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headkiss · 5 months

Text

something more

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!bau!reader

summary: you and aaron are friends with feelings more obvious than you think. or: 5 times the team suspects you and hotch are dating +1 time they know it.

word count: 6.6k

warnings: friends to lovers, the team being a little nosy, pining idiots!!!, probably inaccurate descriptions of bau jobs (for the plot!), a very small injury, a birthday, a first kiss, and fluff!

a/n: hiii this one has been a long time coming so thank you guys for being so patient with me!!! and special thanks to the anon who requested this one! i hope u guys enjoy it and please please let me know what you think <3 ily

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Aaron Hotchner was never someone you thought you could be this close to.

Coming to the BAU, you’d been intimidated more than anything. As Unit Chief, he’s got a reputation that’s hard to ignore. Professional, brave, cold when he has to be. His success and talent were undeniable, and all you wanted to do was prove that you belonged there, too.

Then, you really met him, and he surprised you in a way you hadn’t expected. Hotch was kind right off the bat, welcoming you to the team with a smile that felt like some sort of prize.

He was an excellent boss. Understanding and protective, quick to defend anyone on the team like they were his own family. Except, he was so much more than just your boss.

Now, you’d call him your closest friend, someone who’s number you’d call if you were in trouble. He’s your closest friend and yet you feel so much more for him.

It started slow, a friendship blooming the way a plant does with just enough sunlight. It was a shared smile here, a nudge of the shoulder there. It grew to be a seat next to him reserved for you on every plane ride.

Today, it’s eating lunch with him in his office.

Aaron usually works through lunch, more eager to get things done than he is to worry about skipping a meal. Somehow, with two tupperware containers in your hand and a sweet smile, you’d managed to get him to take a break.

“Whatcha doing?” You’d asked.

Hotch looked up from his paperwork then, dropping his pen because you were in his doorway. “You know, Unit Chief business. Reports.”

“Sounds like you have time for lunch, then.” You set the containers down on his desk, making sure to avoid the papers he’d just been working on.

“I should really get this done-”

“Hotch,” you stopped him, “you and I both know that you’re always ahead on this stuff because you stay here so late. Lunch won’t set you back.”

With a shake of his head and the biting back of a smile, a simple twitch at the corners of his mouth, Aaron agreed and stacked his paperwork off to the side.

That’s how you’ve ended up in the chair that’s usually on the opposite side of his desk, only now it’s tugged to be next to his. Your knees touch every so often when one of you shifts, and the warmth stays with you even when the contact is gone.

“Sorry it’s nothing fancy,” you say as he opens the container you brought for him.

“Don’t apologize. It’s great.” Hotch has a way of saying things that make them sound true, no matter how few words he uses, so you accept it.

“Okay, good!” There’s a small silence, a lull as you both take your first bites. “Can I help with anything?”

Aaron looks from the paperwork to your face, your eyes already on his. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to,” you reassure him. “I think sometimes you forget that you aren’t the only one who can do this stuff.”

He knocks his knee against yours. Purposeful this time. A silent ‘thank you.’

“Like you said, I’m ahead anyways. I’ve got it.”

“Come on, Hotch. I’m already done with my report from our last case. I’ve got time. Let me help.”

He’s always been reluctant to accept help, to ask for it, but when you’re asking so sweetly, when it’ll give him an excuse to spend more time with you, it’s hard for Aaron to say no.

“Alright. You help for an hour, that’s it.”

You grin at him, like his acceptance of your offer was some kind of gift he’d given you. Your nose crinkles a little with it, and his hand flexes in his lap, like he’s fighting not to reach out to you.

“Okay, put me to work, boss.”

“We just started lunch,” he says, a little chuckle puffing out.

“Have you ever heard of multitasking, Agent Hotchner?”

Aaron laughs, shaking his head as he reaches for one of the files in the stack he’d made and hands it to you. He’d call everyone at the BAU a friend, but there’s something different, something more about how he’d describe you.

He’s grown closer to you than he usually lets himself get to people, like you’re the only one with the right tools to break through walls he’s put up. You see each other outside of work (on the rare days you aren’t working), and still, he feels like it’s never long enough.

Hotch briefly wonders if he could just move your desk into his office. He shakes off the thought and what it might mean.

Head bent, you’re now focused on the work he gave you, and Aaron takes the chance to admire you. His eyes flick over your profile, the light hitting your cheeks, the flutter of your eyelashes every time you blink.

As if you could feel his gaze on you, you turn towards him and smile—a small, closed-mouth smile, but a smile all the same—before turning your attention back to the page.

When you take a pause and take another bite of your lunch, a small drop of sauce lands on your thigh. “Oh, shit.”

Aaron grabs a tissue from the box on his desk, wrapping it over his fingertip before wiping the small spot from your leg, his finger a spark against you even through your pants.

“Good thing you wore black,” he says, tossing the tissue in the garbage. His hand, however, stays on your leg, and though the touch is light the weight of it feels the opposite. Heavy, huge.

“Good thing you’re here to clean up after me, more like.”

Your eyes meet, and you share a smile with Hotch the way you often do. Mid-conversation, across a room, it’s a smile you sort of reserve for each other.

In the main office below, Derek, Spencer, and JJ stand together, watching the interaction through the window into Hotch’s office. You and Aaron seem to be in your own bubble, completely unaware of your small audience.

“They’ve gotta be together,” Derek is the first to speak, waving a hand towards the office where you and Hotch are talking. “I mean, come on.”

“I don’t know,” JJ shrugs, “they both seem kinda clueless.”

“We probably shouldn’t speculate about them,” Spencer, always the sweetheart, says. “But, statistically, Hotch never eats lunch. Just saying.”

JJ pats Reid on the shoulder, huffing out a laugh before she heads back to her desk.

You stay in Aaron’s office much longer than an hour that day.

Punctuality is important in the BAU. Really, if you’re not early, you’re late. You’ve always got to be ready, wheels up in ten, or five.

You suppose that doesn’t really apply to outside-of-the-office parties at Garcia’s.

It’s rare that you’re all available at the same time, from late nights at the bureau to families, it’s tough to make your schedules line up when you aren’t working, which is why whenever she can, Penelope likes to host drinks for the team.

You’re on your way there now, or, you should be. Instead, you’re getting ready in your bedroom while Aaron waits in your living room.

Hotch has offered to drive you to these things every time, and with every offer, comes your easy answer of ‘yes.’ He’d been outside in his car for five minutes before he decided to call, because you’re usually in his passenger seat within seconds of him pulling over by your building.

The ringing of your phone had your eyes blinking open, squinted against the sudden brightness of your TV. You’d accidentally fallen asleep, and, still disoriented, picked up the phone. “Hello?”

“Hey, everything okay?” It’s Aaron’s voice on the other line, and you pull your phone away for a second to check the time before sitting up quickly.

“Shit, Hotch, I must’ve fallen asleep. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright, I can wait for you.” He’d wait as long as you need, he thinks. The thought passes through like a leaf blown in the wind, freely, randomly.

“Have you been waiting long?” You ask, fingers tugging at a loose thread in your pants.

“No, don’t worry. Barely five minutes.”

And he still wanted to check on you.

“Why don’t you come in? My couch is probably more comfortable than your car, right?”

“You sure?” He checks, like he hasn’t been to your place before, like you’d ever not want him there.

“Get in here, Hotchner.”

You hung up before he could reply, and he laughed to himself in his car before shutting it off and doing exactly what you’d told him.

So, now, you’re rushing to find an outfit while Aaron sits on your couch by himself.

Even though he’s in the next room, you can feel his presence around you, the steady security he gives you, the warmth that seeps out of him even when he tries to hide it.

You settle on a knitted sweater, a skirt, and some tights, which you realize as you tug them on aren't the speediest of options, but it’s too late to change your mind now. With your hair figured out and the mascara that had smudged during your nap fixed, you step back out into the living room.

Aaron made himself at home while you were gone (he often feels that way with you, at home), sitting on your couch with his arms spread across the back. He looks better than he should there, suit stretched across his shoulders, and you have to clear your throat to snap yourself out of it.

“Okay, sorry again for the delay. I’m ready to go.”

He looks up as soon as you walk in, eyes skimming over your legs and the tights wrapped around them, your waist, up your neck. His gaze lands on your eyes the way it often does, like magnets.

He shakes his head, “don’t be sorry. We’ll be what they call ‘fashionably late.’”

You laugh, because who would’ve thought that the words ‘fashionably late’ would ever come out of Aaron Hotchner’s mouth.

“Who taught you that one, huh?”

“I like to keep my sources anonymous.”

“Well okay, then. Let’s go be fashionably late, Hotch.”

He lets you lead the way to the car, only jogging up ahead to open your door before you can reach it yourself.

During the drive to Penelope’s, you take control of the music with little objection from Aaron, and when it gets to a song you know he likes, you sing along, encouraging him to do the same.

“Let’s hear it, Agent Hotchner.” You hold your fist out like there’s a microphone in it, looking at him with a grin on your face.

“I can't sing.” Aaron’s fighting off a smile, because you’re sitting beside him, not too shy to sing along, being all cute and, briefly, he thinks about reaching out and grabbing your hand and holding on.

“Sure you can! Everyone can sing, come on.” You unfurl your faux microphone-holding fist and tug on the knot of his tie, “loosen up a little.”

And, because you have some way of convincing him of things—first lunch, now this—he humors you by joining in for one chorus of the song. When your eyes light up a little, and your grin only widens, he can’t bring himself to be too concerned of how bad he probably sounds.

By the time you’re at Garcia’s door you’re a solid hour late, yet you and Aaron walk up to the door with matching smiles all the same.

“I’m getting you to do that every time I hear that song now, I hope you know.”

“That was a one time special,” he says. He reaches over your shoulder to knock on the door. His hand brushes against you, featherlight and quick, a crackle over your skin.

On the other side, Morgan says, “must be the lovebirds” when he hears the sound.

You and Aaron don’t hear him, only broken out of your little shared bubble when Penelope opens the door. “There you guys are! I made your drinks but the ice might be melted by now. You know, ‘cause you’re late.”

You know this is directed towards you more than it is Hotch, because Garcia’s a little intimidated by him still. You also know she’s only joking, and greet her with a hug before stepping in.

Aaron isn’t far behind you, though at these things, he never is.

You’re met with warm greetings from the team when you walk in, and you chat for a bit, but it isn’t long before things split off into smaller conversations. They all know that Aaron drives you to these things, and, as profilers, they’re also all able to see the way you look at each other, the way the knot of his tie sits lower than usual.

In the corner, Emily leans over to Derek, saying, “usually it takes at least two drinks for Hotch’s tie to look like that.”

“I told you, they’re together,” Derek shrugs.

“I don’t think they know that,” Emily replies.

This time, Aaron hears them, and he can’t help but look towards you in the room the rest of the night, thinking and thinking and thinking.

He ends up deciding that they might have a point. That maybe, that shift in his heartbeat when you’re around isn’t nothing, isn’t just friends.

The flight home from a case always feels the longest.

On the way there, you’re packing every hour with information about what’s going on, talking to Garcia, reading police reports. You’re all on edge, eager to get out there and help and do your jobs,

Then, on the way home, with another case solved, all you’re thinking about is going home, sleeping in your own bed, and time seems to go slower.

If your name happens to be Aaron Hotchner, you’d spend the plane ride home doing paperwork that actually can wait.

You and Aaron sit next to each other on pretty much every flight, though the seats have never been assigned. It’s an unspoken thing, like your names are written on the fabric of the same two seats on the jet and that’s just the way it is.

The first time was early on in your time on the team. It was a tough case for you, and Hotch seemed to know it without you having to say anything, so, when you got on the jet to come home, he smiled that small, twitch of his lips smile at you and nodded at the seat next to him. You’ve been sitting there ever since.

Today, your flight is on the shorter side, but feels long the way it always does. Trying to keep yourself occupied, you pull out your earbuds and shuffle your playlist, hoping that the songs will speed things up.

“Sick of me already?” Hotch speaks up when he notices your headphones.

You tilt your head to look at him. He looks tired, the way you’re sure you do, too, but never any less handsome. His eyes are soft where they meet yours, paired with a hint of a smile that you’re always able to catch.

“Sick of you, Hotch? Never.” You nod at the file he has open on the small table, “just didn’t want to distract you.”

“I thought you enjoyed distracting me. Always telling me I work too much.”

“‘Cause it’s true,” you say. “That doesn’t mean you listen.”

“I listen to you more than I listen to most people.” Aaron’s voice is gentle when he says it, the words sinking in and melting you just a little, sugary sweet. It could mean absolutely nothing, but with the way he keeps his eyes steady on yours, you don’t think it does.

“Listen to this, then,” you hand him one of your earbuds, and his fingers brush yours when he takes it from you. “But you can’t make fun of me if a musical soundtrack comes on, okay?”

“Okay,” he huffs a small laugh, and you feel a little brighter. “I promise.”

You’re aware of the team having their own conversations in the rows in front of you and Hotch, but you can’t bring yourself to join in, because you and Aaron are sharing your earbuds and his head is bent just a little closer to yours. It’s delicate, and you’ll do your best not to break it.

You talk a little longer, until it naturally fizzles out and Hotch is back to working on his files and you’re bobbing your head along to your songs. Only now, Aaron sits closer to you, his arm against yours.

He’s not sure what to do with his newfound realization that his feelings for you run far deeper than friendship. All Aaron knows is that he likes the feeling of you beside him, and that he’s planning on keeping you there as long as you’ll let him.

It’s quiet between the two of you aside from your occasional ‘this is a good one,’ and his hum of acknowledgement.

Eventually, you’re relaxed enough that your eyes grow heavy, the sleep you’ve been lacking suddenly catching up to you, and when you hit a patch of slower songs you’re fighting to stay awake.

When your head lulls onto Hotch’s shoulder, you jerk your head up, “sorry, Aaron.”

His chest does something funny. A jump. It’s not often you call him Aaron, and he’d listen to the sound of his name on your lips on a loop if he could. Because he can’t help himself, he scooches himself even closer to you.

He decides to call you something different, too, saying, “it’s alright, honey.”

You’re too sleepy to really read into that one, all you feel is the flutter in your stomach and Aaron’s hand on your head, gently guiding it to his shoulder.

When he’s sure you’re asleep, Hotch looks away from his files and over to you. Your cheek is squished against his shoulder, your lashes fanned shut. He thinks you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen.

Aaron doesn’t even feel the smile that spreads over his face as he reaches up and pushes your hair away from your face. He’s completely unaware of the eyes that catch him, far too focused on you.

Emily turned around when she realized she hadn’t heard your voice in a bit, and she did it just in time to catch Hotch’s movement. Instead of saying something, she turns back around and shakes her head to herself.

Hopeless, she thinks.

Sleep doesn’t come so easily with this job, with the things you see, so Aaron can’t help but try and stay steady for you, and if that leads to him letting his eyes close and resting his head on yours, then so be it.

It’s not until the end of the flight that the team checks on the two of you. As everyone stands and grabs their go bags, they notice the two of you, asleep next to each other, earbud wires hanging between you.

“Should we wake them up?” JJ asks.

“Hotch doesn’t get enough sleep as it is,” Spencer chimes in. “Neither does she, actually.”

Of course, Derek finishes with, “let’s leave the lovebirds to it,” before the team gets off the plane.

It’s only about twenty minutes later that Aaron does wake up, but he feels more well-rested than he has in a while, even with the kink in his neck.

Blinking his eyes open, he’s met with an empty jet and the comforting weight of your head on his shoulder. “Shit,” he sighs.

He debates waking you, ultimately deciding that you’d probably rather sleep in your bed rather than the seat of the BAU’s jet. Reaching up, he pulls your earbuds away, setting them on the table. With a brush of his fingertips to your cheek, he coaxed you awake.

“Hey, honey,” Aaron’s nearly whispering, like he’s afraid to scare you. Or, maybe, he’s convinced that if he moves too quickly, too loudly, this whole thing will fade away as if he’d been dreaming. “Wake up, we’re home.”

“Hm?” You grumble, scrunching your nose when he brushes your cheek again.

“We fell asleep, but we landed.”

“Oh, god.” You sit up properly, lifting your head. “I’m sorry, Aaron. Hotch.”

“Aaron is good,” he eases you. “Come on, I’ll drive you.”

Sleep-hazed, or maybe just happy that he can be Aaron to you, you agree easily and take his hand when he offers it, letting him lead you to his car.

You’ve been spending more time at Aaron’s ever since that flight. In the car, he’d convinced you to stay over at his place in the guest room, since it was closer. With your go bag already in his car and heavy, sleepy eyes, it was hard for you to do anything but agree.

It’s another slice of his life that he’s let you see, and you can’t help but feel like it means something, like you’re stepping further and further away from being coworkers who are friends and towards something different. Something more.

That flight feels like the catalyst, the thing that caused things to shift into what they are now.

Aaron’s couch is much more comfortable than yours, and though you’ve yet to spend the night again, you’re sitting there with him at almost every chance. The time off you get is rare, and Aaron wanting to spend it with you sends flutters to your stomach whenever you think about it.

You feel like you know him better, getting to see his space, how he chose to decorate, what colors he likes, which ones he doesn’t. You also know what temperature he likes to set his thermostat.

“Do you enjoy living in a refrigerator?” You ask, hands tucked into your sleeves. “Just wondering.”

Aaron laughs, a small huff, “I think you just run cold, honey.”

He’s been calling you that a lot, too. Honey.

“No way, Hotchner. Your house is what runs cold. Or maybe you’re cold-blooded.”

Not with you, he thinks. Years and years of doing what he does, Hotch might even call himself cold when he’s thinking a little too hard. But never cold with you. He thinks that might be impossible for him.

“Shhh, don’t tell anyone my secret,” he says, his arm brushing against yours from where he sits next to you on his couch. “Where are you cold?”

“Can’t feel my toes, Aaron. I might be out of commission for the next case.”

“Well we can’t lose our best girl, can we?” Best girl, he says. Like he means it, like it’s simple. “I’ve got some thick socks you can grab. Bottom drawer.”

Just like that, he’s cracked another wall of his down even further, giving you permission to go into his bedroom as if you’ve been in there a thousand times.

“Really?”

“Unless you’d rather not feel your toes-“

“Okay, okay,” you stop him, unable to fight your smile. “Thanks, Aaron.”

When you stand and head towards his room, Aaron can’t stop himself from thinking that you belong there, in his home, his room, his life. You fit in so seamlessly he wishes you’d never leave.

He stands up too, because the couch suddenly feels sort of empty without you beside him, without your warmth. He walks over to his thermostat on the wall and turns it up for you.

You’ve always thought that you can tell a lot about a person from where they live, and seeing Aaron’s bedroom now solidifies it. His place does too, but there’s something about his bedroom that feels much more personal.

Here, there’s more of him, little bits of his life scattered around. A picture of him as a kid with his parents on the dresser, the newspaper’s crossword sitting completely finished on his nightstand, his bed neatly made.

You smile at the framed photo before slipping the top drawer open and finding the pair of socks he’d been talking about. As much as you’d love to snoop, you don’t want to invade his privacy in any way. Besides, from Aaron, even a glimpse of his space feels special.

You slip on the socks before you leave his room, letting them bunch at your ankles.

As soon as you walk back into the living room, Aaron’s phone rings. Glancing at you softly, almost apologetically though he’s got nothing to be sorry about—you work with him, you know how important a call can be—he picks it up.

“Hotchner,” he says, holding it to his ear. His voice is different this way, more professional, controlled. Never any less pleasing to hear.

He’d wanted to say something about how good you look in his clothes when his phone rang, Garcia’s name flashing on the screen. Aaron wishes it was someone else, only to spend more time with you this way.

“Sorry to call late, sir,” Penelope says. “We’ve got a case. Missing kid; it’s urgent.”

“Don’t be sorry, Garcia. We’re on our way.”

“Wait, we?” She asks, curious as always.

“What’s going on?” You ask Aaron.

“Got a case. I’ll drive, honey.” He lets the pet name slip, like it’s a habit.

On the other line, Garcia’s grinning to herself in her office. She’d had a suspicion of who on the team Hotch would be with outside of work, and hearing your voice, and his use of the word ‘honey’ all sticky sweet, she knows she’s onto something.

“Oh, that’s ‘we,’” Penelope’s voice teases. “Tell her I’ll see you guys soon!”

Aaron shakes his head, fighting his smile. “Bye, Garcia.”

He hangs up and looks from his phone to you, your eyes already on him, corners of your mouth tugged up just a little like you’d heard what Garcia said, heard the lilt in her voice. Like you liked the idea of you and Aaron being a unit. We.

He likes that idea, too.

Back at the BAU, Garcia calls Derek next, who picks up with his classic, “hey, babygirl.”

First, she tells him that he needs to come into the office, that they’ve got a case, then, “you’re never going to believe this.”

Penelope loves to talk, and Derek’s happy to listen, so she tells him about how you’d been with Aaron when she called, and that you were on your way together.

“I give them another week, max, before they’re holding hands when they come in.” Derek laughs, because he can see yours and Hotch’s feelings so easily, plain as day, and he loves to be right about things.

“How mad will Hotch be when he finds out that we talk about his relationship?” Penelope’s mostly joking, only a fraction concerned.

“If the boss didn’t want us talking about it, he shouldn’t be so obvious, sweetheart.”

Once you arrive at the office, you don’t catch Penelope and Derek’s shared looks behind yours and Aaron’s—who happens to be carrying both his and your go bag—backs.

And if anyone notices the loose socks around your ankles, they don’t say anything about it.

You’re not supposed to go off on your own unless it’s absolutely necessary. You know that, the team knows that. Aaron, who is always trying to keep you as safe as possible, enforces it.

You guess that this time might be up for debate.

When it comes to what you do, you have to trust your instincts most of the time. And today, your gut told you to make a decision that might not have been safe, but to you, it felt like what you had to do.

Aaron had been on the phone with you, trying to figure out a way to make the car drive any faster to get to you. He’d heard it in your voice, in the tone of it, that he couldn’t convince you to wait for someone else to show up.

“I have to do this, Aaron,” you’d said. While the team would normally probably tease him about you calling him Aaron, as if it isn’t his name, they’d known not to interrupt this time. “You know I do.”

“You don’t have to.” His hands tightened on the steering wheel as he spoke. “We’ll be there soon, alright? Just-”

“I’m sorry.” And then, you hung up.

In the end, going in when you did had been the right move. A life had been saved, and you’d slowed the guy down enough that the police were able to arrest him when they arrived. All it cost you was a cut and a bruise on your cheek.

So, your instincts weren’t so bad.

Aaron, however, disagrees. Logically, he knows that he would’ve done the exact same thing you did, knows the rest of the team would’ve, too. But when it comes to you, he has a hard time thinking logically.

After you hung up on him, all he could do was breathe and breathe and breathe over the heavy thumping of his heartbeat and the worry spinning in his head. He drove the quickest he could manage, the car silent inside. A static.

It’s not that he doubts your abilities—he’s always thought you were incredible, even before the friendship, even before now—only that the idea of you being alone with such a bad man makes him feel sick.

He’d take your place in a heartbeat, if he could, just to make sure you’d be safe.

By the time he and the rest of the team get to the scene, you’re walking out of the building with a hand pressed to your cheek and a paramedic leading you to a nearby ambulance.

Aaron spots you right away, his eyes scanning the small crowd through red and blue lights and conversations surrounding him. When he spots you, everything goes quiet.

His first thought is, thank god she’s alive, then, it’s fuck, she’s hurt.

Without a word to anyone, he heads over in your direction right away. He meets you at the ambulance, where you sit on the small bench inside while the paramedic presses your cheek with gauze.

“Honey.” It comes out in a breath. Relief and pain all at once.

You look over to him, his hair a little messy, his eyes wide and roaming all over you like he’s checking for any other injuries. He cares about you, and it’s written all over him.

“Aaron. I’m okay.” You hold a hand out, and he grabs it, sitting beside you on the bench in the ambulance. “Promise.”

For now, he nods, letting the paramedic do their job bandaging up your cheek. When they’re finished, they hand you a spare bandage saying, “it’s gonna bruise, and it might feel sore for a bit, but you’re all patched up.”

The paramedic leaves after that, probably going to check on other people. The lights inside the ambulance seem to cocoon you, a bright difference to the darkness outside.

The first thing Aaron says is, “let me see.”

His hands reach for your face, rough fingertips gently holding your jaw, tilting you so that he can look at your cheek. It’s a little swollen, discolored where you must’ve been hit. There’s a furrow in his brow, something that looks like a pout on none other than Aaron Hotchner.

“Hey,” you grab his wrists, but his hands stay on your face. “I’m fine.”

Aaron’s always worried, he’s always cared about you and about everyone on the team, but this is different. He was usually able to hide things much better than this. Much better than with you.

Now, all he sees is the tiny bloodstain on your shirt and the bandage on your cheek. All he feels is your hands squeezing his wrists and your eyes locked on his.

“You should have waited,” he says. “I could have been there.”

“Hotchner,” your deadpan tone is intact, which he’ll take as a win, even if it’s directed towards him. “You and I both know you would have done the same. I had to.”

One of his hands shifts to cup your non-injured cheek. Normally, he’d be much more composed while working, but he can’t bring himself to care about how he must look right now.

“I know you did,” he tells you, because he does. “I just wish that you didn’t. I don’t like seeing you hurt.”

Your stomach is tumbling, rolling, your heart doing silly things in your chest. You can hardly feel the pain of your cheek anymore when his hand is on the other, his palm warm against your skin, his gaze even warmer.

“I’m hardly hurt, Aaron. Just a scratch.”

“Right. One that required medical attention. That’s more than just a scratch, honey.”

“If you say so, Hotchner.”

He shifts his hands so that they fall into your lap, palms up and fingers instantly finding yours, tangling together perfectly. Like puzzle pieces.

“Good job, by the way.” Hotch rubs his thumb over your skin once, back and forth. “You did the right thing.”

“Learned from the best,” you say.

You’re both oblivious to the fact that the team is watching from a distance, and that the two of you look so lovesick it’s ridiculous that you haven’t spilled your feelings yet. You’re both absolutely fucked.

Where she stands with the team, Emily shakes her head, “I haven’t seen Hotch like this since… ever.”

Beside her, JJ merely shrugs, like it’s obvious, “yeah, they’re in love.”

Spencer looks at you and Aaron in that ambulance with a smile. “The odds of you guys being right are very, very high.”

Aaron Hotchner was never the biggest fan of birthdays. Was never big into the cakes and making wishes, the song and the presents and the fuss of it all.

When he started at the bureau, it stayed that way. Days off were rare enough as it was, so he’d always work on his birthday. And while he kept the signed cards from the team, he treated it as any other day. Nothing special.

This year, you’re on a mission to change that.

While it isn’t the first of Aaron’s birthdays you’ve spent with him, it’s the first one since the two of you have grown as close as you have, since you’ve felt the way you do. You’re just hoping to make it a good birthday for him.

You’ve roped the whole team into it. Decorating the conference room with streamers and balloons and a sign that hangs crooked on the wall, bringing in a cake that reads ‘Happy Birthday Hotch’ in frosting, and keeping it all a secret.

Of course, you’ve all already said happy birthday to him, and you’ve got a present stashed under your desk for later, but you’ve been doing your best to act natural even when the anticipation of your surprise for him eats at your stomach a little.

Surprises are a tricky thing, and there’s no way of knowing whether he’ll like it or not. You’ll just have to wait and see.

While in his office, the team had made it seem like they’d all left for the day, saying their goodbyes to Hotch. Instead of leaving, though, they’ve been hidden in the conference room waiting for you to bring him in.

“Aaron,” you say, knocking on his office door. “I think I lost an earring. Do you think you could help me look for it?”

Because you’re the one asking, Aaron says, “‘course, honey. Where do you think it is?”

You smile, because he’s fallen into your trap easily, because you know that he probably would search for an earring with you if you’d actually lost one.

“I remember having it on in the conference room, so maybe there.”

He stands from his desk, gesturing for you to lead the way with his hand held out. You grab onto it before he can drop it, tangling your fingers and leading him behind you.

Aaron lets you guide him, and when you open the door to the conference room and flick on the lights, he’s met with the team’s grinning faces and a chorus of, “surprise!”

For a moment, he’s speechless, frozen in his spot in the doorway with your hand in his.

No, Aaron’s never been the biggest fan of birthdays, but maybe that’s because nobody’s ever done something like this for him. You came into his life all sweet smiles and now you’re throwing him a surprise party? He’s never ever liked someone the way he likes you.

So much that like is spilling into a four letter word and he’s happy to let it.

You know him well enough to know that he doesn’t like being the center of attention too much, so the only people in the room are those of the BAU. His closest friends. And you, his favorite person.

Before he can say anything he’s being spoken to by the team, getting a ‘happy birthday, boss,’ from Derek, a spill about how hard it was to keep this a secret from Penelope, a grin from Spencer, a tip about how you’d organized all of this from Emily, a squeeze to the shoulder from JJ.

When he finally gets the chance, the others split into their own conversations, Aaron tugs you aside to the corner of the room.

“You did all of this for me?” He asks, head bent to catch your eye.

Although you’d caught the signature Hotchner smile—closed-mouthed and quick—when he saw the surprise, you’re nervous about what he might say. You worry that you’ve done too much, that he’d been pretending to like it for your sake.

“I’m sorry if it’s a bit much,” you start, anxiously tugging at your sleeves. “I wasn’t sure if you liked surprises, I know not everyone does, but I wanted to do something for you because I care about you. A lot. And birthdays are meant to be celebrated, you know?”

Aaron can’t help but let a smile spread over his face as you speak; a real smile. His heart is light, his feelings for you melting through him like the soft pink of cotton candy. He doesn’t think you could ever do anything that he wouldn’t like.

“I’ll clean it all up, too, I prom-”

Your rambling is cut off with his lips on yours. He’s kissing you.

It’s soft, the press of his mouth against yours, and it takes you a second to push back. It stays delicate, a dance between the two of you like you’d practiced a million times before.

His hands skate down your arms to hold your hands, weaving his fingers with yours, squeezing like he’s making sure you know this is real.

You feel it all over, your stomach tumbling, your heart beating in a rhythm that thumps his name. Aaron, Aaron, Aaron, over and over.

It’s a kiss worth a thousand words that you haven’t said yet, a kiss full of feelings and meaning and you know it, just by the way he does it, because you know him and he knows you. It’s you and Aaron, and it feels like the beginning of something huge. Of the rest of your life, maybe.

When he pulls back, Hotch rests his forehead against yours, giving your head a gentle nudge, locking his brown eyes on yours.

“It’s perfect,” he says.

The next thing you hear is Derek Morgan cheering, “I knew it!”

Similar words come from the rest of the team.

“Finally,” from Emily.

“About time,” from JJ.

“This isn’t surprising,” from Spencer, who smiles while saying it.

A sweet, “yay,” from Penelope.

Distracted by Aaron kissing you, you’d sort of forgotten they were there. Bashful, you tuck your head beneath Aaron’s chin, forehead against his collar. He simply tightens his hands around yours.

And when it’s time for cake, this year, Aaron Hotchner makes a wish on his birthday candles. He wishes to spend every other birthday just like this. With you.

༄

thank you so so much for reading!!! if you liked it, please please please consider reblogging/commenting and letting me know what you thought! love you <3

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chvoswxtch · 5 months

Note

A fic where reader likes Aaron but is like 20 years younger than him (I checked the math, even at the start of the show, he was 43 so that wouldn't have been weird. Unless u find that weird? Pretend i said 10 years if that weirds u out) and she thinks she doesn't have a chance with him and that he wouldn't even consider her. And so she just pines over him with the unrequited crush blues. Maybe hotch seems to "baby" her and be extra protective of her so she chalks it up to being the baby of the team. Meanwhile he does not view her as a baby. At all. And maybe he doesn't even realize he treats her any different. Angst welcome! Definitely romance

She/her pronouns for the fic if u want to do it please 🙏 and thank u 😁

– Zee

MY DARLING ZEE

I have been SO excited to post this one, so thank you for requesting it. as usual, I got carried away, but it's daddy hotch so I apologize for nothing

enjoy ;)

warnings: swearing, lots and lots of angst word count: 4.5k

baby.

Furious didn’t even begin to cover the way you felt currently. The entire cabin of the jet was thick with tension radiating from your barely concealed rage, and for a split second you felt guilty, because the team’s discomfort was more than palpable. But as your gaze wandered to the opposite end of the jet and you caught sight of the culprit of your vexation, brooding heavily in your direction, any sliver of remorse evaporated from your pores and your eyes instantly hardened in response.

Fucking Aaron Hotchner.

Hotch’s thick dark brows were pinched together, creating a crease of annoyance right between them, and his lips were pressed in a line that was harsher than usual, causing his frown lines to settle even deeper into the skin around his mouth. His deep umber eyes were void of any warmth, and there was no evidence of faint mirth creasing around them. Instead his lethal gaze was cold as steel, and as rigorous as stone.

You had seen a more intense version of that look several times before whenever he interviewed unsubs that made monsters look like fairytales, and normally it sent a chill down your spine. Not because you were scared of your boss; quite the opposite actually. Every time you watched him stare down the worst of humanity with an aura of disinterest and a hard glare that showed he was completely unimpressed, you found yourself more and more attracted to him. Especially on the rare occasions when he lost his temper and ended up slamming his hands on the table while yelling in their face. You found that incredibly hot.

From the day you met Hotch for your interview, you had found him attractive. Intimidating as hell, but attractive. The fact that he was your boss didn’t deter you from developing a little crush on him, or the fact that he was a widower with a six year old son. None of that stopped the butterflies that swarmed in your stomach every time he gave you a tiny bit of praise in the form of a “good job”, or a simple nod of approval. In fact, the more Hotch warmed up to you, the worse your little crush got.

You found yourself grinning whenever someone made him crack the tiniest of smiles, and nothing fueled your ego more than his quiet snort whenever you said something he seemed to find funny. Hotch surprisingly had a great sense of humor when the stress of being the unit chief of the B.A.U. wasn’t looming over his head. He could be stubborn and closed off sometimes, and he wasn’t always the best with words, but you could tell by his actions that he truly cared about his team. Unfortunately for you, his treatment revealed exactly how he saw you.

The baby of the team.

It was no secret that’s how the rest of the team saw you too. Derek had been teasingly, but affectionately, referring to you as “Baby Spice” since your first day because you were by far the youngest member of the team and beyond feisty. Spencer even joined in with the nicknames, jokingly calling you “kid” with a proud grin now that he was no longer the youngest, even though there was less than a five year gap between the two of you, which Rossi constantly reminded him of with a smack to the back of his head. At a certain point you realized that Rossi just enjoyed messing with Spencer, but you still grinned at him in appreciation every time he came to your defense.

Even though you were far from being a child, Hotch still treated you differently than the others, which did not go unnoticed by anyone. He was far more protective of you, not allowing you to go anywhere alone when the team was working a case, and he hardly ever wanted you in the interrogation room with unsubs. Only after Emily backed you up, insisting it was important to your training, did he finally allow you to interrogate. But it was under the strict condition that he was always the one in the room with you. He never allowed you to enter a crime scene or a suspected location of an unsub first, and the first time you got injured while on a case, resulting in the tiniest of a cut above your eyebrow, Hotch forced you to take a leave of absence for two weeks.

You made it three days before you burst into his office and demanded that he end your leave.

He didn’t.

Because of the way Hotch seemed to “baby” you, it resulted in the rest of the team doing it too. Emily and JJ weren’t as bad about it, but they definitely put themselves in front of you anytime a situation got dangerous. Derek and Hotch were by far the worst and the most obvious about being overprotective, but Spencer and Rossi weren’t far behind. The only one that ever treated you as an equal was Garcia, and that’s why she was your favorite.

And the only one you confided in about your little crush on your boss. Although, you were sure Emily and JJ had caught on by now. They always flashed you a teasing smirk and a little wink anytime they caught you silently pining.

But that was what seemed to solidify that you would never have a chance with Hotch. Not that he was your boss, or that he had traumatically lost his wife, or that he had a young son, or even the fact that he was a good twenty years older than you. It was that he seemed to view you more as a helpless child than a capable woman.

As soon as the jet landed, you were the first one off. You could hear Hotch’s shoes stomping along the floor of Headquarters right on your heels. While you stopped at your desk to drop off your go bag, fully prepared to get your shit and leave, his angry march continued up the stairs towards his office, but he never once took his irritated glare away from your figure.

“Y/L/N, my office. Now.”

Gritting your teeth hard, you turned your head to shoot daggers in his direction, but he had already disappeared into his office. Disregarding the sympathetic concern from your coworkers, you furiously made your way up the stairs and made a dramatic show of slamming the door to Hotch’s office forcefully behind yourself, which in turn made his eyes narrow into vehement slits as he looked at you. He straightened his back, squaring his shoulders while he stepped around his desk to stand a few feet away from you. He looked absolutely pissed, but you were too lost in your own rage to care.

“You were completely out of line-”

“Oh, bullshit! I was doing my job-”

“I gave you a direct order and you ignored it, putting yourself and the entire team at risk.”

Hotch’s voice rose in volume when you combated his critique, and even though you had spoken over him first, the fact that he was now doing it to you only fueled your anger further. You took a bold step forward and glared up at Hotch as you grit your rebuttal out through your teeth.

“I saved that kid’s life-”

“By being reckless! You could’ve gotten him killed. You could have gotten killed. Don’t you get that?”

“But I didn’t! No one got hurt, so what the fuck is the issue-”

“The issue is you.”

Hotch’s comment quickly halted the verbal punch you were about to throw, and as you glared up at him, you noticed that his nostrils were flaring with fury and that his darkened eyes were wild and blown open with pure unbridled rage. The sting of his words caused the wildfire flaring inside of you to shrink to the dull roar of a fireplace blaze. Crossing your arms over your chest in a sign of defiance, you lowered the volume of your voice and layered it with acidity.

“You’re a fucking hypocrite.”

Hotch narrowed his eyes, which seemed to be glowing with resentment, as he took another step towards you, faintly cocking his head to the side.

“Excuse me?”

He was giving you an opportunity to correct yourself. But one thing Hotch hadn’t seemed to learn about you was that you could be just as stubborn as he was, and once you reached a certain stage in your wrath, you didn’t back down. You went straight for the jugular.

“If it had been you, you wouldn’t have called it ‘reckless’. But because it’s me, you flip out and blow the whole fucking thing out of proportion because you treat me like I’m a goddamn child-”

“I wouldn’t treat you like a child if you didn’t fucking act like one.”

At this point, there was barely an inch of space between you and Hotch, and you had to tilt your head back slightly just to return his scowl. He might as well have thrown gasoline on the fire with that comment, and you were suddenly completely fed up with no one in this goddamn building viewing you as a grown fucking woman.

“If it had been Derek, or Emily, you wouldn’t be giving them shit like this. You would’ve given them a slap on the wrist, but still acknowledged that they got the job done. So why do I get treated differently-”

“Because you’re not as good as you think you are, and you’re certainly not as good as them.”

That simple statement hurt worse than if Hotch had physically struck you across the face with the back of his hand. All the fury within you suddenly fizzled out, and you stood there dumbstruck while Hotch let out an exasperated exhale through his nose and turned away from you to walk around the corner of his desk and plop down angrily in his chair. He opened the file currently sitting in front of him and directed his irritated attention solely to the pages, reaching for a pen from the holder to his right to wrap his fingers around. He didn’t even look up as he barked out his next order.

“You’re suspended for three weeks. When you return, we’ll discuss your behavior and your future here at the B.A.U.”

Everything felt like it had suddenly come crashing down around you, and you found yourself wondering if it was all worth it. The stress of the job, the never ending hours, the horrors you saw day in and day out, but especially the treatment you received from Hotch and the others. You started to wonder if you had tricked yourself into believing it wasn’t harmful and had all come from a good place, but now you weren’t so sure anymore. For the first time since joining the B.A.U., you found yourself wanting out.

Swallowing the pieces of the lump that threatened to form in your throat, you lifted your chin slightly and spoke in a quiet but firm voice.

“No.”

Hotch quickly lifted his gaze to glower up at you, the thickness of his brows making him appear angrier from where you stood above him. However the second he caught the look on your face, his eyes softened considerably and he sat up straight, the semi permanent frown on his lips vanishing into a subtle line. His eyes followed the movement of your hand while you pulled the gun from the holster at your hip and sat it down in front of him on the desk, along with your badge. There was a brief flash of panic in Hotch’s eyes when he looked at you again, and his lips parted slightly, but you didn’t give him a chance to speak.

“I quit.”

Turning around to solemnly leave his office, you ignored the gentle pleas of your name leaving his lips. As you descended the stairs, the team’s heads perked up in curiosity, their gazes darting between your melancholic movements while you gathered your things, and the sight of a frantic Hotch rushing down the stairs like a man on a mission.

“Agent Y/L/N, do not walk away from me when I’m talking to you.”

Realizing that he was getting nowhere by being authoritative, Hotch let out an exasperated deep exhale through his nose and lowered the volume of his voice, speaking in a far gentler tone.

“Y/N we have to talk about this, you can’t just leave.”

You didn’t bother looking at any of them as you began your walk towards the elevators. You could still hear Hotch following closely behind you, and all of a sudden Derek’s large figure appeared in front of you. He dipped his head slightly to capture your eyes, the confusion on his features melting into pure concern as he glanced over your shoulder at Hotch before looking back at you. He held his right hand out towards you as if he were extending an olive branch and tilted his head to the side slightly.

“Whoa, what’s goin’ on Baby Spice? C’mon, talk to me.”

Derek was speaking to you in that gentle manner that he used when he wanted to show a victim that he wasn’t a threat. There was no doubt he could see the sadness and defeat glistening in your eyes, but you didn’t have the energy to rip open the wound any further.

“I’m going home. Please move.”

That was all you could manage to weakly get out as you attempted to step around him. But Derek, being Derek, wasn’t having it. He reached out to gently place his hand on your shoulder.

“I’ll drive you.”

“I can drive myself.”

“Baby-”

“I’m not a child, Derek. I don’t need your help, can you back off?”

Derek’s warm gaze widened considerably, and his neat onyx brows rose up his forehead in complete shock. You had never exploded on him like that, or any of the others for that matter. But right now all you wanted to do was get the hell out of there.

“Let her go.”

Derek glanced over your shoulder to look at JJ in pure confusion, but she gave a slight shake of her head while holding his gaze with a firm look in her ocean blue eyes, giving him a nonverbal cue to sit this one out. After a moment of hesitation, Derek removed his hand from your shoulder and took a step to the left to unblock your path.

The entire team was silent while watching you disappear behind the elevator doors.

»»———　　———««

A subtle but firm series of knocks at your door roused you from your sleep. Squinting at the clock on your bedside table, the lime green numbers read ten twenty-three pm. You hadn’t even remembered falling asleep. As soon as you had walked through the door of your apartment hours ago, you kicked off your shoes and crawled in bed, your mind spiraling about what you had just done and what it meant for the future.

When the knocks grew more impatient, you threw your comforter off with an irritated huff and got out of bed, exiting your bedroom to make your way to the living room to figure out who the hell was knocking on your door this late. However when you swung the front door open, your unexpected visitor was the last person you expected it to be.

Aaron Hotchner.

The darkness under his eyes was more prominent than usual, and his neatly cropped hair looked messy, as if he had been stressfully running his fingers through it. The permanent scowl he normally wore was missing from his lips, and there was a faint flicker of concern highlighted in his eyes. The first two buttons of his white dress shirt were undone, and his merlot colored tie hung loosely around his neck.

He looked exhausted.

Instead of speaking, you arched one of your dark brows, silently asking for the reason for his impromptu visit. As he shifted awkwardly to his other foot and cleared his throat, you realized you had never seen him look so unsure of himself.

“May I come in?”

Part of you wanted to slam the door in his face, but a bigger part of you was curious to know why your former boss had shown up at your door unannounced at ten thirty at night. Letting out a deep exhale through your nose, you stepped aside to allow Hotch to pass by you. The second the door shut with a soft click and you turned around to face him, there was already a blanket of irritation tugging his features down. He didn’t even give you a chance to question his presence before speaking.

“You’re a pain in my ass.”

A dry laugh instantly escaped your lips, and a soft furrow settled between your brows while you crossed your arms over your chest.

“Wow, you’re really good at this whole apology thing, huh?”

“I’m not here to apologize. I’m here to be honest with you, and the honest truth is you’re a huge pain in my ass. You’re stubborn, emotionally reactive, not to mention combative-”

“Then why the hell did you hire me-”

“I’m not finished.”

Hotch was speaking in that firm authoritative voice he used whenever he wanted to make it crystal clear he wasn’t in the mood for bullshit or push back. Despite your burning desire to lash out again, you bit your tongue and settled for glaring at him instead.

“You are constantly acting like you have something to prove-”

“Because you make me feel like I have to, Aaron. You, and the rest of the team, make me feel like I have to prove my worth every fucking day. Do you have any idea how exhausting that is? Or how much that makes me doubt myself?”

“Do you ever stop talking long enough to listen to someone else speak?”

Tension hung in the small space of your living room like a heavy and dense fog. Hotch observed you silently for a moment as your frustrations lingered in the air while you refused to meet his eyes. There was an unreadable expression on his face, and he seemed to wait until he could tell your emotions had leveled out slightly before speaking again.

“I admired your compassion.”

Perplexity twisted up your features as you stared across your living room at Hotch.

“What?”

“You asked why I hired you. That’s why.”

He made it sound like it was the most simple statement in the world, but it only added another layer to the cryptic labyrinth you were trying to navigate.

“I don’t understand-”

“When I reviewed your case work with you in your interview, I was impressed by your attention to detail. But I was even more impressed that when I asked you questions about the victims you had worked with, you gave me personal details about them, not just black and white facts that were in their file. You remembered things about them. You humanized them instead of speaking about them like a statistic.”

All you could do was blink at him in surprise. That was the last thing you expected to come out of his mouth. Sensing that a calmness had settled over you, Hotch took a cautious step forward and continued.

“You know just as much about the victims of notorious serial killers as you do about the serial killers themselves. Every solution you have to a problem is led with people in mind, trying to minimize casualties. You speak about victims like people, not numbers or objects. You put everyone’s feelings, and safety, before your own, and that is both the best thing about you and the worst.”

The sincerity in Hotch’s voice caught you off guard, and for a moment you weren’t sure what to say. He spoke to you in the soft voice you had once overheard him speaking to Jack in on the phone, and that caused a fluttering feeling inside your stomach. But it also added to your confusion. If he thought so highly of you, then why did he treat you the way he did?

“Why are you so different with me?”

Hotch let out a deep exhale through his nose, dragging his palm down his face slowly before loosely gesturing to you with his hand.

“Because it’s my job to protect you.”

“No it isn’t.”

It was Hotch’s turn to stare at you in puzzlement, his thick brows knit together in the center of his forehead. Running a hand through your hair in slight irritation, you shook your head slowly.

“I knew exactly what I was signing up for when I applied for this job. I knew it was dangerous-”

“My job as the unit chief is to keep my team safe-”

“No, Aaron. It’s to lead us. We all knew the risks when we joined. There is only so much you can control, you of all people should know that. I know you try to look out for us, but you don’t treat the rest of the team like you treat me. And I get it, okay? I am the youngest on the team, but I’m not a child-”

“I don’t think you’re a child.”

Hotch looked even more perplexed by your words, his head tilted to the side slightly while looking over at you.

“Y/N, your age has nothing to do with the way I treat you-”

“Then what is it?”

That uncertainty was once again shining in his eyes. It looked like Hotch was struggling internally with which version of his truth he wanted to give you. The revelation about your age not being a factor in his treatment filled you with a sense of relief, but also left you with more questions than answers. After what felt like an eternity of silence, Hotch’s face softened considerably as he took a few steps closer towards you.

“I…I care about all of you, and I don’t want to see anything happen to any of you.”

The intensity of his eye contact caused a slight shiver to nip at your spine, and it seemed like there was a hidden meaning to his sentence; something deeper.

“You…care about me?”

The tiniest of smirks tugged at the edge of Hotch’s lips, and his eyes had lightened in color with pure amusement.

“You know, for one of my most brilliant profilers, you’re pretty bad at this. Should I be concerned?”

Warmth bloomed in your cheeks hearing the faint tease lingering at the edge of his question. Hotch had never been this laid back and playful with you before. It almost sounded like he was…flirting?

Your eyes widened slightly while staring up at him, an overly dramatic gasp leaving your lips.

“Was that…a joke? Did you just make a joke? Are you feeling alright? Should I call a doctor?”

Deciding to test the waters, you brought your hand up to place the back of it against his forehead before moving it downwards to place against his cheek, as if you were checking his temperature. All of a sudden, a huge tooth bearing grin stretched across his lips, and your breath caught in your throat.

He was smiling.

Aaron Hotchner was smiling.

He gently grasped your wrist in his large hand, his grin fading to a miniscule smirk while his gaze became a little more intense.

“Actually, smartass, I’m having a bit of a rough night. One of my best profilers quit on me earlier. Although in her defense, I was kind of being a dick.”

“Kind of?”

“Don’t push it. I’m already doing something I normally don’t.”

“Which is?”

“Begging for forgiveness.”

Hotch hadn’t let go of your wrist, and either your mind was playing tricks on you, or he had somehow gotten closer. There was barely a centimeter separating your chests. Him telling you not to push it only made you want to do it that much more, and since you had already technically quit, you decided to throw caution to the wind.

“I don’t hear any begging.”

The mirth in Hotch’s eyes darkened into something you hadn’t seen before, and for a moment you were nervous that you had crossed a line. It felt like he was staring directly into your soul, searching for some answer that would determine his next move.

“You are by far the most frustrating woman I have ever met.”

Woman.

Hotch thought of you as a woman, and that caused a bright grin to stretch across your lips.

“Well, you’re no ray of sunshine either, but I still like you.”

Hotch’s grasp on your wrist tightened slightly at the end of your sentence, and a look of surprise flashed across his face before his eyes returned to that darkened look you couldn’t decipher.

“Is that so?”

His voice was low, but firm, and the sultriness of it nestled comfortably between your inner thighs. All you could do was subtly nod while staring up at him, watching as he leaned in meticulously and painfully slow.

“If I’m reading this wrong-”

“If you’re reading this wrong, you’re a terrible profiler.”

You weren’t one to wait for action, so before he could respond, you reached up to grab onto the back of Hotch’s neck and pulled him down to press your lips against his in a tentative kiss. At first he tensed up, but then you felt his body physically relax, and a soft hum sounded in your throat when he snaked his arm around your waist. Reluctantly pulling away, he gently brushed his nose against yours and whispered.

“So, I’ll see you in the office Monday?”

“Mm, no.”

Hotch pulled back so he could stare down at you in pure perplexity, and you grinned at his facial expression.

“No?”

“I’m suspended, remember? Three weeks, I think it was?”

Hotch’s lips formed into a thin line as he stared down at you, the amusement previously lingering in his eyes completely gone. You couldn’t help but laugh, lightly shoving him away from you with your palms against his chest.

“Hey, you decided my sentence.”

“You were being a brat-”

“And now this brat has a three week vacation. I’ve been meaning to take a trip anyway-”

“Actually, I haven’t filed any paperwork, so you’re not officially suspended, and you’re still a current employee. I’ll see you on Monday, Agent Y/L/N.”

The demanding tone of his voice made you bite down on your bottom lip, and you leaned back against your kitchen island while arching one of your brows in challenge and crossing your arms across your chest with a playful smirk on your lips.

“You don’t wanna see me before that, sir?”

The way you used his title clearly had an affect on him, and you suddenly realized that the emotion eclipsing his eyes was pure lust. He slowly reached his hand up to tug at the loose knot on his tie until it came undone around his neck completely, and he slowly approached you with a wolfish grin.

“Why do you think I’m here?”

tags: @mars-rants-a-lot @ninejlovebot @oscarisaacsleftknee

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x f!reader #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner request #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds request

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thisismeracing · 2 months

Text

Brand new style | CL16

― Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!reader ― Warnings: mentions of food; typos. ― Summary: The one where Charles' has been dressing better and better each week. Fans can't help but tie that drastic change to a girlfriend, especially when he shows up wearing clothes from a small but very stylish brand, what they don't expect is that the girlfriend in question is the owner of the brand.

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yourusername finishing the last few touches for this season's collection ⭐️✨

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sunshinewest can’t wait to get it!! 😍

user2 I am so readyyy

switfiedirectioner I wanna be her when I grow up

⤷ 1distraction but u already grown, bestie 😭 lmao

⤷ swiftiedirectioner shut up let me dream 🤚

charles_leclerc

liked by pierregasly, sebastianvettel, and others

charles_leclerc race week's about to start 😎

view all comments

charleslerain things that aren’t my business but I wish were: how charles takes his coffee

sainzinho the lil pink mug 🥹🤏

fastandf1s where’s that lil sweater from????

⤷ bonohammertime Its from @ yourusername s brand?

⤷ userforty it def is! Most likely from last collection if I recall perfecly, I have a similar one

trackfour Im gonna prepare myself mentally to watch ferrari shit show 😭

iguser_ the pullover collors omggg and the fabric looks so soft

yourusername

liked by gigihadid, charles_leclerc, and others

yourusername I would bet on red for this season 😜❤️

view all comments

yourbestie 😍😍 I would bet on YOU this season

user01 omg yesss! I love red!

randomuser this looks fantastic, can’t wait to see the other options

charles_leclerc

liked by arthur_leclerc, lewishamilton, and others

charles leclerc 😉😉

view all comments

tifosinha I refuse to believe this was Ferrari's doing, he's been on this team for years now and they NEVER got him this stylish. there's a woman's hand on this, istg

ferrarista01 the veins 🫣🤤

leclowncircus y’all worried about charles’ style and rumored relationship meanwhile I’m just no thoughts head empty appreciating those yummy pics he’s been posting

charles_leclerc

liked by pierregasly, carlossainz55, and others

charles_leclerc Solid climbing session today.

view all comments

notyourbus HE’S SOFT LAUNCHING

sainzfan who’s that person wearing black?

⤷ lemonegasque million dollars question

lewforty LOL he’s so bad at other sports

arthur_leclerc as a climber you’re a great driver 👍

schumiwoff I love the fact that apprently him and the girl -both- fell hahah partnes in being horrible at Snow Sports

yourusername

liked by iguser_, yourbestie, and others

yourusername nobody needs to know I fell a hundred times while climbing

view all comments

user47 it’s fine bestie, I’m terrible at anything snow related as well lol

user90 where’s that sunglass from?

⤷ yourusername its from yyy.com :)

popyn she’s soft launching, I lost her 😭

yourusername

liked by yourbestie, francisca.cgomes, and others

yourusername had an amazing dinner tonight 🥰

view all comments

randomuser33 that “private but not a secret” type of relationship I WANT IT

user9 she’s so pretty 😍😍

charles_leclerc

liked by lewishamilton, landonorris, and others

charles_leclerc ma cherrie ❤️ I wouldnt have the patient to soft launch anyways

view all comments

scuderiaferrari thank goodness he's not that clumsy with car info 😅😂

yourusername you're lucky I love you 💞

pierregasly it was about time!!!!

fan44 I KNEW IT

formulaonewag welcome to the club, Yn! 🥳

────── ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: Hi! I hope you guys liked this piece! This is part of that convo about posting my drafts hihi so yeah, here goes another one :D let me know your thoughts!

If you liked this piece and want early access to new ones and exclusive access to others, subscribe to my patreon!💘

▸ check my main masterlist | patreon guide and my taglist.

taglist: @sachaa-ff @mickslover @mishaandthebrits @fdl305 @iloveyou3000morgan @crimeshowjunkie @saintslewis @carojasmin2204 @chaoticevilbakugo @wondergirl101ks @smiithys @shhhchriss @f1kota @lunnnix @karmabyfernando @crashingwavesofeuphoria @schumacheer @callsign-scully @dearxcherry @elliegrey2803 @peachiicherries @he6rtshaker @therealcap @mehrmonga @the-depressed-fellow @cixrosie @darleneslane @buckybarnessweetheart @nichmeddar @fastcarsandshit @balekanemohafe @jamie2305 @nzygftoji @leclercsluv @graciewrote @alessioayla @littlesatanicassholebitch @barcelonaloverf1life @noncannonships @fanboyluvr @is-just-a @love4lando @woozarts @namgification @formulaal @v1naco @skepvids @khaylin27 @bernelflo @fakehappy27

©thisismeracing ― do not copy, steal, or translate my work; do not repost on a different media platform.

943 notes · View notes

royalarchivist · 2 months

Text

Quackity: These past days I've been in many calls, and I'm not done yet. I've spoken to a lot of people and creators. I've read your comments and I'm well aware of what needs to be done to carry out this project. I want to tell you all, beforehand, that for me the team's well-being is fundamental. I'm very involved in this topic to sort it out and I want to make that very clear. I want to tell you something... I want to tell you all that the administrative staff responsible for so much harm to the project has been fired. Specifically, those who made decisions without my permission, affecting the administrative and financial area of the project. Consequently, after this, I was in charge of doing a financial analysis that's carrying out for the QSMP.

Guys, to be really honest, it was not going to last. Therefore, I've had to make deep drastic structural changes that have lead me to reduce the performance of the server down to the most essential, and this is in order to ensure the well being of everyone involved in it. Having said this, I want to give a very important update: I want to let you all know that the QSMP will have to slow down temporarily. This is to ensure this new structure adapts to the project, because it's a restructuring that's taking place. I'm letting you know, and I reiterate, there are no voluntary positions inside the QSMP.

At the moment, there will not be any more individual update accounts of all 5 existing languages in the project. In any case, during this transition, there's going to be a temporal absence of all Eggs and NPCs. I know these are difficult changes, and I repeat, it's temporary until we adjust to these new conditions that will improve the performance of this new structure that's being made from scratch, both in the administrative and financial part. I'd like to reintegrate people fro the QSMP as time goes by if a financial viability can be found for the project Taking advantage of this update to tell you guys that within the changes of the server as it is, creators will have full control of their lore and stories. The team will not intervene in the way that it was being done. Moreover, efforts will be made to change the competitive dynamics inside the game so as to ease up the game style for the creators. Like I'm saying, all of these changes, and more, are being carrying out to have the project as best as possible, and they're being done little by little. This is a whole new structure that will ensure the best continuity and experience for the creators, the community and the team behind.

Guys, I want to make very clear that this is restructuring process, and again, it's not a fast one. The server being open does not mean everything's perfect, I understand that very well. Conversations will keep taking place, communication will continue and the constant improvement of the project as well. I ask, please, for everyone's patience and understanding regarding all changes. Please do wait for official announcements since a lot of incomplete and incorrect information is being spread. I want to tell you all something- if you don't trust in these changes or have many doubts about it, and don't want to consume any more of the project's content, I understand 100%. I have a personal commitment with the QSMP and I will work until it functions in the way it is supposed to do.

Lastly, I want to let you know that it was being worked on for months on finalizing the integration of Korean creators to the QSMP. For that reason, tomorrow we will be welcoming the new Korean creators of the QSMP, of course, taking into account all the changes I've just mentioned. I hope you can give the new Korean members warm welcome to the project. And as you know, their schedules are earlier. For everyone who would like to watch, they will be joining at 11am Mexico time and at 9am US time. Basically, I wanted to give that update regarding everything that's being done within the project. Again, thank you for your patience and understanding- these are necessary changes and I'm glad they're being done now. And many more things will keep being adjusted.

via @QuackitySubs

#Quackity #QSMP #QSMP Official #Translated #This is very long and I bolded parts to make it easier to read #but if there's a way to make it more accessible to folks lemme know!#I personally find the bolding thing helpful but I know everyone is different #Edit: got rid of the additional ''Quackity:'' bolded parts since that's unnecessary #since. you know. he's the only one speaking here #Quackity Subs also missed a few words in here so I added those in but otherwise this is exactly what was posted #Minus the part where they said ''fro''#I don't know if they meant for or from but that's a very vital difference so I'm leaving that as-is #IMO: It's reassuring hearing the full statement #''Please do wait for official announcements since a lot of incomplete and incorrect information is being spread''#is an especially important reminder #There has unfortunately been a lot of misinformation and catastrophizing / doomposting going around #I understand it's a very scary stressful time for many people #and it sucks being told to be patient #but we actually DO need to be patient if we want to get actual accurate information

785 notes · View notes

maplesyrupsainz · 5 months

Text

˖⁺｡˚⋆˙no saving u | LS2˖⁺｡˚⋆˙

pairing: logan sargeant x piastri!reader y/n (she/her)

genre: social media au, break up, brother's best friend/childhood friends to lovers

warnings: trigger warning many max verstappen mentions unfortunately /j

summary: in which they are pulled together following a particularly messy crash during the last race of the season and an even messier break up

a/n: i got this plot as a request and i love it ahhh i linked the request below!!! hope u guys enjoy i lowkey luv writing logan fanfic especially when max loses something 😆

request!!!: max is getting too cocky and dangerous on the track and he knows you disagree with his antics which causes tension between you, he continues his dangerous streak even though he’s just had the pit lane rules changed for abu dhabi and ends up crashing into logan during fp2, you’ve had enough of max putting himself and others in danger whilst he’s on an ego trip and rush to check on logan after he’s been taken safely from his car and end up going to the hospital with him (you’re childhood friends because he did karting and f3 with your brother), you leave max that night and end up spending more time with logan as he recovers, the summer is spent exploring your new relationship and you go public when you’re spotted in his paddock in 2024, max is humiliated beaten by the worst driver on the grid in his opinion, he’s finally humbled, you could also maybe have logan doing better as he’s had an opportunity to be involved with the cars development, and he even gets a couple podiums in his sophomore year :)

my masterlist

instagram ->

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, oscarpiastri, and 47,038 others

yourusername life lately:)

view all 2,012 comments

maxverstappen1 the true artwork is you!

oscarpiastri cringeee

danielricciardo he's trying

yourusername max verstappen most bullied f1 driver on the grid

logansargeant assuming we will see you in the williams garage in abu dhabi

maxverstappen1 no!

alex_albon it's our turn

oscarpiastri nope it's our turn

yourusername shame it's none of you lot's turn. you will see me in mercedes perhaps

lewishamilton i always win

georgerussell63 😊

user1 y/n x f1 2023 grid interactions are my absolute favourite

twitter ->

whatsapp ->

instagram ->

yourusername posted stories

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris, and 10,384 others

maxverstappen1 wont you swing by?

yourusername yes of course hehe i will come see you before free practice 🧡

alex_albon u didnt cheat but ur still a traitor

yourusername 🐱

twitter ->

whatsapp ->

instagram ->

yourusername posted a story

liked by lilymhe, oscarpiastri, and 12,321 others

maxverstappen1 you are ignoring me

yourusername i just dont want to talk right now

maxverstappen1 why? you didnt even see if i was okay

yourusername i knew you were okay

yourusername im just very upset and angry it wouldn't be productive to see you right now

maxverstappen1 you are not coming back to the hotel?

yourusername no so dont wait up, i'll see you tomorrow

maxverstappen1 okay i am sorry y/n

twitter ->

instagram ->

yourusername

liked by logansargeant, landonorris, and 64,734 others

yourusername im only welcome in one garage now

view all 3,294 comments

logansargeant this is literally false information

lilymhe she knows where she should be

landonorris im so lucky i get to see y/n before every race now

oscarpiastri you literally told her she stinks like 5 min ago

yourusername oh great thanks maybe im not welcome anywhere

mclaren we love you y/n

liked by yourusername

mercedesamgf1 you know where to find us y/n

liked by yourusername

user11 the caption...... is this a break up confirmation bc she isnt welcome at rb garage anymore

user12 i love how all the teams fight over her lol

f1wagupdates

liked by yourusername, user10, and 13,384 others

f1wagupdates we are gathered here today to mourn the alleged death of f1 couple max verstappen and our favourite aussie y/n piastri. please leave your respects below 🙏 we are celebrating with some of our favourite maxy/n moments!

tagged: yourusername, maxverstappen1

view all 3,283 comments

user13 wag death 🙏

liked by yourusername

user14 one of my favourite couples😢

user15 dont cry coz it's over.....

user16 this has rattled me

user17 the caption CELEBRATING? Hahahah

f1wagupdates whoops freudian slip

user18 😭 i will never know peace

twitter ->

instagram ->

yourusername posted a story

liked by lilymhe, carmenmmundt, and 8,743 others

carmenmmundt dodged a bullet 100%

yourusername then why does it feel like i got hit anyway 😐

carmenmmundt you are so strong y/n/n

yourusername somehow it's worse because he would have me back if i asked lol

carmenmmundt omg he has no idea what he lost .. you are going to be thriving whilst he is flopping by next season i promise

yourusername i hope ur right 😀

logansargeant

liked by yourusername, alex_albon, and 24,924 others

logansargeant vacation time 🏝️

tagged: yourusername, oscarpiastri

view all 4,283 comments

yourusername vacay vacay

oscarpiastri baecay baecay

yourusername ur so weird

oscarpiastri noo hahahh ..

user19 "baecay" what does that mean 🤔

user20 not oscar shipping his best friend & sister together 💀

user21 love seeing y/n hanging out with everyone now instead of being hidden away in max's dungeon

yourusername DUNGEON i just shrieked

user22 😀😀😀 im fine

danielricciardo

liked by yourusername, landonorris, and 284,929 others

danielricciardo woohoo woohoo woohoo

tagged: yourusername, lilymhe, landonorris, alex_albon, oscarpiastri

view all 13,294 comments

user23 omg more y/n x grid content

yourusername yoohoo

danielricciardo hi y/n

yourusername hey 😄

lilymhe my fav ppl

landonorris should we all give up our seats and hang out 24/7 instead

alex_albon no

danielricciardo no

oscarpiastri no

yourusername yea yay!

lilymhe yes wahoo

user24 i wish i was their friend

user25 max verstappen found dead

charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, carlossainz55, and 454,183 others

charles_leclerc what we've been up to

view all 17,064 comments

user26 y/n & charles taking a flight together🥹

user27 omg she is everywhere loll

yourusername exposing my weird airline meal

charles_leclerc still dont know what it was

oscarpiastri lol flying with y/n/n is an experience

user28 who is y/n dating im confused ??

user29 no one her & max just broke up but she's oscar's sister so she's always been friends with a lot of the grid

alexandrasaintmleux i can't believe u saw y/n without me

yourusername 😭 i miss you

alexandrasaintmleux get on a plane now

yourusername i genuinely will

charles_leclerc dont steal my gf

twitter ->

whatsapp ->

instagram ->

yourusername posted a story

liked by lilymhe, carmenmmundt, and 14,204 others

lilymhe oh hello

yourusername 👀

carmenmmundt excuse meee mrs

yourusername perhaps you were right

carmenmmundt not surprised

logansargeant

liked by oscarpiastri, yourusername, and 27,924 others

logansargeant ...where should we go next?

view all 4,193 comments

user33 looks like y/n .. anyone else?

user34 that is deffo y/n

user35 why would we assume y/n is dating logan everyone has been posting them hanging out with her lately

danielricciardo go to japan

liked by logansargeant

user36 aww daniel giving travel advice

yourusername

liked by logansargeant, charles_leclerc, and 18,204 others

yourusername new favourite place

tagged: logansargeant

view all 6,283 comments

user37 omg not them going to japan because daniel told them to

user38 i rly think logan & y/n are an item

user39 aww she is having so much fun since the breakup

danielricciardo did not expect u guys to actually go where i said

yourusername we were feeling crazyy & impulsive

oscarpiastri come home im bored

yourusername make some friends

oscarpiastri why make friends when i have u

user40 lol i love their sibling relationship

twitter ->

instagram ->

yourusername posted a story

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri, and 4,294 others

carmenmmundt omg this is giving hard launch

yourusername 😭 this is special circumstances

logansargeant couldn't have done it without you

twitter ->

instagram—

yourusername

liked by logansargeant, carmenmmundt, and 17,294 others

yourusername bahrain bahrain p.s he was tired after getting p3

tagged: logansargeant

view all 7,294 comments

oscarpiastri just got the strongest urge to bully you for this post

yourusername u hate to see a girl win!! ur a misogynist or something

landonorris u didnt win anything y/n

logansargeant she won my heart actually

oscarpiastri omg.... lose my number.

yourusername lose ur seat!!! ur a b word

user44 not them arguing over literally nothing

mclaren we're on your side, y/n

yourusername i will always be a mclaren girl!

user45 lol y/n x grid interactions own my heart

user46 i love her relationship with mclaren in general

twitter ->

whatsapp ->

instagram ->

logansargeant

liked by yourusername, oscarpiastri, and 32,294 others

logansargeant me and my gf in murica

tagged: yourusername

view all 11,284 comments

yourusername 🦅

oscarpiastri you hate america

yourusername no need to mention that rn

logansargeant ???

lilymhe never been so happy

liked by yourusername, logansargeant

carmenmmundt i told you so, y/n

yourusername you did :)

logansargeant dont know what you told her but thanks 👍

user48 AHHHH i love y/n

logansargeant you and me both

yourusername WHAT?

oscarpiastri that's my sister bro

user48 omg what did i start

alex_albon oh shit

logansargeant urmmmm

yourusername i love you too 😜

carmenmmundt 🥰🥰

THE END 🤍

#f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 smau #f1 x reader #smau #daniel ricciardo #alex albon #lando norris #charles leclerc #logan sargeant #ls2 #max verstappen #mv1 #mv1 x reader #mv1 imagine #maddie's smau

1K notes · View notes

luveline · 3 months

Note

Hi !!! Can I request something romantic between shy reader and spence? maybe he’s like trying to teacher her something and they’re alone? IDK WRITE WHATEVER U WANNA RIGHT ILL EAT IT UP REGARDLESS <3

Your stomach hurts and you need to pee, but you’re stuck. You’ve been trying to submit your virtual paperwork for the last two hours. Why have they made it this difficult? You’re beginning to wonder if you’re being hazed.

Spencer told you it was easy. Well, he’d put a cup of tea on your desk (for which you hadn’t asked but gratefully accepted), seen you were starting your paperwork, and said, “I’ll see you for lunch in half an hour?” with a knowing smile.

You’d smiled back. You want to be in the know with him, even if you’d needed a ten minute recovery period after he left to learn to breathe through your nose again.

But it became clear after half an hour you wouldn’t be taking lunch, let alone joining him. Nervous sweat dampens your hands and the back of your shirt, and your face burns with heat —why is the office scorching? You’re in hell.

You click another button, sure you’ve found the right process, but a yellow triangle appears with an exclamation mark inside. Function suppressed, it says.

“Oh, good,” Spencer says, approaching from behind, a coffee. “I thought you stood me up. You’re struggling with the system?”

“I wouldn’t say struggling.”

“You don’t need any help, then?”

“Please,” you say softly, worried someone else will hear you. You don’t want anyone in the team nor the unit to realise how inept you are. It’s bad enough that Spencer’s cottoned on. “I can’t get it to work.”

“I was kidding,” he says, smiling tentatively at you. “Let me get my chair.”

Spencer tortures you sitting beside you, knee to knee and arm over your arm as he guides your mouse to the right page, then the correct paperclip. His watch falls down his wrist and brushes your skin with each direction, spurring chills all over. “You’re pretty much done,” he says.

“I don’t know why I was so confused,” you say bashfully.

“Because it’s a confusing system.” He smells like warm vanilla. You wish you could ask him about it, but you’ve a job to talk this close to him.

“Thank you for helping.”

He clicks through the last part of your file to check for any missing paperclips before he sends it off. “You’re welcome.” Then, because he secretly hates you, he takes your arm into his hand with achingly careful fingers. “Are you cold?” He rubs at your goosebumps. He has really nice hands, with strong veins. He moves purposefully.

Another rush of goosebumps down your arm. “Are you okay?” he asks, his eyebrows tugged together worriedly.

“I’m just,” —mortified— “embarrassed about the paperwork. I didn’t know there would be this many online responsibilities involved, I would’ve looked them up.”

Spencer’s eyebrows rise as your sentence ends. You’d mangled ‘looked them up’, said it breathless as his hand curled around your fingers.

“Don’t worry about all of that. You can always ask me for help. Right? I sit right there.” He points to his desk. “Did you forget?”

Something about his tone suggests that he already knows you didn’t forget, but he takes your thank you gracefully, and continues pretending you’re cold rather than physically affected by his touch. He’s nice like that.

“Here, in case you’re still cold,” he says, too casual, draping his suit jacket over your shoulders.

Not that nice.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

1K notes · View notes

tinycoffeeroom · 17 days

Text

up the oranges? | max verstappen

face claim: none ᡣ𐭩

request: here !

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

👤 ybfngram, landonorris, mclaren liked by ybfngram, landonorris and 83,928 others

y/nstagram bestie won paddock passes to mclaren garage and was gracious enough to let little noob me tag along! up the oranges or whatever she said 🧡

ygfngram it's papaya babe... but thank u for letting me rant about all things f1!! (and thank u for the lando pic i'm gonna be so insufferable from now on) ↳ y/nstagram wdym from now on?? but i enjoyed it! 🫶

user1 y/n and f1?? the crossover we never knew we needed

user2 please say you vlogged it!! ↳ y/nstagram ofc i did 🫶 coming next week!!

landonorris was lovely to meet you guys! :) ♥️ y/nstagram, ybfngram

mclaren if y/n says it's up the oranges, it's up the oranges... you're welcome back anytime 🧡 ↳ y/nstagram sorry best friends.. up the papayas! 🧡

👤 landonorris, oscarpiastri, mclaren, maxverstappen1 liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri and 103,496 others

y/nstagram new vlog out now! the orange (😉) boys explain f1 to me, we take a look around the mclaren garages and a certain world champion sneaks in! link in bio 🧡

landonorris for someone who's never seen an f1 race, you picked it up pretty well! ↳ ybfngram not for lack of trying, she never wants to join my race nights 💔 ↳ y/nstagram next time baby! girls night ❤️

redbullracing we think she'd look better in blue 👀 ↳ maxverstappen1 agreed ↳user2 ARIANA? what are you doing here

mclaren back 🤺 redbull 🤺 back!

👤 y/nstagram liked by landonorris, y/nstagram and 385,038 others

mclaren we must say, orange suits you y/n 🧡

y/nstagram thank you for having me back mclaren! the oranges are safe and sound in my kitchen 🫡 ↳ user1 oranges?? ↳ y/nstagram when i arrived, they had a bowl of oranges waiting for me... humiliating babes...

landonorris the highlight was her peeling oranges for oscar and patting his head like a baby ↳ oscarpiastri didn't see her peeling YOU oranges though 🤨 ↳ y/nstagram that's ybfngram's job xx ↳ ybfngram i would have if SOMEONE would have invited me... ↳ y/nstagram you were literally on another continent grumpy pants ↳ mclaren next time we'll bring some oranges for you ybfngram 🧡 ↳ ybfngram and that's why i'm a papaya girl for life 🧡 ♥️ mclaren, landonorris

👤 ybfngram, y/nstagram liked by maxverstappen1, y/nstagram and 593,957 others

redbullracing it's mr steal your girllll 🎶

mclaren ... y/n how could you do this to us ↳ y/nstagram MCLAREN ITS NOT WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE.. you know i love you 🫶 ↳ mclaren save it 💔

landonorris not you too 💔 ybfngram ↳ y/nstagram tbf i did have to physically wrestle the shirt onto her, dw she immediately went back to orange 🧡 ↳ ybfngram lando sweetie... the papaya is in my veins... i was coerced... ↳ landonorris guess i'll have to bring you back to our side of the paddock 😉

maxverstappen1 i was right, she does look better in blue 💙 ↳ user1 back of the line mr verstappen we were simping first ♥️ y/nstagram ↳ y/nstagram free red bulls for life and i'll back the blue ↳ mclaren wtf? ↳ maxverstappen1 consider it done ↳ christianhorner i don't remember agreeing to this max

👤 maxverstappen1, redbullracing liked by maxverstappen1, redbullracing and 92,495 others

y/nstagram alexa play the dutch national anthem 💙

redbullracing our favourite song 💙

user1 did max draw that himself 😭 ↳ maxverstappen1 y/n made it for me!

mclaren y'all are cute or whatever... ↳ y/nstagram still love you mclaren 🧡

scuderiaferrari we spot our charles, maybe red will suit you too y/n ❤️ ↳ y/nstagram if you can get me a ferrari, i'll consider it xx ↳ scuderiaferrari ... let us make some phone calls ↳ maxverstappen1 i will burn it to the ground. ↳ user1 ur so real for that max, fight for your red bull girl! ♥️ maxverstappen1

user2 y/n having all these f1 teams wrapped around her finger... what she deserves

👤 maxverstappen1, schecoperez, redbullracing liked by maxverstappen1, redbullracing and 132,842 others

y/nstagram back at it again with another f1 vid! this time i convinced the red bull gang to do a mukbang with me before mr MV1 zoomed off to win another race! 🫶 link in bio 💙

user1 bro max was so whipped in this video... ↳ user2 TRULY! she had him giggling and kicking his feet the entire vid

user3 how does it feel to watch y/n snatch ur man danielricciardo ↳ danielricciardo he used to giggle and tuck his hair behind his ears like that with me 💔 come home max, the kids miss you x ↳ maxverstappen1 fuck them kids

redbullracing poor checo thirdwheeling again... ↳ schecoperez to be honest i checked out halfway through ↳ y/nstagram nooo checo my king im sorry 💔 next time it will be just us two 💙 ↳ maxverstappen1 not if i have anything to do with it

user4 WHIPPED ♥️ maxverstappen1

mclaren is this what it feels like to be cheated on? 💔 ↳ y/nstagram my hearts big enough for both orange and blue 🧡💙

liked by maxverstappen1, y/nstagram and 963,956 others

redbullracing yo bro who got you smiling like that...

user1 red bull soft launching their drivers relationship?? admin on a scale of 1 to 10 how fired are you ↳ redbullracing i am declining all of christians calls... ↳ christianhorner see you at work monday. ↳ redbullracing oh its so over

maxverstappen1 can't believe red bull admin beat us to it y/nstagram 💔 ↳ y/nstagram aaand i guess that was the hard launch

👤 maxverstappen1 liked by maxverstappen1, ybfngram and 150,385 others

y/nstagram so here's my bf(?) i guess... thanks redbullracing

danielricciardo stealing the second image thanks! ↳ y/nstagram 🫡

maxverstappen1 you couldn't have made it cute ↳ y/nstagram just showing your true personality babe x

maxverstappen1 love you or whatever 🙄 ♥️ y/nstagram

user1 she's so real for these pics

redbullracing if it makes you feel better i did nearly lose my job ↳ user1 we got your back admin ❤️

user2 the first pic should be framed and hung in the louvre ♥️ y/nstagram, maxverstappen1

user3 why the ? by bf ??? ↳ y/nstagram we never really made it official?? red bull did it for us i guess hahaha ↳ maxverstappen1 oh make no mistake, you're mine ❤️ ♥️ redbullracing, y/nstagram

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen smau

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leclsrc · 1 year

Text

you know it ✴︎ cl16

genre: porn WITH plot (for once?! everyone cheered), humor, bit of fluff... oh inaccurate depictions of the 2022 season sorry

word count: 7k

Charles is a bit disappointed the pretty girl he harbors a crush on doesn’t have him listed as a Formula 1 crush. He is a lot disappointed that you two can’t fuck.

nsfw warnings under the cut!

18+ because... degradation, praise, charles is a bit switchy here lol, penetrative sex, a bit of ass play sorry...., oral (m receiving), semi public sex, yeah

title from this. i love u guys im so sleepy

Joris insists there’s some big present waiting for Charles in his car, to celebrate the middle of the season that has, and will no doubt continue to stretch into a period of conflict and strategy woes. He yanks off the beanie sitting on his head, listens to small talk drifting between Joris and Carlos as they all walk toward their cars to alleviate the bubble of nerves in the low of his stomach.

Sure enough, there’s an unassuming box lying on the driver’s seat. Joris slides into the passenger seat after Carlos drives away with his girlfriend, his grin shit-eating and mischievous. The door is half open when Charles takes the box to inspect it. White, with the Ferrari logo printed neatly on the centre (very classy touch), the sides are signed by different members of his team. He scratches through the seal and pulls the flap open.

He’s been given a quasi-official Ferrari box of condoms.

Thirty-six condoms, at that, small squares neatly lined up next to each other. Talk about a welcoming present. Not a camera, not racing memorabilia, not a new pair of shoes. Just condoms. Thirty-six of them.

“A mid-season pick-me-up,” presses his friend, giddily. The shorter male lounges comfortably on the seat, a blissful look of pride on his face. Laughing with exasperation, Charles wedges the box shut and tosses it carelessly into the backseat, preparing to drive. This isn’t his first rodeo with weird gifts—he’s half-sure he got adoption papers from an especially excited fan once before.

“You are such an asshole.”

“It’s also a congratulations on winning literally every race so far present,” Joris adds. It’s hyperbole but has a ring of truth to it. As the season closes, Charles’ chances of holding up the trophy this year increase.

Despite himself, Charles has a better outlook on his chances for the remainder of the season, driving-wise. He’s given it his all so far, and the rest looks promising enough. He only hopes he’s right. Netflix also increased the amount of people getting into the sport, so he’s dealing with tons more fans and nosey DMs, but it’s not too much of an impediment to a hopefully stellar season.

Charles makes a right. “Do you plan to use them?” Joris asks then, a teasing tone taking on his voice as he scrolls through his phone.

“No, not really,” Charles says, lying straight through his teeth.

“You’re a fucking liar, you are.” He whips his head toward Charles, observing his stoic side profile. “You’re single, haven’t gotten laid in months—”

“—weeks.” Corrects Charles with a cough, the defense coming at an embarrassing speed.

“…Case in point. And sports gets everyone horny. And if you didn’t know, Mattia actually OK-ed the condoms, so you’ve basically been greenlit by your boss to fuck half the world. Thank me later. I’m proud of myself.”

“Sports gets everyone competitive. Because it’s sports. Which, you’re conveniently forgetting, is my life profession.”

“Loosen up,” Joris whistles lowly. “You think Lewis got seven titles by being a closed-off celibate? It’s practically tradition to fuck around if you’re single in sports. And, for others, being in a relationship is barely an obstacle, anyway.”

Charles hates to admit that Joris is right—because he is. Racing isn’t racing without the extravagant parties that follow, and the girls and guys brought back to hotels for reasons known to everyone. People from everywhere come to the paddock and the clubs—models, influencers, actors. The pent-up energy has to go somewhere, he supposes.

But even if the little shit is right, Charles still maintains a level of dignity. Ergo, he’s steadfast in his belief that he will not be sleeping around or putting this godforsaken box of condoms to any semblance of use while the rest of the season progresses. He just hopes he won’t eat his words.

—

Monza kicks off with a 1-2 and secures Charles with a comfortable lead ahead Max.

He is high on adrenaline all night, toasting and chugging to the win, snapping pictures with Carlos, proud out of his mind. It’s everything he’s wanted and more, a quench to the thirst he’d developed over the season, a slap in the face to his doubters, a kiss on his. He texts his family, friends who aren’t present, some other people who he feels are deserving of a personal announcement, and pockets his phone.

“Now would be a great time to put that gift to use,” Carlos says at some point, when everyone in the garage is kicking back alcohol and slowly preparing to move the celebrations someplace else.

Charles cringes visibly, having almost forgotten about the dreaded gift, and totally forgotten Carlos’ knowledge of it. Even with the recent win, he’s already thinking of the next, the promise of a two-peat, another podium, hell, another 1-2. The condoms were honest to God the last thing on his mind.

They break apart an hour later, when Charles is heading to the hotel and Carlos is headed somewhere else. He’s almost to the exit when someone calls his attention in a curt English voice.He turns and finds Lewis jogging toward him, outside of his race suit and back in the fashionable apparel Charles merely wishes he could pull off.

“Lewis,” he waves, pacing toward him to save the extra few seconds of waiting.

“Amazing, amazing race, man,” the elder compliments. “You’ve got the best chance at the title here.”

Warmth melts into Charles’ body and he offers praise back, which—praising Lewis is just about the easiest thing in the world. Nerves bleed out of him as the conversation continues, the atmosphere of a finished race a welcome accompaniment to their strategic talk.

“Headed to a party, yeah?” Lewis asks when they’ve both exhausted the topic. Charles gives a half-hearted shrug, already energized enough from such a momentous win, and he nods in response. “Nah, I get it. Sometimes you just gotta sleep. But hey, if you’re ever free, we should go get dinner sometime.”

—

The “dinner sometime” happens in Singapore. Having gotten P1 beside Lewis and therefore once again high off the adrenaline, Charles claps Andrea on the back and retrieves his phone to view two texts. One reads Put the condoms to use yet, champ? from Joris, and the other Can I take you up on the dinner? from Lewis. One goes answered and the other goes muted on his iMessage.

A little something he failed to remember was Lewis’ plant-based diet, a fact that hurtles back toward him when he can’t find steak on the menu of this classy, hole-in-the-wall type of restaurant. Of course Lewis would know these types of places, he thinks. He’s a millennial semi-hipster with a separate Instagram account for his dog.

Charles ends up ordering pasta, and Lewis beside him orders a cacophony of very vegan, hippy sounding meals, the quantity of which could feed the two of them. “I hope you don’t mind,” Lewis says when the waiter departs, “but a friend is actually joining us tonight.”

“Sure,” Charles says honestly. As long as it’s not some deranged hyperfan, he does well in social situations. Right then, Lewis calls someone over. Charles looks up, squints through the dim mood lighting to try and make out the nearing figure. And then you’re sitting down across them, smiling softly, exchanging hellos with Lewis.

A little something Lewis fails to remember is his “friends” can just as well be called “celebrities,” because he is, after all, a sporting legend. So if Lewis says “friend,” Charles will assume it’s a “friend,” and not a world-famous model whose face is plastered everywhere on and offline.

“Charles Leclerc,” he says blankly.

You introduce yourself, sliding easily into a bout of questions, apologies for missing the race, you’re impossibly jetlagged, it’s crazy. Lewis chips in with something about how he’s already ordered food for the both of you, and this and that, and Charles is hopeless, staring at your face the entire time. He hopes he looks more sexy than aloof or, worse, starstruck, because it’s turning out to be the kind of situation where he looks like the deranged hyperfan, and not the other way around for once.

To be clear, Charles isn’t a fan of you. He just knows of you, because honestly, who doesn’t at this point? You’re talking on and on about how your latest shoot with Jacquemus was a pain because you shot in a tank top in sub-zero weather, but you express it like it’s the most profound topic on Earth.

Lewis turns to him and, in an (eventually successful) effort to include more of Charles in the conversation, goes, “She’s a big Formula One fan, Charles.”

Okay. Common ground. Charles lifts both brows smugly, his eyes flickering back over to you. “Really?”

You meet his eyes and smile, looking downward and blinking owlishly. You’re so pretty, long lashes fluttering as you blink and try to find an answer. Christ, you’re so painfully his type.

Lewis chimes in again—“Really. And not just because she and I are friends. I mean she was into racing before we got acquainted. Honestly. Quiz her and everything”—then excuses himself to “take a call.” (His phone wasn’t even ringing—total bullshit—but Charles is ultimately grateful for it.)

You make a face of shut up toward the departing Lewis, and Charles exhales a quiet laugh at your defiance. You clear your throat and come up with an answer.

“I’m not a big fan,” you say. “I’m more of a casual, ‘every once in a while’ type of fan.”

“That’s what every big fan of sports says,” Charles says smoothly.

“Is it?” You ask, cocking your head to the side, making a tch noise. You chuckle before going, “Well, if you insist, I’ll be honest. I didn’t want it to come to this, but okay. I am a fan… of Red Bull.”

Charles fakes extreme offense, his jaw dropping as if totally scandalized. You laugh, throwing two hands up in faux surrender. “Not Red Bull,” he says, his tone making him sound even more devastated. “You’re telling me you—don’t tell me you think Max Verstappen is attractive.”

“I mean, a bit!”

Charles makes sarcastic sounds of disapproval, and you laugh. Charles leans forward, and you do, too, both of you smiling. “So you’re into the angry drivers?”

“I’m not into a specific kind of driver,” you say casually, your tongue peeking out to lick over your bottom lip. Your voice is as soft as it is firm, slow and demure, matching the way your eyes glint. You’re impossibly pretty. He almost can’t handle it.

“So who’s making the cut?” He prompts, interested.

“Well, for starters, drivers who are my age,” you say slowly. “I turned twenty-four this year, so anyone within that bracket.”

“Oh?” Charles pretends to delve into deep thought, teasing. “Maybe Stroll? He’s very funny, speaks good English. You can never really say no to a Canadian.”

Your face warms, and you hope your flustered state isn’t too obvious as you shake your head. “He seems fun, but I prefer somebody a bit… a bit older.”

“Older…” he hums. “Pierre, perhaps? Tad bit older, real charming, great driver. I can introduce you. We’re good friends, you know.”

You click your tongue, smiling shyly. You bite your lip and it takes everything in Charles to not turn on his horny gears when he sees you, big eyes and lip bite, look so pretty. “You tease me,” you say meekly. Charles covers a cough with a chuckle and adjusts his position on the seat.

Later, after Lewis comes back in (“Long call, eh? It was about Roscoe.” Bullshit again) and you all get to order drinks, and you’ve departed in your private car, pressing an air kiss to Lewis and waving goodbye to Charles, he turns to the Mercedes driver and hums.

“Next time you have one of these”—he points to the restaurant, gestures to the front door—“dinners, let me know, okay?”

“Ah.” Lewis winks, smirking. “I’ll be sure to.”

—

Understandably, your schedules never seem to mesh well together. Lewis ends up giving Charles your number as compensation.

He stares at the contact longer than he’d like to admit, when he’s marinating in the sweltering heat of Austin. He’s finished much of his work for this half of the day so he’s mostly watching the engineers work on the last bits of modification for Sunday; he cherishest the free time and drafts, reads, and rereads texts, scours Google and Instagram for pictures of, and anything related to, you.

There’s a few new articles about buying a new car (a Benz, much to Charles’ chagrin) and new photoshoots intermittently scattered across Europe, with all sorts of brands. He sees a picture you’ve posted of yourself smiling at the camera and thinks of how pretty it would look as his lockscreen.

Am I seeing you soon? He texts finally. He hopes it’s enough to let you know who he is.

Hopefully is the reply. He smiles the whole day.

—

You’ve been texting and calling almost everyday, conversations stretching continents. He only sees you next in Mexico, Friday night, at a club Lewis has rented out for a crazy price that will no doubt be replenished in days anyway. He’s dropped to second here, but the thrill riding in him makes up for his disappointment. The place is so crowded—everyone and their mums seem to have been invited here—room blinking purple and blue, each step vibrating with the heavy bass of EDM. He catches you right as you exit the washroom area, and you look pleasantly surprised to see him.

He saw you earlier, when you were doing shots of tequila and chatting with with Bella and Lewis, but just as quickly as he spotted you, you’d dipped back into the sea of people. Now is better, he thinks. You two are alone.

“Charles, hi,” you say casually. You’re wearing a tight top and a short skirt that, despite Charles’ best efforts, always cast his gaze downward. He wonders what’s underneath, hungers to get his hands there. But he’s nothing if he’s not patient, willing to play the long game.

He takes a step forward, his gaze steady on you. Charles isn’t the tallest driver, but he’s got a big presence. You swallow, taking a step back to accommodate him. He smirks. “You look pretty.”

“You flatter me,” you say thickly, smiling, inviting him closer. The air is hot around the both of you—when your eyes flit around, they see nobody. You’re alone together. His eyes pierce into yours so deep you feel like breaking eye contact, exhaling as you take another step back—evidently, you’re distracted, because you stumble.

His arm circles around your waist, and once you steady, the hand moves down to your hip. It stays, a reminder of what you might be getting soon. You smile curtly, wondering what this might look like to a bystander, a stranger. Somebody might want to piss and walk in to see the strongest world champion contender’s hand on Chanel’s poster girl’s waist.

“Is this okay?” He asks softly against your ear.

“More than.” You say, breath shaky. “It’s more than okay.”

He chuckles. “Good. I’d hate if we couldn’t fuck before Abu Dhabi.”

Your finger traces down and wraps around the belt loop of his jeans. “Who said anything about fucking?”

Charles exhales a laugh, his lips curling upward into an amused smile. “Ah? I can’t fuck you, then?”

“I’ll let you fuck me when you’re holding up the world champion trophy,” you say sweetly, tugging him closer. “That’s okay, right?” You stare up at him, blinking, pouty. He wonders, is this how you might look with your lips wrapped around his—

“That’s about a month away.” His composure barely wavers, his hand traveling lower, blunt nails digging into your ass. Your breath hitches.

“I’m aware,” you say lowly. So be it, Charles thinks—he’s got thirty-six condoms for a reason.

“Define fuck,” he says, voice rough.

“Penetration.” You’re quick with it, cocking your head to the side. You lean back confidently, testin him, eyes batting flirtatiously.

It’s time he get a little creative.

—

Daytime weather is hot and the paddock is swarming with people, but Charles has his sights set on somebody sitting in the Mercedes hospitality. He manages to get out of morning meetings earlier, wedging himself out of the room and passing by a mirror to fix his hair with admirable concentration. He’s in the middle of combing through it when a force tugs at the hem of his polo, causing him to stumble backwards.

“Uh—Carlos? What the hell?” He asks, brow raised defensively. Facing him are Carlos, Joris, and Pierre, arms crossed over their torsos and amused expressions on their faces.

“What are you doing?” Asks Pierre, cocking his head to the side.

“Fixing my hair.”

“Pussy appointment?” Joris interjects; the vulgarity of his statement earns him a poke on the side from Carlos, who clicks his tongue.

“Wh—I don’t—”

“You are shit at lying, mate,” says Pierre, his lips curled into a devious smile. “Who is it?”

“It’s nobody,” he lies.

“Charles,” says Lewis suddenly from behind them, waving his arms to get the former’s attention, “are you going to go over and say hi?”

Hook, line, and sinker. He’s been caught. “Well, well, well,” Carlos starts, mischievous.

“Guys—” Charles says, attempting to make an excuse.

“Looks like your vow of celibacy isn’t so far off after all,” Pierre adds. “That one over at Mercedes is going to break it, eh?”

“Yeah.” Joris says, smirking. “Lucky George, huh.”

The three face him, incredulous. “I was kidding,” he fibs, once he realizes his epiphany is wrong. “Kidding.”

Charles walks off, and ends up seeing you right where he expected you, sitting beside Lewis in a tiny dress with your hair pinned up into a bun. Almost naturally, your words fall into the flirtatious back-and-forth you’d started at the dinner, hyperaware of the cameras snapping your pictures. At some point, the Brit excuses himself to “take a call” (again, bullshit) and leaves the two of you alone.

“See anything nice on the paddock?”

“Nothing I haven’t seen before,” you say with a teasing smile, head cocking to the side to gauge his reaction. He chuckles.

“Did you get a picture with Max?”

“Only a ton.” You pause. “And Daniel, too.”

“Ah, you’re just crushing on the whole paddock, now are you?” He pokes his tongue into his cheek, leans forward.” Uh, Checo?”

“Pass,” you say with a nose scrunch. You’re so fucking pretty.

“Lewis.”

“God, pass. He’s not ugly, but he’s my brother at this point.”

“Pierre.”

“Horribly French, but… smash.”

“Are you not into the French?” He smiles. “Good to know. Hmm—Carlos.”

“I’d be stupid to say anything other than smash.” You narrow your eyes, licking over your lips. “I’m into the Ferrari guys, is the thing.” His gaze travels to your crossed legs, long and disappearing into the hem of your dress.

He smirks. “Are you?”

“I really am,” you hum.

“Are you staying long? All weekend?”

“Yeah, I’m free from work for now,” you say casually. “Any recommendations on what fun things I can do here?”

“I can think of…” he says, smirking a little. “A few.”

—

Stupid places to have sex, number one: a motorhome.

Still, Charles is crowding you up against the wall of the room, swallowing the whimper that leaves your mouth with his own. And still, this isn’t sex. At least not the kind he wants the most. He mentally praises Carlos for being able to decipher the typo-laden text he’d sent out on the way here, one hand around your waist, the other barely capable of typing with how fast his brain ran. Clesr the fuckng room npw now npw it read. Thank God.

Your mouth tastes like champagne, and everywhere else smells divine. Your hands roam impatiently over his shoulders and you make muted noises of frustration at your inability to pull his shirt off. You settle for letting your hands crawl underneath it, stroking over his abs.

“D’you remember what I told you,” you pant, his lips insistent on your neck, “at the club?”

“Yeah,” he says, grunting at the memory.

“Okay.” You breathe. “Let me suck you off.”

“Fuck,” he groans. “Jesus. Okay. Fuck.”

You giggle, and he watches intently as you drop onto your knees, looking up at him through thick lashes. You’re insistent, pulling the zip of his jeans down and tugging his cock out. It’s pretty, thick like the rest of him, already hard.

He’s at his limit, having you here like this, on you knees and stretching your lips around the tip of his dick. Your eyes barely leave his, fluttering as they tear up when you take him in your throat.

He throws his head back, squeezes his eyes shut, lets a hand unpin your bun and thread itself into the untangled hair. If he looks at you, he’ll see your head bobbing up and down on his cock, and he genuinely needs to hold off the orgasm first.

He rocks forward into your mouth and feels your throat close up around him. That’s enough to weaken his resolve, send grunts out of his throat that he can’t keep quiet.

“Oh, shit,” he says, feeling every part of your mouth and throat around him, warm and tense. He can’t help but thrust harder, steady but not too rough, growing more aroused with every sound of you choking on him.

His gaze flickers toward you. You’re teary-eyed, lips dotted with spit, choking yourself on his cock. Just for him, here in public. You pull off, blinking tears away from your face and looking up at him smilingly.

He laughs, guiding his cock back into your mouth, watching the way your brows knit together, pleading, almost. You're at his mercy, he thinks, thrusting harder, listening to your coughs. He loves seeing you like this, innocent face messy and slick with spit and precum, eyes big and needy.

“You like that?” He grunts. “Look at me.”

You nod the best you can. Yes, you want to say. Give me more, I love it.

“Yeaaah, fuck. I know you do,” he says through his teeth, staving off his orgasm the best he can before he releases all over you. The image alone of streaking you with his cum, claiming you all over-eyelashes, tits, cheeks splashed with cum-is enough to send him closer to the edge. “Gonna cum,” he grunts.

You moan around him, the vibrations causing his eyelids to flutter. You shake your head, pulling off and wrapping your hand around his dick, stroking slower. “Not yet,” you say sweetly, watching him throw his head back in pleasure and frustration. He runs a hand through his sweaty hair, exhales shakily.

“Shit.” He whines. “Come on, baby. Make me cum.” He cups your jaw, stares down at you.

You stroke him faster, lip between your teeth. “Okay,” you say with a smile. “Cum for me, Charles.”

He stops staving himself off, falls into the pleasure and relief of your hand around his cock until he’s tense all over, knitting his hand into your hair and pushing you backwards so he can press his tip on the flat expanse of your tongue and let his cum shoot there. It drips from your tongue and lips onto your chin and you giggle, swallowing it, scooping up the rest to push into your mouth.

You stand, licking your lips slowly. “I owe you,” he pants, zipping himself up. Already he’s thinking about what he can do to you in return. Tease you, like you did him, bend you over his lap or sit you on it and make you whine and writhe and wait and cum.

“I’ll hold you to that, champion,” you murmur, kissing his cheek and slipping back outside.

—

Ferrari’s advice is shit and despite his good mood and quick-witted driving, Charles finishes in fifth—not too shabby, but disastrous for his overall standings.

He suffers through a horrible debrief where attempts to defend his honor go unheard, his mood wilting and wilting until he’s at the media pen and ushered in front of some network he hasn’t heard of. They’ve probably paid to get a good seat here.

He’s in a shit mood, he hasn’t seen Joris or Pierre or you in hours, and has only faced red-faced frustrated superiors and now, wide-eyed journalists with loose mouths. The media’s done the mandatory speculation between the two of you, so he already expects questions of that variety, but it’s still hot and angry when he does.

Are you banging the Marc Jacobs model? The Irish reporter asks with a wink, so very unprofessional and not at all belonging to reputable media. The hot leggy one who has fuck me eyes?

Charles clenches his jaw, rolls his eyes, says fuck off mate and shoves him backward a little, then walks away and readjusts his cap. The clip makes Twitter and he feels even worse with the amount of troll accounts telling him to Jeez, take a joke.

After the ordeal, in your hotel room, you sigh softly and run your hands through his still shampoo-smelling hair. “You didn’t need to do that,” you say, a bit strictly. He knows you’re grateful, though, and a bit proud.

“I wanted to,” he insists softly. He forgets to leave before morning; when he does, he forgets his official Ferrari shirt hanging on the seat, leaving in a spare one instead. It’s got his number across the back. You don’t tell him.

—

In between Mexico and Sao Paulo, he manages to catch a flight to New York to peek into one of your photoshoots. It’s for Chanel and he’s half-sure he’s taken more pictures of you than the official photographer did. At this point your vague relationship status has caught onto headlines everywhere, and he doesn’t miss the curious murmurs from paparazzo that follow him as he enters your apartment later to greet you.

You’re in a pair of shorts and a tank top when you open the door, greeting him with a tight hug and leading him inside with a loose grip.

“Wine?”

“Please.” He eyes the wide area, the big floor-to-ceiling windows and the art on the walls. “Hungry?”

“Mmm.” You hum, sliding a glass toward him. “Starving.”

“Pizza?”

“Something else.” You smile. He tears his eyes away from your tits, poking out of the thin cotton, and coughs.

The both of you end up on the couch, your legs draped over his as you talk about racing.

He’s ranting about how he’s neck to neck with Max now, and the final verdict will likely be decided at Abu Dhabi, a fact that sends nerves all through him. You’re listening, you really are, but it’s difficult to keep listening because his hand, big and rough, is stroking your bare calf as he talks absentmindedly.

You offer the occasional mmm-hmm and uh-huh and even the oh really to sell it, but he doesn’t seem to be conscious of how many sparks are coursing through you because of his hand on your leg. He just talks and talks, accent curving into curse words elicited by the competition.

And his voice, rough and deeper when he slides into Italian phrases, gets in your head, reminds you of the way he’d moaned when you had his dick in your mouth. You like that? he’d said, panting, heavy, hot. His hand remained in your hair, controlling you the same way you did him. Fuck.

When you blink, he’s stopped talking, and has likely noticed your wandering imagination if his teasing smile is anything to go by. You cough, clear your throat, adjust your thighs. You’re thinking—you can’t stop thinking—about what happened in Mexico, not just in the motorhome but in the club where he’d let his hand sprawl over your ass and stay there, possessive.

The tension rises. I owe you. He really does. You reach over and grab your phone from the coffee table, snap a few pictures of him. “—Hey!” He protests, scrabbling to grab it from you while balancing his half-full glass. “I look god awful.”

You stand up, review the picture. He looks so impossibly handsome. “You’re right, you do,” you say, pouting.

He reaches over again, chuckling, and you avoid him. “Foul play!”

“Tch. At least show it to me,” he says defeatedly, so you do: presenting your screen to him.

Quickly, he makes a grab for it, but you just escape his grip, ending up right in front of him and leaning over. You’re losing your balance, digging your toes into your carpet to maintain stance. He spares a glance at your shorts, riding low on your hips, showing a bit of thin lace.

Charles tugs you forward by the hem of your top and then takes your wrist into his grip—the force of his grab makes your tits shake underneath your flimsy tank top. It’s dragged down so far your tits are spilling out. His eyes flicker down to them, dark, and a pretty smile spreads across his face.

“Come on, give it,” he challenges, eyes narrowing a little. You bite your lip, inwardly liking this a little too much—being at his mercy, trapped in his strong grip. You’re flustered and it shows.

He wrestles you onto his lap with ease, his arms steady around you. You stare downwards, dark eyes meeting his, hand on his broad shoulder for leverage. He’s so pretty, you think, so hot and handsome and you need him right now. Through his jeans you can feel how thick he is, his dick growing, getting hard and huge under you. It feels big even through a few layers—you can’t help but imagine how it might feel inside you.

Your phone clatters to the carpet behind the couch. “I win,” you say breathlessly.

He grabs your hips and jerks his upward, letting his stiff dick press up even more against your shorts.

“I think I’m the winner here,” he says gruffly, hands feeling you up all over. He thumbs at your chest, rubbing over your tits. You shiver—it feels good having him on you like this, your mind turning to mush.

“Shut up,” you laugh, shakily. A hand wanders in between your thighs, another coming to squeeze your barely-covered ass. You can’t focus on much, just his hands roaming everywhere and his hard dick pressing against your core. He shoves your hips downward again, his cock hard and perfectly against your pussy.

“You feel that?” He asks; it leaves him in one low breath.

“Yeah,” you say, whimpering. “I want it.”

He grinds up against you again, his thumb teasing the hem of your shorts. Closer to where you want it. “Don’t think you could even take it, baby.”

“I hate you,” you say. “You know I can.”

He laughs. “We’ll see, yeah?” You find a rhythm of grinding down against his cock, nestled right against your ass. He’s everywhere and you can’t handle it anymore, finding yourself craving him more and more.

You moan against his neck—and then come to your senses. “No.”

He smirks when you pull away. “Tempted, were you?”

“Not…” You pause. You’re sweaty, flushed all over, and your panties are sticking to you from how wet you’ve grown. “Not very.”

—

Abu Dhabi is a son of a bitch.

It comes with meetings, meetings, debriefs, calls, meetings. Everything is riding on the night’s race, the flurry of social media a welcome source of anxiety for him as he watches the hours whiz by. You’d missed seeing him, understood he was busy; you send a selfie to compensate and it gets him calm enough to last the pre-race buzz.

Time speeds by with lunch, coaching, drills, talks with Carlos and Mattia and even Max, who displays support as strongly as competitiveness. Before he even realizes it, he blinks and he’s in his suit, adjusting his balaclava, inhaling, exhaling. Everything is just the way he likes—needs—it to be.

He drives himself to P2 behind Max, eyes shut.

All else seeps into him, natural method, natural routine. He flexes his thumbs. Through the team radio his engineer goes good luck, and Charles’ practice bleeds into his subconscious. The air is heavy, with tension and excitement, the division of blue and red. Everyone’s eager to see who claims the title.

The lights go off and everything is left to skill, blurring into noise and turns and expletives yelled into the team radio. He can’t even feel himself think, turning with dexterity and overtaking with the kind of vengeance he hasn’t let out in a while.

For all his trying, Max keeps up just the same, keeping a neck and neck level for the relative entirety of the race. They’re milking out the last few laps together, and Charles feels every fibre of his being work toward this, just this, nothing but this right now. Nothing but the finish line.

You got this, Charles, says the engineer, voice heightening. Maiden world championship.

He nods to himself, trusts his instincts and when he catches sight of the finish line, he thinks: he’s the best driver on the grid.

So he revs faster, and the rest descends into—

Absolute fucking chaos.

—

He’s smiling when he approaches the reporter, who’s already holding the mic with wonder. He asks for a message in Italian, then reminds him—and the crowd—that, in case he forgot, he’s world champion. Charles thinks he genuinely can’t ever.

“What are you doing to celebrate?” He asks then, smiling.

Sweaty, with damp hair and shiny skin, he smirks and leans closer. “Someone, I hope.”

—

“Hey there, champ.”

You’re already leaning against his hotel room door when he gets there, after the chore of wrestling himself free from the rest of the team pressuring him to get drinks. Carlos helps out, babbles something or other about Charles being “busy with something else”—which isn't wrong, not at all. He offers a smooth wink, bending down to kiss you.

Your mouths meet, softly first then increasingly messy as he pins you against the door. You push away, breathing heavy. “I don’t know what you’re into, but I don't want the top floor of this hotel seeing us fucking.”

“I wasn’t into that, but now that you brought it up…” You swat his arm and he laughs, unlocking the door and pulling you inside. You’re clinging onto him—his arms, his chest, anything, kissing up his neck and jaw. He groans at how needy you are. All for him, he thinks. Probably soaked through your panties and it’s all because of him.

“C’mon, pretty girl,” he says gently, voice low as he leads you to the bed. He catches sight of your shirt and a brow raises. “Did you buy that?”

“Hmm?” You look down, following his gaze and blinking. The shirt you’re wearing is loose, hanging off your shoulders and hastily tucked into your miniskirt so it looks like you actually have trousers on. “Oh. No, this is yours.”

“Mine.” He smiles a little. “You look so good in it, princess.” His hands mindlessly grope at you, hungry, sneaking underneath your skirt to feel at the lace there.

In retaliation, you lean forward, unbutton his jeans and tug at it.

“You left it at one of my”—you gasp, feeling his finger sneak its way beneath your panties—“my hotel rooms.”

“Pretty girl, pretty shirt, pretty lace, yeah?” He tugs, lets the garter of the skirt loosen and fall off your hips on its own. “Red.”

“You take too long,” you groan.

“You’re just eager,” he laughs, thumbing at your clothed cunt.

You’re so wet, evident even in the lazy circles he rubs over your entrance. You’re aching, desperate, begging almost. So he gives you what you want, maneuvers you onto his lap and pushes your (his) shirt up to stuff your mouth with it.

It won’t work for long, but it’s enough. He pushes your panties to the side and pulls his hard dick out. You’re sitting against it now, leaking slick onto it, at his mercy, branding his name and his number across your back. It’s hot.

He stares at the way you rock softly against him, hungry eyes meeting yours. “You’re so pretty, baby. Ruined.”

“Fuck me already,” you say, voice throaty, innocent.

“Can you take it?” He asks, teasing you, slapping his dick against your clit softly. You whine.

“Please,” you insist. “I want it. Make it fit.”

He’s a massive tease with it, his breath fanning against your skin, hands sticky on where they’ve hiked your shirt up. He lowers you, slower, against the tip of his dick and he watches your eyes flutter when you sink onto it. After ages of waiting. Your grip’s like iron on his shoulders, moans leaving you in quiet bursts of pleasure.

You’re far away, dumb from the feeling, you barely register the way he shoves the shirt back into your mouth to keep you quiet. “So fucking tight, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say. It’s muffled, barely intelligible. “For you.”

You’re only able to take it because you’re so wet, so turned on, face and brain filled with nothing but pleasure. He can’t take it.

“Mmmfh,” you say, muffled by the bite of cotton in your mouth. You’re sweaty, flushed, overstimulated—you don’t know where to focus. On his lips against your jaw, his hand on your neck, the way your pussy swallows his aching dick. “It’s so big, I—”

“You okay?” He asks, breathily. Smiling. He’s in control, but still he sounds whiny—almost, if not as desperate as you. “You’ll take it all for me, won’t you?”

“Oh god,” is all you muster, letting him stretch you out even more, gushing all over his cock. “I, I—”

He moans, his grip tight against your waist, watching his dick bury itself in you. “You’re getting me so full,” you whine. “So deep, I feel it—” you taper off into a moan again when he presses hs thumb to your clit, distracting you from the stretch as he finally, finally bottoms out.

“Good?”

You nod. So good, give me more.

You grind against him, let the shirt fall out of your mouth. “You’re getting my dick so wet,” he comments, breathless. “So pretty for me, too.”

Growing antsy, he attempts to move, but you whine. Your turn to tease, you think, after he was a dick to you just now. “Not yet,” you say, lip caught between your teeth. His hands are tight around your waist. Desperate.

You squeeze around him, watch his brows knit together, a grunt leave him in a frustrated exhale. “You wanna fuck me?” You tease against his neck, blinking innocently.

“Yes,” he replies, not missing a beat. You pout, like you’re empathizing with the problem you’re causing; you grind slowly against him and he lets out a guttural fuuuuck. He’s so big, so hard—you can feel every inch of him inside you.

“Tell me again, Charles,” you say with a giggle. You’re so hot like this, face flushed and timid, hips moving slowly. He could cum just from the way you bite your lip, the way a whimper slips out of you when he hits the right spot.

“—Yeah,” he says, sweetly. “I want to—please, let me fuck you. C’mon, baby, can I?”

“Aww,” you tease.

“Can I?” He asks again, voice deep and thin with the need to fuck you, thrust up into you and make you the dumb one. His face is flushed and desperate. “Can I move, baby? Let me, please.”

You’re not stupid. You know—if his flushed, pleading face and big green puppy eyes are anything to go by—that he’s going crazy, growing antsy. But you’re not complaining.

“Hmm,” you say, feigning genuine thought. “I don’t know, Charles. Feels good just like this. And you want to make me feel good, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says.

“Yeah.” You repeat, staring into his dark eyes. He’s frustrated, desperate, flushed all over and sweaty. His fingers dig into your hips. “I’ll make you feel really good, baby, if you let me.”

“Go ahead,” you say softly, “fuck me, please.” And he’s thrusting upwards to meet you halfway. It’s knocking you out, almost, the pleasure of it, the dizzy onslaught of euphoria. He’s stretching you out so well, whining softly into your neck and yeah, you two have waited far too long to have this. You

“Fuck,” he grunts, lids squeezed shut and head rolled onto your shoulder. “Go on, baby, ride it, make me cum.” He cups your jaw, reaches his thumb into your mouth. It’s too much, all of it. He makes you suck on it while thrusting up, dizzying you with his cock.

He grabs handfuls of your ass, teases his thumb at your tighter asshole just to watch your eyes flutter, feel your cunt grow wetter. “I’ll fuck you even fuller next time,” he says; the implication gets you hot.

You bounce harder, chasing release as his thumb teases over your ass, the tip of it just thrusting in enough to elicit strings of moans out of you. “Come on, ride me,” he goads. “So good for me.”

“Fuck,” you pant, “cum in me, please.”

You cum first, writhing around him and riding your orgasm out in lazy grinds over his hard cock. You want to see him cum, see his eyebrows knit and his mouth release pretty whines, feel him claim you inside, hands hot and heavy on your ass. He does, with a guttural fuuuuck, shoving his dick up in you to the base and spurting all his cum in you.

He thrusts, watches his cum leak out of you, fucks it back in, in a vicious cycle. You shiver, blinking coquettishly and watching along—and then you’re both crumpling over each other on the bed behind you. You pant heavily against his chest.

“Hey.” He muses out loud, drumming against your skin.

“Yeah?”

“I have thirty-six condoms we need to go through. Wanna go on a date?”

#f1 #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc drabble #charles leclerc smut #f1 x reader

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paint-the-walls-white · 1 month

Text

Mein Liebe

Pairing: König x PlusSized!Reader

Summary: After meeting an incredibly large man, at a McDonalds, every part of life changes thanks to him.

Warnings: BDE! StomachBulge! Doggy! Sideways! Oral(M2F)! CreamPies! Breeding! Lots of biting! SexualHarassment!

König was big. He was always described as mountainous, even towering over the most intimidating members of Task Force 141, Ghost included.

He was very reserved as a person, social anxiety getting the best of him most of the time. But, nonetheless, his team always did their best to push him out of his shell. But at this point they were getting desperate.

Which is why they sent him to McDonalds to get everyone Lunch. He was bitter about it, but he was pretty hungry, and it was only a short drive from the base. Besides, it would be a nice change of pace from the cantina's shit on a plate.

It was supposed to be easy, he even had their orders on a piece of paper. But then the drive through intercom was down, courtesy of TF141 tampering with radio signals in the area.

König had to go inside. It was still fine though, he could always use the kiosks right?

Of course not. A cruel twist of fate really. The local crackhead had caused a ruckus and had broken both of them, shattering the screen.

He'd have to order at the counter.

Heart racing, eyes darting, and breath unsteady, he approached the counter. It was quiet inside, not too busy but not entirely empty either.

But then his heart started pounding for another reason.

The prettiest sight he had ever seen. Bright eyes, shiny hair, soft, plump lips, long eye lashes, and a little weight he could hold onto.

"Hi, welcome to McDonalds, my name is Y/N, what can I get started for you?"

König swallowed sharply, your voice was music to his ears. A sweet melody he would never get sick of. A heavy blush crawled up his neck and face as his eyes dilated.

"U-uh, I need, uh.. Scheise.. Uh Big macs? And uh.. Chicken nuggets."

You nodded, refusing to break eye contact. This hulk of a man was checking all the boxes, even ones you didn't even know you had. Your eyes looked dark with how big your pupils were, attempting to flood your field of vision with this man.

"Ok, what size for those? And is that a Ten or Twenty Piece?"

König swallowed again, his throat impossibly hoarse. "Large. uh.. Twenty please"

"Perfect, and the drinks?" You eyed him through your lashes. You wanted to climb him like a tree for sure, but you also just wanted to lie on him like a mattress and soak in his scent. Gun powder, smoke, and sweet sweet Pine. It was heavenly.

"Just S-Sprites and a Coke.." It was taking so much out of him to talk to you, but he wanted to keep going. If he didn’t, surely the TF141 would laugh at him. Again.

"Alrighty, your total is going to be.. $53.28, Is that going to be for here or to-go?"

You smacked yourself mentally, of course it was to-go, There was literally no one else decked out in military gear there.

"To-go," He watched, almost amused as you flushed in obvious embarrassment.

"Right, of course yeah.." You looked at him again, very intimidated by his gaze, "What's your.. name?"

This broke the intense concentration he had just developed. His name. Why did you want to know his name? Did you want him too? No, there's no way. But then why? What was his name? His name.. oh yeah,

"König."

"Oh, ok.. Is that spelled K-o-n-i-g?"

He gave a curt nod and paid in cash, gingerly brushing against your small hand. The contact did not go unnoticed by you. You shivered a bit and counted out the money hurriedly, hands shaking and face red. You ripped the receipt from the machine and wrote something on it before speaking.

"I-I'll call you when it's ready! Here's your change," You placed the bills in his palm with the receipt and dropped the coins in after, reveling in the warmth of his hand for a second before pulling back and getting the drink cups for him.

"Here are your cups and carrier, I doubled it for you so they won’t fall out."

You were so considerate and sweet. He reveled in your presence, waiting patiently at a booth across from the counter, knee bouncing and hands fiddling with his gloves and Velcro.

After a few minutes of waiting and watching you intently, you called for him,

"König? Your order is ready," You stepped out from behind the counter and approached him. He quickly stood, taking one step to meet your three before offering him the bags.

"Would you like help taking it out? To the car I mean.." You bashfully gnawed on your lip and gazed up at him. He nodded, but truthfully he could have easily carried it all without your help, he just wanted more time with you before he had to leave.

You passed him the last bag and he turned to face you again, gaze intense and completely silent.

"Oh, I have something for you," You reached into your back pocket and pulled out what looked like a small controller with random buttons on it. "It's a fidget toy, I use it when I get anxious too, but you seem like you could use it a bit more.."

He swallowed hard, trying to pass the lump in his throat as he took in every detail of your face.

"Thank you.. Wunderschöne Augen (Gorgeous Eyes).." He muttered the compliment under his mask, eyes shining in awe as dusk hit your bright irises.

"What?" You didn't understand what he said, but the way his eyes were softening and the way his shoulders were relaxing clued you in that it was probably a compliment.

"U-uh.. Your eyes.. They're beautiful.." He averted his gaze. You blushed, averting your gaze as well, muttering a small thank you before you heard yelling from inside.

"Ugh.. Bitch.. Sorry, I have to go.. Duty calls.. haha.."

You waved goodbye and started walking away, "Oh and I left you a little present on your receipt!" Your brazen attempt at flirting caused you to panic internally the rest of your shift.

On the way home, it wasn't any better, you were itching to pick up your phone and see if he had texted you, but you refused on account of your parents dying in a car accident because of texting and driving.

So when you got home you waited, and waited.

But Konig was freaking out so hard. The second he saw you had left your phone number and a little "Call me at 11!" he panicked, speeding back to base where he sat with TF141 barely touching his food as he held the receipt with shaky hands.

Soap, who was sitting next to him, nudged him with his elbow, "What's wrong big fella? Not hungry? Whatchya got there?" he looks at the receipt, eyes widening and a grin spreading across his cheeks, "Oh boy! König here got a girls number!"

König snapped to look at him, eyes dizzy in complete shock, "Gott... was soll ich tun..? (God, what should I do?)"

Gaz spoke up, "Call her you big oaf! she's probably waitin' for ya!"

"But.. It is not 2300 hours.. That is when she said.. to.. to.."

To everyone's surprise Ghost spoke up, "Then eat. Call her at 2300."

Soap patted him on the back, "Lad, I know yer nervous, but listen to Ghostie over 'ere. Give er' a call."

He nodded silently, scarfing down his food before leaving for his room. He anxiously waited until 2300, each minute feeling like agony as he sat there, cell phone in hand, contact pulled up, hovering over the call button.

She sat on her bed, waiting for his call, but at about 10: 50 she decided to give up and rolled over to sleep, her phone next to head. She was so disappointed..

After what felt like forever, she groaned and checked her phone. 10:59. Then 11:00.

Her phone buzzed in her hand, an unknown caller. No way..

Hands shaking, König held the phone up to his ear,

'Hello? König is.. that you..?'

He sucked in a breath at your voice, "Ja, It's me.. How are you..?"

"Mm a bit tired.. but I don't mind staying up to talk to you, I don't have anywhere to be tomorrow.."

He huffed at the sound of your voice, it was angelic. "Ja? what if.. what if we.. go out?"

You gnawed at your lower lip, "I'd like that.. Where would we go?"

"You could.. You could come on base? I'll show you around Liebe.."

"Ok, when should I be there? Wait, what's the whole process of me coming onto base..?"

His chuckle rang out in your ears. He felt oddly confident with you, like there wasn't a worry in the world. He explained about the visitor passes and how this week was friends and family week so it should be very straight forward.

'Ok, I’ll be there at 8 am then? or wait.. 0800 hours? Did I say it right..?'

He chuckled again, "Ja Liebe.. Good job.. Get some rest,"

You told him goodnight and hung up the phone, squealing into your pillow. How could you sleep when you were going to see him?

The very next morning you woke up at around 5 am, you took extra time showering, making sure to use every single product you had, brushed your teeth 2 times, and washed your face 3 times before putting your hair in a hair curler and sitting to do your makeup.

Over an hour later of fucking up eyeliner, restarting twice and stabbing yourself in the eye with mascara, you finally pulled your hair from the curler, pulled on a frilly pink dress, and some chunky white heels with frilly white socks.

You also accessorized with little flowers wherever you could and headed out the door to Base, which was luckily a few minutes away.

Upon reaching the gate the guard eyed you up and down, "Who are you here for, pretty girl?"

"Um.. König?" His gaze made you uncomfortable as he barked out a laugh.

"What’s so funny, Private?"

His voice was obviously chilling but you couldn't help being excited to see him.

You hugged tight around his waist, your head resting just under his chest. He flushed, patting your head as he glared at the man in the booth, silently demanding all inclusive passes for everything.

"Liebe, come with me.. I have much to show you.."

He offered you his hand, bringing out a bouquet of flowers from behind his back. You eagerly wrapped around his arm and nuzzled into his side, taking the flowers.

"Oh thank you König, they're beautiful..!"

"Anything for you Liebe.." You looked up to meet his intense gaze, blushing as you watched his eyes darken and soften. He was so freaking.. Ugh!

The very first thing he did was show off his quarters. His bed was massive of course, you assumed far larger than any other available bed. Squealing, you belly flopped onto the bed.

"Your bed is so big! and it smells just like you" You buried your face into the blankets, taking in every ounce of him as you could, until you felt weight on either side of your head.

"Ja? You like it?" You flipped onto your back to face him, quickly locking eyes with him. His gaze made you blush but you enjoyed his presence.

"Oh my god wait can you please do something for me? I know this is gonna sound weird.." You fiddled with the part of his mask that was draping over your chest, "Could you lay on top of me? just full on crush me,"

His expression immediately changed to bewilderment before chuckling, "I'll suffocate you Lamm (Lamb).. But alright.."

Konig eased down onto you, putting the full weight of his torso down on your small frame. You had bent and spread your knees so he would fit snugly on top of you and you let out weary breath,

"Oh my god this is perfect.. Just stay here for a sec.." Your breathing was labored and he could feel your heart pounding in your chest.

"You sure Liebe? You sound like you cant breath,"

"No no, I'm good...this feels amazing.." The weight literally made you decompress as you settled into the bed, gently scratching his back with your newly manicured nails. He groaned softly into your chest, resting his face between them. You both laid there for what seemed like forever but was actually 15 minutes before he raised himself on his elbows.

"We should go now Lamm, there are many things to do today," You nodded, dazed, breathless, and completely flushed. The sight nearly made him pass out as you panted below him. He raised you to your feet and walked you down to the Cantina where you both got breakfast and he led you to the table with TF141 You were directly behind König as he approached the table. Soap greeted him first,

"Oi Lad! Did you end up callin’ the lass last night?"

"Ja, She's here today."

Gaz whistled, "Well where is she? don't tell me ya scared her off already."

König looked to his left and right frantically before you spoke up meekly, "Here.." You stepped out from behind König, his hulking figure incomprehensible to yours. You shifted uncomfortable under the gobsmacked gaze of TF141 before König helped you into your seat and sat beside you.

"Lad, you're gonna split 'er in half- Oi!" Ghost elbowed Soap, sharply glaring at him. "ahem.. I meant, what's yer name Lass?"

You told them, completely anxious. They were all so intimidating, and not the same way König was. König was hot and intimidating, these men were straight up scary.

"Don't be shy little lady! We ain't gonna bite! Well I mean the mountain here might but still!" Gaz's words brought little comfort but the idea of König biting you was a nice distraction.

"Lass sie in Ruhe! (Leave her alone) Christ you lot are making her anxious! Bastarde..." Konig placed a comforting hand on your thigh and you scooted closer to him to whisper in his ear, which he had to lean down for you to do.

He flushed and sat straight up, shoving food under his mask and choking on it slightly.

'I wouldn't mind if you bite..'

The boys all cackled, completely unaware of what you had said. The breakfast went well, but you eventually broke away from the group to spend the day with Konig. He pampered you endlessly, buying you anything you touched, doing everything you wanted to do just as excited as you were about it, but only because he was doing it with you.

While mini golfing, because why not, he stepped away to use the bathroom. You did a couple of practice shots while waiting for him until you felt a presence behind you.

"Hey pretty girl, who are you here for?"

"He's in the bathroom." You didn't even meet his gaze. It didn't matter, König was gonna be there any second anyway.

"Hey.. Look at me when I'm talking to you," He grabbed your shoulder, digging his fingers into the skin. It hurt. The atmosphere changed suddenly, a threatening aura quickly approaching. But it didn't matter.

Because you swiftly turned to face the man grabbing you and crunched the chunky heel of your shoe into his crotch. There was a sickening crutch, a pathetic squeal and the area went quiet with the collective wince of any man in the immediate area.

"Don't touch me," You nonchalantly returned to practicing your putt as Konig warily approached.

"Gott lamm.. he's never having kids.." You looked up at him for a second.

"I told him I was here with someone else and he grabbed me. Not my fault."

He chortled and patted your hair. You whined that he was gonna mess it up but you could see the smirk in his eyes.

"I'd rather ruin it another way.."

You challenged him, "I'd rather you ruin my makeup, but I suppose that could work too,"

He faltered, Clearly a bright red under the mask before he gently grabbed your hand. You met his gaze again and smiled softly, nodding before he dragged you away from the game,

"König-! I can't keep up-! Eek!" He stopped before throwing you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing, holding down your skirt as he sprinted to his room.

König slammed the door behind the two of you and threw you onto the bed. You squealed with laughter as you bounced, nervously sucking in a breath as he started gently taking off your socks and shoes, placing a kiss on the top of your foot and along your shin until he reached the skirt of your dress.

"Mein Gott... I want to worship every inch of you Mein Liebe.. You're so perfect.."

You stood and turned around so he could unzip your dress, a pure white lacy bra and thong with little pink bows underneath. He groaned under his breath before reaching for his mask. He hesitated for a second before ripping off the mask. His hair was thick but short, a very shiny black. a scar made its way from his chin across his lips and to the opposite side of his nose.

He was so fucking hot.

And he was also beet red, waiting for your reaction, but you just jumped, pressing a kiss to his lips and giggled. You cupped his face, eyes dizzy and lips upturned in a small smile

"You're so handsome, why hide it?" He groaned, sinking to your lips where he kissed you as deeply as he could.

"Mein Liebe.. Ich werde dich zu meiner Frau machen... (Im going to make you my wife..)"

You whined into his kiss, tugging at his shirt, "Off.. please.."

"Patience Lamm... let me pamper you.." He gingerly rubbed a finger against your sloppy folds and groaned "Scheiße.. You're so wet already.." You whined, tightly gripping his shoulders as you met his gaze.

He sunk a finger into you, watching intently as you threw your head back and moaned loudly. His finger was so big and so thick, it was almost as big as your two fingers alone; and then he added a second.

"Ah-! König.." you arched your back into him, feeling your gummy cunt squeeze around his fingers. He groaned into your neck.

"Das ist... Good Girl.. cum on my fingers mein Liebe..." He bit softly into your neck, causing you to seize up and cum on his fingers, squirting into his palm. You'd never been able to cum before but he had barely touched you and here you were, shaking under him with your slick pooling on his blankets.

"König.." you whimpered, watching his gaze darken as he lapped his fingers clean of your mess before he shifted onto the floor, slinging your legs over his shoulders, pushing your underwear to the side and lapping at you like a starved man.

It had all happened so fast and so slow at the same time that you didn't have time to protest or react. But god did it feel good..

He groaned against your clit as you gripped his hair and squeezed his head tightly with your thighs. they were so thick and soft, he had gotten so used to firmness muscles and callous skin. It was incredible.

All you could do was arch into him, on the verge of another orgasm so quickly until he pulled away. You wanted to protest but watched as he stripped off his shirt, moaning at the sight of his broad chest, thick shoulders, and soft abs.

König hurriedly unbuckled his pants, the sound of it alone causing your heart to pound faster, then watched as his dick sprang from the confines of his pants, painfully hard. And scarily big.

"Oh my god.." It was almost a horrified whisper if you weren't so mesmerized by the sight of the throbbing vein along the base and the angry red of his tip.

You finally unclipped your bra and threw it to the side as he ripped off your underwear, angry red lines marking your skin. He trailed kisses up your soft, fatty stomach. He loved it so much, how soft and doughy you were underneath him, sucking every inch of skin he could into his mouth as you moaned and writhed underneath him

"Pleasee.. No more teasing..."

"Mein Liebe.. I must mark every inch of your skin.. how else will others know who you belong too?"

You hid your face with your arm in embarrassment and whined as he sucked a nipple into his mouth, pinching the other one,

"Don't say it like that.."

He groaned as he rubbed the head of his cock along her wet slit, sinking in the head and moaning.

"Scheiße.. You're so hot Lamm... and so wet..Scheiße"

"K-König-! It's..too big-!" You whined, clawing at his back as he slowly sunk into you, each delicious inch stretching you impossibly wide.

König moaned as he sunk to the hilt, reveling in your tight, gummy cunt before he slowly pulled out and thrusted back in.

"Mein Gott Lamm.. So fucking tight...Scheiße!"

You moaned as he repeatedly sunk into you, picking up the pace until he groaned loudly, roughly grabbed your thigh and slung it over his shoulder, pounding at your hole at a brutal pace, likely bruising your cervix.

It felt so good and so overwhelming as a white heat bubbled in your core at each pass he made against your sensitive walls. He growled, biting into your neck and shoulder, lathering the harsh marks with his tongue as you took his cock so greedily.

"Das a good girl.. Look at you, you keep sucking me back in.. Gott.. Cum for me Lamm.."

She whimpered, just on the precipice of the most intense orgasm of her life, clawing at his back for purchase, begging for relief.

Tears flooded from her eyes as they rolled into her head as she came on his cock, squeezing around him tightly and moaning his name loudly, "König-!"

her vision was flooded with white, her orgasm prolonged as he continued to pound into her until he spilled his seed deep into her cunt. He groaned softly as he pulled out, listening to the hurried footsteps just outside the door. Whoever was listening, definitely wasn't anymore.

König chuckled against your cheek, "They heard you mein Liebe.. heard you taking my cock and my seed like such a Braves Mädchen..(Good girl)"

You flushed a bright red and buried your face into his shoulder, legs trembling around him, "König..! that's so embarrassing.."

"What my little Lamm? Want to be quiet as I fuck you? Why don't you bury your face in the pillows then hmm?"

He flipped you onto your stomach, pulling you to your knees as he tutted at you,

"Look at this waste..." He swiped the oozing cream pie up with his fingers and stuffed it back in. You whimpered as his calloused fingers rubbed your sensitive folds as he fingered his cum back into you.

"Das a good little slag.. taking my cum.." He grinned down at you as he slapped his cock on your clit, relishing in the yelps and whimpers you tried to hide.

"Beg for it Mein Liebe.. Beg for my cock.." He pressed soft kisses into your shoulder then bit your ear.

You muffled an embarrassed please into the pillow until he pulled you up by your hair, eliciting an insanely erotic moan as he tugged at your sensitive scalp, "Please-! Please König.. I need it-!"

"Braves Mädchen..." He stuffed his cock back into your gummy cunt, groaning as he raised up on his haunches. He pulled out until just his head was left, then he thrusted in as he pulled your hips to meet his.

He hit impossibly deep and impossible hard against your cervix. It would have hurt had the pressure not been so good. You moaned into the pillow, drool soaked into the fabric, and tears ran down your cheeks. Your makeup and hair was thoroughly ruined, but you didn't care; It was being ruined in the best way imaginable.

You came on his cock again, squirting onto his slick skin, dripping down onto the covers. He groaned at the sight.

"Look at you.. you're such a mess for me.. So slick and tight.. So perfect.. Mein Braves Mädchen... Scheiße.. I'm gonna cum.. Take it.."

You moaned loudly into the pillow, relishing in the feeling of his seed pooling into your ruined pussy, completely drunk on his cock. Eventually, all of the sensations were too much and you passed out.

König chuckled as he slipped from you, "Mein goodness Lamm.. You've made quite the mess... Lamm? Mein Liebe? uh oh,"

He turned you on your back and pressed his ear to your chest listening to your relaxing heartbeat and shallow breaths. He noted the small smile on your face as you slept peacefully before pulling you into his arms and grabbing a different blanket to sleep in.

It had just hit dusk when he heard a knock at his door. König stood, fitting his dick back into his pants and pulling on his mask before covering you with the blanket, kissing your head and opening the door.

"What?" He was obviously irritated, but it simmered when he realized it was Soap.

Soap glanced past König and smirked, "Good god is she dead?"

König rolled his eyes and blushed, "No, just passed out, What do you want Soap?"

"LT has a mission for us. We're gonna be deployed next week, I figured you'd want to tell your lass before then."

König's eyes saddened as he looked back. He had only gotten to spend a day with you and he literally didn't want to spend a second away from you. Now he had to leave?

He offered Soap a curt nod before slamming the door in his face and striding back over to you. you had turned to face the door, eyes slightly open and a tired frown on your face.

"You're being deployed?"

"Ja.. I'm so sorry Mein Liebe.. " he brushed the hair from your face and kissed away the tears of streaky mascara.

"I promise I'll come back safe.. Keine Sorge (Do not worry)"

As you moved to sit up you winced at the ache in your legs and arms. He scooped you into his arms as you wrapped around him like a koala.

"Please tell me you're not leaving to get away from me.." The worried cries that escaped your anxious mind stabbed him in the heart. It hurt so much.

"Oh Mein Liebe.. I would never.. This is killing me.. Nein.. Id never.."

You pulled away, peeling up the mask over his nose and kissed him,

"I'll write to you every day you're gone.."

"I will read them every day.. And any day I cannot write.. I will write two the next day.. So on and so forth.."

You whimpered in his arms. You weren't sure why it hurt so much, maybe he was your soulmate, because that burning pain in your heart was mirrored in his and it fucking sucked.

The few days leading up to the deployment he spent every available second talking to or pampering you. It could be gifts of food, flowers, or stuffed animals. But it was often multiple orgasms, shaky legs, and painful looking hickeys littered across your neck, shoulders, breasts, thighs and ass.

He bit into your shoulder, teeth marks angry and red. You whined as he licked away the stinging pain as he thrusted into you again and again.

"At this rate.. Mnn.. These wont fa-Aye-!de... until you're backk-!"

"That's the point mein Liebe... Scheiße.. You're so tight.."

You watched in the bathroom mirror as he tightly held your hips to his as he pounded against you brutally trying to shape you so you never forget the feeling of his cock.

The week went so fast yet so slow all at the same time. When you parted one last time you cried into his arms. You didn't want him to go, not when you were falling in love with him.

Every day seemed bleak. You wrote to him every day about all the thoughts that had crossed your mind. You had sent him various and frequent care packages. It was almost scary how you knew exactly what he needed.

He had a hard time falling asleep? You sent him a weighted dinosaur covered in your perfume and a bottle of the same kind in case the smell faded. You also sent him drowsy tea and so many baked treats.

His feet and knees were killing him? you sent him memory foam gel inserts, somehow in his exact size and Icy Hot to help with the pain- and of course more treats.

You baked so much in your spare time because of how lonely you were. It hurt to be without him, and you feared every day that he was hurt or dead.

Months of letters back and forth. Your friends kept urging you to just sleep with someone, so you cut them off to find better friends. They didn't know him, they didn't get to call him a weirdo.

Oftentimes at work you would get berated, and since you were more stressed out, you often snapped back. This sometimes worked better than that good old fashioned customer service attitude.

"You don't get to yell at me because you forgot to order a shake. I put your food on the warmer so it won't get cold, it'll be ready in a minute and a half. Have some patience."

Your face was stern but not mean. This often got you more tips. And phone numbers?

Why the hell did creepy old men think it was ok to hit on a girl half their age? And why did they find you yelling at them arousing?!

Every day at work got harder until finally, FINALLY, you were accepted into a paid internship through your university and you made far more in a field you were studying to be in. It was honestly your dream job but there was one big problem.

Joshua.

He was a good worker, always got work in on time, but oh my god was he a pervert. He had already slept with half the women in the office, but for some reason he really wanted to get with you. And the worst part was he was your boss.

"I'm not interested sir, please keep this professional."

"Oh come on sweetheart, what's wrong with a little messing around?"

"Well for one-" He always interrupted you, it really pissed you off.

"I'll give you a 50% raise if you sleep with me,"

"You literally can't, and-"

"I'll work my magic sweetheart!"

"Stop Calling me that! I am not sleeping with you Josh! Fuck Off!"

You had stormed back to your cubicle and not much later had gotten an email from HR about disorderly conduct. and who sent in the complaint?

It wasn't Josh, It was fucking Debbie.

She may have been worse than Josh, because she slept her way up the ranks and was his current play toy. The reason she complained?

Fraternizing.

What. The. Fuck.

You had been there for Six months and never once spoke out against anyone, and the one time you did because you were still being sexually harassed, someone tattles on you for yelling? Hell No.

That day when you got home, you cried. And you cried hard. You loved your job so much, but the work environment was so toxic, you didn't know what to do and you missed König so much it hurt and-

Your phone started ringing. König was calling.

"H-Hello?" You sniffed, raising the alarms.

"Mein Liebe? What is wrong my sweet? Who made you cry?"

"I-It's nothing I'll tell you later, please, just tell me you're coming home soon.. I miss you so much.."

He huffed, "Soon my love. The mission was successful. That human trafficking ring was completely demolished. I'll be home in a month."

"Oh my gosh-! a month?! That's so soon! What date exactly, I'm writing it down on my calendar."

König chuckled as he heard your feet run across the house. He told you the date and excitedly wrote it down.

"Now Mein Liebe, tell me. Who. Made. You. Cry? "

The crushing weight of anxiety and stress pressed down so hard you just sobbed and sobbed. You told him about the harassment, how you loved your job but wanted to leave because of some jerk, how everyone was great except for like two people and then you told him who it was.

"And if Josh could just fucking leave me alone I wouldn't have a meeting with HR because Debbie doesn't like the idea of her douche bag getting with someone else!"

"What did you say his last name was again?"

"uh Davidson.. why?"

He chuckled again, "No reason my love.. I'm running out of time on this call, Ich Liebe dich."

"I love you too König, I’ll write to you tomorrow ok?"

"Do not fret Liebling, It will all be taken care of."

You had no idea what he meant, but you smiled and hung up the phone. You had always felt so much better after talking to him or reading his letters.

Which is why you wanted to do something extra special for him, especially since you had been dating for nearly two years at this point.

So that weekend you scheduled with a photographer friend of yours a sexy photo shoot where you posed in all different kinds of underwear and suggestive poses. You both giggled as you wrapped up the pictures in a little scrap book and added it into his next care package, with a little note to open it when he was alone.

Apparently, the note had slipped from its place on the cover and when he opened the box, normally to share the snacks you send with TF141, he opened the book with a crowd gathered over his shoulder before quickly slamming it shut.

He stammered, he couldn't even get a word out as even Ghost patted him on the shoulder, hooting and hollering with laughter at his embarrassment.

"Good on ya Lad! That Lass really loves ya!" Soap patted him on the back extra hard, causing the book to fall from his hands and flip to a random page where you were clearly seen clad in black lacy lingerie and one of his spare masks on.

He scrambled to pick it up ready to explode as the laughter got even louder, the group hunched over, relishing in his misery. In his heart he knew it was all good fun and he'd be able to laugh about it later but right now he wanted to melt into a puddle and die.

When he was alone, he made good use of the pictures, fisting his cock as if it were your tight pussy wrapped around him. There were a plethora of pictures to choose from, but you with his mask on just did it for him; especially with that look in your eye, like you were ready to be bred.

He came in his palm, quick to wipe it away with a tissue as he continued to admire your shy yet confident face, pupils blown wide, cheeks a healthy glowing red and your skin flushed pink. He noticed that your skin was healed from his marks, which he would have to change as soon as he got home tomorrow.

Konig was coming home early with a surprise- and to handle your problem.

The next day had definitely started hellish. You spilled your coffee on your blouse so you had to go into work with just the tank top and suit jacket, which of course was perfect for prying eyes, no matter how hard you hid your cleavage.

The meeting with HR went ok, especially since you brought up the sexual harassment, which led to an investigation on Josh, but you were sure it was going to lead no where (as usual).

And then you went to lunch. Which for some reason, Josh saw as an invitation to sit down with you. He had talked so much that you had drowned out everything, completely unaware of your surroundings. Except for when he grabbed your hand. You yanked it away, ready to yell at him but he stopped everything.

He wasn't even looking at you. He was looking behind you, completely terrified. And then you felt that familiar hand on your shoulder.

"Is this the guy you told me about Mein Liebe?"

You whipped around and stood to hug him, crying happy tears, even as his tactical vest dug uncomfortably in your skin.

He hugged you tightly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as he glared down at the small man. He chuckled, shifting to a lighter tone.

"I've missed you too, Liebling. Give me one second.."

He stood up fully, turning his attention to Josh. He grit his teeth.

"Ah, you must be the man Mein Liebe was talking about, haha! Boy did she talk about you. Ahh.. Yeah if you ever make a comment about my wife or to my wife again, I will kill you." Josh chuckled nervously and König cleared his throat.

"I'm sorry, that sounded like a joke, I will actually, Fucking Kill you."

The cafeteria was silent and you smirked at Josh pissing his pants.

"Now, my Liebe, where were we? Ah yes."

You watched, tears welling in your eyes as he knelt before you and pulled a small box from his pocket. You laughed and cried and covered your mouth and cried, nodding your head.

"I haven't even asked yet Liebling.. ahem.." his gaze flicked around the room at the cameras but he ignored them, right now he needed to be with you.

"Mein Liebe.. being away from you.. for.. so fucking long.. has been insufferable... Ich liebe dich so much.. I need you to be my wife.. so badly.. so desperately.. I need your comfort, and your touch and your love more than I need oxygen. Please, marry me?"

You jumped and wrapped around him so tightly, crying and nodding yes. It would have been pathetic if it wasn't so sweet.

"There is not a doubt in my mind that I want to be married to you."

He gently took your hand, slipping the ring on your finger and kissed your hand. Afterwards he bought you flowers, your favorite of course, and took you to lunch for the remainder of your break, and then he remained guarding your cubicle. Which was good as Josh approached several times but turned away the second König gave him a glare.

This repeated for the remainder of your work day until he drove you home where he continued to service you, right on the wall by the front door.

Your skirt was bunched up around your hips, sitting on his shoulders as he lapped at your clit like a starved man, not even bothering to take off the mask all the way, but pushing it above his nose.

His fingers pumped into you as you gripped at the top of his head, head thrown back as you rutted against his face, desperate for a release.

You quickly squirted in his mouth, but he kept going until you were sobbing that it was too much, which was only after another two orgasms.

"I can't help it mein Liebe.. You look so fucking Wunderschön with my ring.. Gott I'm lucky.."

He threw you over his shoulder like a sack of flour and brought you to the bedroom. His cock was painfully hard, but he didn't care. He needed to replace all of the healed marks on your skin.

König ripped off your tank top and bra, quickly discarding the mask entirely as he bit into your shoulder, making his way up your neck with rough sucks and even rougher bites until he had made his way across your collarbone.

All you could do was moan at the pain of his teeth and the pleasure of his tongue as he moved his attention to your breasts, trailing his treatment back in between your legs where he ripped off the remainder of your clothes.

He lapped up your arousal once before making his way over you and pulling his cock out of his pants. The head was drooling with cum as he continued to kiss your body, worshiping every freckle, mole, and stretch mark until he met your lips and sunk all the way to the hilt.

He groaned at the feeling of your gummy walls squeezing him tightly.

"This is so much better than my hand Liebling... Scheiße.... So beautiful wrapped around me like this.. Gott.."

"Königg.. That's embarrassing..." you whined as he pulled out and sunk back in, head thrown back as tears flooded from your eyes.

His pace was ruthless as he rutted into you desperately, fucking his cum into you every time he finished. He refused to let up, his pent up arousal was too much, even as he had you on your side, leg thrown over his shoulder, squeezing your ass and tracing the bulge in your stomach every time he filled you with his meaty cock.

Fat tears kept rolling down your cheeks as you felt that impossibly good pressure on your cervix each time he kissed it with the head of his dick, knowing it would be bruised for at least two weeks.

Your lips parted in a silent scream, drool slipping onto the pillow as you came on his cock again, the bed sheets long since ruined. He groaned as he spurted thick ropes of hot cum into you again, pressed as deep into you as he could before collapsing into your chest, kissing the valley between them sweetly.

"You're going to be so Wunderschön pregnant with my babe mein liebe.. Gott.. So Wunderschön.."

"I love you König.." you weaved your fingers through his hair, gently scratching his scalp as he sighed contently, wrapping his arms around your waist.

"Ich Liebe Dich, mein Lamm.."

Two weeks later, while he was at work you had taken a pregnancy test. Pregnant.

No one was shocked, to be honest. But everyone was definitely happy.

#cod konig #smut #konig x reader #konig smut #bde #big tiddy committee #strangers to lovers

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bth3cowboi · 1 month

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love conjeture, lh44 x reader

masterlist

pairing: lewis hamilton x mathematician!reader

summary: sometimes algorithms win championships, other times they help find love. (social media au)

mercedesamgf1

liked by yninmath, georgerussell63 and 879.301 others

mercedesamgf1 This year we want to give a special thank-you to Dr. Yn Ln! With the creation of her new algorithm focused on data analysis and her extensive collaboration this season our view in analytics evolved to unimaginable levels. We are forever grateful for her contributions and what they mean for the future of Formula 1. Thanks again Dr. Ln, and good luck with the thesis! 😎💻

tagged yninmath;

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yninmath thank you for the opportunity🫡💙 it was an honor to work alongside this great team

mercedesamgf1 👏💙

user1 omg work girlll!!

user2 just googled her and im going crazy like how do you have 3 phds at 27😭?

user3 graduated super early too shes kind of a genius lol

lewishamilton thank you miss yn💙

yninmath your welcome sir champion🥹

user4 ok this is cuteee

user5 you should be thanking him bffr

georgerussell63 Outstanding!🙌 Make sure to come back Dr. Yn

yninmath oh but the travelling😮‍💨

lewishamilton nah you’ll make it back

yninmath if you say so haha

yninmath

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yninmath currently picking up trash couches, writing thesis and remembering the friends ive made along the way 🤓💘

on a serious note, if anyone is interested in reading about topology feel free to read my new paper abt it (link in bio #influencer)

tagged bestfriend, roscoelovescoco;

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roscoelovescoco working’s hard🐾😵‍💫

yninmath or hardly working🤔

bestfriend surprised the couch didnt bring rats or something

yninmath no rats or fleas!!! its been a great couch #trashcouch #luckygirls

bestfriend please never use # again

user1 great paper dr yn😍 is there any way I could get your paper on the hodge conjeture for academical porpouses? magazines are too expensive, help a girl out🙏

yninmath dm me girl that should be free so make sure your class gets it too

user2 dr yn youre saving the nyu maths class of 25’🫡

lewishamilton no rest on break miss yn?

yninmath you know me already haha💞

user3 suspicious…

user4 what? they cant be just friends?

user5 I thought she worked for merecedes, what is this?

user6 she was only there to develop part of her thesis tho still won them another championship

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f1paddockgossip

liked by pierregasly and 903.443 others

f1paddockgossip BREAKING! Lewis Hamilton was caught while vacationing in France with mathematician and Mercedes’ collaborator Dr. Yn Ln. The pair are rumored to be in a months-long relationship already, starting in the middle of last season.

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user1 NOOOOO

user2 isnt she like way younger than him? weird

user3 shes literally a grown woman lol she can be with whoever she pleases

user4 no cause they actually look really cute🥹 so happy for them

user5 right! she seems super nice

user6 i just know that man is confused everytime she talks numbers lmao the curse of dating a stem girlie

lewishamilton

liked by yninmath, f1 and 3.478.139 others

lewishamilton congrats on the finished thesis miss yn😉💙 love you

comments have been limited

yninmath love u and ty for the championship😘 would have failed otherwise

lewishamilton 😂😂

lewishamilton anything for my girl

yninmath 🥹

yninmath

liked by mercedesamgf1, lewishamilton and others

yninmath you best believe he sat on the #trashcouch #dearlordwhenigettoheaven

comments have been limited

bestfriend did it have fleas lewishamilton?

lewishamilton no but I was worried

yninmath booo tomatoes

bestfriend just buy a new one please

yninmath i believe in sustentability🫡🍃

lewishamilton there has to be a limit

lewishamilton ❤️❤️

yninmath love you sm

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——

a/n: ty for reading and i hope you enjoyed🩷 maybe ill be writing more for different drivers soon, so if anyone is interesed keep that in mind!

#f1 #lewis hamilton #lh44 #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 smau #f1 x you #lewis hamilton x reader

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headkiss · 8 months

Note

I LOVE the idea of protective Hotch constantly having an eye out for younger bau!agent who’s literally sunshine personified and the complete opposite of him!! Do u think u could write something along the lines of that—maybe him protecting her from something or just their dynamic?

i also love protective hotch!!! tysm for the request i hope u like it baby :D | 1k of fluff, tw for a small burn!

You’d been surprised when you got a job at the BAU. You didn’t have that much faith in yourself at first. Not to say you don’t believe in your skills, but it’s a widely known part of the bureau. A lot of people wanted the job.

And then, there’s Agent Hotchner, unit chief and intimidating though you’re sure he doesn’t mean to be. You were insanely nervous at the beginning.

That was before you started, before the team welcomed you as the new media liaison after Agent Jareau became a profiler. You met Garcia and her collection of fun high heels, Reid and his never ending supply of facts, and you sort of fit right in.

Hotch became much less intimidating. A kind man who cares so deeply for his team that you couldn’t help but like him the way you do. Not to mention the dynamic that built between the two of you.

The small things he does for you that are impossible to ignore. A hand covering the edge of your desk to protect your head when you were searching underneath it for a dropped paper clip, the way he physically places himself between you and danger if he ever gets the chance.

He’s always there, protecting you in ways both big and little, and you enjoy it more than you should.

It’s even brighter on nights like tonight. Drinks and snacks at Penelope’s after a tough case. Nights when you get to call him Aaron instead of Hotch, when he smiles and laughs freely without restraint.

The beep of the oven cuts off yours and Garcia’s conversation, and when she shifts to take care of it, you stop her, “I got it! You’re already hosting, just relax a little.”

“Thank you,” she smiles, squeezing your arm as you walk by.

The smell of food in the oven hits your nose as you walk into the kitchen, humming along to whatever song spills through the speakers.

You pull the oven open, reaching in without thinking and touching the pan with your bare hand. You drop it quickly, metal clanking as it falls back onto the rack in the oven.

“Shit!” You say it loudly, and then, even louder, addressing the team in the next room, “I’m okay!”

They all laugh a little at your reassurance, and then, like they know he wouldn’t let anyone else check on you before him, pretty much every set of eyes in the room lands on Hotch.

He shakes his head and heads to the kitchen, because he would’ve gone either way.

“You okay?” He asks, finding you with an oven mitt on your non-burnt hand, reaching into the oven, and your burnt hand shaking by your side.

“Oh!” You set the pan of nachos on top of the stove and slip off the mitt, turning off the oven and looking at Hotch. “I forgot oven mitts were a thing for a second there. Burnt my hand, I think.”

He’s on you in a second, his hands gently grasping your injured arm, pushing back your sleeve and guiding you over to the sink. His hold is light, never bruising even though you know he has the strength to do so.

It’s the kiss of sunlight on skin.

Aaron turns on the sink, places his fingers under the water to make sure the temperature’s okay before guiding your hand under the stream.

“You still took out the nachos first?” He asks, even when he knows that’s what you’d do, because of course you’re worrying about everyone else before yourself.

“I didn’t want them to burn.”

You’re trying to be brave, though your hand hurts so much there are tears misting your eyes. You’re bouncing on your feet a little to try and deal with the pain.

“How bad does it hurt?” Hotch checks.

Aaron’s felt this sort of protectiveness over you ever since you started. A little younger than him, this ball of light that’s come bursting into his life. You’re always the positive one, even in the darkest situations and he can’t help but want to shield you to keep it that way.

There’s this thing in his chest that tugs and tugs when you’re around, that makes him stand next to you in any room, in front of you in darkness.

“It’s okay,” you say, though your voice cracks a little. “I’m sure you’ve seen much worse, Hotch.”

“Aaron,” he reminds you gently, “and you don’t have to pretend. It’s alright if it hurts, I just wanna help.”

The sink running mingles with the music coming from the next room, the background noise to your moment with him.

“You could bring the nachos out? I told Garcia I would, but we see how that turned out.”

“Okay, I'll bring them out.”

“Don’t forget oven mitts!”

He huffs with a smile, somehow always surprised with how easily you can turn something around. A smile on your face even with tears shining in your eyes and a hand that’s surely stinging.

Aaron carries the tray of nachos and drops them off, then turns to Penelope, “you have a first aid kit?”

“Oh my gosh! Yeah, bathroom cabinet, I can grab it.”

“It’s alright, Garcia. I’ll get it.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Don’t worry. Nothing major, I’m taking care of it.”

He grabs the first aid kit and heads back to the kitchen where you’re still holding your hand under the stream of water.

“Okay,” Aaron sets the kit down on the counter, opening it and then turning off the tap. “Let me see, honey.”

The word melts into you, sticky sweet, and you hold your hand towards him, palm up.

He starts by drying your hand with a piece of paper towel, pressing your skin lightly. His other hand is under yours, his palm against the back of your hand a painkiller in itself.

You hiss when he hits a sensitive spot, and he’s quick to apologize, his voice low and quiet. “Sorry. I’m sorry. Almost done.”

“It’s okay, Aaron. It's not your fault I thought I was heat-proof.”

“You’re cute.”

A smile spreads over your face, your head tilted down to stare and his hands around yours. You watch him spread some Polysporin over your burn, his fingertips featherlight over your skin, soft apologies leaving him every time you flinch a little.

By the time he’s done, the first aid kit shut on the counter, you’ve both forgotten about the rest of the team in the next room. Aaron’s happy to bask in your sunshine.

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sugrhigh · 3 months

Text

BOY NEXT DOOR - ( c.s )

part two

summary- you and your roommates live beside a bunch of senior hockey players, one of them being the infamous team captain chris sturniolo. he’s effortlessly flirty and undeniably attractive, but he’s also a pain in your ass. you find that you have to fight between lust and hatred as you finally get to know the boy next door, whether you want to or not.

warnings- swearing, drinking, no smut (yet 😁)

neighbor/hockey!chris x fem!reader

a/n: WELCOME TO MY FIRST REAL SERIES! i have a lot of ideas for this cuz i love this trope dearly so buckle up! more parts will come soon. also working on a tattooartist!reader x matt series (thank you anons) that will also be out eventually. in the mean time if you have smaller/specific reqs you’d like to see, my inbox is open babies! and if u just wanna say hello or ask a question i’m here xoxo

the music booms over the speakers inside the house next door, just like it always does on the weekends (and occasionally on thursdays too). it always drives you up a wall, but tonight it’s particularly bad.

you sit up slightly in bed, absentmindedly wondering who the fuck is on aux. you’re not sure why the thought crosses your mind, but you know it’s not chris, because these picks are horrendous.

it’s already past two in the morning, not to mention it’s the middle of the week. you haven’t been able to get a wink of rest, even with your headphones blaring at full volume. usually they do the trick, but tonight’s party is relentless, demanding to be heard.

wine wednesday, you think to yourself sourly.

neither of your roommates are home; they’re both off with their significant others, somewhere that’s not here, listening to fuckface and his friends get drunk.

you’re usually pretty passive about the noise, because they provide free alcohol for you guys when you show up and typically give you notice that they’re throwing something.

but tonight it’s just too fucking much. you’re tired, and groggy, and very much so still in your silky pajama bottoms and oversized t-shirt, but you don’t give a shit.

you jam your feet into some sneakers and grab a jacket, clutching it close to your chest as you head down the stairs to the main level of your own house.

you pass the dark living room, shadows leering in the corners as you’re guided only by the light coming from the street lamps outside.

you step onto the porch and the cold smacks you in the face, breath fogging up the air. it’s the middle of january in boston, and the expanse of dead grass between your houses crunches under your feet as you tread toward the front door.

the rest of the street is quiet, aside from the party. but they’re all senior hockey players, and it’s the beginning of their last semester, so what else can you expect?

besides maybe some basic human decency every once in a while. in fact, you’re so frustrated that you’re going in without backup, and without a real plan of any kind.

for some reason, once you get up the three steps to their door, you pause to knock. as if anyone would hear you over the music, or care enough to open the door for someone who’s fucking knocking.

so you twist the handle next, and it’s unlocked. of course.

it opens to a hazey front hallway that you recognize, stairs to the left hand side, blocked off by a young-looking guy you assume is probably a freshman on duty.

the front area is full of people, pressed against the walls, chatting over the music. well, more like yelling over it.

you can smell weed, which confuses you slightly. you know none of them smoke, not during the season at least. they usually don’t let anyone do it inside the house, so it must be an allowance for a girl.

you’re already getting strange looks as you step inside, which is fair. your shorts are hidden by the length of your shirt and jacket, so you’re just legs and shoes. you’ve got no makeup on, and you didn’t check your hair before you came.

but you swallow the lump in your throat, because it doesn’t matter right now anyways.

you shift your way through the crowd, gaze skipping over the people as you finally reach the dark living room. multi-colored strobes flash, lighting up the hoards of tipsy college kids dancing on the soaked wooden floor. furniture is pushed aside to make room, though the championship banner from last year still hangs on the wall.

his eyes find you before yours find him.

he stares at you across the tops of people's heads, standing by one of the couches that’s shoved against the wall. one of his roommates, connor, is leaned back on the cushions, watching the two girls they were talking to pass a joint back and forth.

but he’s no longer focused on anyone else, because he’s spotted you across the room, and he thinks this is the most disheveled he’s ever seen you. your angry eyes lock in on him seconds later, and they narrow instantly.

you beeline toward him, right through a group of people that are half-dancing along to the terrible playlist.

he lifts his eyebrows at your attitude, but not in fear. he’s actually a little impressed. his friends are watching you warily, just as confused as everyone else who saw you walk in.

he can’t help but stare at your legs as you finally reach him, admiring how cute you look in your pajamas, pale pink bottoms peeking out underneath your shirt with every step. he briefly wonders if you’re even wearing a bra.

then you open your mouth, and the fantasy is over.

“what time is it, chris?” you snap at him, one hand balled into a fist, the other clutching your phone.

“i don’t know, but i have a feeling you’re going to tell me.” he takes a sip of his drink to try and hide his grin.

it takes a lot of self control to keep yourself from slapping it out of his fucking hand, just because of how smug he looks. you hold up the screen to his face.

two twenty-two in the morning. chris almost laughs.

“the answer is way too fucking late to be having a party on a wednesday.” you reply, bringing the device back down to rest by your thigh.

“why didn’t you come? i missed you.” he pouts.

you glance over at the people on the couch, at the girls who are still making eyes at you as they converse with connor. he’s giving you a weird look too, as if no one could possibly understand why you’re here like this.

“yeah, sure you did,” you turn back to him, “now shut this shit down before i call the cops.”

chris puts his hands up in surrender, though he knows this is an empty threat just as much as you do.

“wow, somebody’s grumpy.”

you roll your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest self-consciously. “i’m serious. tell the puck bunnies to go home for the night or i’ll do it myself.”

he takes a tiny step closer, just a few inches, and yet it still seems suffocating. he looks too good, clad in a simple black tee and jeans, and he’s studying your face with the fire of a thousand suns.

“you don’t have to be jealous because other girls are here. you know you’re my number one.” chris replies easily.

even though his tone remains light, his expression is serious now. it enrages you more, that he thinks he has so much control over you.

“as if i give a fuck. i just want to sleep, so the choice is yours. police,” you wave the hand that holds your phone slightly, “or call it off.”

chris takes another sip of his drink, tipping it back so he can finish the rest of it in one foul swoop. then he nods his head, like he’s admitting defeat.

“fine. i’ll send everyone home.”

you can feel the relief creeping over you, knowing that you don’t have to actually get law enforcement involved. “thank yo—”

“on one condition.” he interrupts, and you furrow your brows.

“no conditions, chris. we’re not bartering right now.”

“come to the game on friday and we can hang out after for a bit. i’ll even give you a practice jersey to wear.” he offers, and the trademark smirk has reappeared on his face.

lights dance across his features, morphing his expression every few seconds. you just stare, because for once, you’re actually not sure what game he’s playing.

“what, can’t get a date without having to resort to blackmail?” you taunt, and he laughs.

“please, i don’t date. and i’d hardly consider this blackmail. just think of it as getting to know your friendly neighbor on a more personal level.”

there’s a humorous glint in his eye, one that’s daring you to say yes. what’s there to be afraid of? all you have to do is watch hockey, eat some popcorn from the concession stand, and deal with his attitude for an hour afterwards.

you’re still not sure what chris is getting out of this, or why he’s insisting that you need to be there, but at this point you don’t care. all you can think about is salvaging the rest of your sleep.

“alright, fine. now you have five minutes to get everyone out, and i better not hear any more shitty remixes for the rest of the week.” you point an accusatory finger at him and he shrugs, though he’s clearly content that you caved in.

“your wish is my command, princess.”

you turn on your heel to head back outside, retracing your steps from earlier as you slip through the mob. you half expect chris to follow, just because he’s annoying, but he doesn’t.

the overhead lights are coming back on now, and you can hear deep voices shouting, combined with collective groans from the crowd as they all realize they’re being kicked out.

luckily you make it out the front door first, and you jog back up the steps to your own place to get out of the cold.

you’ve only been inside for seconds when your phone buzzes in your hand.

chris

see you friday

sweet dreams ;)

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #hockey au #neighbor au #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo smut #fanfic #new series #enemies to lovers

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k-hotchoisan · 6 months

Note

hii it’s me again with another request (sorry)

Could you write smtg based off the song agora hills by doja cat? whatever member u prefer is fine 💕💕

anywayssss i love you smmm and u are an amazing person!! 💕💕🤭🧎‍♀️

omg that is such a cute song (if you squint hard enough past the public sex HAHAHAH)

Please never apologise for coming back for a request, you know I’ll always welcome you with open arms 🥰

Always thank you for being so sweet vic (if it’s okay to call you that~) and for giving me inspiration + pushing me write out of my boundaries. I genuinely appreciate it.

AND I LOVE YOU TOO 🗣️🩷😭

Where you and Seonghwa have a fight before his Grand Prix finals, but he still wins, and loses his fucking mind when he sees you still cheering for him despite that.

Genre/Warnings: racer au, smut, semi public sex, you fuck Seonghwa in his racer gear, IF YOU SQUINT HARD ENOUGH THERES LIKE ANGST (it isn’t heavy don’t worry), creampies, mild dacryphilla, unprotected sex, sweaty sex

You storm past your partner into the hotel room, trying to let the anger dissipate. Seonghwa is trying to get to you, explaining what you saw. You know that it couldn’t be helped, but feel the thorns prickling your heart when you couldn’t even approach him when you caught one of his overly zealous and nepotistic fans with her hands over him during the after party. Nothing much could done because;

a. He couldn’t do anything about it because the relationship between the both of you had to be kept a secret, his management did not like the thought of entertaining Seonghwa in a relationship when his career is at his peak;

b. The Grand Prix finale was tomorrow. A lot of stakes were in place, and Seonghwa knew better than to fuck it up, especially when he’s worked so hard to get where he is now. He’s so close.

He’s also so fucking close to just wanting to let the world know how possessive he is over you.

“You know it’s not like that right?” and he goes on and on. You know that it’s part of his job—to network, get more sponsors, even if it meant letting other women get a little too close to him. You understand, you do, but oh god, it gets so fucking exhausting. You just wanted time for yourself to clear your head and process the whole thing, and potentially stabbing that nepo baby at least sixty times in your head.

Your arms are crossed. Arguing with him is the last thing you want to do right now, especially when the both of you barely escaped getting caught sneaking into his hotel room. All that for a fight to erupt between the both of you after a long and tense day on the track. You glare at him with a pout.

“I’m going home.”

Seonghwa whips his head so fucking fast, his eyes piercing right into you. He looks absolutely dumbfounded.

“Are you serious?”

You nod. “I’m sorry that I overreacted, but now, I’m not risking us getting caught when tomorrow’s the finals.”

Seonghwa wants to fucking pounce and cage you in. Before he even attempts to deflect your words, you cut him off-

“-and especially when you’re not the one dating someone who needs to keep a relationship a secret.” You sigh. “Please get some rest, Hwa.”

You pull the hotel door open, and leave promptly. Seonghwa stands there, his brows furrowed as frustration bleeds into him. He wants to so badly chase after you, but he knows you wouldn’t let him, not when there could be a chance to risk getting caught by anyone from his team.

As the cab pulls away further from the hotel, your phone is spammed by Seonghwa, and he’s explaining himself. You purse your lips, reading over his texts, but you only decide to reply a curt reiteration of what you told him earlier at his hotel room, and a “love you”, before unlocking your door to finally wash up.

A ping of guilt courses through you—you know you shouldn’t misunderstand or be jealous, but if anything, it was but how it made you feel, and it wasn’t pretty. You didn’t mean to show a perturbed expression when his eyes glanced at you after he barely managed to shake his little fan girl off him, but it was just automatic. And if anything, Seonghwa is just as possessive as you are, if not worse, especially when he sent death glares to your direction when another male had approached you, and periodically touched you up on your arms, which kind of caused the argument to even start in the first place.

Your eyes flutter close, exhausted, as sleep drags you in deeper, the last thing in your mind being Seonghwa.

The morning sun leaks through the windows of Seonghwa’s room. He’s already up, albeit half awake, getting ready for another whole day of racing. His mind was set on going all out for the finals, but something still remains at the back of his mind, and he doesn’t want to push it away. He thinks to himself, he wants to do it for you.

You only send Seonghwa a short text of encouragement, and he doesn’t reply. Then again, he is wrapped up with interviews over interviews, training and the finale would only start when dusk sets. You don a body con dress, paired with one of Seonghwa’s racer jackets you stole, might as well surprise him a little bit.

On the cab to the event, Seonghwa’s gorgeous face is plastered all over the Grand Prix news, as one of the rising stars. He looks absolutely stunning, no doubt, and it gets your heart racing too because you cannot believe he’s yours.

You take a seat amongst the noisy crowd around you. The atmosphere was getting really riled up, especially when the racers all appear on the big screen as they walk back stage to their cars. Your eyes are glued to the screen as Seonghwa appears in his racing gear, and he winks at the camera, a slew of fangirl screams burst around you, and you cover your mouth to suppress a giggle. All the hard feelings the night before faded off, and you heart felt full yet anxious for Seonghwa.

It takes awhile for the warm up and safety check to be cleared, but before you knew it, the checkered flags are raised and lights turned green, cheers roar across the tracks as the loud screeches of the cars overpower them.

Throughout the laps, Seonghwa falls in between 3rd and 4th place, you bite your lip, praying that he’s able to catch up. As the laps close in to its final rounds, Seonghwa slowly climbs up the position to first, and he maintains, amazingly. The night continues to burn with anticipation as the final lap commences, with Seonghwa neck to neck with another racer, switching between first and second.

The final corner becomes the make or break—as Seonghwa drifts, effectively overtaking just slightly before fully taking the spot for first.

And he speeds into the finishing line, winning championship.

You jump from your seat, your fingers clasped from the tension as the announcer is proclaiming Seonghwa’s win, and the screen flashes his winning race in slow motion. Your heart is pounding in your ears as the screams are blocked out. You are so proud that nothing leaves your lips as you fight the tears from falling as you clap. The screen flickers to the car cam, and you see Seonghwa pumping his fist in victory as he rides through another victory lap.

The barricade has fans screaming Seonghwa’s name as he leaves the car and pulls his helmet off. He looks so fucking amazing even when he’s sweaty, and you can’t help but feel your heart skip a beat. You decide not to squeeze with the fans near the barricade, opting to stand further away.

Well, now where does this relationship go? He’ll probably be even further from you now.

A huge group of reporters swarm him, and he looks overwhelmed, that is until his eyes scan the crowd and lands on you, just when you’re ready to turn to leave.

Seonghwa’s heart skips a beat, his eyes are only tunnelling you as he pushes past the crowd, jumping past the barricade to where you are. You have a small smile on your face because you know he deserves all of this.

A tight grip on your hand halts you in your tracks, shocking you, as you turn around with wide and confused eyes. He pulls his goggles off. Before you could even process it, Seonghwa has his jacket that you’re wearing in his fist as his hands travel up cup your jaw—and he pulls you in for a deep kiss.

Your eyes shut as the kiss scatters fireworks beneath your eyelids, with Seonghwa’s lips right pressing against yours. Your mind is fuzzy, as your ears blocks out the loud screams of his fans. He pulls back after what feels like an eternity, before bowing politely at the group of fans and reporters in front of him as he leads you away.

From the circuit track to his hotel room, he never once let go of your hand, probably only gripping it tighter the closer he got to his room. He doesn’t say a damn thing either, probably because he still has the adrenaline pumping in his veins. Nonetheless, you still can’t tell what he’s thinking, and you’re wondering if he’s still upset.

At least not until the moment the door closes behind you.

Because he turns his heels right at you as devours your lips, not letting go at all, even as peels off his jacket, then yours.

He finally pulls back, giving you a breather. His eyes look absolutely wild as he tugs his jacket off you, exposing the way your dress hugs your curves, and his breathing becomes heavier.

“Fuckin hell. You don’t know how much it drives me insane when you’re wearing my jacket over something fuckin slutty like this. Fuck,” he groans, kicking his shoes off. You stare at him breathlessly as you remove your shoes as well, but your gaze never leaving how Seonghwa looks so fucking good with a compression shirt on—the way it hugs his biceps, the way it pulls taut against his chest and abdomen, the gorgeous bounce of his fucking tits every time he shifts his arms. He doesn’t remove his top before pulling you right back into his arms, his hands snaking up to grab your braless tits, which makes him groan again.

“Fuck, you’re not even wearing a bra. Are you fucking kidding me?” His erection presses hard against your thigh, and you’re working through your brain to find and answer amidst being trapped by pleasure. “And where did you think you were running to, looking like that?”

“N-nowhere! I thought you’d be caught up with the report-“ he cuts you off with another hungry kiss. God, he’s so desperate that you can’t help feel the heat pool between your legs. It doesn’t help that he had pulled your dress down past your chest, and his hands are all over your tits, sending sparks down your your spine, right to your pussy. Seonghwa pulls away once more, licking the string of spit that connected the both of you.

Seonghwa hums. “Mmm. Shouldn’t have asked. I’d still fuck you dumb anyway.” Your grip on his arm tightens. His fingers snake under your dress, tugging on your panties as he pulls the pair down, and pockets the pair of panties. The wet patch of slick doesn’t go unnoticed by him. His gaze locks onto yours as he makes sure you watch him cover his fingers with spit before his fingers head south. His fingers meet your slick that covered your cunt and scoffs.

“You’re already so fucking wet already”. He doesn’t give you a chance to answer as his fingers begin rubbing your clit. You lean forward and sigh as you use his shoulder to lean your head on. He lets you for a moment, adoring the way you’re beginning to squirm underneath him. Then he’s grabbing your waist and then dumping you right on the couch, pushing your legs open for him. Your cunt glistens with slick right for him, and Seonghwa is more than ready to dive in, giving a lick before fully immersing his tongue right into your sex, flicking his tongue against your clit, his hands squeezing your thighs. Your fingers are tangled in his hair and your head is thrown back as you tug his slicked back hair. If you weren’t seeing stars, you’d be seeing the fucking heavens.

Seonghwa hits a pace where you’re beginning to see white spots beneath your eyelids and the knot tugs hard in your stomach. Your thighs contract immediately, but Seonghwa keeps them apart, because he knows that’s the sweet spot. He knows it makes you tingle and it gets him so fucking excited. His tongue works even quicker on your clit and your orgasm builds so fucking quick and your whines climb up in octave, music to Seonghwa’s ears.

“There, there. Oh fuck. I’m cumming. Oh my fucking god”, leaving your lips like a mantra, alongside more whines of his name as your orgasm tingles through your body in waves. His tongue presses against your clit and he sucks on your clit, causing you to jolt, tears already streaking from the overstimulation. Seonghwa’s moaning in your wet cunt, making sure he devours every part of your orgasm as his ego inflates. A broken cry leaves your lips as you release his locks, your hands slumping against the couch. Seonghwa presses a wet kiss against your cunt with a smile. He wipes his lips with the back of his hand as he towers over you, his erection staining his pants already. Oh god, you love the way your arousal is all over his plump lips nonetheless. He was made for eating you out. He leans in for another ravenous kiss—and he swears he can never get enough of it. Before you realise it, your dress is pulled back up past your tits.

His fingers gently intertwine with yours as he pulls you up, and leads you to-

“The balcony?” You question, your heart hammering in your chest. Seonghwa cracks a smile as he leans in.

“Yeah. I wanna show the world my girl. I’ll fuck you so good that I’ll make sure the world knows.”

“But-“

“It’ll be fine. I’m serious. We’re so high up and we’re clothed, well kind of ”, he comforts. You bite your lip, because fuck, it was definitely exhilarating to be fucked on the balcony. You wanted the world to know that he’s yours too and the thought of it only heats you up even more.

He leads you the beach chair at the side, where he makes you sit and hang your legs on either side of the arm rests, and he’s about to remove his compression top but your hands stop his before you realise it. He looks at you, concern flashes over his face for brief second.

“Fuck me with your racer gear on.”, you blurt out, curling your fingers against the taut fabric. Seonghwa’s expression immediately switches over to one of a smirk. “What have you been fantasising about, darling?” He pokes, looming over you with a cocky smile.

You can’t escape, the only thing that does is a small whimper. Seonghwa doesn’t push for an answer, because he’s busy yanking his pants down past his thighs, and his cock springs out, hitting his lower abdomen. He sighs as he gives his fat cock a couple of pumps while looking at you with your legs spread wide open for him, your pussy just salivating at the thought of him pounding into you into the next week.

He lines himself to your entrance and doesn’t warn you before he enters, and a squeal leaves your lips, then a soft cry as he pushes more inches into you—every inch going thicker and thicker as he goes down to the base, until he’s snug in your cunt.

“That’s my good girl. Warm and wet, just how I like it”, he whispers into your ears, as he strokes your thighs gently. More sobs leave you, your fingers pressing onto Seonghwa’s arms.

Just when you thought you couldn’t fit any more of Seonghwa, the sudden thought of him right now, fucking you in his uniform somehow swallowed more of his cock, earning you the most gorgeous moan from Seonghwa as his eyes roll back and his eyebrows scrunched.

“Baby-fuck!-just what are you thinking about? Squeezing me like this? Oh god”, his knuckles are whitening from his grip on the arm rest. He pulls out before starting a pace to fuck you with, and soon enough it’s only the sounds of skin slapping, both of your moans and the feeling of Seonghwa’s cock just pounding right into the perfect angle of your cunt that exists in this damn universe. You wouldn’t ask for more.

Your brain was becoming pulp, only soft sobs every time Seonghwa’s balls deep into you. You could only focus on how his biceps tensed against the fabric as his tits fucking bounced every time his slams his cock into you—which you definitely see it too—the way his pants hang just at his lower thighs, and his cock is just disappearing into your pussy, drawing out squelching sounds that were borderline obscene. Drops of sweat splatter onto your dress as he leans in to rest his forehead onto yours.

“So good. So fucking good to be inside you like this”, he curses, trying to not the feeling of his orgasm overpower him. As you were gradually losing yourself to the pleasure, he suddenly pulls back completely, and instructs you to face the night scenery with your ass out. He crumpled your dress to your waist, and his cock enters you again, causing you to draw a sharp breath. He doesn’t let you adjust—he just starts fucking you raw like that, leaving your mouth agape and eyes blown out from the pleasure.

He’s able to reach even deeper part of your pussy now, and he makes sure you fucking cry for him. “H-Hwa!”, you try to speak in between sobs. “Oh god, oh god. I can’t. It’s so deep.” Your hands barely have the strength to hold onto the rails as he is railing you from behind.

“That’s my pussy. Milk me dry baby”, Seonghwa grunts, his fucking becoming more erratic, admiring the way your ass bounces off his cock so naturally. “I’m cumming all the way in baby. Be a good girl and take it, yeah?”

And a drawn out moan fills your ears as his cum floods your abused hole, and you cry out as your second orgasm hits you, clenching his cock even more. A loud slap reverberates into the night as his hand lands on your ass, causing you to flinch and squeal.

“That’s it, baby. Oh, you’re such a good girl”, he hums, holding your hips as far as his cock would let him drive into you, letting cum dribble down your inner thighs. He pulls out slowly, admiring the way your cunt convulses, small loads of his cum and yours leak out of you. You release your grip from the railings and fall right into his arms, as he plants a loving kiss on your temple before whispering,

“I promise you’re the only one for me, baby.”

#ateez #ateez scenarios #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez smut #smut #ateez fic #kpop smut #kpop fics #ateez seonghwa #y/n x seonghwa #seonghwa smut #park seonghwa #seonghwa

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