”

“T’es con,” Baghera chastises him, slapping the back of his head, and Philza snorts at their antics. He’s so glad Étoiles joined them, the memory of his expectant frame almost vibrating out of itself when the old crow-not-quite-a-crow approached him at Global, just the day before. The words had barely left his mouth and the warrior had dropped to his knees before him, like a worshipper before his deity made man. I am your arm, your sword, Étoiles had said to him once, long ago. Felt like long ago. Just tell me where to hit.

A wave of fond-flock-yesyes, the Angel of Death pulls Étoiles forward to shelter him within his wings. “Aaah, Philza, Phil,” Étoiles laughs as his friend pecks at his hair, crooning incessantly. “The goat, oh, he’s moving so good! So good aim!”

“No mames.”

“No maaaaames man.”

“Shut up dude,” Phil wheezes, a huge smile on his face as he runs his talons through the frenchman’s tangled, white-faded locks. Yesyes. “I’m having a moment.”

“Oh? He has a moment, okay. I fuck myself, I don’t move, I get it.”

“Oh my god, stop.”

“I want to see you fly,” Étoiles says, quieter. Almost a whisper, that has everyone tilt their head in focus. “I didn’t see you fly, that’s bullshit. It must be beautiful, to see.”

Phil flashes him a wry grin. “Maybe. They’re pretty fragile, still. I don’t want to fuck them up all over again. Pretty sure the Feds will just clip them once we get back anyway, so.”

“Fuck them!” Baghera screeches indignantly. “Not letting that happen. I kill them first.”

“It’s fine. Just gotta enjoy ‘em while I got ‘em.”

Étoiles pouts at that, mumbles something in rapid-fire French that sounds rude. Phil hums and cups his face with a low trill, talons rapping on the space between his skull and neck, feather-soft. His friend blinks, cloudy silver. “What do I look like to you?” Phil asks, feathers ruffling as he spreads his wings wide, his fellow avians shifting to avoid being smacked by them.

Étoiles smiles, all teeth and greenish gums. “Like home,” he says, and it’s such a silly yet earnest answer that Phil could kiss him into silence. Mine, his hindbrain thrums, fierce possessiveness curling around his heart, and Étoiles laughs, that airy, high-pitched wheeze of his, because he’s making bird noises again. “And he says, he says he’s no hybrid, this man?” he mocks, tackling Philza to the cold floor of their cave to wrestle him into submission. “He’s a liar! Lies! You know who you are, Felipe Minecraft! Embrace it!”

“I am- fuck, get off,” Philza growls, play? play? Swoops Étoiles’ legs from under him to pin him down and they’re both laughing, batting at each other’s faces, talons carefully curled inward to not slice at dark green skin. Baghera and Jaiden cheer them on from the sidelines, loose feathers flying here and there, a viney tail wrapping itself around his leg as they roll and swipe and snap their teeth at each other’s necks, play, play!

Étoiles loses at some point, freezes when sharp claws brush against his jugular. “Oh, he’s too good,” he smiles, tired and fond. “He’s good, and I’m shit. GGs.”

“Don’t say that,” Phil rolls his eyes, but doesn’t draw away. Étoiles’ eyes are squinted in twin crescent moons, and he doesn’t know if he wants to pluck them out to wear like jewellery or forget himself in them. “You. Are the best,” he chirps, pressing his forehead against the other man’s, flock, mine. hello. “I chose you. And I only choose the best for my family.”

“That’s us,” Baghera gasps — she and Jaiden have taken to preening each other instead, her bill ruffling through dark blue and green to dislodge specks of dried blood and sand out of her flockmate’s wings. “Bolas family, yes!”

“You picked Roier first,” the warrior whines, hands pawing at Phil’s chest, not quite pushing him away. “You like him better, no? He’s better, stronger. I don’t blame you.”

“Cellbit wanted him. I wanted to make him happy.”

“Oh, he is,” Jaiden huffs. “They’ve been snogging in the nest all evening. It’s cute and all, but I can only take so much kissing noises until I gotta vomit.”

“Hater!” her sister teases, bonking her bill against her cheek. “You’re just a little hater, let them be gay and happy.”

“They can be gay and happy and not slobber over each other.”

“I kinda like it,” Slime pipes up from his hole in the ground. Jaiden quirks an eyebrow at him. “...You need to get over Cellbit, dude.”

“Whaaaaat? You’re talkin’ nonsense. Put your mask back on, the fumes got to you.”

“Don’t you have Mariana anyway?”

“I don’t see your point.”

“Roier is Roier,” Phil cuts them off, catching Étoiles’ wrists to push them down against the stone. Mine. “You’re you. Cellbit wanted him, I wanted you. Simple.”

“Yeah?”

“Uh-huh.” A croon, their noses brush together. Jaiden makes a gagging sound, which makes Baghera cackle. What am I doing? “Phil?” He blinks. His friend is looking up at him, eyes crinkled up in amusement, fang poking out from beneath his upper lip. “I’m already yours. You don’t need to go all birdbrain on me.”

“Sorry.”

“Nah. Don’t be sorry, be the GOAT that you are.” Étoiles pushes himself up, and Philza lets him. He tilts his head to the side, like he always does whenever he’s mapping out his surroundings. “Phil, Phil,” he nudges at the crow’s shoulder, vine-tail thumping against the ground in renewed vigot. “PvP check, yes? Sticks?”

“Bruh.”

“Come oooon.”

“We’re actually ahead today, let’s not die and mess it up.”

“Rhoooooo…”

#qsmp #qsmp purgatory #fanfic #codebreakers #étoiles #philza #q!étoiles #q!philza #they make me ill #something about them just makes me go *pterodactyl noises*#please étoiles log back on #we need you to bring phil into the résistance already #and they were coworkers!!!! (oh mah gawd they were coworkers)

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samoankpoper21 · 5 months

Text

Drunken Confession - Megumi Fushiguro

Tags: modern! au, work!au, school!au

Content warnings: cussing, alcohol

Word count: 1700

Summary: Drunkenly confessing your feelings at a teacher's get together

A/N: L/N = last name ^^

You catch yourself staring at Megumi from the second floor of the school building. God that man is beautiful. Just as fast as the thought entered your head, it was quickly ruined by a loud moan in your ear resonating through out the halls. You whipped your head around, your face bright red, to find your best friend Emma clutching her stomach laughing tears spilling out her eyes. "What the hell Emma!" you hissed. "That was really loud! What if some students or even, Lord forbid, teachers heard that shit!?"

"I was just narrating what's going through your head."

"Bitch! Not everything is about sex."

"But the way you're staring at him is."

"No it's not," you mumbled. "Oh yeah?," Emma challenged. "If not sex, what were you thinking about watching Mr. Fushiguro pass by."

"How beautiful he is," you shyly mumbled.

"Come again?" Emma teased.

"I said how beautiful-"

"I'm sorry Miss L/N, you're going to have to use your big girl voice."

"I said how beautiful he is!" Emma scoffed when you heard the clearing of a throat. Both your heads turned to see Megumi standing there with a stack of books and binders in his hand. Oh how you wished that the earth would swallow you whole. How mortifying. "Hello Mr. Fushiguro." you quickly bowed hoping that it would hide your face.

"Hello Miss Johnson. Miss L/N."

"Heeeyyy Megumi," Emma teased. You shot her a glare earning a stifled laughter. "Are you going to the teacher's outing this weekend?"

"I'm not sure yet."

"You should come. I heard it's going to be really exciting."

"Ugh I don't know, I'm not much of a party person, let alone a get together with coworkers type of person." You felt your face drop a little, your emotions sinking lower. So he only sees me as a coworker? You gave Emma a pained, grateful smile. You knew what she was attempting to do: she was trying to play wingman for you both but it was failing epically.

"Mr. Fushiguro, I beg to differ. I feel like this outing would be worth your time. You should give it a shot. It's not often we get to see each other outside of work."

"We'll see. I'll catch up with you later, have to run to class. Miss Johnson. Miss L/N." You both watched his slender back and broad shoulders. "Gawd he's so polite."

"Welp, I tried."

"Thanks Em. I know. Listen I gotta run too. My class starts in 15. See you Saturday?"

"See you Saturday."

The rest of the week went by in a blur; you found yourself surrounded by mountains of clothes, hangers askew, having a hard time trying to pick out an outfit. You didn't want to overdress but you also didn't want to show up in sweats or slacks. You finalized on high-waisted black jeans, a red hoodie, black and white plaid fannel, red and white Jordan 1's retro; your hair in a high bun, two parts hanging loosely to frame your face. Oh shit! It's almost 7:30PM! You ran out the house and called for a taxi.

Arriving at the pub 30 minutes later, you rushed inside and was escorted to an already rowdy, loud room. The sliding door slid open and cheers and whoops greeted your arrival. Emma rushed over to you saying, "Ohmygod bitch finally! You're here!" before leading you to sit beside her. Scanning the room, you were disappointed to not see Megumi there, even after he warned you both that he wasn't the "party type". You sighed as Emma complimented you on your outfit pouring you a shot.

The first shot was pure fire but shot after shot it was becoming easier to knock back. "Oh my god! It's Megumi!" Emma yelled. You all turned towards the door and there he was, in all his angelic glory. Everyone cheered and clapped as Megumi rushed to sit across from you.

You took in his tattered black jeans, black t-shirt, and silver wristwatch. You could smell his cologne but couldn't put your finger on what brand it was. "Megumiiiiii, I'm so glad to see you." He chuckled and asked, "Are you drunk already Miss L/N?" you crossed your arms in a shape of an x and said in Korean, "Andwae (No)." He laughed and by gawd that was the warmest laugh you have ever witnessed and you wanted to bathe in it again, bottle it up for yourself. "You know Korean Miss L/N?"

You playfully put your finger to your chin imitating a thinking emoji and replied, "Jogeumyo (A little)."

"I'm a little sad Miss L/N, I would've loved to hear you speaking Japanese." he knocked his shot back and you swear you heard his voice grow lower with that last sentiment.

The liquor kept coming and each time you would catch Megumi staring at you. You looked around the room to see that most of the patrons had either went to the restroom, caught a taxi home/to a hotel, or were laying down on the floor of the establishment. It was you, Megumi, Emma, and a few of the other teachers that were still sitting upright. You excused yourself to go to the restroom, hoping that if you look at Megumi, it'll telepathically tell him to follow you. You washed your hands with cold water staring at your red face in the mirror. Tonight I'm going to tell him! You splashed cold water on your face a few times determined to tell Megumi your feelings.

You slid the doors of the room open and panicked to see an absent Megumi. No, no, no. Did he leave?!?! "Em?"

"Yeah?"

"Where's Megumi?"

"Oh, he left."

"He left?! How long ago did he leave?"

"30 minutes ago?"

"I wasn't in the bathroom that long!" you groaned.

"Yeah you were. I was about to come and check on you but you came through the doors." Fucking hell. You grabbed your glass, poured, and continued drinking. "Whoa there buddy. I think you need to slow down."

"No, it's just-I'm so frustrated."

"Why are you frustrated?" in the midst of your drunken rant you failed to see your phone vibrating with Megumi's name popping up on your screen. With a mischievous grin on Emma's face, she slid to answer and continued. "Why are you frustrated Y/N?"

"Because I really weally weally wanted to talk to Gumi."

"Gumi? You have a nickname for him already?"

"Yeeeeah," you giggled.

"So what's stopping you?"

"Because he aweady leave...and I didn't get to shay goodbyyyyeeee." you pouted before you dropped your head on the table. Emma grabbed your phone saying, "You heard that Mr. Fushiguro? Are you coming to pick her up?"

"I'll be right there."

Waking up, you found yourself on Megumi's back. This is a nice dream. I think I can die in peace now. You began to nibble on his ear, making your way to his neck lightly blowing air, licking and sucking. "Y/N," he groaned. "Please stop. You're making this very hard for me." Eh? Your head shot up to see a blushing Megumi. One of your hands pinched your cheeks and pulled his hair emitting a gasp from him. "Megumi? How-"

"You called my phone."

"Ohmygawd I'm so sorry."

"It's ok Y/N. I'm just glad I got to you before anyone else got to you." You hummed in response and went back to laying your head on his back. "You know Megumi, whoever your partner will be is going to be one lucky person."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because because you're so kiiiiiind, and smaaaart, and really really weally good looking. You're a gentle soul but not like you get bullied around you know. You stand for justice and that's what I like about you. Yup, I said it. I really really like you and you have no idea of it." He paused noting that you had fallen asleep causing him to chuckle and shake his head.

The rays of sun pierced through your eyes, you groaning and rolling into the warmth-warmth? Your eyes shot open and Megumi continued laying there blushing with his arms wrapped around you. "Megumi?" you croaked. You noticed that he was wearing a simple white t-shirt trying to dissuade yourself from nuzzling into his chest and scent. "I'm sorry did I-"

"Emma told me to come get you."

"I'm so sorry. I hope I wasn't disturbing or annoying you."

"You've never disturbed or annoyed me Y/N." You like this: waking up on a Sunday morning with Megumi's arms wrapped around you. You sighed at the realization that he was only taking care of you from a coworker's point of view. "Well I better get going. I don't want to take up too much of your Sunday." You turned trying to scoot off the bed when Megumi enveloped you into a back hug, your back pressed firmly against his chest. "Did you mean what you said last night?" Shit. What did I say last night???!!! Before you could answer, Megumi replied, "You probably don't remember much but I came to that get together for you." You could feel yourself blushing when the events of last night finally dawned on you. You gasped turning to stare at his neck seeing the small hickey you left, his blush deepening. "I thought you only saw me as a coworker." you whispered. He caressed your face saying, "From the moment I saw you, I've always wanted to talk to you. It took me a lot of courage to try and work up something but then you said hi first and it was game over for me. I wanted to keep talking to you and was happy that you would let me be near you. I'm sorry I'm not great at conveying my feelings but just I know I like you too."

"You do?" you excitedly ask. "Like more than a coworker?"

"Well you wouldn't be laying in my bed if I saw you as just a coworker." you blushed and pecked his nose. He leaned back to stare at you before leaning forward to capture your lips. "Beautiful."

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itwasthereaminuteago · 2 years

Text

|| After The Beep ||

Pairing: Frank Castle x female Reader

Rating: E 18+

Tags/warnings: phone sex / guided masturbation, aw he misses you, uh yeah 🙂

a/n: dedicating this one to @saintmurd0ck and @castlesnchurches and all the thirsty Frank stans.

"Hey princess, it's me."

He always said that despite it being obvious it could be no-one else but him.

"I know it's real late and you're sleepin right now... we got a long drive ahead of us," he clicks his tongue, "we're alright, just stoppin' for some gas and snacks and shit and uh, I know I'm gonna be gone for a while this time so I wanted to leave you a lil somethin'." He clears his throat and you settle down in the bed with your mobile cradled to your ear.

"So you've probably just woken up huh? And you've been sleepin' in my shirt ain't ya? Don't lie sweetheart I know it." He laughs to himself at the thought of you trying to deny it and you laugh too, blushing even though he's not here.

"Alright, I know you look smokin' hot in it but you're taking it off sweet stuff, need you naked for me, okay?"

God, it amazed you how much power he had over you as you put the phone on speaker and obediently unbutton and shrug the shirt off and he isn't even there with you, he would be none the wiser if you'd just ignored him.

"You're so fuckin' gorgeous, can see you lyin' there in bed in my mind... damn, where do I start? Alright. Close your eyes darlin'. Can you feel my lips on your neck 'cos that's where I wanna put them right now, just soft like, kissin' up and down makin' you squirm. Love how it gets ya, love the smell of that shampoo you use, mm, buryin' my nose in your hair baby... breathin' you in, makin' my way down slow."

You can practically feel his words on your heated skin, he's already got you in a chokehold with this.

"Now you're gonna take your hands, run em down from your neck, yeah real slow baby, run em over those pretty tits of yours. Fuck, I'd spend all day givin' them my attention, they fit in my hands so perfect, would run my thumbs over em 'til your nipples are hard princess... they hard now? Yeah, and you know I'd get my mouth on them, jesus you fuckin' love that don't you? Me lickin' an suckin' you like that?"

You're pinching them now, playing along as your breathing is starting to hitch in your throat, rubbing and rolling them in your fingers as you squirm on the bed. He keeps going.

"You feel me makin' my way down your beautiful body hmm? Cos I'm kissin' you all the way down baby. God your skin tastes so good, can't help myself from lickin' down your stomach baby girl. Oh an' I love your curves sweetheart, might not be able to stop myself from bitin' your hip cos y'know I wanna eat you up... mm, but don't rush." God his voice, it's so low he's almost growling, "we're gettin' to that."

bleep. bleep. bleep.

"Ah shit." You hear rustling and the sounds of Frank scrambling about over the phone.

"Hey Red! You got change?"

There's a pause.

"Hurry the fuck up... thanks. Now get the fuck outta here an shut yer bat ears."

You can't help but laugh and then you hear the clink of a whole bunch of coins.

"Sorry sweetheart, where were we... Oh yeah, you run those hands over those hips and the outsides of your thighs, and shit girl you know if I was there I'd flip you over and bite that gorgeous ass too right? Mm, okay, now hitch your knees up for me darlin', that's it. You know I'd kiss all the way up those legs too huh? Think about it baby, you feel my lips on the inside of your ankle? Gonna go real slow, just takin' my time... I know you're ticklish when I get up there but you gotta try stay still f'me. Atta girl."

You're practically shaking as you imagine him there with you, trailing up your inner thigh with that mouth... fuck.

"Spread your legs f'me sweetheart, nice n' wide, good girl."

You do as he says, your core throbbing with need.

"Want you to brush your fingers down over your stomach baby girl, slow, real slow like molasses... yeah, keep goin'."

You shiver as the tips of your fingers travelling downwards raise goosebumps all over your heated skin. Fuck, Frank...

You keep going as he says, finally reaching the soft hairs of your mound, and down further, sliding between the slick lips of your pussy with a shaky exhale.

"I'm bettin' you're wet gorgeous, aw yeah, I know you. I'd put money on that you were drippin' as soon as I told ya to get naked huh?"

He did know you.

"I'll quit teasin', you can touch yourself sweetness, anywhere but your clit, or inside, not yet."

That's not quitting teasing you think, whimpering as you follow his instructions, god, your fingers are gliding easily over your pussy, dancing so close to where you needed them. So close, but not enough.

You stop as you hear Frank sigh. "Damn it's hard bein' away from you for so long,"

No shit Castle.

"Sorry baby, don't wanna leave you hangin'. Alright you can touch now sweetie, I know you won't need much..."

God he's right. You rub your clit in frantic circles, soft moans slip past your lips, your other hand diving lower to thrust two fingers into your dripping cunt. You hear him ramming more coins into the payphone.

"You making noises yet baby? Fuck I reckon you are by now, get nice n loud for me sweetheart, you know how I feel when you're makin' those sounds."

You whine and pant, fucking yourself with your fingers and imagining it was him touching you, him putting this roiling of butterflies in your belly.

"Baby I know you're almost there, c'mon an cum for me." he says and just like that you moan his name into your pillow where you can pick up the last remnants of his scent as the tension breaks. You writhe and cry out loud and long like he wants as you cum so hard, squeezing around your fingers, hips lifting off the mattress, and gasping as you slow down and stop when it becomes too much for you.

"That's a good girl, so good for me. Now I gotta spend four more hours in the van with Red and a hard-on like steel pipe but god damn, it's worth it to make you feel nice baby."

There's a beat of silence and all you can think about is how much you love him.

"Alright, I'll seeya sweetheart. Bye."

The call ends.

Hi! If you enjoy my fics please consider reblogging, it means that others get to enjoy them too! I also love to hear if there's anything in particular you liked, please comment! Thank you so much for reading 💕

#frank castle x reader #the punisher x reader #frank castle x you #the punisher x you #frank castle smut #the punisher smut #frank castle x female reader

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kyhgwts · 1 year

Text

part2 of my steddie short story!

And again, because i am so so so so so thankful. I did not at all expect for my short story to get so much love! It makes me so happy people are enjoying what i write. Being a writer has honestly helped me a lot, i start to feel like a mom when i’m texting now. All my friends write in run on sentences, and it gets me so mad! But enough of that. I just wanted to say thank you, to everyone who interacted and helped me to get to this point. Tags: @e0509 @tayhar811 @kellynickelsgirl00 @jessetalexis-blog @steveharringtonsnailedbat @cherrycolas-things @playfuloutcast @forksloree @beckkthewreck

______

‘You’re starving our poor girl’ Eddie says, Steve just makes a grunt rolling his eyes.

‘She’s not starved, i fuck her when she asks’ Steve said in defense.

‘Only when she asks? She’s a shy girl yeah? She’s not gonna always tell you Steven, you got to be able to read her’ Eddie says.

You had been asleep, Steve coming home early. Steve leans against the counter his head hanging through his arms.

‘Read her?’ Steve asks, Eddie rolls his eyes.

Steve had never really been the type, he was all consensual king. Sure he had fun in high school but he liked to leave that behind.

‘Yes read her. You’ve got to be able to tell when she wants something.’ Eddie says, and Steve really hates he has to say this.

‘i dunno how to do that’ he mumbles turning around to the fridge, opening it and getting a bottle of water.

Eddie grins, because he can tell Steve is embarrassed. He knows Steve doesn’t like to admit that.

‘Well first off, she’s shy. But surprisingly when she wants something it’s very obvious. Last night i realized she does this thing with her hands.’ Eddie says, mocking your movements of twisting your fingers together.

‘She does that when she’s anxious’ Steve says, Eddie shakes his head.

‘No sir, you are wrong. She does it when she wants something from you. I mean, it doesn’t always have to be sexual. But she does it before she’s about to ask you.’ Eddie says, Steve gave a weird look.

‘How did you learn this in one night’ Steve says raising his eyebrow.

‘Okay, so anything else?’

‘i think she has a daddy kink’ Eddie adds on as if it was nothing, Steve holds up his hand.

‘Wait wait wait, slow down. A daddy kink? what the fuck do you mean’ Steve says, Eddie stares at Steve a little bit longer to see if he’s joking.

‘oh dear god,’ he mumbled ‘you know, and you’d think you were the virgin’ Steve mouth hangs open.

‘It’s not my fault you-‘

‘i’m what?’ Eddie says, Steve cowers.

‘I don’t know! sex god i suppose, you know everything’ Steve says, Eddie actually laughs at this head thrown back.

‘Steve, do you not know what a daddy kink is?’ Eddie asks, Steve narrows his eyes.

‘Well- yeah? She calls you Daddy that’s what-‘

‘Not just that, it’s like…’ Eddie thinks trying to find his words. ‘She likes to be taken cared of, and babied’

‘Babied?’ Steve furrows his eyebrows.

‘Okay so… how is she gonna start doing that do we have to tell her’ Eddie laughed, Steve was so lost.

‘No if you just get her far enough in her head she will, it’s all about getting her to that space’ Eddie says, Steve nods.

‘I’m gonna go wake her up’ Steve says, walking off to his room. Eddie just grins watching him.

—

You were under Eddie as he kissed down your throat. You mewled, hands in his hair.

Steve was watching you two, and it enlightened something in him.

The noises you were making as Eddie practically attacked your neck, it made Steve rethink his whole life.

During sex, you had never really been like this to Steve. You were so desperate and clingy towards Eddie. And sure you were with Steve too but, it was different somehow.

‘mm’ want em off’ you whine pulling at your t-shirt, Eddie quickly got up from your neck pulling your shirt off. Leaving you in only underwear.

‘These’ you protest pulling your underwear down, before you could fully pull them down, your hands were stopped by Eddie.

‘You gotta slow your roll pretty girl’ Eddie says laughing, Steve’s eyes widen when you obey.

You whimper when Eddie began to circle your clit with his thumb. Making you twist your fingers, Eddie noticed and turned to Steve. Steve nodded to tell Eddie he understood.

‘What do you want princess, hm?’ Eddie asked, the way he asked it made you feel embarrassed and comfortable all at the same time.

‘You’ you whine, you try to move your hands but Eddie grabs both putting them above your head. You make a pout, making him laugh at you. Eddie pulls down your underwear, you now smile in triumph.

When your underwear was off, and thrown on the floor Steve almost groaned. The way you had been acting towards Eddie was making Steve insane.

You whine, bucking your hips when his fingers swipe up your pussy.

‘Look, she’s already wanting me again and i just helped her last night.’ Eddie teased, making you furrow your brows together in annoyance. Eddie turns to Steve.

‘Now steve, this, is what you do for consent.’ Eddie begins, turning back to you.

‘We gotta make you a safe word, what’s your favorite color sweetheart’ Eddie says, Steve is about to say it but Eddie throws a hand back to stop him.

‘Brown,’ you mumble.

‘S’ like your eyes’ you say smiling fondly, Steve rolls his eyes.

‘Did you tell her to do-‘ Steve didn’t really quite get was going on, obviously.

‘Steve, baby imma need you to shut the hell up.’ Eddie says, Steve shuts his mouth immediately.

baby

‘Alright, brown is your safe word okay, so anytime you want me to stop, you say that word alright?’ Eddie says, you nod breathlessly.

‘Steve, i want you to watch her very closely. You’ll notice she gets more distant, okay. That’s a sub space,’ he explains, Steve nods. ‘and don’t ruin it or i’ll murder you’ He threatens quietly so you don’t hear.

‘Okay’ Steve whispers, turning to watch you. You were looking up at Eddie like he owned the world. Your eyes blown wide and puppy like.

Your hands flew out to grab onto him, clawing at his shirt trying to pull at it. You went silent when he began to pull his shirt off swiftly, throwing it to the ground.

You smile sheepishly, feeling his stomach and his abs. He grins as he pulls off his boxers. Your eyes now look down at that, your stomach churns.

He was big, very big actually. He wasn’t as long as Steve, but he definitely beat Steve in thickness.

Steve could see your eyes, you looked so distant.

You wanted to clench your thighs to relief yourself but Eddie’s hands held apart your thighs. You huff out a frustrated sigh. Eddie looks up at you and laughs, you had the meanest look on your face.

‘what do you want, hm? Sweet girl?’ He says, hands rubbing up and down your thighs.

‘you’ you whine, Eddie shakes his head.

‘you gotta be more specific sweets’ Eddie says, you stare at him with annoyance.

‘you know what i want.’ you say sassiness filled in your tone, hands moving to grab him in your hands. He immediately takes hold of both your wrists and slams them above your head. You whimper trying to move your hands, his grip tight.

‘It isn’t hard. why do you have the need to be a brat? huh?’ he says, Steve can see your eyes go big and wide. Steve trusted Eddie, and he knew Eddie would never hurt you.

‘m’ not a brat’ you protest meanly, squirming in his hold. He leans down mouth right next to your ear.

‘If you keep that attitude up, i won’t even consider letting you come. Do you hear me?’ he says, your eyes go impossibly wide and you whimper nodding your head.

‘Now. Let’s try again, what would you like?’ he says, voice so threatening.

‘your cock’ you whisper, he breaks out in a grin. Steve shocked as hell, not once has he ever heard you talk like that.

‘good, that wasn’t so hard, was it?’ he says, you shake you head. He then let’s go of your hands, and you fall limp. Eyes dazed, he smiles at you.

‘You remember that safe word sweetheart? i’ve got to make sure you know you can change your mind’ he says, you shake your head furiously. Confused as to why he would even ask that, because all you could think about right now was him and his cock.

‘Let me hear it.’

‘brown’ your voice was so fragile, extremely soft. It didn’t even quite sound like you.

‘Good girl’ Eddie whispers, tapping the side of your thigh. You try to stifle the whimper, but it obviously failed when you can hear Eddie chuckle slightly.

You felt his tip swipe through your folds, making you whimper. Eddie smirks, his grip on your hips so tight it hurt. But it hurt good, so good. When his tip slipped into you, you hold your breath.

He was taking his time with you, letting you get so wet and needy you wanted to punch him. You groan, pushing down your hips.

‘more.’ you protest, Eddie looks up at you.

‘i’m not sure you can take it’ he challenges, you make a frown. Shaking your head, you push on his chest.

‘i can’ is all you say, now mad at him. He looks at the emotions on your face. You actually looked starved of sex, like Eddie could see it on your face.

‘You sure? look how small your poor pussy is baby, think she can take it?’ Eddie asks, you nod humming.

‘Yes!’ you didn’t mean to shout, quite frankly you were just mad. So far in your sub space that you didn’t care if you were acting like a brat. You just wanted him, and punishment didn’t seem too bad.

‘You’re mean’ you protest, Eddie raises an eyebrow.

‘oh?’ Eddie looks back at Steve, wondering if he’s catching this. Because this is the most he’s ever seen a girl in a sub space. Steve looks pleasantly surprised, staring at your face which is full of emotions.

‘Is that what you want? for me to be mean? is that why your so wet hm?’ he asks, you whimper nodding your head.

‘have i cracked the code, sweetheart?’ Eddie grins, you make a confused face which is cut short when he slams into you.

Your face is contorted immediately, pleasure and pain thrown at you all at once. Steve eyes are burning a hole into you. He can’t look away, you are so beautiful.

Your mouth is shut, you can’t bring out coherent words. You try and pull Eddie down to you, wanting him closer than what he already was.

You couldn’t get enough of him, never in your life have you felt this way during sex. It was a whole new experience.

‘Fuck sweetheart, you’re swallowing me’ he says lips now close to you ear, as he kisses down your neck.

‘move.’ you whine pushing down your hips, your eyes glossed over. When he slowly pulled out, and then back in again you choked on a moan.

You didn’t understand what was happening, you were consumed by his smell. And hypnotized by the way he was making you feel.

He gave you a slow pace, and he knew what he was doing. Sooner or later you would burst, showing exactly what you were wanting and what was on your mind.

Steve moved over to get a better look, hand now helping him get off. Your eyes wandered over to Steve, and he looked so pretty. You hear Eddie chuckle, making you look back to him. He’s looking at Steve.

‘She really likes that view, she nearly crushed me with how hard she clamped down on me.’ he says, knowing how embarrassed it would make you feel. And sure enough, your cheeks were bright red.

Eddie groans when your legs wrap around him, pulling him closer. It was a sight to see for Steve, he needed to stop being soft with you because god was this truly amazing.

‘You just can’t get enough can you?’ Eddie asks, you were going to give a quick answer. But Eddie already saw it coming, and he smashed into you. Leaving you a whimpering and suby mess.

Your no longer there, eyes squeezed shut as Eddie held you and pounded into you. The repeated hit to your spot had your eyes starting to water.

‘come on baby, i can feel you sucking me up. Your so close’ he says. You cry, hands flying to his hair.

‘I- i can’t-‘ your breathless voice making Eddie smirk.

‘Can’t what?’ he asks, teasing as he lifts up your leg over his shoulder. Still making a brutal pace on you.

‘I- i don’t know’ you sob, Steve is alarmed by your sob immediately looking at you.

‘Come on honey, i know you’ve got it. You’re being so good for me, don’t you like being good for me? hm?’ he says, and you melt. Body going limb as your tears rack through you.

And you weren’t sad, you just felt so good. It was so overwhelming to the point you didn’t know what to do. Searching for purchase, you hold out a hand to Steve who immediately grabs it. You cry out the feeling in your tummy so close to pushing it out.

‘Come on sweet girl, let go. Show Stevie how much you love being controlled and fucked till you can’t breath’ he says, and you hadn’t even realized what you said.

‘Daddy’ it was a soft sob, that alerted both Steve and Eddie. Eddie looked back at Steve grinning. Steve looked like he was red in the face, like he enjoyed it all too much.

‘Daddy?’ Eddie asks smirking as he kissed you, you cry into the kiss. Nodding your head, he pulls away. Somehow making his hips snap quicker.

‘Please! feel so good’ you groan, and before you know it the feeling in your tummy snaps.

You shake and cry in pleasure, head spinning. The white noise playing in your head as your vision goes black. Your hands are holding so tight on Eddie’s arms he thinks it might leave bruises.

Eddie let’s put a string of curses, the feeling of hot pleasure rolling into your pussy. For a moment, while your head clears and your vision comes back, the room is silent. But then you realize it’s just you, because you can hear mumbles.

Your eyes focus on Eddie, who breaks out into a grin.

‘There she is!’ he says leaning down and attacking you with kisses. Your breath is starting to become steady, your heart still racing.

Steve comes in, giving you a sweet forehead kiss. And you didn’t know what to do with yourself, love coming from all angles. You just lay there, comfortable and soaking up the love.

Soon enough Steve is taking you to the bathroom. Eddie cleaning the sheets and getting knew ones, When he’s done, he joins the both of you in the shower.

Your head still felt light, so free. You didn’t understand how just sex made you feel this way. When you all got out and changed, laying in the bed.

‘I need to do it next time’ Steve says, smirking at you. Eddie grins when you blush. Steve holds onto you tightly, arms wrapped around your lower waist. Eddie’s front right up against your back. His hand laid lazily across your stomach his head above yours. Steve’s face buried in you neck.

‘i’m tired’ you whisper, voice soft with a hint of rasp.

‘Good thing we’ve all got tomorrow free, eh?’ Eddie says, you and Steve hum in agreement.

And for the first time in your life, you actually felt so comfortable and completely free. The sleep was unmatched.

#foryou #smut is life #fluff #kyhgwts #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #dom eddie munson #dom/sub #daddy eddie munson #steve just observes

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mooodyblue · 11 months

Text

any day now | part two.

adn masterlist

summary: after a flight back from cali to memphis, elvis finds himself somehow stuck in your apartment in 2022.

warnings: time traveler!elvis, panic attacks, mentions of his death, may contain inaccuracies and typos.

wc: 2.9k

a/n: hi, if ya wanna be tagged in this fic, reply to this post and i'll be sure to add you to the taglist! no set schedule, trying to upload at least every two weeks.

you squinted your eyes at the bright light coming through the window, sitting up slowly and checking the time on your phone. but then you remembered. “elvis..” you gasped, shooting up quickly from the couch. your eyes wandered to your bedroom door, still closed. there was no sign of him waking up in the middle of the night, you didn't hear him either. not even for a glass of water.

you eventually gathered the courage to get up and stand in front of the door, pressing your ear against it. your heart sank, noticing there was no sound coming from the otherside. you turned the knob, preparing yourself for the worst.

“oh, good morning.” elvis said casually with a smile, book in his hands.

your jaw went agape, “y-you're still here?” you said, surprised. “did you even sleep?”

“just a few hours–better than none.” he shrugged, setting the book aside.

“and you're still here?!” you repeated.

he threw his hands up, “honey, i’m just as confused as you are.”

you stared at him in disbelief. now you're really regretting not buying that pullout couch when you first moved in. you let him have first dibs at the bathroom, allowing him to shower and come out smelling like your favorite floral body wash compared to his usual axe and muskier scents from what you've read online. afterwards, you made him coffee just like he liked it as well as breakfast–not even having to ask how he liked his eggs and bacon.

you set the plate in front of him as you took a seat in front of him at the table. he looked down at the plate, eyebrows furrowed. “how did you know?”

“everyone knows, trust me.”

the two of you sat in silence for a moment, enjoying breakfast quietly as you ran through your to-do list for the day. clearly elvis was going to be with you for awhile, at least you hoped. he needed clothes and maybe his own toiletries, but how?

you didn't want to bring attention to elvis and have people continue to question elvis's existence. it was a common myth that he was still alive–a stupid myth at that. you didn't want to add onto that, let alone in the middle of walmart. having elvis lay low for awhile would be the smart move, at least not until you were sure he'd be around for awhile. there was really no way of telling how long he'd be with you.

“you think there's somethin’ i gotta do in order to go back?” he interrupted your thoughts, taking a sip of his coffee.

you raised an eyebrow, “like what?”

“i don't know. do we kiss?”

you choked on your orange juice, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “excuse me?!”

“no! no-no, that's not—i mean!” he set his mug down, shaking his hands. “i-i-i meant like they do in fairy tales. like, a kiss wakin’ ‘em up.”

“i’m not kissing you.” you said sternly.

he looked at you in surprise, “you don't wanna kiss me?” he asked, shocked.

“why would i? we just met.”

he scratched the side of his head and scoffed. that wasn't something he was used to. everyone wanted a piece of him. “i’m not sayin’ i wanna kiss you either.” he said defensively. “it was just an idea. or maybe i need to hit my head again–if i did hit it, which i don't think i did.”

you rolled your eyes, “and i’m not letting you hit your head again.”

“are you gonna let me do anything?” he crossed his arms.

“i don't know, we'll see.” you stood up and took his empty plate. “you did spawn in my apartment after all.”

after back and forth banter and a clean up in the kitchen, you met back in the living room, pacing back and forth while elvis watched you from the sofa. you had to go back to work soon and god knows how you're going to manage leaving elvis at home by himself. for starters, he needed a phone. a way to contact you in case he accidentally started a fire from not knowing how to use something as simple as the air fryer. maybe a few books–ones he loved in his other life and ones you think he'd enjoy that you also liked. there was just so much to do. all this for him to possibly be gone tomorrow or the day after. but you still refused to talk to him about his death.

it was baffling how calm elvis was throughout all of this. why wasn't he freaking out? like he was okay with suddenly being in an entirely new world. you read books and watched documentaries but he was still a stranger in your home, but elvis was okay with that. it made no sense to you.

“honey-”

“what do you wanna know? apart from your death–what do you wanna know?” you asked suddenly, stopping in your tracks.

he sat back, sighing. “was i with anyone when it happened at least? where did they put me?”

you scoffed, “take my advice, do not go out with ginger.”

“ginger?” he raised an eyebrow.

“trust me. just don't do it.” you shook your head, crossing your arms. “you're resting at graceland.”

his lips perked up slightly, “graceland, huh?”

you sat next to him, giving him a small nod. you pulled out your phone, scrolling through your gallery until you came across your own photos at graceland, showing them off to him and swiping through slowly. the photos left elvis speechless, how his family was resting alongside him. he told you various stories as you showed him some of the rooms you got to see and brought up how surprised he was at how much different his home looks now compared to what it was back in the 60s.

elvis week, the birthday celebrations, annual events; he couldn't believe how loved he still was after all these years. you continued to tell him about his fans, records he broke after his passing, how there are literal stores and restaurants just dedicated to him. he sat there in silence, trying to fight back his tears. he was disbelief. “all these years–people still love me? t-they still listen to my music?”

you smiled at him. “more than ever. people of all ages, all over the country. they still love you.”

he shook his head in disbelief, sniffling a little as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “that's crazy.”

“which is why i don't..really think it's a good idea to have you leave. at least not yet. especially with this huge movie that just came out about you-”

“they made a movie?!” he exclaimed, sitting up.

“that’s not the point here! look, i’m gonna have to pick up some things for you and get you a phone which means i’m gonna have to leave you here home alone.” you stood up, hands on your hips. “and i don't exactly trust you with technology just yet.”

elvis scoffed, “i’m not a baby, honey. i can manage on my own. i’ll just read till you come back.”

and you prayed to god that he'd still be there when you got back.

while you searched retail and department stores for whatever you think elvis may enjoy(no jeans, nothing brown, lots of fun colors), elvis took this time to be nosy. to search around your little apartment in beverly hills that looked nothing like what he had back in his tiny world.

he had a one on one staring match with the reflection of what was now called a television. but he had to admit, it’s nice that he can now just watch his favorite movies whenever he wanted in the comfort of well-not his home, but somewhere that didn’t involve a whole process of renting out an entire movie theater. he wondered if the memphian was still around. not to mention, he can watch his favorite shows on a much larger screen and not the small ones he has back at graceland. he still couldn't fully grasp the meaning of streaming. is anyone really ‘streaming’ his old movies and concerts like you mentioned? he found that hard to believe.

then he came across your laptop. of course, not knowing what it was, he opened it, eyes widening in amazement at the lit up screen. “what the hell is a google….” he muttered to himself, eyes squinting as he navigated with the small, touchpad. he tapped on the search bar and looked down at the keyboard. he wanted to search himself so badly, the mystery behind his death and how touchy you were about it just eating him up inside. but it was better to hear it from you. despite only knowing you for a short amount of time, he trusted you more than whatever the hell google was. instead, he opted for typing in ‘time travel’, scoffing at the word fiction being in the definition. “if it ain't real then how did i get here?” he asked to no one.

he ended up reading the entire wikipedia page which was really no help to him. he didn't come by a time machine or a wormhole, just a bunch of big words that gave him no answers. he found the website fascinating though, somehow going from reading about black holes to reading about the history of microwave ovens. but he was still worried about finding himself on there and quickly clicked away.

elvis really didn't mean to pry all that much. he wasn't aware of social media, he didn't know what he was getting himself into when he tapped the little ‘facebook’ bookmark. you did in fact, have an ex. definitely could have done better. he scrolled a bit too far down your profile, coming across a photo of him that you once shared of him in the 70s. “ain't no way that's me….” he said in disbelief, enlarging the photo. “well, i’ll be damned.” he quickly closed out, shutting your laptop and shaking his head.

he looked at the framed photos you had around, studying your family and friends that you seemed to be close to. he was happy to see you had a good relationship with them, family was important to him too.

his lip curled up slightly at the various records you had in the corner, ranging from today’s artists to some of his very own. you'd have to play them for him one day. he hated listening to his own records but he was curious about the ones he had yet to record.

there were so many questions still lingering in his mind, would he even be able to leave the house at all? maybe this was his chance to start over, to have a new life. maybe you were supposed to be his soulmate and that's how he ended up in your presence. or perhaps it's just a wake up call to warn him about his future. who knows, he wish he knew. all he could do was pray and hope for the best.

when you returned, hands full with bags, elvis quickly took them from your hands and set them on the counter. he felt bad about the clothes you bought him and the phone and everything else–he's normally the one to buy people things. however, every piece of clothing, it was so him. you nailed him perfectly.

“–and i know you hate denim, like really hate it. but…” you pulled out a denim jacket from the bag, holding it up. “thought this would look nice on you. but i can always take it back.”

“god, you didn't have to do all this for me…” he said, flustered. “you’re too kind.”

you flashed him a smile, “i’m gonna set up your phone so you can….”

“i opened your…your thing.” he blurted out.

“my thing?”

“yeah…that…that thing.” he said again, pointing at your laptop.

you turned around, glancing at it sitting on the counter. “i didn’t look up myself! swear! i-i did see a photo of me but i quickly clicked away.” he defended, panic in his voice.

“how did you even know how to use it?” you picked up your laptop, putting it away in your bedroom.

“i just…pressed buttons.” he watched you move across the room, eventually sitting down at the counter. “i’m sorry.”

“you get nothing out of being nosy.” you sighed.

elvis was still curious about that photo he saw of himself, keeping his concerns to himself.

he got curiouser and curiouser as the week went on, always waking up in surprise to see he wasn't in his bed. you went back to work and he was stuck at what he now calls home, watching shows you had told him about and eating whatever in the fridge was microwaveable. but he didn't know who he was more interested in; his future or you.

there was something about you that intrigued him. you weren't jumping at him like most fans would do, not a single request from him. every person he’d ever met or become friends with had wanted something from him whether it’d be a new house, a car, an autograph or just money. granted, he left all his money back in memphis along with everything else. ugh, was he going to have to get another id? like people would believe that he was actually elvis presley. you did mention to him that some of his friends were still alive, maybe jerry could help him out. but then again, finding out your best friend who's been dead for over forty years is alive but at the same time not really alive just may be a bit too much for one to handle.

but he missed his home. his bed, his horses, the people he saw every single day. he was never alone. this was almost terrifying for him and he doesn't know how he’s going to continue to deal with being alone for long periods a day while you're gone. he’s a very lonely person in general, but not a day went by when he wasn't with someone. being with someone helped him not get too much in his head; much like what he's doing right now.

why was he here? is this god’s way of punishing him for something? he had plans, he had movies to film, there had to be some sort of explanation. you won't even tell him how he died for christ's sake. there’s something missing, a missing puzzle piece. every single night he now goes to bed wondering if that would be the last time he would ever see your face. he doesn't want to forget you or your face, but he wants to go home.

this was all too much for him. he can’t do this, he can't be here and get attached. nobody is going to believe him if he ever went back, but what if he never goes back? would it be for the better?

so many questions were lingering in his brain, giving him a overwhelming feeling. he felt himself begin to panic, shaking his head as he rested it in his hands. his chest felt heavy, panting and panicking. then his heart began to quicken, making it hard for him to control his own breathing.

“elvis? you still here?”

your voice was muffled, a loud ringing in his ears. “elvis?” he looked at you, panicked with a hand over his chest. “hey, hey. i’m here, what's going on?” you sunk down to your knees, meeting him eye level on the couch. “look at me, deep breaths.”

“i-it's hard, i-i can’t-” he panted.

“yes you can. c’mon breathe with me.” you rested a hand on his knee, taking a deep breath in and then a deep breath out.

he followed and repeated after you, doing it until he could feel his heart beat normally again. “god…i-i…i..” he let out a shaky breath.

“el, i think you just had a panic attack.” you breathed, rubbing his knee softly. “thank god i came home in time.”

there was a look of worry on his face. he couldn't remember the last time he had a panic attack. sure, he had a little bit of anxiety before filming his special but he didn't get that bad. “i’m so scared.” he finally admitted, his voice slightly cracking. “so fuckin’ scared.”

you stood up and sat beside elvis, facing him. “what are you scared of?”

“i don't know.”

you let out a small hum, rubbing his back. “that's okay.” you reassured. “we’ll get through it. i’ll help you. there's a reason why you’re here and we’re gonna figure that out.”

he looked down, nervously picking at his nails and fidgeting with the nonexistent rings on his fingers out of habit. “takin’ up too much space in here.”

“no you're not, elvis. look at me.” you turned his head, his sad eyes locking with yours. “i’m not giving up on you. it's only been a week. we’re just taking this one day at a time.”

for the first time in that week he’d been with you, he got a good look at your eyes. he gave you a soft smile, the infamous half grin you’d see photos of everywhere online. suddenly, he found himself slightly excited. excited to learn about you, your story. you were right, there was a reason he was there with you.

maybe, just maybe, that reason was you.

tags: @elvisalltheway101 @prompted-wordsmith @plasticfantasticl0ver @18lkpeters @notstefaniepresley @presleyenterprise @kiankiwi

#elvis x reader

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istherewifiinhell · 1 day

Note

HM for the bingo: matoba, um um um. your least favorite oppie. your most favorite starscreamer. ummmmm. Abyssal Black Flame Dragon

HEHEHE

shitty id in alt. WELL THATS URRRR GUY. thats the guy thats nat.sume is about. pretty sure <- took me like a year to figure out this is not the case. he is silly. ive seen it in the gag manga. hessss a pretty loser goth in and out of drag what is not to like. im just assuming ur the most right about him i dunno if that means other ppl are wrong tho

joelle joelleity joelletwo is trying to get my ass murdered on tumblr dot gov. EDITED AND UPDATED. need to reflect that my constant with this one is i get why megs got like that

[alt]. ohhh buddy...... you asked. 1. no personality. 2. hate his whole vibe (aesthetics/affect) 3. BETRAYED THE REVOLUTION. 4. not a very good conflicted pasicfist if thats what they were gonna go for. 5. tee fee pee special. u know show dont tell. this is tell, then forget to bring up ever again. simply. simply. listen if the girlies in the tag have to make him interesting for their fanfic and fuck nasty shit (honourary) go with god. i have read good fic of him. but thats compliments to the fans. me personally. i would simply use any other iteration. i suppose u cant beat how DIVORCED this guy is. im not opposed any of his specific characteristics really. its the holistic sum thats my enemy.

DOODLING HEARTS AND GRAPHIC VIOLENCE ON THE SCANTRON <- which tf is that 🥁🔔

[ALT] actually can i edit this again lets do a bingo for bullying. he got bullied possible the most anyone has but ill bully him some more 😏🤨😳. now ur some ppl might think oh u like this screamer so much to u inversely not like this megs for beating him up. well not u tho. thats gotta be one of my favourite 2 minutes in all of tf kajdgbjfdhb. hes not real so hes fine with that i asked him myself. ANYWAY WHAT IF U WERE BACKED INTO A CORNER BY UR OWN VIOLENT IMPULSES AND CONSEQUENCES OF UR OWN ACTIONS and also millennia of unending war so u just decide to go full nihilist about it. and this literally saves your world and people. well not the ones u killed but most of em. and u keep winning <3 and ur pettiness and self severing survival instincts also saved the universe. btw. idk if i have HC so much as. i can see my reading of the text not being universal but also im right <3. billybob thompson one of 2 fav non latta screamers. prettiest modern screamer design

out of LEFT field but i LOVE IT

[alt] wait how did u land on a orbeez side character i would at remember the vibes of enough to get double bingo. was it dragon sooyoung? kfjjdf. DO U KNOW. how often i watch something and think. this character would be improved if they were an edgy anime fourteen year old. WELL HERE IT IS. the most important thing u can be in the world is a shitty emo teen with a deviant art dragon fursona. i dont remember anything else im literally just like. thats perfect. what a shit head. the best character in the book now im saying so.

#some shit #its not called cisformers #THANKS FOR THE GUYS AND FOR INSPIRING ME TO GRAFFITI THE BINGO. A LOT MORE FUN A LOT MORE WORKABLE #phrase interpretation and obstinate personality problems about multiple choice. SOUNDLY DEFEATED. by playing toys #if some busy body trys to kill me for hating the websites most beloved tee fee iteration im haunting u. but ill just hang out so its fine #RO.BLOX FACE IS A STOLEN JOKE. (<- special privileges) i dont know what fucking ro.blox is.

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sugar-petals · 2 years

Text

sub!𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐜 🌹║ 𝚗𝚜𝚏𝚠 𝚊𝚕𝚙𝚑𝚊𝚋𝚎𝚝

↳ smut A-Z / 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖈𝖆𝖓𝖔𝖓

【ＧＥＮＲＥ】› smut/angst/fluff + monaco gp au

【 ♥ pairing.】charles x reader

words. 🍒 16k — bc 16 is a good number :)

WARNINGS/TAGS. ⚠️ 18+ (mdni), pwp, sub charles oh là là, bondage, femdom + vanilla dynamics, face sitting, suits kink, protected sex, pegging, anal play, masochism, oral, multiple sex partners mention, alcohol mention, French language kink who knew

↳ [ // 🍓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄. ] i like my alphabets long with feelings and sub plots: pun intended 😂 you’ll find parts that are romantic, sad & horny, the rest is fun, now let’s get into it. 🍌

posted: july 7, 2022

【 read it on AO3 】

a = aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

One of the best parts of sex, he’s one sucker for you. Charles loves getting aftercare so much, ending up lost in your eyes because he can’t help it. Jeez, his cuddliness. And god, he smells so good. Charles is blushy, and he’s and clingy, and he talks so much. Face buried in your hoodie kind of affectionate. It always has you wondering, why does Charles love me so much, why does he act this way, like a literal puppy. But he just likes being looked after this way after he satisfied you. Behind all those layers of ambition and stress, there is only needy and dependent Charles left — he won’t lie about it.

In contrast to him, you keep it efficient. And relatively short, never exceeding 20 minutes, but it’s oh so vital. Less is more sometimes. A glass of water for Charles and he feels refreshed: „Merci beaucoup, mon rêve.“ — he calls you `my dream´ very often. A little lotion on his back and legs is just as quick, and he’s ready to sleep. Lighting some incense, candles, or bringing him a big cup of tea. Putting on a vintage movie on a beamer and just embracing to snuggle, barely listening to the dialogue in the background since you turned down the volume deliberately. If you denied your darling pillow prince his orgasm earlier, you will gently suck him off now, sloppy enough for little bubbles to start forming around your lips. You make sure your favorite blue-white cotton duvet is within reach just like towels. Gotta stay warm and covered afterwards.

On other days, you like to go the extra mile. You switch on the big red popcorn machine or make some light pink cotton candy. Cherry flavored, of course. His mom always gifts him these fancy kitchen machines for fun, but she’s right: More delicious things for Charles. His secret sweet tooth is actually adorable. Ferrari’s dietician comes for Charles, but not for you, so this is the ultimate loophole. Charles and his cotton candy have become inseparable. He just loves to pull those fuzzy strings out of the `main cloud´ as he calls it. Or, laughs his ass off when his lashes get caught in it. They’re so long, how can he blame `em.

Dose of head pats, lots of water chugging — no coffee, rule of the house. As a wise British prophet (King Lewis the 44th) once said: Coffee is disgusting! You’re keeping it healthy, Charles he wants to sleep tight in your arms later, after all. Instead, sweat wiping. Forehead kisses. Snack bars. Charles needs a quick fix here and there. But he’s very relieved of some heavy stress, and very smiley. You feel content and proud, but usually not with a weight off your shoulders since there was hardly any to begin with. You’re with Charles, your everything. Your angel and treasure, and your beauty. Just looking at his friendly face once can suffice to destress for three days in a row. If you do the math: Looking at him ten times equals one month without tribulations. That’s the energy.

What’s absolutely expected: He appreciates your idea to run a bath after sex recently. This man might as well live in the tub permanently. „Grown any gills yet?“ — a frequent favorite quip of yours. Maybe he should pin wheels to the whole thing, paint it red, and roll up at the starting grid with this next-generation Ferrari. Nickname: The Merman of Maranello. Nothing else on but some yellow trunks and shiny designer shades. He’s gonna win a Championship with that in no time. New Ferrari Masterplan unlocked: Charles drives his bathtub to P1. But anyway, we digress. Aftercare.

Charles loves to be bathed and lathered in jasmine shampoo. You like to shave him when he’s covered in foam like that. His axilla, chest, or neck, just because the sound is satisfying and Charles enjoys this type of personal attention. Aftercare with Charles Leclerc can turn anyone into a soft domme or service top. You take your extra time to towel him down bit by bit, and make him feel luxurious in a way that even his salary can’t. You will admit to Charles that you like to pamper him, and that makes him give you a very sheepish look. Is he flustered? Yes, he is.

Aftercare is filled with conversation. You know how he can suddenly talk like a waterfall, lots of exclamations and dramatique expressions? That’s exactly the atmosphere. Free-flowing chats. Charles talks about himself in 3rd person pretty often, which is cute. Little spoon all the way, too, this guy is like a human kitten. Likes to suck on your fingers with a cheeky, blissed-out expression. It’s a go-to favorite to calm himself a little and to have his lips busy on you. Definitely an aftercare hugger rather than a direct kisser. He wants to breathe deeply now. And be softly tickled, it’s perfect to make him laugh. The sweet bun, no wonder his name rhymes with éclair.

b = body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

As far as you observed him at the bathroom sink, Charles is super into his hair recently. He’s trying out new products, often things you bought him as a casual gift to spoil your honey boy. It’s the personalized things that make Charles feel special to you. Since last month, he talks about how much shine and definition he can achieve. The helmet ruins his whole effort in one go, but he’s trying. Even consulting his barber on it. Always learning from the professionals.

As for his body as a whole. He’s still not admitting to his height, but at one point you said, silence bottom. You look good. You look nice. You’re a cutie pie. Head to toe. The whole world likes you. And you’re serious, because the entirety of your boyfriend is more important than whether he towers over you or not. He’s compact and huggable, what’s not to like. He got everything to hold on to, the arms, the shoulders. Even his pecs are growing nowadays, those tight white shirts look damn good on him. Wet t-shirt contest when? Father, son, and the house of Ferrari: That sight would be mindblowing.

People think his appeal is mysterious. To you, Charles’ handsomeness can be explained in simple terms. Everything about him is pleasant. That photogenic masterpiece, look at him. The Orlando Bloom of Formula 1. Any angle does him good. His way of coming across, his speaking, his gaze, his humor, his smile. All pleasant. Nothing upsets the ear, the eye. He is polite, he is pretty, with the exact amount of being gorgeously sexy on top. His face is banging, his body is shapely, what more does anyone need. That he’s often a little confused without even intending to just adds to his overall charm.

Being good with people is the cherry on top. Charles having a hundred social graces and winning people over with a simple „could you please repeat the question, sorry“ — I mean come on. The thing is. If you put him next to a Men’s Health magazine cover, he probably won’t meet whatever white guy beauty standards of the time, in whatever circles, whatever trend it is now. He’s not carrying around a 10-pack, he’s not a 6’3 spaghetti noodle, and doesn’t crank out an itty bitty waist either. Your man’s neck looks like he got it from a different person. And yet— Charles is the ultimate magnet. What is it?

Oh honey… it’s the demeanor. People so crucially forget his ways of expression factoring in. Charles’ body language. Why does nobody ever mention that. It’s very readable. That makes someone so easy to approach and like. You love his mannerisms and point them out often. Charles is always surprised he’s even doing these things. This guy even shifts from one foot to the other like he’s dancing 24/7, so. Even more attractiveness points.

c = cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Plays with it using the tips of his godly fingers when he gets you off in the evening — “Oh my god. You’re incredibly wet.” His job is all about working with his hands all day, every day, after all, finding the right buttons. So, Charles got that down, rest assured.

Loves the sounds, loves to make you cum slowly but surely, calling you oh mon amour while doing so. Prepare for his hooded bedroom eyes and him licking off his fingers like it’s icing. His hand coordination… it’s criminally insane what this guy can do with your clit. I believe it’s magic. Charles is an epicure but also a loverboy, he does all of this without expecting you to do anything in return. Just lean back and enjoy.

Meanwhile. Brace yourself, Monsieur. You have some other plans when the mood is right. Charles is definitely up against a caliber here. Your latest fantasy is ruining one of his ultra-expensive Italian suits with some crazy debauchery. Jacking him off in all directions, no mercy. And squatting down naked on top of a very clothed him, Charles wearing a silky blindfold for good measure. His suits make you turned-on beyond all reason. It’s custom, the cut clings to his million-dollar body like satin. The material of his clothing somehow gets drenched in your spit and drool as well — I wonder how that could happen.

To make it worse, you deliciously eat slices of watermelon while sitting on his face. Choking him out by pulling at his black tie, all without a care in the world where the melon juice will drip and dry. Feeding him with another slice is step two, just to see it all flow down his cheeks and chin. Charles can clearly feel his collar being soaked, but there’s only so much he can do. The blindfold is perfect because not only deprives it Charles from knowing what you do, but it also makes for a good reaction face once he sees the result.

Yeah, I know. This poor `innocent´ guy getting a full 69 treatment. Although you have to say, Charles is definitely rising up to a challenge here. Who of these other drivers currently has his face full of pussy, does breath play level expert, gets waterboarded by a sticky summer fruit, and tries not to cum from getting his dick French kissed and drooled across. Sounds fun, but from a sub’s perspective, that’s actually demanding. Multi-task legend.

Part of your fantasy is Charles whining about the ruin of said suit until it is born again after a thorough laundry. The next day, as per your text decree, he has to wear the whole thing on the paddock. No excuses. Distinctly Italian shoes with laces and glossy coating included, even if it’s not the red carpet. Charles rises to the occasion, he keeps his promise. Time to strut some golden pinstripes down the runway, baby. Wearing a slutty turtleneck underneath the tux, which almost explodes at the seams because his neck just won’t fit. Even Mister classic suits king George Russell will have to pick up his jaw from the concrete when Charles will walk, no, float along.

Jesus is the whole thing fitted. Literally so tight around the ass and shoulders. Gotta raise the fashion morale among the younger drivers and inspire more men to be a suits hoe. And the best thing? You like the fact that he’ll only think about last night while wearing it, constantly checking his body as if the evidence was still there. He concurs you have him beat with outrageous ideas, and managed to successfully corrupt him. Just to be sure, though: His racing suit is off-limits. But yep. The media will go wild and Charles’ beauty will break the F1 Internet. Nobody suspects what happened before the detergent.

d = dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

This cute lil’ mouse really is one of the most toppable drivers on the grid. Yes, I hear the crowd: Besides Mister Norris (Formula 1’s undisputed HSIC — Head Sub In Charge) and Monsieur Gasly. Gotta be precise and honor Charles’ contemporaries. An absolute dark horse sub is none other than Valtteri, but the world is not ready for that discussion yet. Maybe his booty portrait will pave the way among a 30+ audience. In any case. Charles got a certain hard sub flavor to him. That’s right. His luxury twink face and cotton candy antics deceive. He likes a strong grip on him. His dirty secret really is how far he is willing to go to submit.

He’s not as easy as Pierre on his own soft limits. Pierre is more playful and loves a good niche fetish that nobody heard of. Charles, completely different. What on earth is a soft limit! He doesn’t want to put anything on a `try…maybe…´ list. Too tentative. He either goes for it or not. „I can do it“ is a frequent agreement. Aftercare is mellow, but your man definitely has a streak of wanting to be steadfast and likes your topping more abrasive and immediate than not.

Really letting go is his unspoken sexual dream. It’s something every good driver wishes to achieve in their car, so of course, he wants to know how that applies to him in bed. Charles’ secret desire is to be tenacious when he’s in pain. No half-assed domination on your part. The real fucking deal. Red stripes on skin, everything. Charles is the quintessential masochist, you can smell that from across the Shanghai straight. And that straight is long as hell.

Charles has no intent of taking his frustrations out on you. He puts a lot of his stress into neck training, and his stamina, but he would feel bad using his strength to dominate you to the bone and make you writhe. He just can’t. Sure, Charles knows what he wants (…for the most part), but that doesn’t entail hanging you from the ceiling by one ankle. Vice versa, if you talk to him about trying a bondage suspension, however— You might awaken a curiosity. When it comes down to it, he has no qualms.

After thinking about it a lot, you realized there was a convincing reason for his secret. In his life of racing and competing, being steadfast? That’s often impossible for him. Racing is messy, sudden, direct, and fleeting. In bed, Charles can surrender and endure as much as he like. On the one hand, he can prove that he can take it all. On the other hand, he does not have to worry about getting things under his control. Subbing is his unexpected perfect match, even if he might only be half-aware, or not confident enough to go full BDSM at the beginning of your relationship. He still needs and wants to be taught.

One of his dream scenarios is this. Your kitty cat, classy but nasty he is, wants to be groped while he’s playing the piano. The bench is elongated enough for two people. His thighs and crotch are right there. So, while he’s playing you a little piece, Charles’ expression is kind of like „just do something really inappropriate“. And aggressive, not just feather-light. Your hand between his legs, making him go insane through the fabric of his black pants? That fantasy is his eternal cause for morning wood. Likes being groped while driving, too. Neither case needs a handjob to top it off. Charles just wants to feel aroused and then rub his dick against your thighs if possible. Until you get annoyed with the sensation and tell the naughty garçon how he can touch himself. And he can drive with one hand.

e = experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

While you were on holiday in a lodge, he conceded something to you in a bittersweet recount of his earlier years in Monaco. Charles hooked up pretty quickly when he was still sleeping around, getting lost in whirlwind emotions. If he had the time, any excitement-promising approach was considered. And: Put to practice fast enough to match the pace of the racing world, if not on the spot. He couldn’t really say no, his vice. If somebody cute asked him kindly, please sleep with me, Charles: He replied where and how.

Charles almost went too far liking to please, offering his body, and his default answer being „so what do you like me to do“. Rather than „what do we like to do together“. He regrets he didn’t decline more often. For a myriad of reasons, Charles has a difficult time telling you that. Sex was taking over his life and didn’t fit into his natural flow. He was careful with his partners, but it was just as lustful as one would expect. That in and of itself didn’t impact him as strongly as the confusion of feelings. And, the fact that he had an easier time saying yes to someone who wanted a ten-minute romp than actually approaching somebody he had a crush on. Small talk, sure. He’s good at it. Offering a hot lap and driving them around track? Sure. But asking that person on a real date? He was terrible.

He’d only manage to drop hints he was throwing a party at best. Charles ended up surrounded by flirty people before he could even spot his crush in the crowd. On to the next circuit after sunrise: The opportunity gone. No number, no nothing. Charles’ trust into his own feelings for somebody corroded time and again that way. There was no event where he could develop his own infatuation or any reciprocity. The people he liked didn’t think they had a chance, and those who liked him wanted fast relief from their obsession, disappointed at how normal, frustrated, or half-hearted he came across.

The vicious cycle continued with distractions and more attractive people that gave him a blitz hormone rush that almost felt like being in love. Some of them — those who essentially invited themselves into his sheets — were really good in bed, which increased the satisfaction and had an addictive shock value. But after getting them off and then himself, in an almost medical and hyperfocused, stoic way, he still went to the bathroom with a deep existential sigh in his mind which he had no idea how to label. It might have been a feeling of being dragged along into something too messy to get out of.

Meanwhile, people who thought themselves less attractive came back for validation and wanted to pry Charles into daddying and husbanding them back and forth. He almost fell for the incentive and toxicity of that power trip he was offered. Which doubled the people on his lap, his fatigue, the let-down, and mistakes while driving. Wanting to try things out harmlessly became a stream of forgotten names which Charles thought was a mutual pity, all done just for the sake of a tiny glimpse of feel-good body motions. Which he could deliver, he was great, which complicated things even more, and gave him nudges to repeat himself.

That irresistible seduction swallowed up countless hobbies and friendships before he even noticed. The hookups went by faster and faster. Charles was no longer cocky, but numb. Which put his already inundated and clueless brain through a blender and confounded him even more. Knowing he had so much responsibility in this cycle was just as stalling. His notorious Achilles’ heel of not being able to do quick problem-shooting was the last straw. What Charles said to you about this will haunt you forever: “When I make a mistake, when I try to fix it, it just becomes a second one.“

All of this results in Charles’ body count easily exceeding the two figures. He feels paralyzing guilt in retrospect, mixed with positive emotions of remembered pleasure, which is an awkward blend. Charles overthinks how he got passed around so much to distract himself from an empty inner space. He cries about his memories on the couch and doesn’t really seem to stop being preoccupied for weeks after he revealed those things to you. That he apologizes for being `used up´ rubs you the wrong way since he has so much love to give. But you get why Charles got himself into these situations. He had always been stunning, and people thought: Sharin’ the joy.

Good for them, and his drive is arguably high, he wanted relief. Charles did get something out of it. He satisfied many people who deserved some Charles Leclerc in their lives, even if it was just for an hour. But still, you can imagine the chaos and heartbreaks. Many people Charles hooked up with gaze at your boyfriend in a peculiar way when passing by and seeing you. Charles can’t look up, even if you have nothing against these persons and they seem to be cool people.

It’s his body, he did what he wanted to do with it. Charles could try himself out as he should have, and he’s the master of fanservice. Truth be told, who wouldn’t like it when their idol was making out with them. Nothing more understandable than the massive collective excitement for Charles Leclerc. Of course you’re flattered he settled with you, and you can build this from the ground up. He protected well, having a baby is quickly done indeed. Last thing he wants to do is spread STIs or race with a toddler at the back of his mind. Who Mommy has to explain to what dad does for a living. Everything but that.

He’s talked a lot about it to you which you think is courageous. You don’t resent Charles having done things like taking two people with him to his hotel every time there was some palpable sensual chemistry. And there was, and it was good to live in the moment. Some dates weren’t draining or disappointing. Who’s mad people had a good time with Charles: That’s a thousand times more preferable than any opposite of that. And no way to wind back the clock — he knows that best. It happened, and he is honest to you about it, risking the whole relationship by doing so.

Your stance is this. If Charles slept around, that’s what he did. Nothing to complicate there. He’s done his thing. A lot of people had a lot of late-night fun, and there were two or three emergency pills. Which gladly turned out fine. He figured all the other safety stuff out, too. He really learned the essentials, but in person, not in a textbook. Charles thinks he’s a dummy, but you disagree. It shows in his way of showing worry and saying the right words, and he knows not to cause someone he slept with physical concerns. That he’s not a wild-ass sadistic zaddy dominant adds to the overall image. He could not slap someone across their face for a hundred million plus.

All that amounts to a pile of experience. What about it? It’s not like Charles is craving eighty people on him every Sunday night. Come on, King Lewis could outdo your boy on any given evening in one of his local vegan gangbangs where the Sir indulges anyone who shows up with a smoothie, Sebastian merch, or a pride flag. With a big cheeky smile, you know it. Charles was more on the other side of the spectrum wanting fewer people involved. Keeping the overview and staying focused on good sensations and at least a little romanticism, which usually failed. Which is why he also wants a monogamous future for himself. A partner he can worship but also eat greasy takeout with, somewhere in an empty American diner at 3 AM looking like you both just survived all ten Biblical plagues.

His experience helps him know what feels good to both partners and what to avoid. But he also has some remaining mental baggage from the exhaustion, the stigma, and rapid socializing. He got fucked half-drunk pretty often which was not a good thing, and he hates that the most. That’s why it’s important to Charles that you’re sober, you’re in control, and he’s glad he has you. His health is checked. He’s well aware what a French Letter is and keeps on using it. Although Charles thinks he is undeserving of a stable relationship regardless of his wish for exactly that, you don’t falter. After a `second mistake´ can always come a right choice.

f = favorite position (this goes without saying)

By far that’s face to face, lying down on your favored sides. Your leg over his hip. A comfy pillow under your heads. The room nice and warm. Need I say more. Charles enjoys the angle and way of accommodating so much. He can penetrate you while kissing and feel your legs and hug. It’s the position you had your very vanilla first time in, so you keep repeating it for nostalgic value. You love being centimeters short of your lashes touching his, nose next to nose, and seeing his eyebrows arch in pleasure: Priceless. That position is called The Rocker, and it does have a nice rocking motion.

It was — and how else would it be, Charles is a wonderboy — a kind first time. Charles was not a klutz and knew how to arrange his body perfectly. He put a lot of sweat into making this a great starting point. That way of having sex on your sides is actually not so easy from the guy’s perspective, it speaks of Charles’ dexterity even if he is not extremely bendy Yuki-style. You like it because it feels so stable and is close to a regular hug. Charles really did the opposite of walking up to you saying „okay madame, missionary?“. He’s generally open-minded and makes less popular positions feel easy instead of awkward. This particular position is also useful to transition into many others, which is why it’s a bedroom staple.

Charles can make love in any reasonable way, though. You on top of him. Prone, super relaxed. Doggy over the backrest of his sofa. And those are just the classics. He’s not gonna throw you around or put you in a piledriver, and most standing positions are weird to him, but the rest is fair game. There’s no shame he feels in the moment, although he may be shy. Just because he had a lot of partners, doesn’t mean he won’t be bashful. But also don’t forget: Behind those dimples is a lot of resolve. He wants to be flawless. You always look forward to Charles taking the whole thing so damn seriously. You don’t mind him being so accurate. Like anything, it shows his natural will to please and be good rather than not caring at all.

g = goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

In a puzzling contrast to his rigid perfectionism, Charles `I sing in the shower´ LeBean is a hilarious goofball incarnate. He’s insane, he’s strange, he can’t stay straight-faced at all, ironically. People are far too distracted by his appearance and Monéygasque attitude. He constantly makes little jokes during foreplay — he once acted like he handed you a toothpaste instead of a lube bottle — and won’t stop randomly squirming or making weird-ass moves. Body language again: He’s his own universe. He can create the greatest atmosphere with that dripping chocolate honey marshmallow strawberry ice cream French, too, even if he said the biggest ever nonsense. It’s a miracle language.

His PDA is just as unconventional. Recently, he gave you a hand kiss and curtsy. Basically on the paddock, where you arrived to work, see him, and bully some team principles as a side quest. You simply got bored once Charles was told to warm up indoors. So there’s that, a nice hand kiss. Charles seems to consider you Monte Carlo royalty, but maybe that’s because he’s such a pretty prince himself. Although, he does not behave like some kind of monarch as soon as the occasion calls for him to be a meme, and that includes right in the act. Charles is the type to verbatim say „oops, I actually came! What happened!“ As always, one of a kind. You’ll never stop laughing with this guy.

He’s so sorry about making all these unintended jokes. He just can’t see the puns cumming, can he. As mentioned earlier, Charles prefers a whole bit of orgasm denial anyway. Tell him he can’t climax until you say so, and he’ll gulp, and stick it out with his teeth clenching. You’re gonna make this man explode harder than the night race fireworks, that shit got nothing on him. You’ll have him a sweaty wreck by the time you’re done with him, he’ll talk in at least two languages at once. Charles’ trilingual lifestyle is a warranty for plenty of verbal mix-ups. „You are so `otte…“ — „Haute? Like haute couture?“ — „No, `ot! Like temperature!“ — „Oh, hot!“

h = hair (how well-groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Trés chic! Charles is a chameleon: Closely trimmed, then all-natural. To give a more orderly impression, he likes to take care of his cleavage and especially the happy trail to give you a nice view in general. That spot’s gotta be smooth. When you lick across his chest, that’s gotta be sleek, too. He experiments with how to groom his pits and puts a scented conditioner on his leg hair in the shower sometimes.

To rave about the obvious: Charles has that lovely and consistent dark hair. Spectacular, amazing, stupendous. That beard awakens something in you. Don’t get me wrong. There are some pretty cool beards on the grid. But Charles has one that is stylish, versatile, fitting, and unobtrusive. It’s complimentary and gives him yet another touch of elegance. He has quite the beauty regimen in the morning. Knows how to tweeze his eyebrows, but doesn’t overdo it in the outer corners.

i = intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Charles is so sensual. If not the number one driver on the grid who understands what `erotic´ really means and looks like, next to Monsier Gasly of course. Erotic, that’s giving no discomfort, but a smile. Your first guess was that he might be a bitchy brat who gave his top a dramatic display — I mean he puts the winky face smoochy heart emoji into his captions — but little did you know he’s very focused on your experience and snuggly. Charles needs that downtime. Babe can’t expend all his energy smiling through the pain all day, or distract himself on his phone, can he. Charles has an expected soft side that comes out even more in complete privacy. On an intimacy scale to 10, he’s an 8.

Sure… Charles has a tiny bit of attitude: „That turns you on, doesn’t it?“ Because he knows exactly what you like, and his way of speaking English can make it sound bolder than it is. It will sound way different in French. But his nature as a pleaser who looks for signals in return rather than someone who thrives on one-sided romance does come out pretty quickly. He’s talked to you about those awkward past scenarios of being in that unrequited position, and how that ended up like. Charles is careful looking up to someone although he wants to do that so much, and it’s a huge part of defining intimacy to him. That’s why romance has to feel light and airy to him. He values fooling around rather than classic date nights sometimes, but is also the type to say „You feel amazing“ a lot during sex since he likes to give revering compliments.

His most candid intimate thoughts will only exist in written form: A diary. Yes, Charles will sit down and journal. If he finds time to write stuff into his Ferrari burn book, he will find time to write something in his journal at home or the hotel. Facts. You don’t pester him to show you. Charles can keep secrets or talk about it however he likes. He’d not touch your phone ever, either. Not once. He is more wary than jealous. He figures his mind out by himself and trusts you. One of the things he’s written down and actually dared to put forward in a conversation is that he has a fantasy of you acting more possessive over him. Physically, psychologically. In less of a romantic way. Who knew.

j = jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He’d never eat his own cum directly. The rest? Free reign. Charles treats his dick like. What to even compare it to. Lando vibrating and squealing and jumping around in his gaming chair. Weird analogy, but you get the idea. He’s going ballistic. Traction control off. Among the whole grid, Charles would win a speed contest. Always masturbates like it’s his first time doing it. Usually on all fours, winding left and right when no one watches, throwing himself around. This guy is fucking desperate, you don’t even know. His post-nut regrets are three times worse than the average guy’s. His wrist hurts while steering later, so Charles will masturbate the most at the beginning of the week. Saturday night? Not a chance.

Since he jacks off like a madman to destress, it makes him even more like a human pressure cooker. Ironically, since he thought it would blow off steam big time. You often have to remind him that he better not detach his dick from himself with all that heavy tugging. Charles realizes that a gentler approach will be better at prolonging his pleasure and finding the right moment for release. „The more deliberate you are, the less regret you’ll feel“ — especially if you get kisses all over your face while doing so. Guided masturbation is his perfect match. „Keep it clean. Only this direction.“ He listens to you since Charles knows you make sense. The more he gets into that, the more he likes that form of indirect domination. Just how much can he arch his back? Come in and find out. Allez, Charles.

k = kink (one or more of their kinks)

The thing is. Your bébé has not really tried full-on submission beforehand. He’s played around with handcuffs, blindfolds… but never dared to go all the way. And neither was he encouraged, even if he’s really interested in those things. That’s probably why he was bouncing from one hook-up to the other, hoping for something spicier to occur, without actually communicating that, which set him up for being disheartened. Vanilla sex is great, but still far away from his full potential.

Those thighs and ass can handle it, Charles is ready for a whipping. He’s ready for the strap, he’s ready for the slaps, he’s ready for the feathers tracing over his body. Bring on the adrenaline. And oh boy, he’s already among the top 20+ drivers in the world doing adrenaline as a full profession. You gotta hit it out of the park. His fascination with BDSM has a reason: Charles thinks he missed out on exploring his submissive side, like there’s a gap in his sexuality. From your side, it goes much further. From your observation, you have a masochistic diamond on your hands. Still raw, but soon to be sculpted in full.

Pegging as a first step, it’s a wild ride in all meanings of the word. You have to be careful to guide him. Charles is easily sensitive. Paradoxically, he doesn’t want gentle prep. Go big or go home. That goes for strap size, too. Using smaller toys to dilate is simply not his thing. He cleans himself up in the bathroom to get ready, but that’s it. This man is gonna talk nonstop. „Like this? What do I do? Is this okay like that? This feels crazy! But in a good way! What do I do with my hips?! Where do I put my leg? What’s this feeling?“

You have to talk your cherry boy through it like an instruction video. Charles’ ass is twitching like hell, which makes you wonder how on earth did this man not get properly dominated by anyone yet. Well, there’s always a first time, and who knew there was still a way to take his virginity. Like wow. And so abruptly, he just wants you to push it in from behind, no fingers first. Good evening to his prostate. This guy’s eyes will be falling out. He’s never been this touchy-feely.

Charles is going to be stunned out of his mind for hours after. You’ll see reactions he never did before. It hurts a lot, like a lot lot, but… he gets excited from that; his heart beats faster than at the start of a race. Charles had no idea that being split in half was that much of a big deal, and you spanking him as a little treat makes it even better. He’s gonna do a little yelp anytime something happens, and seriously. Sure you’ve heard him gaming, but Charles is a different kind of screamer when you pull his hair. The ultimate stress relief.

If that already keeps him on his toes and gives him an existential crisis (which, to be fair, is his primary mode of living these days), wait until you break out the long gloves. Charles will think you’ve gone insane, but it turns him on. He likes being confronted with extremes as is his driver nature. Oh, to get his face slammed down into a pillow and just getting ravaged, and this time not a piece of plastic. And again: He does not like it tender. Charles has the guts to enter an F1 car, you can rearrange these guts without a worry. No „Mommy mommy please take your time“ — he’s not that kinda sub. His name ain’t Lando. It needs to be at the limit until he can’t take it anymore. Lube is your best friend.

In vanilla, he’s a romantic, but for subbing, this guy is not for the faint of heart. You’re doing those things on Monday, not Friday evening. Maybe Charles doesn’t feel the car bouncing because his ass is already numb. That would explain a lot. You’re leaving is in literal shambles. Just how often have you blown his back out? Charles will avoid soft subbing, he enjoys you being brutal, sometimes a bit too much, in fact.

Sure, you can give it to him strongly. Why not have a little hate sex. You saw how much he likes being choked with his own tie. It’s nice if things get red-hot. But the calm and subtle side is missing, which is why you sometimes just rope him in while on his knees for an hour or two. Believe it or not, for some softer couple time. Bondage is the best and most patient way to explore Charles’ body in full and to develop your rigging skills along the way. This is an art, and pretty red ropes (what else) fit a pretty boy well, don’t they.

l = location (favorite places to do the do)

First off. You know the drill. His racing car is taboo. Some… other drivers would pull this. But not your very mannered guy. The garage, same thing. Charles behaves. Come on, that damn car. You wouldn’t squeeze in there either, who are we kidding. Keeping it classy, and if there’s nastiness, it is calculated or just in his head. Like Charles’ fantasy to have sex in the car while competing at Le Mans. He’s insane for this, but he will constrain that idea in his head for obvious safety reasons.

That he likes being pinned against a wall though, that can be arranged. Yuki would be proud of your expert kabedon. And not just the light version. Charles wants to get pushed against the surface ruthlessly, have you ripping at his shirt and collar, and he wants to get scolded. Quite submissive of you, Monsieur Leclerc. Some like it wild.

The superior place though? His yacht has a nice interior. The perfect spot. Superb privacy. It’s not just for sex, though. Charles has an open ear for your thoughts while it’s cuddle time or you’re having pasta there. He’s your bestie, you are giggling about a random Youtube video you’ve seen. Once you go on land, still laughing, you will look crazy to outsiders, but you are free. PS: Has long joined the mile high club with you. That’s been one of the first things you did together and oh boy, was it enjoyable. One of the horniest days in your history as a couple. You’ve done it again a dozen times after.

m = motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Would never admit simping over you, even if he’ll often say „Je t’aime“ in broad daylight. But he wears his mirror glasses for a reason. Nobody will notice how often he looks in your direction. Charles is in a precarious mindset about you very often. He knows it could all be over by the dawn of tomorrow, whatever the unforeseen event or split may be. Hoping that the odds are in his favor and in yours, but knowing all the ways of misfortune and endings all too well, Charles often tries to tweak his thoughts to be more shallow when looking at you: But in all cases, he fails. He’s a relationship guy, he can’t help it. He’s turned on by by thinking „I am her boyfriend.“

n = no (something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

Mind games. Someone with zero brain cells. And: Classical music. Or mainstream rap. Those stay off the sex playlist. Either would disturb his creative flow. Being, in essence, either too cheesy and epic, or too much in your face with mumbled punchlines. 90s rap, he would say yes. But with modern music, Charles needs a way more sensual way to color the room with background atmosphere… and puts on cringe tracks that you will promptly roast. Who listens to Vampire Weekend while fucking. It’s not like you’re slamming his taste, you’re just um putting on your own playlist and he’s gonna like it. Easy.

o = oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Let’s start with receiving. So. He doesn’t have a desperate preference, but he sure enjoys himself to the rare maximum. Like, really letting go. Which is a feeling Charles does not usually experience without any roadblocks. This man is violently cursed from experiencing pure joy. So naturally, you like to spoil him rotten. Charles is terribly weak for that. He’s a lips enthusiast. And he knows his dick is nice, he’s clean, so he got a nice pastime to offer in return.

What’s in his mind about it? That he has been blessed. When does life ever give this man a break except for a damn blowjob. He feels pathetic and never begs you to do it, but he’s also grateful. Charles is feeling very much alive again. His sexy hands are surely busy on you, too. It’s all big serotonin for Charles. Which is a concept you like. Something simple within ten minutes can paint a relaxed smile on his face. He sleeps like a baby afterward, and probably cooks you breakfast while dancing in the kitchen the morning after.

You do pay attention not to give him pleasure as a `substitute´. It’s not supposed to be a drug. And it can’t obscure the fact that he’s often faced with strife that needs to be overcome directly, by himself. Then again, you do like to comfort him by sucking him off. You can’t help wanting to do it, even if it contradicts your wish for Charles to come home from the circuit with a smile on his lips already. Since a big famous racing team is responsible for either fucking him over and ruining his mood, it’s a little complicated, though.

Whatever you do: Charles considers you an oral sex goddess, and even scorns himself for thinking he falls short vice versa. He works hard to reciprocate. You put dedication into it and really bother with techniques. Hands-free and shallow and deeper and twisting and tongue work and rubbing the sweet spots underneath, everything. It’s the passion that counts the most though, and you have it. Charles can’t like it enough. You can suck his dick until it falls off like a 2020 Mercedes tire. Fuck, does he taste good. Champagne bottles do pop differently when they’re from Monaco.

He likes the more energetic style of fellatio even if he is otherwise quite the sensualist. Some timid licks won’t do here, nor does a languid double-handed twist. He stays true to his endurance motto. And you’re similar to him. You wanna eat him up, you’re eager to see him tremble. Plus, you’re aware he’s a wanted man. You want Charles all for yourself. His moans, his dick, his body, his smiling. Charles asked you to be possessive. This is one of your ways of showing it.

Charles is pretty vocal with his back against any horizontal surface stable enough. He wants both of you to have plenty of cushion support. He typically rests his hands on your shoulders, or loosely palms your hair. What’s interesting to you is that Charles has actually been pretty stingy with blowjobs in his past. This is something special to him. He wants the lips wrapped around his dick to also say loving, encouraging words to him in other situations. Charles wants to deeply like you rather than just wait until you put him in your mouth and he won’t care about the rest. That he’s okay with you giving him head says a lot about what Charles thinks about you.

Saved the best for last: Giving. At first — Charles is actually a bit insecure, but in a way that you can work with. What steps to do? Where to look? How to move? He prefers it when your hands guide his head and put some gentle pressure on it. Teach him all the spots and directions, teach him all your ways. Initially, you wonder why a person who slept with a gazillion people is so not confident with eating you out. But you realize, Charles always needs a little push. He wants to please you the way you want it with an immense exactitude. His mindlessly horny encounters were… less ceremonious, and as you saw, not that heavy on the oral component from both sides.

That stuff was like. Hop on my dick, I give you a hot lap. Let me heat that engine, big finish, chequered flag, let’s kiss, goodnight, it was very good. I’m flying to another continent in two hours, you were amazing. Charles wants a bit more indulgence and deliberation this time, and a more correct technique. Giving head to party girls was like: So here we have Charles Leclerc and his aimless tongue finding random spots, making superficial 8s, and it’s all under time pressure! Going down on a complete stranger and figuring it all out in a minute, and the same applies to a blowjob, that’s just weird as hell. Charles’ opinion is, you have to know what they like in detail.

He regrets not having put more effort and education into it back then. Although, and that’s obvious to you but not him, his former slut life was clearly facilitated by his already far above-average sex talent. But yes: Now he can make up for lost knowledge. Which are more like, mere finishing touches. He’s quite proactive to catch up. And as you know, Sharl is a bit of a social butterfly. After getting advice from the number one sex coach in town, things are wildly different. You’ll hear sentences like „just cum on my face sweetie ♡“ and immediately know it’s the voice of Sir Lewis Hamilton speaking through him. You’re not surprised that Charles asked Lewis out of all people to level up. After all: No surprise, eating pussy is completely vegan. Instead of meat, I eat veggies and y/n — Eurovision fans will get it.

But you also raise a little brow at Charles’ loose lips. He really did kiss and tell there, huh. You’ll make him sign an NDA if he continues to consult people who so happen to frequently chat with Sebastian #TheGossipMan Vettel. Who will then spill the tea at a press conference for the world to hear. Instead of Charles just researching on the plain ole Internet and calling it a day. Your boyfriend apologizes profusely and realizes just how fast this intel could spread. Regardless, you compliment him on his choice of expert and are sure that Lewis will not pass on the information lest he wants his avocado toast stolen.

Instead of learning complicated tongue swirls, Charles has an easier time when you just sit on that Orlando Bloom of Formula 1 face and just ride on. Like properly. On your knees, facing his feet. Charles’ feet are fucking top tier. Did I mention his feet are great? Elegant, beautiful, aesthetic. Like the man himself. And no worries. He preps his beard so you won’t get hurt. Charles is now confronted with your ass doing all the work, but his horse neck can handle it, zero doubts there. In other words: At the beginning, he’s better at being passive than active. Gotta make that mattress squeak. You can drive it home on that glorious face. That will enter his mind permanently, just like what you did to his sexy suit.

But then again, he won’t give up on improving himself. At dinner, Charles has recently confessed to having a lot of sexual fantasies where he sees himself in 3rd person, pleasing you with his tongue like a pro. He thinks it’s a shame his lips aren’t very big and plump, but he does his best, zealously, to stimulate the right spots. Sometimes, you need to urge him to concentrate, he’s really trying and trying everything at once. Charles enjoys the effort to lick you up well. If he loves someone, he likes to figure them out.

„I wish I was a natural“ is his constant motto. He really makes no excuse. No wonder, because you’re so delectable. Your labia are so tasty to suck on, and the dripping wetness in the middle is his undisputed favorite thing. No wonder you are Miss Éclair. People with a bump on their nose simply are the best pussy eaters. Sorry, I make the rules. Charles will ruin his face in the best way possible by swiping his nose base to tip, upwards, making you gasp out loud. Somebody is getting the hang of it. Just imagine feeling his lashes on the insides of your thighs. Lucky you, lucky you. And him doing the thumb-tongue combo. He really goes for the podium in your heart, does he. Instant win.

If you are the goddess of oral, Charles feels very inspired to be the matching god. Standards, baby. You hold him back from pushing himself, but it’s clear he is a gifted student at almost everything, as is typical of him. In other words: Learning curve. Charles has you heated up like the comment section of George’s topless pics when he talks that extra sultry, heavy fucking French. „Mon rêve, how do you feel?“ Goodbye, man. Good fucking bye. Charles will cater to your voice kink until you’ve cum twice in a row. He is really starting to play to his strength these days, keep that guy.

p = pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

To be enjoyed with care. Charles’ brain is imploding when the speed picks up, and he’s turning into a messy hoe. Mind that he’s extremely strong by virtue of his job — Charles doesn’t want to hurt you or himself by acting out. He’ll have to hold his body back to match you, but he’s okay with it. Subbing clearly helps with that, too. He’s not at the risk of doing something disproportionate when he’s tied down. Charles can control his physique really well, but he still wants to be safe, fearing his arms could crush or sweep you in a wrong direction by accident. As always, he is paranoid of mistakes. That’s why Charles is comfortable being on the receiving and passive end especially, and will rather use his muscles for simply looking good laying there (hell yeah), and enduring rather than going on to dole something out.

At a certain point, he loses his usual athletic coordination and just closes his eyes. He will peak in no time and cry out loud. A mid-range speed is always the best way to go. Anything that will match a sped-up breathing pattern. Charles thought going steady is not his thing, because he’s a racing driver. But he does feel proven wrong with time and embraces it. Which adds to his sensual style, and that’s fucking hot.

q = quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

How does one even find time and inspiration for that. In the high-paced circus shitshow that is Formula 1? Well, easy: Charles has driven the 2020 car. He knows what it’s like to slow down and create his own lane. A little sex on the side, absolutely his thing. Charles is a quickie enthusiast of the highest order. He doesn’t call it quickies, though. He always refers to it as `little fun´.

But it’s more than fun. He could make out with you all day, even if he turns delirious. Breakfast, lunch, dinner, night. For example, he fantasizes about standing behind you at the kitchen counter in the afternoon. With his shorts a little pulled down. You eat together while you’re feeling him from behind. And the whole thing becomes more and more passionate, and, and— The oven goes up in flames.

Charles’ fantasies are always interrupted by an element of demise, added to the fact that he is already terrifyingly booked on weekends and in the factory. Which is why he has a mentality of improvising quickies rather than modeling them after what goes on in his head. His eagerness tends to backfire there. On some days, Charles might not even manage to get out of his own trousers by virtue of his dick situation, fumbling around aimlessly while kissing. Uncoordinated Charles and the helping hand of his domme — a match made in heaven. Admit it: You baby Charles too much and you enjoy it. But really: He needs that bit of extra TLC. And he’s on all fours to repay you, he’s fair.

So. It’s you who’s guiding his hands. Charles hesitating or not knowing how to move sometimes doesn’t mean he wants to safeword. His insecurities don’t root in you. You’re out of that equation. He definitely wants to sleep with his mon amour, out of question. He just needs some minutes to catch up and switch into off-the-paddock mode. It all works best when you indulge his inner romantic rather than fucking like rabid beasts. Being tender and focusing on the waves of pleasure will grant you a much better 15 minutes of little fun in the kitchen — without the oven on. Charles is already hot enough, aye.

r = risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He’s the kind of sub that sees something on the Internet says „Oh my god! Who would do that!“ and proceeds to ask for doing it five minutes later. Jesus fucking Christ, Charles. „But I guess we can try it out!“ is his battle cry. Needless to say: He needs a wise and circumspect partner who at the same time is very open-minded and resolute. It’s a lot to ask, but his best partner is an all-rounder domme. A lady who knows how to lead, but also strokes his cheeks and gives due praise. That way, it works out considering Charles often changes his mind and wants to go more extreme, more immersed. Roleplay, and the like.

There’s a negative side that you noticed, though. Charles infuses a lot of it with personal topics that he normally pushes to the side. He really wants to act and feel like you hate him sometimes, giving him severe punishments, stepping on him a lot more brutally, hitting him in the face hard with no regard to the consequence, and talking to him from behind a callous emotional barrier. In short, really mistreating him.

You’re not 100% okay with that and actually tell him off. You feel like Charles will end up misusing this dynamic without even noticing. To castigate his conscience, to grant himself a proxy to express the buried feeling of being really beaten down. Since his self-hate has terrible effects, he believes someone else hating him could free him of it: But it has to be someone who actually likes him, so that the situation is not real. Roleplaying seems to look like Charles’ coping. You understand the point of relief through a fantasy, but you still don’t agree that his reasoning is healthy or in any way effective for his career.

Even if they appear like immovable mountains, you animate him to rather face those problems outside of bed. He clearly has the zeal, that’s absolutely obvious to you. Charles can’t fix what happened, but he can think about the present day. Getting a sexual punishment won’t really let him move on. Guess why he likes bondage so much: It mirrors his feelings of constriction (alongside the burden of being il predestinato) and gives him the relief of being unbound after a session. Real-life doesn’t unbind him, which is why he keeps wanting to do it in kink, symbolically, and he asks you to do it again and again.

Even if you really enjoy tying him up and roleplaying — these types of Dom/sub play consume enormous time already, and with Charles, it feels like an emergency remedy. You can see where this is going: BDSM ain’t therapy. Especially since he’s a sub who tends to be on the receiving end of some pretty intense practices, you explain to Charles that it’s better to pursue sexuality for physical and spontaneous mental pleasure. Rather than, say to compensate for a larger life crisis that weighs too heavy on him to confront outside of sex. Or so he believes. Easier said than done, but you want to point it out to be sure.

It’s a bitter truth to swallow. And a criticism often unheard of. But it’s part of safe-sane-consensual that a partner will slam the breaks on any deeper issues that creep up. Dominating him should be no all-purpose sugar pill. It should be leisure that so happens to bring some extra dopamine. And if somebody agrees that being light-hearted is a hundred times more beneficial than compensating into a bottomless pit, it’s Charles. Hands down. This guy knows what you’re really talking about. There’s a reason why he thinks back positively to his karting days since that environment was more cheerful, not as serious and quickly punishing as being among the best drivers in the whole world.

He’s gladly aware and won’t deny it, which makes the situation easier. Charles has well observed that he’s not the most unbothered person out there. Somebody who refuses to be conscious of that is simply nerve-wracking to deal with. That mentality can shatter relationships. You are relieved that Charles listens. He asks to think about the concern for a while because he sees the point.

Charles misses a lot of people who took care of him. So, he’s swinging to one extreme of accepting his abandonment by asking his partner to act highly dismissive and degradingly towards him. Or, the other end of the pendulum: Of wanting to be doted on nonstop, reassured he won’t be left alone. You thought about it, and it told you something extremely important. That Charles is largely clueless about balancing his need for an authority figure. He either wants full distance or too much love, all to mitigate his perpetual inner turmoil. It really is what it boils down to. And it must be extremely painful. You understand why he wants a quick fix and can’t find the golden mean.

That’s also the reason why he could and would not attach in his hook-up days. Because these people just wanted good dick from a smoking hot guy (understandable), and then they took off. Abandonment. People showed up for his body, an orgasm, and the brief experience of the famous Charles Leclerc, the celebrity him. And now he’s with you, permanently, and it’s suddenly an elaborate power dynamic where he is the actual submitting party. Being taught discipline, and having somebody stand above him. Do you finally see why Charles is so interested in you now?

It takes a week until he sorts himself out, and you don’t really have sex until then. The breakfast table glances are extremely loaded with thoughts. Charles feels guilty for things digging so deep where you should be having a blast and enjoying life, especially with the amount of money and travel opportunities at his disposal. Coming to terms with his burdens on your sex life and this risk for your connection is already half the path to go, though. He values that you confronted him and want to know what really drives his actions. To Charles, that’s a testament to caring and sincerity.

He returns to sleeping with you after clearly stating that he’ll try his best to focus on being more moderate. Although he also says he’s afraid he can’t eradicate his submissive side, and moreover, and most importantly, he really needs you. You’re taken aback since that’s not really been a question to you. In your eyes, he can take your respect for these things for granted. Charles needing you is okay, and his interest in freaky stuff is okay when it’s done for the right reasons. Wanting to look up to someone is not a bad thing. Nor are you going anywhere anytime soon.

You’re here to chill out on red flamingo floaties in the pool and goof off, and bond in the sheets with your petit beau. And Lord knows who doesn’t love a subby Charles. You just don’t want him to fall into a further downward spiral of loathing, anger, compulsion, or rapid mood swings because of his grief. You’re literally right there for him. Which unburdens him a lot when he hears that from you, although he realizes that it’s a given when he looks at how you behave. And you depend on Charles a lot, too. You want him, badly, you can no longer deny it to yourself.

Charles goes on to promise that he won’t expect you to heal his losses, or give him an excuse to open up solely through kink stuff. As, he puts it like this, some kind of cover-up. While at the same time neglecting your needs and not centering his attention around you. „It was too selfish of me even if I had my reasons. I was drawing too much energy from you. That can’t be justified.“

Knowing that he’s not the only one who likes sweet stuff, Charles frequents a top-class confectioner to get an expensive, personalized chocolate basket as an apology. There are all kinds of treats in there, in fantastical flavors. He buys it not for showing off, but to show you the meaning of wanting you to be satisfied, and reassured. He doesn’t want to use you as therapy, forget your side of the coin, or please himself only, just to alleviate what spins around in his mind as an issue that should not slowly undermine your love life.

His grief is important. But it should not disturb the affection you’re sharing, even make you despise or control each other, or cause wreckage. What he does want is for you to stick around and be his anchor, or someone he can learn from to some extent. That’s what he really desires. Well, at the end of the day, you did teach him something there already, further proving his point. So, you don’t really have to do anything to assure Charles. You’re doing it naturally.

s = stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

His abilities: Jawdropping. Charles is very invested in being able to go a lil’ longer than a meek two minutes. Charles is excited, but deliberating. He knows about the common irony that when he doesn’t focus on stamina, and just directs his pleasing to you, stamina is no longer a thing. Seeing a random homo sapiens naked does not send him into a wild frenzy. Charles has seen it all. He feels like that’s a plus, but also an obstacle.

You did notice that he is a bit desensitized, physically. His job is defined by pushing himself beyond all limits. He knows how to show his appreciation for you, but he’s also scarred by his former sex life which was endlessly repetitive. Being stuck in that rut kind of fried his brain, as do the constant fuckups in Ferrari’s racing strategy. Double whammy. There’s a reason why Charles wanted a permanent partner who had a different approach. What Charles dreams of is spicing it up with things he’s not done yet, conversations he’s not had yet, with somebody who’s the clever to match his stupid. Sapiosexual detected. „Ah, it’s like this? You’re a genius!“ — classic Charles phrase directed at you.

What’s not surprising and an advantage: He doesn’t really bother with picture-perfect appearances anymore. Someone being beautiful, extra-groomed and well-formed is amazing to him, but the result of having sex is always the same. Everybody wants a positive feeling out of it. The most otherworldly and rich sex partners he’s had were some of the most stress-laden personalities. Who had, pray tell, uncanny baggage in life and really suffered with no seeming way out. Copy-paste to Charles. Not so wholesome, and a natural relationship slash libido killer.

He’s aware of how jet set attractiveness is hard to create and maintain to begin with. Attractive people with by a thousand bees buzzing around them are just like him. Birds of a feather, a great spark at the beginning, common ground of popularity, but also twice the exact same issues combined. He already considers himself hard to date due to his fame, schedule, and a mountain of horrible things swirling around in his brain. A person who might look extraordinary but has as much pressure as he has? They’d barely hang out or find some opportunity for creating happiness. Dwelling on a deserving mentality, waiting for outside luck, doing chronic complaining, and overwork. Charles knows the drill. Even more detriments to stamina.

Double the extreme beauty in a couple might be common in his circles — doesn’t mean it’s beneficial. The paparazzi would tear the relationship apart, and Charles can’t just do his thing in peace from all the hype and envy. His partner’s looks will wind up irrelevant down the line. Only someone witty gets this guy off his phone, someone outrageous, a bon vivant who provokes him. Not a fellow celebrity who’s just clocking in for two minutes facetime, too busy making themselves presentable, smiling, posing, strutting around, pretending the world is happy and they are sexy, all that rotten phony Instagram delusion.

Chances are they have zero muse for talking passionately about racing or his mental health, and if they do listen for a second, it’s meant to gain approval points. Actually taking Charles’ circumstances to heart is more than just an `understanding´ hum on the phone. Imagine someone having that audacity and then going on to promote their own stuff online. In your words to him: Shrugging off your partner is a fucking insult. You have to get your hands dirty — in private — to really really show what you’re there for. Them. Not just yourself.

Charles doesn’t want to wait three hours until he can cuddle you. Every hair and lash in place, still insecure how you come across? Please no. His lifestyle does not allow for waiting. Everything has to be on the spot, and he wants a partner who has kick-ass swag five thousand. Not someone who caves as soon as Charles is struggling. They have to be strong! An iron will under the surface. He’s not Lewis finding time to fly to every fashion show within a radius of 24.901 miles aka the whole earth, nor a poker-faced Scandinavian driver with indestructible patience. Not to mention that he doesn’t want to peel you out of ten layers of whatever fabrics. Corsetry, tons of jewelry, complicated itchy hairstyles going all over the place and whatnot. Makeup caking in the heat of Bahrain, or sky-high shoes he can’t take you anywhere with for a getaway. Turn-off. Pragmatism is sexy.

PJ and athleisure: Just right. So comfy. And don’t say you’d rather go through all that dolling up forever rather than being in his arms right away. If you’re horny for Charles, you won’t postpone it. Everything else messes with your natural instinct. He gives zero fucks. Only being fresh out of the shower is a good idea, obviously. The same goes for the often sweat-drenched, stressed-out him. No double standards. Charles is a bubble bath hoe anyway, he smells like a rose garden. But yes — the guy’s not as superficial as his origin suggests. Which results in an interesting dynamic.

The psychological `glue´ between people is more impressive to Charles. He’s turned on by a person’s way of acting. He’s well-versed with body stuff. He’s in a contact sport, to understate it. On the other hand, if we’re talking D/s. Since he’s new to submitting, Charles is easily overstimulated. You can tell that he had lots of conventional sex that didn’t really target much of the body as a whole. BDSM, in a lot of disciplines, is a little more distinct and takes into account every nook and cranny. Which Charles is very enticed by. Imagine the effect of a single nipple clamp on this strong-ass Italian stallion.

Body endurance-wise, and that goes for the entire grid: High, of course. This guy’s job is doing a 2-hour Grand Prix almost every other week. Driving front of the grid, at immense speeds, with crazy focus. Steering and talking and drinking and pushing buttons and memorizing the track and racing the Top 10 and adhering (unfortunately) to strategy and… the list just goes on and on. Imagine the chemicals on fire inside this body. What an athlete.

So: Charles has the resilience. Sex is pretty easy on his circulation, it’s not a crazy cardio workout for him. He trains much harder stuff. Don’t mistake his lack of breaking a sweat fast for a lack of feeling, though. You’ll be able to sense it in his touch. I don’t have to tell you he’s courteous and affectionate and the cutest, you already know it. But also remember that Charles is careful to attach himself 100%, and not because he’s a player. This guy can’t even wink properly.

You know the reason why he’s hesitant to confide in somebody. And that his profession is an enormous hazard. He often has no clue whether to go the extra mile feeling-wise or not. If he does, that makes it so much harder to watch the race for you. If you can bring yourself to do that at all, after an especially spectacular night with him. It’s the price to pay. Keeping it lighthearted versus YOLO-ing the whole thing is the bane of your relationship. Charles wants to be emotionally available, but also no let-down or a tragic figure. You tell him, „Charles. That already shows you care so much.“ He’s loving regardless, no matter what he decides. He’s already invested, so why not go all the way and make it a relationship that lives life to the fullest?

Charles, knowing that entire emotional backdrop, gives the whole dynamic a touch of good friendship rather than aiming for Romeo and Juliet. And he doesn’t have to. Charles suffers from the invisible break on his romantic nature that wants to prepare you a candlelight dinner instead of doing an extra track walk. It’s the Sebastian Vettel effect: Either full power on the circuit, or full throttle at home: Choose one. The amount of times he asked another trusted driver about improving his thinking with those things, being vague enough about you but still desperately trying to find a solution, you would not believe it. Pierre has tried everything so Charles would not feel so conflicted.

Your boyfriend talks a lot to you about being in the mood for love and wishing he could pour rose petals to your feet every weekend when you woke up rather than being on the grid. But — if that’s not romantic in and of itself. Charles didn’t realize how words could be enough to tell you what he means. A thought can be priceless, much better than making something reality sometimes. Doesn’t mean a big candlelight dinners won’t take place when the season’s over. You are patient for Charles. That is also important stamina in relationships.

t = toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Aside from straps? The absolute minimalist. Not the type to ask being collared and put on a leash like a puppy: That’s Lando and Lewis territory. Charles is pretty reserved, he would not mass buy toys or experiment much. Anything that vibrates? Freaks him out. Your theory is that his phobia has to do with being a driver for Ferrari in particular. When something goes brrrrrrhh he automatically thinks he needs to box box immediately to get his car reconstructed from the ground up mid-race.

And whether that’s toys used on him or yourself, he’d also get a heart attack when the battery starts dying on him and the toy makes irregular noises. You know which ones I mean. As if it’s staggering. His driver mind goes like `Oh my god. The engine! What’s happening?!´ while you are already busy switching batteries like it’s no big deal. Anything that’s too high on the tech component and needs a whole-ass instruction manual makes Charles question his life choices. How would Charles spend his time stretching condoms over a Hitachi. That’s your thing, not the unsuspecting kitty’s. This man is far too traumatized by vibrating noises. So, please spare Charles of the toy mania unless you buy him a nipple pump for fun and plenty of laughter. Nipple stuff is fine. But nothing too fancy.

His blissful ignorance is amazing. He has no idea how a vibrating constriction ring works and what that even is. Charles can tell you what a Hockenheim Ring is, a Hungaro Ring, a Nürburg Ring, and a Red Bull Ring, but some super specific toys? He’s too confused and doesn’t want to find out. This dude has enough electronics to deal with on the regular. Like. Charles thinks anal beads are a home decoration. Okay, he’s not that naïve. But you get the point. In his mind, brrrrrrhh equals red alert.

Obviously, he doesn’t mind if you have your own little collection to masturbate by yourself, it’s just not his cup of tea to use as a couple. He also doesn’t like watching you in a weird way. He’s more likely to offer helping you himself, or he listens to some music in another room, or he’s gaming. He’s not gonna disturb you doing what you like doing. He might enjoy seeing you please yourself with your fingers, just laying there half relaxed half on edge, but even then, he can’t stop stroking your thighs. It’s either no contact or full contact.

In the same vein: Those sexy black harnesses you bought for him to try on make his dorito body tingle in the oddest ways. Tip: Mail them to the Mercedes and McLaren garage instead. It will be highly appreciated. Sir Lewis, Prince George, and Mister Ricciardo will slay the house down on their social media with those. Lando will use them um, privately. Charles, and this is very chic and extra of him, prefers a nice homemade rope harness that’s specifically crafted by you. It’s just more intimate and beautiful because it’s temporary.

You tie it in front of two mirrors so he can see what you do in the back and front, and you always see his face, too. He prefers the more complicated stuff rather than just beginner’s bondage. Shibari is right up his alley. So, if ropes count as toys rather than accessories or tools, then this is it, this is the one. And I mean. This is no surprise. At all. It’s the nature of the sport. Every Formula 1 driver has the strongest safety belts and trains their body with harnesses on strings, you know the ones. That crazy painful G-Force neck and shoulder workout. If that’s not high-end BDSM, I don’t know. The creepy torture machines F1 drivers have in their gyms? Gives any dominatrix a run for her money. And tell me what kind of utensil Charles uses to warm up? A jump rope. Bingo. He has such a thing for that stuff.

Ropes aside. If we’re talking classic masturbation helpers: Charles’ skeptical gaze says miss me with that Jurassic Park stuff. Because that’s what toys look like to him. Would never use even the most basic toy on himself if his life depended on it. He might be curious, but Charles thinks it’s really embarrassing and gross to clean it all up. He doesn’t have time for that. The same goes for using anything on you, he just thinks his hands and thighs do a better job than „creepy dinosaur toes and purple plastic snails“ as he puts it. What on earth does he mean by purple snails, what has he seen? He refuses to elaborate. It’s probably better that way.

Besides, and he is honest here. This sinnamon roll had so much Quali traffic in his early years before he got to the main GP in this relationship — and he notoriously masturbates like a jackhammer, careful Charles don’t hurt yourself — he needed no fleshlight ever. That all amounts to Sharlie being on the fence with toys. Except, and we summarize: For nip stuff and bondage supplies. See the positives: No extra cupboard needed. And: That Charles is not a big tech enthusiast speaks volumes of his confidence to make you climax.

By the way: He thought lube is a lame alibi, while spit or being extremely horny are the answers. Fair enough, you can spit on his dick or in his mouth any day of the week. Essential skill. And you have no problems getting the hots for Charles. We’re talking wetter than Monaco 2022, and it has really been pouring down there. Meanwhile, your approach is the exact opposite. Tops see the whole thing from a different perspective. You would literally bathe in lube with Charles, swim in it, and: Roll out the big bottle on him when his ass is about to get destroyed. He will thank you on his knees and realize the value of a good lubricant. Charles is soon returning from the groceries with new stock.

u = unfair (how much they like to tease)

He’s always the one who catches your eye by looking so good and tasty. Charles being so pretty and delicious really is a way of teasing. That logic cannot be argued with. But yes. You womanhandle the living shit out of him. Charles walking around with blue balls is the best thing ever. This shit will have him melting down because he tries to control himself so much. Which spurs him into even fiercer masturbation minutes later. You have some very sexy solo videos of him on your phone, with good lighting and sound quality.

Fairness as a whole? You do something good and caring for him, it goes on his mental list to make sure you feel reciprocated on the right occasion. Although he knows some people wouldn’t like that style of relationship, he sees a need for a certain back and forth. If you come home and give him the biggest hug ever, he will come home and give you the best back massage ever on the exact day where you feel tense. It’s not always reciprocating with the same thing, but with what’s appropriate.

I know: He’s the most blatant Libra ever. This man is ruled by Venus, baby. Mutual uplifting, he reveres his lady. Charles always nails the presents for you. As if his face was not the gift already, but that’s beside the point. He also creates proper quality time as often as he can, jet ski dates beloved. And there’s so much more, he never runs out of ideas. Charles’ thought process: „So many things to do with her!“

Amusement park rides at night, food buffets, motorboat cruises for two. Bowling. Pool billiards. Going to a swimming pool with artificial waves (so much fun). Baking you pizza with exquisite ingredients he bought with great care. Going to a top-class barber together. And the like. All presented to you with a wink. Not boring stuff like golfing — ugh — and blah, although he does flex his legs and silhouette there so props to that. If we’re talking fairness, he’s always more than that. Cash can’t buy love, but it can embellish it by making memories when it’s already there. Charles is using his money wisely.

This man rolls out the red carpet under your feet or throws himself into the puddle you walk across — and he is the celebrity. Let that sink in. Charles is fucking humble. Rather than thinking of himself as a walking piggy bank, a reason he won’t disclose is that he’s aware how his good pay when there’s a good reserve and you have that privileged opportunity, needs to be used for the present moment to do what it’s supposed to do. He has an actual reason to consider that there might be nobody who could eat a big pasta plate with you anymore by tomorrow. Carpe diem, baby.

v = volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Medium volume. At first. Guy doesn’t even know he can and will go much louder when it comes to… some type of pain play. Before he has to show up in the adjacent hotel rooms to go „Um excusez-moi“, it’s all constricted to your personal estates. So, he screams his lungs out at home for the most part („Oh, my ass—!“), and just breathes really hard everywhere else. Charles is any dom’s wet dream when he gets loud and responsive, and really creative with his expression. Makes you wanna say, good job, baby. He’s such a talker, too. Even mouth gags cannot stop him. And, as before. He is pleasant in every facet, so Charles’ sexy time noises are no different. Especially when he receives praise. Oh my goodness me. The praise kink is real. He will cum in five seconds if the compliment hits right.

w = wild card (a random headcanon for the person)

Your first time meeting? How else could it be, just days before a Grand Prix. And which GP? You guessed it. Miami. You got a free paddock pass for being an influencer and bumped into Charles at the fake marina just minutes before Free Practice: In your super skimpy bikini. And then you just made out with him after the race. Party in the city when the heat is on— No I’m just kidding. Of course you met in Monaco.

Alerted by some very strange noise outside, you scooped up this wet poodle of misery with your bare hands. From a random edgy premise at 4 AM, an empty low-rise socialite building you sort of lived next to. He crashed at this place after an unhinged party and really didn’t know why. A hungry as hell Charles floated in the water with swollen eyes, making the pool close to overflow with his tears. He was actually about to open an XXL flask of absinthe he got from a house bar to top it off. Yeah, fuck.

You were like, what’s going on there! You went down, squatted at the pool and said, put this bottle of poison away and come out, you need something to eat, man. Just because you can cleanse a wound with that liquid doesn’t mean it works on your soul. Thank God this house is vacant because I think you’re trespassing. And Charles went „oh mon Dieu I’m such a loser I’m the worst“ and you were like „no you’re just naked in cold water, let’s go upstairs“. And Charles was like „okay“ and reluctantly put the alcohol aside, even he didn’t have an idea where and who he was anymore at that point. Hell, he was already extremely drunk. You gave him your jacket to cover up down below, then helped him climb nothing short of 80 stairs with wet feet.

An XXL American-style deep-frozen pizza with extra pineapple later (to shock his Italian brain back to reality), Charles was rambling and rambling. With a mere towel around his hips, saying „guess I just give up and see what happens“. Eventually collapsing on the table face down, Charles ended up dragged into your bed. 69 kilogram and his legs were still on autopilot, so that was doable. Your couch was nice and comfy so you moved there after checking if you had anything toxic that Charles could drink in your flat while sleepwalking or waking up earlier than you. Just to be sure.

Months later, Charles said he thanks you for „not taking advantage“ of him then and there. It would have been easy to just take off the towel, or just do whatever thing with him. You say man, what the fuck Charles. You were a sobbing mess. This guy has really been surrounded by psychopaths, leeches, betrayers, and manipulators everywhere. Hell, Charles almost forgot his own name from all that crying. He needed a damn shelter, bed, and something warm to drink.

Back there, you felt like Edna Mode from the Incredibles giving her big speech on how to stand up and fight. You wound up driving Charles to the track the next day after getting hangover sushi for lunch. He asked for your number, and you said Charles, I work right here in the paddock. You’ll see me walk around, now eat this chocolate bar and put your chest out walking with pride. He said what, are you a good Samaritan, and you said no I just move some Formula 2 Pirellis around. Now get to work, there’s a title to win! Veni, vidi, vici! And off he goes.

So you just kept on rolling stuff around as always and saw Charles’ helmet turning whenever he passed you. You did wave at each other. Later in the afternoon, you saw the Ferrari team, soulless faces all around, in shambles during a routine stop. You came along and grumbled, why is everything so uncoordinated and untidy here. Step aside horse hoes, I will rearrange your tires, this is a safety hazard. The team said who the hell are you and Charles said wait she’s my friend. Okay so that’s how you’re rolling and rearranging things around for Ferrari, including Charles’ baby step confidence, but it’s not like he didn’t need it. Your logic is simple:

His iconic booty is already racing around at 300 kilometers per hour. In an oddly-shaped circle. He can steppy step on some pedestals and steery steer this little expensive computer wheel. He has sexy balaclava lines, great feet, and nice eyebrows. How could someone not win a championship like that. He just needs a team that can roll the tires correctly at the right point in time, that’s all. Bewildered, the Scuderia tells you mamma mia there is so much more to it, like what about this and that DRS issue and other teams and— but you insist, no folks. Stick to the basics first.

Busted suspension? Who the hell cares, duct tape is a thing, takes a good mechanic three seconds. Charles is just as fast regardless! He doesn’t even need the car, the car needs him. Corroded engine? Duct tape again. Rival teams are acting shady? Nobody cares! Just check if you have enough duct tape with you! Gotta focus on one damn goal! Just let Charles be good-looking and press some buttons and everything will be alright. Blend out the others, he should just be careful not to hurt himself or someone else. Just drive round and round and get tires when you think you need `em. That’s it. The motto has stuck with him since, actually.

Charles qualified third and won on Sunday. Big party, spell break celebrations, everything. He was crying right in front of you again. You agreed to meet for pizza without pineapple the next day. At your’s, because it’s cozier. This time, Charles — without a hangover — brought the pizza along and it was perfectly soppy in the middle, with crisp edges like his jawline, oh duh. Guess who was the happiest man on earth and got a little kiss on the nose goodbye.

Charles stumbled into the new race week a little love drunk which some mechanics noticed, but they were also too busy rolling around the tires the way you told them to. Since Charles suggested you travel to the next GP instead of working in F2, you packed your stuff and did as you always did next Sunday in Baku. Charles followed the exact guidelines and just sat there looking good, steering his Sharliemobile in a circle, the whole shebang, and earned P2. The curse truly was dissolved by the power of pineapple on pizza. It was like a reset for his neurons.

Charles had a new philosophy. Rule #1, if he made a mistake, he just shrugged and pressed another button. On it went, there was always another chance to slay. Rule #2, if somebody wronged him, he was unfazed, too fast to linger. After all, racing was nothing more than a hobby, and he knew what he was doing. The more Scandinavian the approach, the better. Charles didn’t need rehab or new team staff. He needed some Hygge in his life. On track, and with a partner. Ease in his body, ease in his mind.

Five weeks later, Charles asked if you could be his girlfriend because he had one big fat crush on you.

x = x-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Look at my horse, my horse is amazing. So we’re talking car equipment of the number one Monégasque Megawhore (trademarked). Now this Ferrari doesn’t have an engine failure nor faulty smokin’ breaks, believe me. And I mean. Look at this lil’ freak. His way of walking is the weirdest way of human movement. Charles’ shorts are always sitting suspiciously low. He constantly tweaks and pinches at his racing suit, it’s so painfully tight. Somebody save him.

He’s literally wearing swim trunks that say ICONIC on them, in bright neon so everyone will know and the competition can sashay away. Charles also has to spread his legs sluttishly wide when he sits down not to get super uncomfy. Come on man, pick up some loose trousers and close your legs instead of wearing fabric that holds everything in place and— Oh. Hum, what could that mean. Not one clue. But science tells. How on earth could he have had a rendezvous with every possible single his age if Charles had no one-size-fits-all dick. Seriously. It really has a bit of everything. An enviable universal appeal.

Very slight upward curve, but it’s well-aligned. No slant to the side. Mister Charles Leclerc junior stays off the track limits, baby. A proper tip, but it’s not disturbingly formed. Some sleek thickness to it, but he’s not too heavy nor just — awkwardly flops around. Yikes. Nothing like that here. He’s not really huge, and he’s not really small. Because he’s Charles, he has lied about his inches total, but that doesn’t detract from the fact that he’s nice and meaty the way he is. You’re particular about this, but you like your hand wrapped around him. Charles holds his breath when you do that. He’s just on edge, don’t make fun of him.

He’s not too flexible either, but also not one thrust away from his dick breaking in half. Doesn’t look cut, but he’s also not uncut. Not veiny, but it’s also flushed and light. Yes, I know — It’s still hard to picture it. So let’s just say it looks very good like everything on his man. No big news. You’ll make it clear to him, nothing to be insecure about. After all these phone numbers he got, Charles is still not happy and finds flaws? Damn. To raise his esteem, what do you do? Well, not what has failed to lift his esteem in the past: More sex. Instead, you’re doodling cute NSFW caricatures into his burn book to make him laugh. Laughing is the best medicine. Who knew silly drawings could make him feel better about himself, but it works.

And last but not least. Pubic hair. Of course, as dark as his legendary eyebrows. It’s the Italiano in him, va bene. Even a close shave will not get rid of the shadow underneath the skin. It’s not too messy, not too stubbly. All in all, class act.

y = yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Charles is on fire. Boy started wilding topless since the year began. If the season is shit, he can at least be down bad. By the sheer power of languages, Charles has French, Spanish, and Italian style libido combined. He could not keep this up without an equally horny partner. They need to have an obsessive craving for his body. Your guy does not leave the house without condoms. He is ready anytime there is relative privacy, and you are dying to rip his pants down. Charles gets hard pretty fast.

What kills his yearning is a bad day at work, and that has consequences. Seeing Charles struggle has the same effect on you. It doesn’t comfort either of you to just postpone your vexation and replace it with an orgasm. Nor is it a good idea to fuck Charles if his body had to deal with the enormous impact of thudding against a track wall. When he is worn out and depressed, it’s no good to milk him for attention or pleasure. Fatigue is extremely tough to alleviate with sex, whether that be vanilla or not. Charles has no other solution for that than time. You feel for him when he’s retiring the car or missing crucial points. In fact, you cannot comprehend how Charles can bear this inhumane level of constant misfortune and mishandling of his career.

In the same vein, and exactly because Charles cannot stand you looking as ruffled as him, your boyfriend caters to your every need when you have cramps and feel no libido at all. When you feel sick, this stuff is constantly in his head. He thinks, she must feel so uneasy. Or, I hope I wasn’t too loud in the morning making breakfast. Recently, Pierre has given Charles an instructive TED talk on how to mend cramps and body aches. So that advice will be in action, although Charles has to text Pierre to repeat bits and pieces sometimes. „Je suis désolé. My brain is a sieve.“

Charles adds his own touch by cheering you up with his prettiness (very effective) and cuddly body heat, which is the perfect mix. During those days, he seems to be obsessed with peppering your head with countless kisses, and you actually switch positions for once, he big-spoons you. So his hands can go rub rub and say „sorry that you are hurt, mon coeur“. Charles can’t stop kissing and kissing and putting his face in your hair, too. He’s touchier than usual without even being conscious of it, and he doesn’t celebrate a pole for longer than an hour when you’re at a hotel, tucked into bed nauseous.

You didn’t expect him to hurry back to the place you’re staying at, but it’s a pleasant surprise. He brought a ton of your favorite snacks from the groceries. Bébé spent a fucking fortune. Big ass sandwich, pastries, choco cake, muffins, that one ramen that just never fails to taste amazing, tangy cookies, a mango, paprika crisps, brioche, croissants, and strawberries. Express pain killers and pads your size on top. Boom.

Could he be a better boyfriend? Except for the fruit, he can’t eat any of it because of his diet, but he’s happy to see you eat. He admits it… since Charles doesn’t want to cheat his food plan too much, he lives vicariously through you a little there. You can literally pick from the whole store and stock up without going there. Charles, you legend. He’s so nonchalant about it and just goes to order you some tea from the hotel kitchen, serving it like a butler at the bed. You are the queen of Monaco. Charles also calls you a cute little hamster, though. Hamster mom to be exact, and he is hamster papa, fluffy as he is with that hair.

His recent specialty is helping you shower, picture this pup with a big ole sponge asking „is this okay“ every other second. He genuinely helps. Sometimes, it makes your heart sink that Charles extends more endless concern towards your painful days than toward himself, and you do tell him that. Charles realizes that he could inspire himself from the acts of service he does for you because some driver self-care never hurt anyone. It’s okay to eat a little snack for the soul every now and then.

z = zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

Before sex, he tends to keep himself awake and ready by doing some light exercises. Warms up his muscles, warms up his torso, which gives off a snuggly heat when you make love. His favorite time of the day to have sex is in the evening. After all that hustle and bustle is long faded, he’s slacking off, he’s showered and shaved again. Only so many hours in a race week — Charles can enter the twilight zone in ten minutes after. Until then, you make sure everything’s cleaned up and dressed up and wound down and switched off. It all follows a certain regimen.

Sleep becomes extremely valuable when you’re on the move. You are 24/7 adventurers and travel enthusiasts, dwelling at a new quay every week to watch the water. Charles and you always look for interesting protected places to go. Charles has his arm across your shoulders often because he is just so huggy. You sometimes fall asleep in a different country than where you wake up, the jet lag is real here. Which also means, you don’t just go all night and forget the rest of the day. Resting as a couple is your number one hobby more than you assumed. It's good to chill with your honey to recharge. The best place to sleep is on your bébé’s chest to hear and feel him breathe.

Charles can’t sleep without you laying down on top of him. More often than not, he gets pretty bizarre dreams otherwise. If you can call it dreams. All kinds of unsolicited graphic nightmares, and that’s a far better description, can drive him into a 4 AM scare, and a gut-wrenching discomfort until he rolls over to you, gladly thinking „everything’s fine, everything still there as it always is“. He often plays with your hair in his sleep to calm himself down. You do the same, he tells you, when you’re the one being exhausted. Who can blame ya. Charles Leclerc… Sleeping beauty right there. Caressing each other is a natural antidote to a bad night.

read charles a-z on ao3

✿ FINAL NOTE. ⇢ i just wanted to post something sexy and instead i’ve been writing and crying my heart out 😔 thanks for reading, i hope this hit home and made y’all laugh. look at my horse, my horse is amazing 🙌 reblogs and esp comments always welcome 💞

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