#I’ve never seen any pictures of him with any

[chelseeebe]

girls on film

18+. mdni! smut, so much smut. p in v, eddie is a munch! alcohol mentions. pornstar!eddie munson x reader. no use of y/n! modern au.

eddie munson makes porn. you make it. only, eddie doesn't much like the sounds of that.

a/n: happy valentines day my loves! spend some time with our favourite nerd eddie instead of a real man that'll only disappoint. i am so guilty of always giving eddie a breeding kink and then just never giving him any children oopsie hehe. i've been writing this on and off for months now, i already have a p2 and p3 the question is whether i'll finish them or not lol

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

when anyone asked, you’d tell people you were a set assistant. 

what they didn’t have to know was that you were a set assistant for pornstars. 

it wasn’t ever a dream of yours, nor something you’d have ever pictured yourself doing, but it paid the bills and hey, sometimes you met cool people through it too. 

today’s no different to any other, waiting for the talent to arrive as you prep the scene. it’s something ludicrous, metal guy meets friends innocent younger sister, something along those lines. 

you never really paid attention to much of that stuff, at some point it just became so much noise and frantic movement that the script never really mattered. 

he’s late. you’ve heard whispers of his nonchalance before. only hoping that you’d still get home on time. 

when the elusive man finally decides to bless you all with his presence, you’re taken back. not ever expecting the lanky guy that had shuffled through the door. all hair and denim. 

his charm makes up for his tardiness. flowing out of his mouth in droves, shaking hands and sharing hugs with the crew until he gets to you. 

“hey,” the man grins, pulling you in for a half-hug, “i’m eddie, super excited for today now that i’ve seen you.” 

you stare back in confusion, you’d be running towels and telling lighting what to do, why would he ever be excited about that? 

“anything you’re not comfortable with?” he asks, squeezing your arm gently. 

“oh.. what? i’m not- sorry, i just work on set,” shrinking into yourself although flattered that he’d thought you were starring opposite him. 

“oh,” sounding almost disappointed, “that’s a real shame,” the thick smell of his cologne and cigarette smoke wafting towards you. 

your cheeks burn, averting your gaze to the ground, finding solace away from his heavy stare. 

“who is the lucky lady?” eyes gliding around the women in the room, choosing to once again settle on you. 

“she’s.. um, she’s getting ready,” gesturing towards the small dressing area you had. 

you were never this bumbling, a thousand handsome men had stood before you and had never, ever had this impact upon you. 

“cool.. okay,” he nods, “where d’you need me?” his leather jacket tightening around his strong arms, knocking the wind out of your chest. 

“over here,” gesturing vaguely at the empty makeup chair, losing any and all composure when he pats your arm on the way past. 

christ. 

you needed to get a grip and get it fast. 

-

a lick of fresh air would help pull you from this disgustingly down bad headspace he’d plunged you into. 

or not. 

eddie’s hand curls around your arm just before you reach the door, “i’ll join ya,” cigarette already poised in between his lips. 

you can only nod, stepping out into the cool air though it does nothing for your flushed cheeks, edging away despite his efforts to keep close. 

you’re a little intimidated by his hardiness and hardness. struggling to keep your eyes above the waistband. 

“you ever thought about doing this?” he asks, blowing the smoke from the side of his mouth. 

“not really.” 

“that’s a shame,” he smirks, “i think we’d make something beautiful,” keeping his gaze steady on your flustered face. 

“stop it,” brushing him off coyly, he didn’t have to be so sickly sweet, his smirk had clearly already worked its magic on you. 

“you don’t agree?” eddie’s eyebrow raises, taking a slow, drawn-out toke of his cigarette.

you shake your head, “there’s a reason i’m behind the camera and not in front of it,” staring out at the bleak, grey parking lot. 

“well i think we should change that,” stepping in front of you, leaving you no room to not look at him, “i’m in town for the week, i’d love to see you again.” 

this didn’t happen to you, ever. the girls you worked with were otherworldly in terms of their beauty, no one ever really paid you any attention at all. 

eddie can sense your hesitation, assuming that he’d scared you away already, “look, take my number. you don’t have to call but i’d like you to,” slipping his cell from his pocket. 

you nod almost on your own, retrieving your own phone to hand off to him. he’s slick in the way he taps the number in, cigarette balanced on his lip as his eyes flicker between phone screens. 

“there ya go,” placing your phone back in your clammy palm, “do what you want with it, i go back to chicago on thursday,” making it clear that whatever this may be, would be temporary. 

“o-okay,” nodding quickly, there was a high likelihood that his number just sat there for the rest of eternity, never to be used or clicked on again. 

you don’t take eddie as the type of guy to pressure you, in fact, he seems quite the opposite. so much so that if you don’t take him up on his offer, you’ll never hear from him again. 

it’s truly an offer you really shouldn’t refuse, but yet you’re hesitant to even accept his advances. mixing work and pleasure like this, especially with someone like eddie, could only end one way. 

“i better get back in, y’ready?” holding the door open, a real gentleman, making you flustered of the most common of decencies. 

you were fucked. 

-

it’s hellish watching him perform. 

not just seeing everything his tight jeans had hidden away but also the way he truly cared about his partner. 

all the gentle touches to her face, cradling her body while completely disrespecting it too. globs of spit leaving his mouth to coat her cunt, making your thighs press together with indescribable want. 

he glances back between takes, making sure to catch your eye every single time. running his tongue over his bottom lip, knocking the air from your lungs without fail. 

you’d bore witness to many overdramatic, frankly fake orgasms in your years on set. very rarely did anything ever make you feel quite like you did today. screaming jealousy at her disappearing eyes, the way his lips brush against her ear, guiding her through her second orgasm of the session. 

it’s not loud, or irritating, just soft mewls accompanied by his soothing voice, making sure you were soaking right through your jeans. 

when eddie cums, his lips fall apart, head thrown back as his hips stutter, using her back as a canvas, jaw gritted together. 

“that was great!” tom yells, your makeshift director. ushering for you to hurry up with the towels and cold water. your fingers trembling as they brush against eddie’s. 

he offers a sweet thank you, quickly slipping back into his robe as you try to regain some semblance of control over yourself. 

you’re ridiculous, a giggly teenage girl more than a grown woman who watches people fuck for a living. this had solidified your position on ever calling him, and simply put, you couldn’t. 

in fact, you’re not certain you can even speak his name again, destined to live a life of perpetual wondering about what could have been. 

-

one glass of wine seemed to have been all it took to get eddie fucking munson back into your head. 

you’d done so well so far, managing to push the disgraceful thoughts way, way to the back of your mind, only for one measly glass of sauvignon blanc to destroy all of your progress. 

it’s not like you were actually going to call him, just toying with the idea, hovering over the button. a little foreplay, if you will. 

maybe you should. 

if one glass of wine was enough to have you already breaking the promise you’d made to yourself, who’s to say what years and years of unknowing would do? 

eddie was interested first, he came onto you first. there’s no doubt he’d be as eager as you were, but you still can’t help the niggling sounds of apprehension. 

the tone is dialling before you can second guess yourself and end it, fingers trembling around your phone, as if it were a ticking time bomb awaiting detonation. 

it rings a couple times before it clicks, connecting the call, “hello?” his voice echoes, thick and as intoxicating as the first time you heard it. 

your lips move yet produce no sound. reluctantly hoping he’ll think it’s a prank call and block the number. 

“eddie,” the first word to form on your tongue, potentially the worst thing you could’ve said. 

“it’s you,” his smile evident, even through the phone, “i was hopin’ you’d call,” you can hear the hustle and bustle of the restaurant now, he mumbles something to a passing waiter about the bill and now suddenly you feel immensely guilty about calling him on a saturday night.

“i’m sorry- am i interrupting something?”

“not at all,” and you can hear him smile all over again.

but what you don’t see is him glancing over at the busty redhead still at the table, waving back at her innocuous wiggle of the fingers. 

“what’re you doing tonight?” he asks, leaning back against the cool brick wall. 

“nothing really.. i mean, if you’re not busy, maybe you could.. or we could do something?” wanting to die the second the words leave your lips. 

“that sounds good to me,” his audible grin unwavering, “how ‘bout i come over?” 

you freeze, looking around at the mess surrounding you, piles of paperwork and clothes litter the floor, resembling somewhat of a dumpster rather than an apartment. 

“..you don’t want me to, that’s okay,” answering his own question. 

“-no!” interjecting before he could change his mind entirely, “you should come over,” turning into a desperate little slut before he’d ever even touched you. 

eddie pauses, his feet shuffling in the background, “okay,” voice intoxicatingly thick, “give me thirty minutes and i’m all yours.” 

all yours. 

christ. 

you can feel your knees buckle, turning into putty in his hands. 

“o-okay, i’ll send you the address,” ending the call before you fumble this any further. 

immediately springing up from the mattress, deciding that the one and only time you’re going to mix work and pleasure must be perfect. you work on grabbing piles of clothes, shoving them back into the closet they belonged in. 

eddie wouldn’t care, would he? 

perhaps keeping stuff to the living room would be better, the tiny couch would make do. 

-

thirty minutes practically on the dot, there’s a knock on the door. 

oh god oh god oh god. 

this was a mistake. 

you should shut off all the lights and just pretend you’re not home. 

don’t be so silly. 

cursing the self-sabotaging thoughts, damned to make you second guess every single thing about yourself. 

your head peaks around the open gap, eyes falling on his chest to rise up and meet his daunting eyes. there’s a bottle of wine tucked beneath his arm, the half bottle you’d downed beforehand completely unbeknownst to him. 

eddie blinks, his lips cocked to the side, “well hello,” dressed far too nicely for a drunken booty call at your apartment. 

“hi,” utterly meek and pathetic, swooning over his suave greeting. 

“you look good,” gaze trailing down to your bare legs. you hadn’t expected him to be so put together, now regretting your choice of what was essentially just pyjamas. 

“tha-thank you,” pulling the door open wider, “come in, please,” stepping back to let him inside. 

the air thickens immediately, your clothes suddenly too tight and your palms clammy. if you ever wanted eddie to stay interested in you, you’d have to get ahold of yourself quick. 

“nice,” he saunters around the room, looking at your pictures and the other piles of accumulated artefacts ok your shelves. settling just before the couch to turn and smile. “you live alone?” 

you nod automatically, the air sucked from your lungs at the sheer sight of him in your apartment. it felt like some strange crossover dream that really should’ve stayed unexplored. 

“that’s good to know,” helping himself into the kitchen, opening cabinets to presumably find two wine glasses. 

you brush off his comments, it was no secret as to what he was here for. “top left,” arm brushing against his as you make your way into the small space. 

musk and a hint of lingering cigarette smoke waft your direction, decidedly not turning to sniff his jacket like you so wished you could. 

“care to join me?” offering the bottle out in your direction. 

if you were even just an inch braver, you’d create some witty come back, some utterly irresistible flirty banter that’d surely have him crawling on his knees for you. 

but you aren’t, so instead you nod, hoping you won’t resemble such a wallflower all night. 

-

“can’t believe a pretty girl like you was gonna spend a saturday night all alone,” eddie gushes, a quarter of his wine sipped away. 

it’s incredibly hard to remain stoic when his eyes are crescent-moons, lashes cascading shadows over his cheeks and his tongue periodically wets his plump bottom lip. a routine he's no doubt mastered the art of by now.

“i’m always..” gesturing into thin air, unfortunately aware that whatever came out of your mouth next would make you look like a pathetic loser, “i mean, i go out sometimes..” making matters worse tenfold. 

“really?” 

why’d you open your mouth? 

“no.. i work a lot so..” clearing your throat in a bid to make him forget you’d ever spoken. “i hope i didn’t interrupt anything..” shrugging softly, though you’d already known you had done. 

“i was out for dinner.. nothing important,” brushing you off, “she wasn’t exactly.. uh, great company,” laughing into his glass of red. 

the cogs turn, sudden realisation that you had interrupted a date. and he’d let you. 

“you were on a date,” cringing at yourself, frustratedly embarrassed for no good reason, “i’m sorry- fuck, you should’ve said,” wanting to die a thousand deaths. 

he looks utterly perplexed, “if i wanted to be there, i’d be there, alright?” patting your thigh, the first of his daring moves, “i wanted to see you,” thumb circling the soft skin. 

already making you melt half an hour in. you were toast. there’s positively no way you’ll make it out of here with your dignity in tact. 

“..okay,” bashfully nodding along to his heavy words, seldom to back down so easily. there’s just something about eddie munson and his doe eyes that turns you into a submissive mess. 

his hand doesn’t move from your knee, tracing circles around the bone, “you’re so beautiful and you don’t even know it, do you?” trying his hardest to meet your averted gaze. 

fuck. 

your cheeks burn, pussy already throbbing and he had scarcely touched you yet. how was it possible for him to be so sweet? his words thick like molasses, dripping, leaving their mark all over you. 

“i’m just..” what has gotten into you? this was pathetic. “you’re very kind eddie,” smiling gently, as if his words hadn’t sent you into cardiac arrest. 

he hums, a deep noise from the bottom of his chest, “say my name again sweetheart,” purring, toying with coming closer, “i like it better when you say it.” 

you’d scream it if he wanted you to. let all your neighbours know who was making you act like such a fool. 

“you don’t have to sweet talk me.. you’re already sat on my couch,” finding the last lingering ebbing of confidence to bite back. 

eddie laughs, deep and rumbling, “but i like seeing you squirm.”

oh god. 

had he trained in this? he’s so quick witted, bouncing off of whatever you say immediately. 

“you’re so..” trailing off into silence as you meet his heavyset gaze, intimidated and fazed all at once. 

“so.. what, sweetheart?” cocking his head to the side, alongside his lips. 

you hate him. 

his overwhelming confidence, his gaze that has your heartbeat in your throat and your fingers clawing at your thigh. there was something so intimidating and yet oddly charming about his presence.

“so annoying,” biting back, only really annoyed that he had successfully woo’d you. and without much effort at all.

eddie looks vaguely hurt for a moment, only for his grin to spring right back onto his face, “i don’t think you mean that,” sucking on the backs of his teeth. 

you’d been caught out immediately, bowing your head to hide the inevitable flush. 

just fucking do it. 

the same nagging voice that had made you call him in the first place starts up again, louder this time. if his brazen flirting wasn’t enough to get you to make a move, what would be? 

choosing to grasp the moment as it is, refusing to allow him any more power over you for tonight.  

you charge forward, chest bashing into his equally as heaving chest, attempting to straddle his thighs until you’re stopped by his large palm groping your thigh. 

he breaks apart, the back of his hand brushing against your cheek, “it’s real sweet that you think you’re in charge,” quickly taking your wrists into his grasp, pushing against your pouncing stance to press your back against the couch instead. 

you let him, sinking into the cushions as he moves atop of you, hands skilfully skirting over your hips, tugging at your loose-fitting shorts. 

“oh darlin’, i’ve been waitin’ for this,” running his hands back up your doughy thighs, squeezing the pliant flesh on their way. 

you just about melt under the pressure of his sweet talk, allowing him the power to manoeuvre your body any which way he wanted. there’s a soft thunk as your sweatpants hit the floor, his hand spreading your legs to give him full view of your sodden panties. 

you’re not sure you’ve ever been as wet as you are now, positively drenched just by the feel of fingertips against your skin. 

eddie hums, large hands skirting your thighs, a soft squeeze to the doughy skin, “i really thought you’d never call,” slowly sinking down, leaving a trail of peppered kisses on his way, the tank top you’d slung on gives him perfect view of your hardened nipples, tugging the fabric until your tits fall out. 

“wouldn’t that have been such a shame?” continuing on, making you squirm with every lick of his lips, every last syrupy sweet word. 

his lips attach to the overly sensitive skin as his free hand palms the other, tongue twisting around the bud forcing the pathetic whimper from your throat. 

you can feel him smile against your chest, mouth popping off just to lock around the other, continuing his descent down between your legs. 

he pries your thighs apart, looking up at your skittish eyes, jumping from object to object as the pressure in your clit worsens. 

his lips startle you, warm and wet on the pliant skin, sucking and nibbling until he reaches the hem of your shorts. “you dressed up f’me,” hooking his fingers into the waistband, a short tap on your hip has them jumping up to help him. 

eddie glides them down your legs, holding onto your ankle as the fabric hits the ground. his pretty pink lips curve upward before pecking the soft cotton clothing your cunt. he’s a genius, a master of his craft. you’re not at all shocked that women were lining up to have their turn. 

you quiver when he pulls away, thighs pressed together in a bid to satiate the ache left in his wake. 

his thumb traces your clothed slit, pressing into your hole just to come right back up and circle your clit. it’s almost as if you can feel your brain chemistry changing with every single touch, destined to haunt every other encounter you’d have after this. 

no one had nor would ever touch your body with such sincerity and care again. it just wasn’t possible. 

arousal seeps out, turning the gray coloured cotton darker, literally dripping with want for him. 

your hands come up to hide your warm face, covering your eyes, mostly as an excuse to cut the weighted eye contact he hadn’t once broken. 

but his hands are fast, faster than yours. coming to pull yours right back down again, scolding you for even trying it. “don’t do that.. please don’t do that.”

you nod, vowing to do nothing to piss him off again. eddie’s a professional at best, a whore at worst. he knows what’ll get you whirring, knows where to lay his fingers and in what tone to whisper his words. 

sickening. 

he smirks, one-sided, “i like that you don’t fight it,” trusting you enough to let go of your wrists, delving back between your plush thighs. 

words fail to form, overcome with such horniness that you can’t think straight. 

enough of the games, you want to bellow. 

touch me touch me touch me. 

you’re aching, clenching around nothing. the hollow emptiness driving you further and further into craziness. 

“can we..” sighing softly, losing your train of thought as quickly as it came, “i need you,” digging your nails into the poor couch. this cruel and twisted routine had to stop. 

“nuhuh,” eddie huffs, his warm breath splaying across your cunt, “i’m takin’ my sweet time with you,” using his middle and forefinger this time to dance tauntingly over your pussy, grinning manically to himself. 

“but-,” cut off when his fingers curl around your panties, the cool, harsh air hitting your cunt, sending a shiver down your spine. 

“wow,” he marvels, looking lovesick at your slick folds, “she’s so pretty,” in awe of the sight before him. 

your self-consciousness had faded, losing to your disgustingly eager lust. he could do whatever, however he wanted to you. he just needed to do it quickly. 

his tongue peaks out over his lips, preparing for his feast, “you’ve been so patient,” stubble brushing against the inside of your sensitive thigh, “i think you deserve this.” 

with that, your panties come down, he doesn’t even need you to move, expertly manoeuvring them from your skin. he cradles the damp fabric between his fingers for a moment before sliding them into the back pocket of his jeans. 

you can’t protest, you don’t even want to. he was welcome to take whatever he wanted or needed. 

eddie wraps a hand around your calf, resting it upon his shoulder, repeating the motion as your feet settle on his upper back. his palm finds your thigh next, looping his arms around for leverage. 

he hums with pure sick, adulterated satisfaction, one last glance at your glistening cunt before meeting your gaze. “keep your eyes on me sweetheart,” kissing lazily at the skin, antagonistically slow to make his way up. 

your fingers lay on the couch, scared for what you can and can’t do. 

his tongue meets your folds, pulling you out of your worry and into the real world. fuck whatever his rules were, you needed to touch him. weaving frantic fingers through the curls on top of his head, receiving an encouraging hum of approval, his throat vibrating against your cunt. 

“oh my.. fuck,” panting into the abyss, unable to stop your hips from moving against his face. you’d fuck his face and any other time, he’d let you, but that wasn’t the plan. 

he clamps down on your wriggling hips, keeping them pressed to the couch, refusing to allow you any control over the situation. 

eddie’s lips attach to your poorly neglected clit, sucking gently at the bud, forcing the not-so-quiet moans out of your throat, fingers curling around the strands just to tug on them with every flick of his tongue. 

the knot in your stomach is tight already, threatening to snap at any moment. especially trying when the tip of nose nudges at your clit, sitting right on top while his tongue makes you see stars, circling around your hole and right back up between your folds. 

you’ve never been this wet in your life, arousal dripping from his chin to your ass and thighs. when he pulls away just briefly, his puffy lips gleam in the dim light of your apartment. it’s only momentary though, quickly diving back in to pull you over the edge. 

his tongue swipes thick stripes over your cunt, aching for something him to just fill you up. “shit,” you hiss through gritted teeth. your eyes struggle to stay open, he’d forgive you, right? it was no fault of yours that his tongue felt too good, drawing you to the edge just to rip it from under you. 

lolling your head back against the arm of the couch, no longer able to abide by his arbitrary rules. your thighs were trembling, fingertips entangled in his locks, nothing except your impending orgasm mattered. 

eddie voices his displeasure through a low grumble, only twisting the knot further as his tongue laps at your pussy. a ravenous dog of sorts, refusing to let up until you came on his tongue. 

“fu-uck eddie- i can’t.. i’m gonna cum,” vibrating against his ears, feeling his smile against your core. a sick, perverted man that had you exactly where he wanted. 

the band snaps, throwing you over the edge with a twist of the stomach, shaking legs that struggle to stay perched on his shoulders and a verse of soft pleas and eddie’s that resemble a hymn. 

“.. jesu- shit,” shuddering breaths and mewls that fill the room, letting him lap away at your spent cunt. your limbs mimic jelly, letting go of your hold on his hair to clasp his face. 

eddie re-emerges, licking his lips like a cat that got the cream. self-satisfied and completely smug. 

coming up to rest his chin on your heaving stomach with inquisitive eyes, his rough stubble catching on your tired skin, “worth the wait?” as if he doesn’t already know the answer. 

you nod, rather enthusiastically, “definitely worth it,” playing with the tufts of hair that make up his choppy bangs. 

“good,” biting down onto his bottom lip just to pull himself back up, “but i’m not done with you yet,” prying your legs open once more before peeling his shirt from his body, a sight you’ve seen and yet can’t behold. 

eddie presses his already stiff cock to your cunt, toying with his prey. there’s nothing left in you to fight it, laying back on the couch with a soft sigh. 

no man would ever live up to this, you were now cursed to an unsatisfactory life with whomever you settled for. 

his pants come off next, your eyes falling to the outline of his length immediately. eyeing the tiny dark patch and certainly not thinking about him cumming in his pants while eating your pussy. 

you’ve seen his cock, and yet, your lips still fall open when he tucks his boxers underneath his balls, fisting his throbbing piece while you go googly-eyed. 

“shit,” he remarks, one hand on your knee while the other glides his leaking tip through your slick folds. “no one’s ever been this wet f’me before,” practically purring, his tone thick and full of an animalistic need you had thought was only reserved for porn. 

the pleasure rumbles around your nervous system, only to land in your stomach, squeezing the already-snapped muscle once again. 

eddie’s hand slides from your knee, up to your thigh, giving your hip a well-meaning pinch before settling beside your head on the couch. your bodies melding into one as he comes down to meet you. 

his cock nestles in between once more, slipping inside with a harsh gasp and a visceral grunt. you settle for a grip of his taut shoulders, fingers curling around the muscles and smudgy black tattoos. 

this time, eddie buries his face into your neck, suckling at the soft skin, daring to leave his mark when his teeth come out to graze. you hope they last forever, marked by him for eternity. 

the sensation is all too much, struggling to stay afloat once more, pushed further and further to edge when his tongue swipes over the violet markings that littered your collarbone. 

“holy fuck princess,” he grumbles, partially muffled, “y’gonna cum again already?” breathing heavy and stuttered, struggling with his own premature orgasm. 

words don’t appear, and honestly, at this point they didn’t mean a thing. 

instead, you nod, squeezing his shoulder in a bid to communicate. you unravel all over again, drawn out moans that get cut off by his lips, thighs shaking around his midriff. 

eddie was drinking it all in, intercepting the sweet noises from your mouth with his own, rolling his hips at a more subdued pace as you cum again. 

you were spent, utterly exhausted though he doesn’t let up. once you’re over this climax, his rhythm finds pace again. soft palm caressing your cheek while his lips attach to your jaw bone, planting a hundred quick kisses along up to your ear. 

with one knee dug into the couch, the other leg holding him up from the floor, it couldn’t be very comfortable for him like this. your pleasure was first and foremost his priority, a real man. 

he grunts, driving into your cunt with little consideration for the creaky old couch or your neighbours just trying to enjoy their saturday evening. 

“oh god eddie,” you cry. tugging at his scalp, pathetically rutting back against his hips begging for your third? fourth? orgasm to take over. 

his carefully groomed pubes catch your clit, dampened by the sheer amount of your arousal. 

you were just about ready to sleep for forty days and forty nights, both exhausted and overstimulated by his cock, the weight of his body on top of you and smooth words flowing from his mouth. 

“one more sweetheart,” speaking between rugged grunts, panting with every sloppy stroke, “gimme one more,” he coos, hand sliding down to find your clit for the last time. 

his cock twitches inside when you buck back against him, fingernails leaving harsh strips on his back, leaving your mark for the next girl. 

“shitshitshit,” you rush, coming completely undone again, trembling around his cock, babbling what must sound like pure nonsense to eddie. no doubt letting all of your deepest secrets loose in your third moment of weakness.

“mhm that’s it,” letting his cock slide all the way out, just to reach the hilt over and over again. “inside?” was all he needed to huff for you to get the message, too incoherent to ask any further questions. 

“ye-yes please,” not quite understanding the weight of your words until they leave your mouth. a problem for tomorrow. 

with that, eddie topples over, his orgasm rippling through his limbs and his cock pumping thick ropes of his release inside your exhausted pussy. your cries intertwining in the hot air to create a chorus line of pleasure. 

“jesusfuckingchrist,” he heaves, collapsing in a fit of exhaustion. a sticky pile of limbs that starts with you and ends somewhere with eddie. 

everything feels surreal, the light is gleaming and you sort of feel as if you’re floating, watching him pepper your skin with quick kisses and slot himself comfortably on the cramped couch. 

eddie cradles your body, fixing your top to give you back the tiniest bit of dignity you had left. 

he hums, contemplating something, “‘m glad you called,” swooning, “i don’t know what i’d have done if you hadn’t,” positioning himself underneath your body, a strong arm coming to wrap around your shaking shoulder. 

“you would’ve just had to live without me,” chuckling into the sweaty skin of his chest, embracing the lingering arrogance. 

eddie hums before shaking his head, “nuhuh, we would’ve met again somehow,” running his finger up and down the length of your arm. 

“oh, you think?”

“no, i know,” oozing with confidence. you simply can’t hate it because he’s right. 

there’s no instance that your soul would’ve let you rest until this had happened.

[knitmeatardis]

Making Up for Lost Time

I can't believe I am actually posting this, but you all have given me such lovely Hotch x reader fics, I felt the need to add my own contribution. I do not usually write this kind of thing, usually slash all the way, but here we are. For my favorite Hotch smut dealer @aureatelys

Words: ~6.9K; Rating: 18+; Aaron Hotchner x fem bau!librarian!reader

Warnings: safe p in v sex, oral sex (f receiving), canon typical violence, reader is being stalked and threatened, smut, no use of y/n

There’s a certain anonymity involved in being the research librarian for the BAU. No one really takes notice of you, and you assume no one even knows your name, while you get to watch and observe everyone and get to know them from afar. Spencer and Derek, messing with each other like brothers. Emily, so assured and beautiful, confident in everything she does, especially the way she moves. JJ, open and warm despite the daily horrors she deals with. Rossi, the pater familia of the whole crew. Garcia is the only one you have any real rapport with, but she spends so much time in her cave that you rarely see her.

The only one you can’t get a read on is Hotch. In fact, you only know he goes by Hotch because that’s how you hear the rest of the team refer to him. You know he has a son and his ex-wife was killed. You know he’s often the first one here and the last one to leave. But his stern expression never really seems to change. He’s always polite to you, nodding his thanks when you bring the files he needs, but rarely speaks. 

So it is all a bit of a shock when JJ stops me in the hallway. “Hey,” she greets you, but her face is pinched, worried. “We need you in the conference room.”

“Me?” you blanch, frozen to the spot.

“Yes. You. Right now,” JJ says, taking files out of your arms and walking quickly toward the conference room. 

You follow in her wake, feeling like a bug under a microscope when you enter behind JJ and everyone’s eyes turn to look at you. It may be the first time most of them have ever really seen you. 

Hotch stands behind a chair and looks at you. He pats it. “Sit, please.” 

His voice is gentle, soft, almost apologetic. He offers his hand to you to guide me into a chair. His touch makes a strange flutter go through your body but with the way everyone is acting, it’s too hard to focus on it. 

“What’s going on?” 

“I’m sorry, but I need you to confirm,” Hotch says, looking at the screen and pressing a button, “that these pictures are of you.” 

The screen fills with pictures of you outside your apartment, outside the grocery store, on the Metro on the way to work, and most alarmingly, through the curtains into your bedroom while you were undressing. Your blood runs cold. You clear your throat. “Yes. Those – those are all of me. What’s – I’ve never seen anyone…”

“These photos were sent to the bureau,” Hotch explains. “To me, specifically. It’s obviously a threat of some kind, but it isn’t clear exactly what’s going on.”

“Who else knows you work here?” Rossi asks. 

“I mean, lots of people know I work for the FBI. It’s on all of my forms and employment records. Friends and family. But only my immediate family knows I work with the BAU. I don’t discuss it with anyone. Not anyone.”  You can feel your heart racing and your stomach churns. “I think I’m going to be sick.” 

You can feel Emily following you as you run for the ladies’ room. She’s waiting near the sink with a wet paper towel as you finish vomiting. You’re shaking violently and it feels like your legs are going to go out from under you.

“We’re not going to let anything happen to you,” she reassures you, pressing the towel to your forehead. “Do you think you can come back to the conference room and listen to the plan?” 

You nod and follow Emily back to the conference room. Everyone else has cleared out, leaving just Hotch and you and the pictures up on the screen. You can’t help the way your eyes are drawn to them. Emily puts her hand on your shoulder for a moment and then leaves us alone. Hotch reaches over and turns off the television. 

“I know this is distressing –” 

“Why you?” you ask suddenly. “We’re not close. I’m not a regular member of the team. You’re only nominally my boss. I mean, technically I report to you but I spend more of my time reporting to the other librarians. We barely speak.”

Hotch’s brow draws together as he looks at you. “That’s a good question. We think that whoever this is has cast me in the role of protector and he has chosen you as the object of his delusion. He wants to draw me out for a confrontation.”

“So, what’s the plan?” 

“We’re going to give him what he wants,” Hotch says, putting his hand over yours.

….

The next several hours are a blur. The team stash you in Garcia’s lair, deep inside the bureau and away from any windows. Garcia arms you with several of her comfort tokens to keep you safe. As soon as the team is ready, you’re shuffled down to the garage and into the back of an SUV. Hotch sits next to you while Morgan drives, Prentiss next to him.

“Once we get surveillance on your apartment set up,” Hotch says to you, “I’ll take the first watch. He’s going to want to see me protecting you.”

“I understand.” Of course he’s watching you. That’s what the photographs were all about. Making sure you knew that he could see you but you couldn’t see him. “And if there’s anything I need, I should call you.” 

“Right,” Hotch says. He’s gone over all of the protocols with you several times, but he seems to understand that you repeating them is your way of dealing with your anxiety. “Agent Morgan will be walking the perimeter as well.” 

You nod, looking out the window at the scenery without really seeing it. When you get to your apartment, Hotch keeps his arm tight around you as Morgan and Prentiss lead and take up the rear, respectively. Despite the circumstances, something about the way he’s holding you makes a little thrill go down your spine. 

The three of them are efficient, almost brutally so. You want to laugh and cry at how comfortable they are with setting up this kind of surveillance. They barely even have to talk while they’re doing it. Still, it’s getting dark by the time they’re done. 

“I can only imagine how invasive this feels,” Hotch says, his voice gentle as he sits next to you on the sofa. “As much as possible tonight, go about your normal routine. In the morning, one of us will pick you up for work.” 

“Normal routine,” you huff. “At the moment, I can barely think of what that is.” 

“Well. I know when I get home, I like to take off my tie, maybe fix myself a drink.” Hotch gives you a small smile. “Just close your eyes a second. Think about what you’d be doing if none of us were here.” 

Obediently, you close your eyes and take a deep breath. “The first thing I do is change into my pajamas and fix myself something for dinner, I guess. I’m pretty domesticated and boring.” 

“There’s nothing boring about having a normal life,” Hotch says. “We’ll leave you to it. And I’ll be just outside.”

“Thank you, Agent Hotchner.”

“C’mon,” he says, tilting his head and giving you a smirk. “It’s Hotch.” 

“Hotch,” you say with a small smile. 

….

You try not to think about the microphones and cameras around the apartment as you go through the motions of eating something and watching television. You work on some craft projects, not really paying attention to any of it. You keep listening for someone outside or trying to come into the apartment. Finally you give up and get into bed, but all you can do is toss and turn. 

You contemplate picking up the phone and talking to Hotch, but you don’t want to distract him. On the other hand, he did say to reach out if you needed anything. And all you really want to do is sleep. You cave in, too exhausted to care about seeming weak or needy. You pick up the phone and call him.

“Hey. You alright?” Hotch answers immediately.

“I’m fine.” You huff. “I just can’t sleep. I keep listening for someone to come in.” 

“That’s not going to happen. I’m here,” he says, his voice calm and certain. It feels warm. “Would it help if we talked?” 

“Agent Morgan can’t hear us, can he?” 

“No, he can’t hear us. Tell me what’s going on.”

You laugh humorlessly. “Oh, you know. I’m just staring up at my ceiling thinking about some random guy out there who wants to maybe kill me or kill you or both, so not much really. What’s going on with you?” 

Hotch chuckles. “Fair enough,” he says. “I’m just sitting outside a nice woman’s apartment trying to make sure that no one hurts her. So not a lot going on here, either.” 

That startles a real laugh out of you. “So yeah, boring.” 

“All totally normal.” Hotch smiles to himself. “Tell me something about you,” he says. “How long have you been at the FBI?” 

“You already know the answer to that,” you say. “You hired me.” 

“So? Tell me again.” 

“I’ve been a librarian at the Bureau for about five years,” you say. “After I got my masters in library science from Georgetown. I never thought that a librarian would be needed for something like the BAU, but once I started working with the unit, I loved it.” 

Hotch leans back in his seat, looking at my apartment, imagining you laying in bed on the phone. “That’s not something I hear very often.”

“I imagine there’s a lot of burnout,” you say. “And if I was an agent, I’m not sure I could hack it. But when you all come home and you’ve saved someone or brought someone to justice, I get to feel like a little tiny part of that. It’s not a bad feeling.” 

“I probably don’t say it enough, but we value your help. We couldn’t research everything we need to on our own.”

“Of course not. You need to get your boots on the ground. I know that,” you say. You pause, worrying at your lower lip. “Before today, though, I couldn’t be sure any of you even knew my name.” 

There’s a long silence on the other end of the phone. “I know your name. I’ve always known it.” He clears his throat. “We’ve always known it.” 

“Thanks, Hotch,” you say softly. 

“You’re welcome,” he says, just as soft. “How are you feeling now? A little less anxious?”

“A little, yes. Thank you, Hotch.” You smile into the darkness. “Your voice is very soothing. And, forget I said that because that’s just embarrassing.” 

“No, it’s fine.” Hotch isn’t able to keep the smile out of his voice. “I’m glad I can help. Do you think you can sleep now?” 

“I think I’m ready to try again,” you say to him. “Seriously, thank you. For everything.”

He clears his throat again. “Get some sleep. Tomorrow might be a long day.” 

….

You’re groggy and grumpy and still in your pajamas when Hotch calls you from outside your front door. You check the peephole like he instructed and then let him in. 

“Good morning,” he says softly, holding out a cup of coffee to stall any protests. 

All you can do is grunt and accept the cup, taking a long sip. It’s perfect. Exactly the way you take it. You look at Hotch, lifting an eyebrow but saying nothing. “Give me five minutes to fix my hair and put clothes on,” you say to him, turning away back toward your bedroom.

“You have at least ten,” he says, looking around your front room. You try to imagine what he’s seeing and the conclusions he’s drawing as he looks over your family photos, nerdy collectibles, books, and stuffed animals. You brush your hair and throw on some lipstick, thanking your past self for having your closet organized in such a way that makes it easy to pick something out and put it on. 

You emerge from the bedroom, put together and ready to go. “Told you I only needed five,” you say, pushing your hair off my face. 

There’s a moment when he looks at you that something surprised and interested crosses his face, but he quickly masks it with his patented professional stoicism. “Let’s go, then,” he says, holding an arm out to usher you ahead of him as he opens the door. Hotch escorts you down to street level. There’s an agent you don’t know driving as Hotch helps you into the backseat.

“I’m going to start expecting this kind of treatment all the time now,” you say lightly to him as he joins you. 

Hotch smirks at you, lifting an eyebrow. He doesn’t say anything, just settles into the seat next to you. This drive is less anxious than the one the previous day, even though you’re still mostly looking out the window. Hotch is a solid, calming presence next to you. 

“You’re so gentle,” you say out of nowhere, immediately blushing. “Sorry. I was just – I’ve seen you during briefings and with the team and you’re direct. Concise. I wasn’t expecting you to be so warm with me. Encouraging and solicitous.” You shake your head. 

Hotch nods in acknowledgement. “Not everyone gets to see that side of me. It’s usually when bad things happen.” He glances at you. “I’m working on it.” 

“Well, just know that I appreciate it,” you tell him, putting your hand lightly on top of his. There’s a small tinge of red across his cheeks, but he slips his hand out from under yours quickly enough that you think you might have imagined it. The rest of the ride passes in comfortable silence. 

When you get to Quantico and up to the 6th floor, Hotch walks you to your office. “While you’re in the building, you can move around freely. But if you have to go outside for anything, get one of us and we’ll walk you.” 

You take a steadying breath and nod. “I will. Thank you.”

He puts a soft hand on your elbow. “This isn’t going to be forever. We’ll find him. I promise.” 

“I believe you,” you say, offering him whatever kind of smile you can manage. He nods at you and drops his hand, heading away as you go into my office. Without his hand on your arm, you feel suddenly cold, but you try to shake it off and concentrate on your work. You can already see that the messages light on your phone is blinking. 

Trying to recapture some sense of normalcy, you sit at your desk and check your email, looking to see if there’s anything urgent that needs attending to. Then you start with your voicemail. The first ten messages are normal, mundane, then there’s the last one. All it contains is a long exhale and then a low laugh before he says, “I see you have your knight in shining armor giving you rides, walking you into the building. That’s good. It’ll be all the easier to kill you both.”

Your blood runs cold, but you manage to hit save on the voicemail system. Your fingers are numb when you pick up the phone and call Hotch’s extension. It feels like seconds between when you hang up and when he’s there in your office. Penelope has already pulled the voicemail off the servers and saved it to her own system, but he wants to hear it for himself. It’s somehow more disturbing the second time through. When you look up at Hotch, his lips are pressed into a hard, thin line. 

“Does he sound familiar to you?” he asks you. 

“No. But I talk to a lot of people when I’m processing requests. Everyone starts to sound the same after a bit.” 

“He sounds familiar to me.” He frowns and crosses his arms. “As soon as I find out more, I’ll tell you,” Hotch promises, looking you in the eyes before he leaves. 

You feel like you’re at loose ends, not at all sure what to do with yourself. You start to work on requests and email, but your attention keeps drifting away. Every time your phone rings you think it’s going to be him again, taunting you. Eventually you turn off the ringer and turn to stare into space, until Hotch returns.

“Anything?” you ask, looking up at him. 

He shakes his head. “No. I’m sorry. Penelope is working on it.” Hotch takes a deep breath. “Are you okay back here? I could find a desk for you in the bullpen.”

“I’m fine. I can’t really concentrate, so not much is getting done. But I’m alright.” You try to give him a reassuring smile. “I’ll be fine.” 

“I’ll make sure someone picks up the slack for you,” he says. 

“Hotch, isn’t it safer if I stay at home?” You look at him with wide eyes. “I was hoping that work would be a distraction, but that doesn’t seem to be working out so much.”

“Now that we have confirmation that the threat is to both of us, it’s better to keep you close.” He twitches an eyebrow. “I’ll get Garcia to set you up with some games on your computer.”

You chuckle and duck your head. “Thank you. I’m going to owe you so hard after all of this.”

“You don’t owe me anything. This is what we do for our own.” Hotch lingers in the doorway for a moment and then leaves. 

….

Nothing happens the rest of the day except that you have a new obsession with video games thanks to Penelope. Hotch again rides with you to your apartment, promising to take the first watch again. 

“Hotch, you should go home. I know you have a son. You don’t have to spend another night watching over me when you can go be with him.”

“Jack is on a trip with his aunt and cousins,” he says, ducking his head. “Which is good because since this unsub wants to kill me, too, I’d have to stay away from him anyway.” Hotch looks back at you. “I’d rather stay where I can get to you if I have to.” 

There’s something in his voice, something beyond his professional concern, but it’s too quick to identify. “Okay. Good night, then. If I can’t sleep…”

“Just call me.” He smiles softly. “I’ll be here.” 

Once again you try to go about my evening routine and after you try to go to sleep. When once again you can’t, you talk to Hotch. This time you’re on the phone for almost half an hour before you start yawning and he tells me to go to bed. 

The morning is a repeat of the previous day except there’s no creepy voicemail today. Feeling a little more like you’re on solid ground, you start working. The requests have piled up, despite the help you’re getting from other librarians, so you dig in. Once you generate a list of materials to pull, you head to the archives. 

The stacks are comforting and quiet as they surround you. The smell of paper files is familiar and strangely soothing. You start working through your list, putting files in carts and organizing them per request. You don’t even hear the footsteps as someone comes up behind you. 

“Good morning.”

You jump and whirl, barely biting back a scream. “Jesus! Sean! You scared the shit out of me.” You laugh a little, pushing your hair off your face. “Sorry. Just a little on edge today.” 

Sean looks you over. “That’s what happens when your white knight leaves you alone to fend for yourself.”

That’s when you see the gun. Your eyes go wide, but before you can ask any questions, he pulls you to him, your back pressing against him, the barrel of the gun pressed into your side. 

“Shh, shh, your part in this little drama is almost over. Don’t worry. I’ll kill you quickly. Come on. We have to go see your knight.” 

Sean walks you through the hallways, managing to keep the gun concealed. No one really looks at you, too absorbed in their own tasks to notice. When he pushes you into the bullpen, no one even looks up. 

“They don’t even see you. They don’t care,” he murmurs in your ear. “And it’s a tragedy. So I am going to make sure that they never, ever forget you. Go on. Get their attention.” 

“A-Agent Hotchner!” you call out. Everyone’s heads turn and in an instant he appears at the top of the stairs outside his office. Before you can even take the next breath, the guns of all the agents in the room are pointed in your direction, including Hotch’s.

“Oh, well done,” Sean says to you. He keeps you in front of him, using you as a shield and making sure no one can get behind him. “What are you going to do now, Agent Hotshot!” he says, looking at Hotch. “Huh? You, always in the spotlight, always getting attention! Think you can get me from there, Hotshot? The sniper expert.” Sean sneers at him.

Hotch stares at him for a long moment. “Lower your weapons,” he says, not raising his voice but adding a hard steel. Out of the corner of your eye, you see the rest of the team slowly lower their weapons. His gun doesn’t even waver. “Yes, I can kill you from here.”

You can’t take your eyes off of Hotch, the relaxed but poised stance, his sharp eyes focused on you and the tip of his weapon steady, trained on you.

“Can you do it before I put a bullet in her?” Sean says, ramming the barrel into your ribs and making you whimper. 

“Before, no. Within a heartbeat after, absolutely. But it’s not really what you want. You want to be recognized, you want me to see you,” he says. “Well, Sean. I see you. Now what?” 

“So you know my name. Am I supposed to be impressed? You walk around here like you’re the king of the castle and we’re just peasants under your feet. You have her, right here in front of you every day and you never see her worth,” Sean says, looking at you. 

His arm is so tight around you that you can barely breathe and you’re suddenly afraid that you’ll pass out. “What are you talking about?” you manage.

“You. You’re amazing and they don’t even consider you part of the team. You do everything for them, and they never see you. Not the way that I do. Not the way you should be loved and adored every minute of every day.” Sean’s eyes are adoring for a moment but then they turn hard again. “So I’m going to take you away from them. I’m going to take you away forever, so they will know what it means to live without you like I do. And then I’m going to kill him for every slight you had to take because of him, every late night and exhausting pace and overloaded work. I’m going to punish him for all of it.” 

“Sean, Sean,” you plead, tears streaming down your cheeks. “You don’t need to do that. Agent Hotchner, he’s been amazing. He’s taken such good care of me, and he always has. He’s never treated me badly or ever raised his voice. When I’m working late, he’s right here, working, too.”

“It doesn’t matter!” Sean yells. “He doesn’t see you when it matters! He doesn’t stand up for you! He doesn’t care! And I’m going to prove it.” 

Sean’s grip loosens and he pushes you so that you’re facing him, his gun raised. You scream as strong hands tug you down and away and a shot rings out. You hit the floor hard and you’re immediately covered by the body of whoever pulled you down, protecting you. There’s a terrible silence for a long moment, the sound of your breathing loud in your own ears. Slowly, the body over you – Derek, you realize – starts to move. 

“Hey, sweet heart,” he says, looking down at you as he gets up and then offers a hand down. “How you doing? Are you hurt?” 

“No, I’m alright,” you say, breathless. You keep your eyes on Derek. “Is – is he…?”

“Yeah, yeah he is. I’m sorry,” Derek says, voice gentle. He turns you away and puts his arm around you. 

You hear Hotch’s feet on the stairs as he comes down to the bullpen.

“Put her in my office, Morgan,” he says, still strong but quieter now. “Please.” 

You feel more than see Derek nod and then your feet are moving. He leads you the long way around, through the round table room and along the catwalk around to Hotch’s office, all the while shielding you from the scene below. He closes the door and helps you over to the couch, quickly closing the blinds. “Is there anything I can do for you?” he says, crouching down in front of you.

You haven’t stopped crying, your eyes sting, your ribs and chest hurt from the way Sean had grabbed you and squeezed. You sniffle and wipe at your eyes, letting out a wry, slightly hysterical laugh. “I could use a shot of tequila,” you say, sniffling again. 

“How about some water instead?” Derek says, putting a hand on your knee. 

“Water. Yeah. Water is good.” 

“Good. You just sit here and breathe and I’ll be right back,” he says, standing. You can hear activity outside when he opens the door, but when he closes it again, it is perfectly quiet. You sit on Hotch’s couch, wondering how long it will take your hands to stop shaking.

….

When you wake up, still on Hotch’s couch, you realize that someone has come and put a blanket on you. You’re not sure when you fell asleep, but it was sometime after Derek brought you water. You glance out of the window and realize it must be mid to late afternoon now. You sit up, groggy and confused after the adrenaline crash. You’re only sitting up for a few minutes before Hotch comes in. 

“How are you feeling?” he asks, turning one of his chairs around to face you on the couch. 

“Exhausted.” You rub your face. “I can’t believe Sean did all this.”

Hotch takes a deep breath. “We found more photos of you on his computer. It seems he’s been obsessing over you for some time.”

“I had no idea. He rarely speaks – spoke – to me. I’d smile at him in the stacks or if I saw him in the hallway, but not much else. Why did he fixate on you? And what was all of that about you not considering me part of the team?” 

He opens the file folder he’d brought in with him and hands you some folded paper. You recognize it immediately as the internal FBI newsletter. Inside there’s a profile about Hotch after he broke the record for Quantico’s long-distance sniper accuracy. The article has a picture of the BAU team, naming everyone. The photo was taken in the bullpen, and in the background, there is a blurry picture of you pushing your cart and delivering files to the desks. “He had this pinned up in his office,” Hotch says. “We think this is where it all started.”

You start to laugh and it sounds hysterical to your own ears. “How do you deal with this kind of thing every day? The bizarre thinking and the leaps… that something as small as this could precipitate everything we just went through for the last 48 hours.” You shake your head. “I want to go home.” 

Hotch nods. “I’ll drive you.” 

“No, come on. You’ve done enough,” you say softly, reaching out and touching his knee. “I can make it home on my own.”

“I should take all the surveillance down. And you’re exhausted. This is going to hit you. Hard. You shouldn’t be alone.” 

“Arguing isn’t going to get me anywhere is it?” you ask, smirking. 

“No, it isn’t.” 

You nod and stand. Your legs are still shaky though and you stumble a little. Hotch’s hands are right there to steady you, his breath ghosting over your skin as he holds you. “You’re alright,” he murmurs. 

“Thank you,” you reply, matching his tone. 

He walks you to your office so I can gather your things and then down to the garage. Instead of an FBI SUV, you get into his personal vehicle, you sitting up front with him while he drives. The ride is quiet still, but not the scared, tense silence from the other drives. When you get to your apartment, he escorts you inside, his hand on the small of you back instead of the protective circle from earlier. His body is firm and warm next to yours, and even though the danger is over, you still feel safer with him there.

He goes about collecting the cameras and microphones and putting them in cases as you toe off your shoes and head into your kitchen to look for something to eat. You are still staring into the fridge when Hotch pokes his head in. “I got everything, so…”

“Are you hungry?” you ask, looking up at him. “I’m starving and my fridge is in pathetic shape. I could order something.” 

“That’s not –”

“Just – it’s the least I can do, Hotch. And you said I shouldn’t be alone,” you say, cocking your hip.

Hotch smirks and crosses his arms. “Arguing isn’t going to get me anywhere, right?” 

“Exactly. So. You like thai?” 

Laughing softly, Hotch takes off his suit jacket and drapes it over a chair in your small dining room. “I do. Very much.”

“Good,” you say, pulling your phone out of your pocket and starting a delivery order. You hand it to him when you’re done. “Get whatever you want. I’m going to change.”

When you come out of the bedroom in your pajamas, a tank top and knee-length short pants, Hotch is in your kitchen opening a bottle of wine. He turns his head when he hears me approach. You notice that his tie is off, too, and his sleeves are rolled up to show his forearms. Your mouth waters for a moment. 

“I hope you don’t mind. I thought some wine might be helpful.”

“You know your way around a kitchen,” you say, approving. “Thank you.” You accept the glass from him after he pours and go sit on your couch. You drink in comfortable silence for a couple of moments, just sitting there examining his profile. “I meant what I said, by the way,” you say into the quiet. “About you taking great care of me. I appreciate everything you’ve done.” 

“Like I said, we look out for our own,” he says, turning his head and looking at you. His face is soft and affectionate before he lowers his gaze back to his hands. “He was wrong, you know, about me not seeing you, not knowing your worth. When I saw him there with you, that gun pressed into your side…” He shakes his head. “The idea of living without you in my life really scared me.” He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, looking suddenly shy.

“Hotch… what are you saying?” Your hands tighten around your glass. It’s no secret that Hotch is attractive, and the way you’ve gotten to know him over the last couple of days has been alluring. 

“I’m saying that I have been trying to maintain my professionalism,” he says, “around you. For some time now.” He licks his lips. “I know a lot about you. How you take your coffee. That you like the burritos from the place 10 blocks away even though there’s a place just around the corner. I know you have a sweet tooth. You get stressed out when there’s a chance of snow in the forecast.”

You laugh at that one. “You have been watching closely.” 

“It is sort of my job.” He gives you a small smile. Then he puts his hand palm up on the couch between you, offering it to you to take. “But I’ll admit that I had additional motivation where you were concerned.”

“Hotch…”

“Aaron. We’re off the clock. You should call me Aaron.” 

You slip you hand into his. “Aaron. Why didn’t you say anything?” 

“I’m your boss. And I didn’t want the risk of something going bad between us and losing you. You are part of the team. We need you.” 

“Still, I wish you’d said something. We could have been doing this the whole time,” you say, leaning in and pressing your lips to his. The kiss is soft, almost chaste, but his free hand comes up to caress your jaw.

“Are you sure about this?” he asks, thumb tracing your jaw line. 

“No,” you say looking him in the eyes. “I’m worried about transference and hero worship and all those kinds of things, but at the moment all I know is that your hand is warm and I want you to touch me.” 

Aaron takes the glass out of your hand and puts it on the coffee table before tugging you closer and over into his lap. He cups your jaw in both hands and pulls you into another kiss. This one is hotter, wetter, his tongue sliding between your lips and exploring your mouth. 

You moan softly, pressing against him as he moves his mouth to your jaw and the side of your neck. You tilt your head back, encouraging him as his hands grip your waist hard. You can feel him as he starts to harden in his dress pants, and you can’t help rubbing your hips into him. “Fuck, Aaron,” you murmur, running your hands all over his chest. His hands slip under your shirt, caressing the small of your back. “Bedroom. Please, Aaron. I need to feel you.” 

“What about dinner?” 

“It can wait,” you murmur, running your fingers into his hair and claiming his lips again.

Aaron helps you onto your feet, then stands and scoops you into his arms. He carries you into your bedroom and lays you across the mattress, covering you with his body. He kisses you over and over, his hands slipping under your shirt and caressing your breast over your sports bra. You hook your leg over his hip, arching up into him.

“Aaron…” you moan. “God, you feel so good.” 

“You’re incredible,” he murmurs, his already deep voice dropping into something even darker. “So stupid… wasted time. When I could have been –”

“Hey,” you say, putting your hand on his cheek. Then a wicked smile curls your lips. “You’ll find a way to make it up to me,” you tease.

Aaron actually laughs, his whole face relaxing. “Challenge accepted,” he says, licking his lips. His hands are deft and efficient as he removes your pajamas, and together you work on his dress shirt and the belt of his dress pants. You can’t help giggling as you get tangled up in a flurry of limbs and discarded clothing, but finally you’re able to press skin to skin, his mouth fastened on your neck and collarbone.

“God, Aaron…” you arch against him, your breasts dragging through his chest hair. “I need you.”

Pulling back, Aaron smirks at you but also tenderly pushes hair off your face. “I’m right here,” he murmurs. He shifts his kisses to the base of your throat and then over the curve of one breast, sucking your nipple between his teeth and making you gasp. His mouth travels down your body, his tongue seeking out any place that seems enticing to him. When he reaches my ribs, he runs his thumb over the skin and you wince, realizing that you must already be bruised badly. Aaron presses a soft kiss to the spot before he moves on. 

Gently, he pushes your thighs open, and you groan as the cool air hits your hot skin. You arch as his tongue dips inside your folds, grazing your clit. He wraps his arms around your thighs, your knees bent over his shoulders as he licks and sucks on you. His chin and the stubble across his jaw rubs at the sensitive skin. His tongue teases at your entrance and then up to your clit. You reach back and wrap your fingers into the pillow as pleasure races along your spine. You’re breathless and panting, waves and waves of intense need and want running through you. 

“Oh, god… god, Aaron. I’m – I’m gonna…”

Aaron sucks hard on your clit in response, slipping two fingers deep inside you. You arch and cry out as my orgasm swamps you. He licks and caresses you through it, helping you come down. Your heart is racing and you’re blinking fast to try to get your vision back online as he crawls back over you, licking his fingers and wiping his mouth. You grab his face in both hands and draw him to you for a kiss. Your tastes are mixed in his mouth and all you can do is moan. You can feel how hard he is, his tip teasing at your skin. 

“I need you to fuck me,” you murmur, still holding his face and looking into his eyes. 

“Do you –”

“In the nightstand,” you say, gesturing at the drawer. 

Aaron lifts his eyebrow and smirks but says nothing as he shifts to reach over to the nightstand. He locates the condoms easily, and kneels up to show you as he rips the packet open. You can hear him sliding it on, his mouth dropping open as he wraps his hand around himself. “Fuck, what you’ve done to me,” he groans as he drags you closer and pushes inside you. 

You gasp as he fills me up, the tip of his cock rubbing in exactly the right places. One hand is braced on your headboard while the other tenderly caresses your skin as he starts to move. Ecstasy settles across his stern features and you pant and moan together. He makes the most delightful soft sounds as he works inside you, his eyes screwed shut in pleasure. Your pleasure is spiralling up again, the coil tightening in your spine, but you push it down. You want to come with him, you want to crash through the barrier at the same time. 

“Close… fuck, I’m so close,” he groans.

You run your fingers into his hair, tugging gently. “Yes. Yes, god. Aaron. Let me feel you.” 

Aaron’s hips fall out of rhythm as he chases his pleasure. He groans, low and long, as he shudders through his orgasm. The feel of him twitching inside you sends you over the edge. You grind your hips against him as you come, your head thrown back in pleasure. 

“Fuck… are you okay? Did I hurt you?” Aaron asks, braced above you. He pushes hair off your face, his eyes laced with concern. 

“Right now, I am feeling zero pain,” you say, giggling as you look up at him. “I am riding the high of two spectacular orgasms. Jesus.” You caress his face and lean up so you can kiss him again. 

Aaron drags his fingers along your jaw as you kiss. He slips out of you and rolls onto his back before efficiently removing and disposing of the condom. When he returns to the bed, he gathers you into his arms, caressing the curve of your shoulder and pressing a kiss to your temple. 

“You’re so incredible,” you murmur, your hand caressing his pecs and abs. “You make me feel so amazing.” 

“You’re amazing,” Aaron counters. He runs his fingers through your hair and caresses the nape of your neck with his thumb. “I didn’t think sexy librarian was one of my types but then I met you.” 

You laugh, pressing a kiss to his chest. “Isn’t sexy librarian everyone’s type?” you ask, teasing. You tilt your face up and grin when you get another kiss. “So. Does this make us officially a thing?” 

When you look up, Aaron is blushing delightfully as he smiles. “I wouldn’t begin to presume…”

You laugh again, shaking your head. “If you think I’m letting you go easily after all of this, you have another thing coming,” you say. “We’ll figure it all out. But I’m not giving up the chance to maybe have something great.”

Aaron nods, pressing another kiss to your forehead. “Neither am I.” 

Your breathing settles and evens out and you can feel yourself starting to drift when both of your stomachs rumble loudly. You giggle. “Our food is probably downstairs in the lobby,” you say. 

“I’ll get it,” he says, sliding out from under you. “We’ll need the fuel for later.” 

“Later?” you ask, lifting your eyebrows and biting your lip. 

“I’m not nearly done making up for lost time with you, yet,” he says, grinning. 

[your-unfriendlyghost]

Hey mate, how are ya? Wanted to ask if you had any stupid head canons for Dallas Winston, and I mean as stupid as possible (I run a character acc on here so I need stupid ideas lol (Only if your ok with people using your head canon ideas of course!)) Have a great day! :D

Sure, I’ve got a handful >:)

-Dally doesn’t know you’re supposed to change your sheets. He’s slept on the same ones since he was twelve

-He’s afraid of dogs but would never admit it

-His handwriting is illegible and he cannot spell. He isn’t dyslexic he’s legit just lazy

-There’s a horse at the stable he hangs at who straight up bullies him. Like that horse cannot and will not take him seriously no matter what he does. Dally will try to groom and tack it, and it’ll just walk away. He’ll try to clean its hooves, and it refuses to pick them up off the ground. He’ll try to kick it into a trot and it’ll either ignore him, or be so bouncy that Dally falls off. Dally loves this horse anyway, but knows full well it hates his guts. He still gives it apples and treats- horses are the only creatures he has a hard time being mad at

-Dally read Little Women because Sylvia told him to. He wasn’t gonna, but she told him he reminded her of one of the characters (Which one?? Idk I’ve never read it im sorry) and he got curious. He cried when Beth died, and then bullied himself for crying over a book called “Little Women” (in case ur curious Sylvia related to Amy- wish I could back that up but I’ve only seen the movie once like six years ago n all I know is Amy was an asshole and also my favorite one)

-He goes through phases of wearing and not wearing his rings because sometimes he’ll look at them and think “Woah this jewelry stuff is girly as hell I gotta quit wearin’ this shit”. Then other times he’ll look at them and think “Oh man this is so badass I can punch people like 10x more painfully AND they look tuff”. So yeah that’s not me projecting

-He’s nearsighted but has no clue. I’ve said this abt Steve before, but I feel like it also applies to Dally

-He has horrible dental health. There’s this scene in It’s Always Sunny where the character Charlie just straight up removes random teeth out of his mouth with barely any effort because his teeth are so fucked- that’s Dally right there. He thinks it’s normal to feel immense tooth pain when you eat food

-Dally knows nothing about girls. Sure he’s dated ‘em, but I don’t think he knows what periods are or any of that stuff. So he’ll talk big game, and then he’ll see Steve buying Evie pads or something and he’ll genuinely be so confused. Like “Wtf is that what are you buying Randle what’s goin’ on??”

-He’s got pointy ears, right? (I do too it’s very cool) Well at some point Pony reads Lord of the Rings and keeps accidentally picturing Legolas as Dally

-Johnny actually has way more game than he does and neither of them know it

[forcaleb]

a picture worth sharing — caleb

warnings — fluff, childhood friends to lovers (kind of, it's implied)

notes — i think childhood friends to lovers is one of my favorite tropes in the books and fics // tags: @aomiiine @sydneybee @tojicide

caleb taps your shoulder, trying to show you a picture on his phone. “hey, pip-squeak, do you remember when-”

you quickly cut him off. “nope! no, i don’t. i actually don’t know what you’re talking about.” you turn your head away, refusing to look at his phone, already suspecting it’s something embarrassing.

“you didn’t even let me finish,” caleb says, a pout evident on his lips. “come on, i promise it’s something good. you’ll love it.”

“no way! the last time you tried showing me something, it was an embarrassing picture of me as a kid!” you grimace, recalling the picture of you crying because you fell off a slide. caleb had snapped the shot with your grandma’s phone before tending to your scraped knee. “i’m not looking at whatever you’re about to show me.”

“hey, i swear it’s nothing embarrassing this time,” caleb promises. “it’s actually a picture of us from your graduation day.”

that piques your interest. “huh? really? where? i haven’t seen my graduation pictures in so long.” you reach for caleb’s phone, but instead of handing it to you, he raises it out of reach. “hey! i thought you wanted to show it to me!”

“yeah, but aren’t you going to apologize for… whatever that was just now?” caleb raises an eyebrow.

you groan. “ugh, fine. i’m sorry for assuming you were going to be mean to me. forgive me? pretty please?” you give him the classic puppy eyes, his ultimate weakness.

“pip-squeak…” caleb sighs, shaking his head. “alright, i give up. here, look.”

he shows you his phone, and your eyes widen at the sight of the picture. it is a picture of you and caleb together during your graduation day. you stand just in front of caleb, your body angled slightly toward the camera. you are holding a bouquet of sunflowers in both hands, your face lit up with a warm, cheerful smile. behind you, caleb stands slightly to your side, his posture relaxed and confident. one of his hands rests gently on your shoulder, a subtle gesture of support and closeness. 

“cute, isn’t it?” he asks, grinning.

“how have i never seen this picture before?” you exclaim.

“well…” caleb smiles mischievously. “i made sure the photographer didn’t upload this to the graduation album. that way, i could surprise you with it anytime, like now.”

“wait, was it the photographer or one of your friends from the academy? i remember you coming to my graduation with a friend... gideon, right?” you ask, recalling how gideon kept teasing caleb about being so smitten with you.

“hm… well, it’s both, actually.” caleb points out. he swipes left and shows another version of the photograph. except, this time it’s a different shot. in this image, you are posing playfully in front of caleb, tilting your head to the side with a big, joyful smile. you raise one arm high in the air in an energetic and carefree gesture, adding a lively and cheerful tone to the scene. caleb stands behind you, his body angled slightly toward you, wearing a relaxed smile. his expression is calm and gentle, complementing your vibrant energy. “this is the one gideon took, and the previous one was taken by the photographer.”

“why didn’t you send these to me before?” you whine. “i could’ve used one for that empty photo frame I’ve been keeping in a box for a whole year.”

“okay, okay, i’ll send them now.” caleb chuckles as he opens your text thread and sends both pictures. “see? told you it wasn’t anything embarrassing.”

“yeah, yeah. i’m sorry for assuming the worst.” you apologize again, narrowing your eyes at him. “but from now on, you’d better send me any photos of us together. don’t you dare hide them from me again.”

“sure,” caleb agrees easily, his grin turning playful. “as long as i get to keep the silly pictures of you.”

“caleb! don’t you dare!” you shout, smacking his arm, while he laughs, clearly enjoying your reaction.

[somepancakeonline5377]

Guys I made many Ricky’s into Homestuck creatures.

Here’s the order

Elliott Loran, 2008-2013 2015(?) (Atomic Vaudeville, Toronto, Canadian Tour)

Jackson Evans, 2015 (Chicago Shakespeare)

Alex Wyse, 2016 (Off Broadway)

Connor Russell, 2018 (Seattle)

Scott Redmond, 2019 (Atlanta, also the album!)

Yannick-Robin Eiko Mirko, 2021 (McCarter)

Here they are separated

[dykeshevik]

THIS IS YAGODA?

[seventh-district]

sometimes it’s late at night and you’re cleaning your room and you come across a few old black and white photos of a young girl and you stare at them for a long minute wondering how on earth they got lost in an old Kroger shopping bag with an unopened pack of cigarettes and a receipt dated 2017.

and you look at the girl in the pictures sat on the floor of someone’s home you don’t recognize, smiling and playing with a set of keys and a tiny part of you feels like it recognizes her but you aren’t sure.

and you flip the pictures over hoping to find some sort of annotation that would give you context and all you find is the year 1964 stamped in tiny font along the edge.

and you flip them back over and time stands still as you realize that the recognition you feel is because she looks so much like you once did and next thing you know your hands are sweating and shaking and you have to sit on the floor because you’re crying so hard because it hits you all at once that you’re looking at your mother.

[sanchoyo]

We had to put him down this morning. His health was getting too bad and I couldn’t stand the idea of him suffering.

it’s just crazy to think I don’t really have puppy pictures of him because we got him before we even had cell phones. I picked him because all the other puppies had cute little shirts on and when I asked why he didn’t, the guy giving him to us said he was too rowdy and was a wiggly little fighter and I was so charmed by that. He had so much personality and would wake me up at ungodly hours in the morning for our walks. But like, he gave me a reason to get outside and see the sunrise everyday. I hope I took even half as much care of him as he did for me. Love you forever, fuzzy ❤️

[the-nameless-wacky-inventor]

hi I genuinely didn’t know Jeff the killer was a creepypasta until like. two weeks ago. I thought he was another one of those classic horror movie antagonists like michael meyers or jason or freddy krueger. help.

[mycological-mariner]

Siiiiiiigh fine

I’m taking this as my cue to finally start Kidnapped

[punk-pins]

About to have an extremely stressful week so prepare for the posting accordingly

[angelfic]

jason todd x reader

warnings — mentions of size/body image, jason being insecure… and also sexy. also this is unedited as per usual. other than that, nothing!

a/n; im gonna bite his bicep like that’s all i have to say. enjoy <3

JASON TODD is huge.

the man is over 6 feet of pure muscle so it doesn’t matter how tall you are, he’s bigger than you and he’s very aware of it.

when he’s red hood, being so large is a tactical advantage. he feels strong and in charge and practically unbeatable.

when he’s jason, he feels uncomfortable and noticeable and that’s the last thing he wants or needs. he doesn’t stop working out, because not only does he need something physical to relieve his stress, but he also can’t afford not being jacked as fuck. how the hell else is he supposed to be as scary as he is as red hood.

instead, he overcompensates by wearing darker colours, slightly oversized hoodies, not always standing up at his full height. it doesn’t do that much, the sheer size of him is a little hard to fully hide, but it makes him feel a little better.

when you come into the picture, things slowly start to change.

every time he hugs you, it’s instantly a mood booster for you because of how safe it feels with his arms wrapped around you, shielding you from the world for a few minutes. the way you sigh and melt into the hug has him smiling, a little shyly, as he holds you closer.

whenever you need him to get you something off a high shelf, he happily obliges and loves feeling useful. more than that, he loves how you always thank him by gently running a hand down his chest. “what would i do without you?” you say, sincerely, because you know he needs to hear it sometimes. and when you drop a kiss to his forearm as he sets the object down, he’s suddenly glad that he’s taller than you and he starts standing a little straighter.

the first time you hold up his hand against yours to compare sizes, you find yourself grinning at the difference. jason finds himself thinking about how small your hand is instead of how large his own is. and when you interlock your fingers with his, that’s all he’s focusing on.

sometimes, when your eyes are locked on your phone as you’re walking the busy streets of gotham and letting jason guide you around with your hand in his, he’s having to grab your waist to stop you bumping into someone or something. “careful,” he mutters, but his mind has gone blank and all he’s thinking about is his large hands around your waist and his pulse is racing. he feels like a creep until you turn around to give him a sheepish smile and thank him, placing your hands on his to keep them around your waist. he doesn’t miss the way you’re glancing down and biting your lip.

with jason around, you never have to do any heavy lifting, but of course you’re going to try sometimes. when you buy a cute new coffee table and it arrives when he’s out on patrol, you physically can’t wait to open and buid it. that bit is easy enough, but you find yourself cursing when you realise you stupidly built it on the other side of the room. “uhm, what do you think you’re doing?” jason asks, leaning in the doorway, red hood helmet in between his arm. you’re breathing heavily, arms pinned awkwardly at your sides as you were trying a new approach of throwing your body weight against the table to shift it. you slump, looking up at him with a pout.

“it’s heavier than i thought,” you admit. jason crosses the living room in two giant strides.

“you’re gonna hurt yourself,” he says, lifting the entire thing with both hands on either side and effortlessly placing it in front of the couch. he looks at you for approval in case you want it elsewhere and finds that you’re staring at him, slack jawed. he frowns, crossing his arms over, vigilante suit still on. “what…?”

“that was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” you say, shamelessly. he grins, shaking his head at the way you’re completely serious, but the blush on his cheeks gives him away. “no, seriously, you need to run before i pounce on you.”

his favourite thing is your habit of falling asleep on him when you’re watching tv and he often needs to pick you up to take you to bed. sometimes, you start to stir, halfway to the bedroom and you sleepily blink up at him before wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing a kiss to his jaw. “you’re so strong,” you mumble against his shoulder, your voice soft with drowsiness. jason’s heart clenches.

jason starts standing at his full height just so he can see you craning your neck to look at him, giving him the excuse to lift you up onto the counter which often results in you wrapping your legs around his waist and engaging a make out session.

he starts to wear t-shirts instead of large hoodies when he goes to the gym, just so he can hear you wolf whistle as he walks to the door, running over to kiss him goodbye and giving his biceps a squeeze.

day by day, jason finds himself more comfortable with just being him. and he’s even happier than he gets to be himself with you.

a/n cont.; the red hood mask stays ON during sex

[sparklingchim]

game on 02 | jjk

pairing: jungkook x reader

word count: 2.9k

genre: footballer!jungkook, fake dating, f2l

rating: 18+

warnings: lots of smoochies !! 🤭, their first kiss <3, umm mentions of jk's infamous threesome again 😔, koo talks abt taking girls in missionary what can i say he is a man

summary: jungkook and you practice acting for the cameras. kissing him feels more right than you anticipated.

a/n: yayy chapter 2 is here!!!! <3 writing this was truly saur much fun n i hope u have fun reading too !!! 😋

read chappie one here

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

"Just kiss me."

"Hold on a second."

"We really need to practise this."

"I know, just give me a minute."

You scoot away from Jungkook on the couch. You were sitting so close, almost about to kiss him actually, but his intense, doe-eyed gaze made you pause, needing a grounding breath.

You’ve never been this close to his face, and somehow, you can’t seem to cross the invisible line that keeps you from just pressing your mouth on his. Jungkook’s your friend, after all. You’ve known him since he was five and once saw him get his head stuck at school, so of course it’s weird.

You press your lips together in an attempt to focus, and lean in again, but once your eyes meet his, a smile urges on your mouth.

"Oh my god." Jungkook’s frustrated sigh cuts the air. "This can’t already be doomed to failure because of a simple kiss."

"It’s not! I just need to mentally prepare myself."

"I feel...offended? Kinda?" Jungkook weaves his fingers through his hair. "I’ve never had to convince someone to kiss me."

"It’s not you. I promise!" you say, reaching for his knee. "Under any other circumstance, if we weren’t friends, I’d love to kiss you. You’re hot and cute, but the situation we’re in makes me feel so stupid. It’s absurd."

Jungkook cringes when you call him cute and removes your hand off his knee.

Yesterday, when Jungkook showed up unannounced, it took him full ten minutes to convince you he wasn’t pulling a prank on you.

Who would believe their friend begging you to fake date them? It’s ridiculous. Only happens in the fictional world.

But then Jungkook showed you the pap picture that was circulating online. The comments and gossip were nasty and you knew he was caught up in a deep mess.

In the photo, Jungkook was surrounded by two girls, his arms draped casually around their waists as they stumbled out of the club, a half-full drink lazily held in his hand. His hair was a tousled mess, likely from the girls running their fingers through it, and the first few buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing a small peek into his defined chest. It was bold, provocative — definitely not the ideal image of a responsible twenty-year-old football rookie.

Probably the worst pap pic you’ve seen of him so far. And the worst timing too.

"You were wasted," you commented, staring at the article he was showing you on his phone.

"And I had so much fun last night." His voice was tinged with frustration, like a child whose favourite toy had just been snatched away. "But then I woke up to this picture, and a flood of missed calls and texts." He rubbed his hands over his face, exhaling sharply. "They just had to ruin it for me."

Noticing your raised eyebrow, Jungkook quickly backtracked. "No, I know it’s my fault too. I shouldn’t have done this right before the World Cup, especially after what I promised. I just hate how everything turns into such a big deal, just because... well, just because I’m me."

The idea of fake dating Jungkook had seemed absurd, something out of a rom-com rather than real life. But the more he explained the pressure he was under, the more you understood why he needed this.

Jungkook was your best friend, and if kissing him in public could save his career, why not help him?

While you got ready for meeting his manager, stepping out of your comfy, rotting-at-home clothes, which consisted of little shorts and an oversized t-shirt (you think it’s actually Jungkook’s, but you’re not quite sure since it’s been in your closet for years now), and slipping into a casual, more presentable outfit, Jungkook busied himself fixing your laundry machine.

Jungkook’s manager knows you well – his entire team does. You are known as Jungkook’s close friend and had been spotted with him on multiple occasions.

Taesung greeted you warmly, though surprise flickered across his face when Jungkook introduced you as the solution to the fake dating plan.

You felt Taesung’s gaze assessing you, weighing your suitability for the role. Jungkook’s PR agent mirrored his scepticism, tilting her head in doubt. They exchanged uncertain glances, which made you nervous, but Jungkook was determined. Jungkook wasn’t Jungkook if he didn’t get what he wanted. With a few persuasive words and his usual charm, he quickly won Taesung over, who sighed and leaned back in his chair, conceding defeat.

"We need to establish the narrative from the start," Taesung said seriously. "The media will dig into your background, and they’ll want to know if there’s anyone else in the picture. So, to be clear, you’re officially single. No boyfriend, no complicated past relationships that could surface. We don’t need any messy stories."

You assured them that there was none. Multiple times. No angry exes, no secret relationships – your personal life was as drama-free as it could get.

Taesung slid a document across the desk.

"This ensures that whatever happens, no details of this arrangement-"

Jungkook’s hand shot out, halting the paper. "No," he said firmly. "She doesn’t need to sign anything."

"Jungkook, it’s just a formality," Jiwoo began, but Jungkook insisted.

"I trust ___. She’s not just anybody. She’s my best friend. If she says she won’t talk, she won’t talk. The NDA isn’t necessary."

"It’s okay," you assured him gently.

Jungkook shook his head. "No, this is ridiculous. You’re not signing a stupid contract."

After more arguing, his manager eventually relented.

Jiwoo outlined the plan in more detail with Taesung – public appearances, social media posts, carefully orchestrated moments that would sell the story to the public. You felt a bit intimidated by the pressure, but you’d get used to it. After all, this arrangement is only for a few months – just until his management can announce that you’d mutually decided to break up on good terms.

But you both need to practise before stepping in front of the cameras.

Which leads you to this moment, a day later, sitting on your couch trying to practice how to act like a couple. And it’s not going well at all.

"Okay, let’s start from the basics then," Jungkook suggests. He rises to his feet, offering you his hand. "Hold my hand."

You gingerly accept his hand, standing up as well.

"See, don’t we look cute?" Jungkook drags you to the mirror. "Or maybe – let’s intertwine our fingers. I think that would look better." He holds your interlaced hands up between the two of you, a satisfied grin plastered on his face. "So cute, right?"

A giggle bubbles in your throat. "You act like you’ve never had a girlfriend."

"Well, it has been a while," he admits, the slightest sulk on his lips. "I’m too busy for relationships." He swings your hands. "The only times I ever hold a girl’s hand is in missionary, above their head when-"

"Jungkook," you interrupt quickly before he can delve any deeper into the story. You give him a mock glare, but there’s no hiding the amusement dancing in your eyes. "Didn’t we both agree on only talking about your bed stories after I’ve had at least one bottle of soju – preferably two, so I can mentally brace myself?"

You love him, you really do, but you don’t want to hear about his bed stories, unless you’re the slightest bit tipsy at first.

"Oh, yeah." He shakes his head apologetically. "Forgot about that."

"Wait, maybe that’s what we should do!" you exclaim as an idea pops into your mind. Your hand slips out of his, and you take a step toward the kitchen. "I think there are a few bottles of soju in the fridge."

"We’re not getting drunk to build up the courage to kiss," he insists. "We shouldn’t need alcohol to pretend we’re into each other."

Jungkook pulls you closer to him, and you stumble slightly, but his hand instinctively moves to the small of your back, steadying you.

"Fine," you sigh dramatically, hand on his chest. "Was just an idea to make this easier for us." The fabric of his shirt is extremely soft and your fingers glide over it.

"I mean, it’s not like we’re complete strangers. And they know it too. We’ve been through enough to pull this off without breaking a sweat."

He’s is right. The public knows you’re one of Jungkook’s closest friends. It wouldn’t be totally unbelievable that you two might have fallen in love.

After all, you’ve always been comfortable with each other —hugging, cuddling during movie nights, play-fight over silly things just to annoy each other. You’ve shared quiet moments, like when you’d fall asleep on his shoulder after a long day or when he’d run his fingers through your hair absentmindedly while you talked. There were times when Jungkook was exhausted and crashed at your place, your fingers gently scratching his head as he slept peacefully. You’ve kissed each other’s cheeks in thanks without hesitation.

Jungkook’s touch isn’t foreign to you.

And still, the thought of acting like you’re in love when you’re not feels strange. Sure, you’ve always been physically close, but this was different. This time, every gesture would be for an audience, every touch would carry a different meaning. It wasn’t just casual anymore.

"I guess," you reply, fiddling with the hem of his oversized t-shirt, avoiding his gaze for a moment. "I think it’s just weird to be this close for show."

Jungkook watches you for a moment, his eyes softening as he considers your words. "Yeah," he murmurs. "But it’s not like we’re faking the friendship part. The rest...we’ll figure out." His fingers clasp your hip, the pads of his fingers gently digging into your flesh. "Don’t think about it too much," he says. "When we have our first public appearance as a couple, pretend like the cameras aren’t there, act nonchalant. Just... y’know. You and me."

You pout, an involuntarily frustrated grumble leaving your lips as you drop your forehead on his chest.

"I hope I’ll do well under all the attention."

You’ve dealt with your fair share of noisy people trying to pry into your relationship with Jungkook, but so far, it’s been somewhat manageable.

"Just you and me," Jungkook repeats, his tone softer and more assured this time. "Nothing can happen to you when I’m there."

You glance up at him, taking in the gentle lines of his face.

"Maybe you should’ve hired a girl that can deal well with attention," you voice your thoughts.

"No." Jungkook’s immediate response rolls off harshly on his tongue. "You were my first thought. I wouldn’t have done this with anyone else but you."

"I was your first choice?" Giddiness makes your face shine.

"Yeah. I don’t think I would’ve felt comfortable with anyone but you."

"Be honest, you just really wanna kiss me."

You stand on your tippy toes, a silly smile spreading across your face.

Jungkook cocks his head to the side, a teasing glint buried in his eyes.

"I think you do."

With a surge of confidence, you take a small step closer, your heart beating a little faster as you close the gap between you and Jungkook. Your lips meet in a gentle, fleeting touch. The contact only lasts for a moment before you pull back, your eyes searching his for a reaction.

"That was a smooch. Not a kiss."

You frown upon hearing him complain.

"What, you want to make out with me in public?"

Jungkook sniffs a laugh. "No, but maybe a little more than how fifth graders kiss."

"You’re a kissing expert now?" you quip back, narrowing your eyes at him.

Jungkook leans in slightly. "I just know what I like."

The challenge in his voice sparks something in you. "Then show me how you like it."

His gaze drops to your lips, and a flutter of excitement spreads in your tummy. It’s unexpected and thrilling and it catches you off guard.

Jungkook’s hand, which had been resting on your back, slowly glides up, his fingers curling around the side of your face, his thumb brushing delicately against your cheekbone.

Your breath hitches as he leans in. His lips meet yours again, but this time there’s more weight behind the contact – still soft, but deeper, more intentional. His lips move slowly and there’s a warmth to it, a tenderness that makes your heart race even as the kiss remains gentle. He tilts his head slightly, deepening the connection just enough to make you melt into him.

The teasing atmosphere lingers in the back of your mind, but for now, it’s pushed aside by the gentle pressure of his lips on yours.

Kissing Jungkook doesn’t feel weird – which makes it a little weird.

When you both finally pull back, it’s gradual. You can feel his breath, warm and steady, mingling with your own.

"Like that," he whispers, his voice barely audible, yet it sends a shiver down your spine. "You’re a good kisser."

You pull back completely. "Excuse me?" you say. "You were doubting my kissing abilities?"

"No, not at all!" Jungkook shakes his head, amusement crinkling his eyes as he gazes at your sulky face. "You’re just a very good kisser. Like, super gentle and smooth."

Heat crawls up your cheeks. You ignore the flush of warmth and keep your composure. "Have you been using the lip balm I got you? Your lips are soft."

"I know, right? Not chapped at all anymore."

He traces two fingers along his bottom lip and your eyes follow the motion, finding yourself inexplicably drawn to his lips.

"Are we done practising?"

"Do you think we looked natural?" Jungkook’s hand slips into yours once more. While he is focused on the mirror, adjusting the way your bodies fit together – tugging you closer, alternating between holding your hand and interlacing your fingers – your mind is still replaying the memory of the tender press of his lips. "For me, it felt pretty natural. Not awkward at all. What do you think?"

It’s the simplicity with which he says it that draws a short laugh out of you.

The sound grabs his attention. "What?"

"You’re just...extremely serious about this. I don’t think they’ll analyse the way we hold hands, Kook."

"But that’s their favourite thing to do," Jungkook replies. "The gossip mills love analysing every step you take, where your eyes wander, who you smile at." A note of bitterness threads through his words.

He’s been playing pro for just two years and has fallen victim to greedy people intruding on his life so many times already. Former friends who leaked private conversations, acquaintances who turned their brief interactions into tabloid fodder, even strangers who felt entitled to a piece of him just because he was in the public eye.

Jungkook searched for solace and silence at your place many times, trying to escape the madness. In the quiet of your dorm, breathing felt easier.

You never asked questions, never pried. In a world where everyone seemed out to get something from him, you just let him be, offering him the comfort of your presence without demanding anything in return.

"People were just criticising this dude – ah, who was it again?" Jungkook stares at the ceiling, raking through his thoughts. "I can’t remember his name, but this guy was getting called out for choosing the booth seat while making his girlfriend sit in the aisle seat."

"The aisle seat? Come on, it’s an unwritten rule that-" You fall silent once you catch Jungkook’s pointed expression. "I mean, yeah. It’s definitely wrong to make a big deal about it. Maybe she prefers sitting there," you shrug.

"But do you see what I mean?" he asks. "Whether you intend to or not, you’re always judging what others do. And that judgement only intensifies when it involves a celebrity."

"Ah, when did you become so famous Jeon Jungkook?" You sigh, looking down at your linked hands.

"I know, right? Two years ago, no one would’ve cared if I had a threesome." He shakes his head in disbelief. "And now I am being punished for it—kicked off the national team, and my best friend has to save me by fake dating me."

"I feel like this would make a good movie," you giggle.

“We have to practise hard, then," he says.

You pull your phone from your pocket. "What if we film ourselves kissing so we can monitor it better?" You set up your phone on a nearby shelf and position yourselves in front of the camera. "Don’t engaged couples do this? I feel like we’re practising for our wedding kiss."

"Oh, butterflies."

"Huh?" You stare at the way he holds his hand against his tummy.

"You just told me you want to marry me. That gave me butterflies."

You slap his arm. "Stop being silly, we have a whole nation to fool that we’re in love."

~

Hang outs with Jungkook often end with the two of you lounging on the couch, snacks scattered everywhere, and a movie playing on the TV.

"Next one?" Jungkook asks from his spot beside you, inching closer with his pleading doe eyes.

You try to push him away by the, but he doesn’t budge.

"I need to study. Like, for real." You had warned him before starting the movie, agreeing to watch only one, but he still tried his luck.

He holds up one finger. "Just one."

You push him off your body, and this time he allows it, his back slumping against the couch. The grumble of complaint in his throat gets muffled by his pursed lips.

"You’re smart. The material is probably set in your brain anyway. No need to revise anything."

You scoff at his bratty words.

"So you won’t ever need to ditch hangouts for football practice because you’re already so good at it?"

"Well, no." He drags the word out, brows furrowed as he considers your question, trying to come up with a reasonable answer. "But I know you don’t need to study as much as you do. You’re just naturally smart."

"I wish, but I ace my exams because I study as much as I do."

"Aish," Jungkook mutters, standing up from the couch and stretching his limbs. His toned tummy peeks out from under his lifted shirt.

"Karina will be home soon anyway," you say. "And I’m not ready to play pretend in front of her yet." The thought of confessing to your roommate that Jungkook is now your boyfriend makes you shudder.

It was one of the conditions that made you briefly reconsider if you could really pull this off or if Jungkook should find another girl. You didn’t just have to act in front of the cameras – everyone had to believe that you and Jungkook are a couple, including your friends and family. You dread the day you have to tell your parents.

You know they once secretly hoped Jungkook would become your boyfriend when you were older, but as he became famous and the public started scrutinising his every move, your parents grew wary of his wild, reckless side.

You follow Jungkook to the door.

"You think she’ll believe us?"

"I dunno," you shrug. "Not sure if she’ll buy it. She’ll probably be suspicious since I’ve never talked about you in that way when we gossip, but I think we’ve practised enough to at least make it look like we love each other."

Jungkook nods and hugs you briefly. "We’ll figure it out." He steps out of your apartment, typing on his phone. "My manager sent me details about our first public appearance." He scans the text, but quickly looks up at you again with an annoyed frown. "Ah, so many words. I’ll just forward you the messages." With a sweet smile and a quick wave, he starts to leave, but you tug at the back of his shirt.

You cup his face, pulling him down to you, and plant a kiss on his lips.

"You’re my boyfriend now. Act like it."

[vettelsvee]

letting oscar take your virginity to celebrate his win

(if this makes you uncomfortable please to deny or only write fluffy before/after!) love ur work sm

V CARDS GOODBYES | Oscar Piastri

Oscar Piastri x Girlfriend!Reader

SUMMARY: Oscar arrives home after winning his first ever Formula 1 race, so you think it’s the perfect time for you to celebrate and, also, to say goodbye to your v card ↳ REQUESTED BY ANON: Hope you like it anon! And sorry it's taken me almost a year I'm a mess 😭

WORD COUNT: 3958

WARNINGS: Smut (virginity loss, female receiving oral sex, fingering, p in v, protected sex, little bit of praising kink), curse words

VEE'S NOTES: Came to the conclusion after the latests Oscar fics I’ve posted that he's the most popular driver on my Tumblr page, so this is for all my Osc people out there! I'm always ashamed of posting smut (but still want to keep writing it) so I hope this is good enough for you to enjoy! Remember that your comments and reblogs are truly appreciated! Thanks for reading <3 (Also, thoughts on the new layout?) ↳ MAKE YOUR REQUESTS | TALK TO ME! | FORMULA 1 MASTERLIST

© VETTELSVEE (2025). please, do not steal, copy or translate my works. thanks for reading!

The door of the apartment you shared in Monaco opened, and before Oscar could step inside, he heard excited screams that made it clear someone was more than happy about his arrival.  

Not only did your cat start rubbing against his leg while purring, but also you, his girlfriend, were hopping towards him, barefoot and wrapped in one of his McLaren hoodies, which turned out to be even bigger on you than you had expected when you decided it would be a great idea to steal it from your boyfriend.  

"You did it, Osc!” you squealed as you threw your arms around his neck. "Osc, oh my God, you won a race! Do you know what that means?"  

Oscar felt his cheeks turn red. Of course, he knew exactly what winning a Grand Prix meant, especially during his second season in Formula 1. However, all he did was shrug, as if his achievement wasn’t that important.  

"Yeah," was all he could say.  

"I’m so, so proud of you," you said in a trembling voice, standing on your tiptoes to cup his face in your hands.  

"I couldn’t have done it without you, even though you were here," Oscar replied sincerely, a hint of regret in his tone. If there was one thing he regretted, it was that you hadn’t been there with him throughout the whole process of stepping onto the podium.  

"I know you would have liked me to be there, and I would’ve loved that too," you replied, making a sad but funny face. "But it’s okay! I screamed at the TV a lot, so I guess I helped in some way… And I’m sure you’ll win more races and I’ll be there to see them all, so it’s not the end of the world!"

Oscar chuckled and pulled you close until there was no space between you. He allowed himself a few moments to hold onto you, gently running his fingers through your hair while you clung tightly to his shirt, pressing your face into his chest as if he might disappear at any second.  

"Hey… I have something for you."

Even though you whispered it, Oscar heard you perfectly. You bit your lip,. a telltale sign of nervousness he knew well, as you pulled away from him. Then, you quickly headed towards the living room, with the Australian following you, and grabbed a small book he had never seen before.  

Carefully, as if it were fragile, you handed it to your boyfriend.  

"Open it… I hope you like it!"

Oscar did as you asked. Gently, he opened what he soon realized was a photo album. It wasn’t just a collection of pictures of you from the past two years since you started dating. It was beautifully decorated. There were messages, and even reflections from your perspective about each memory you had built together.  

"I know it’s not a big deal, but since I was so bored with studying, I have to admit I procrastinated a bit and felt like doing some crafts, so… well, this was the result," you said hesitantly, as if you were confessing a crime, though a small smile crept onto your lips. "Maybe you were expecting something else, I don’t know, but I hope you like it. You could even take it with you whenever you have to travel, so you remember me and also add something else if you feel in the mood," you added softly.  

Oscar felt a lump in his throat, unsure of what to say. Although he was used to you being thoughtful, and he always tried to reciprocate, you somehow kept outdoing yourself.  

"Y/N, this is…" he trailed off, struggling to find the right words. More accurately, he didn’t know how to express them. "It’s incredible. Thank you so much."

You smiled and gave him a gentle kiss on the lips, which, as you both expected, quickly turned into something more desperate, fueled by your hunger for each other.  

Oscar’s hands found your waist beneath the hoodie, his fingers tracing invisible lines along your skin, moving up and down, even toying with the clasp of your bra. The only thing you could do was keep kissing him, tugging at his hair lightly and pressing yourself against his thigh, seeking friction to ease the growing ache within you.  

Then, you suddenly pulled away, more abruptly than Oscar had expected. Your pupils were completely dilated, your lips swollen, and your hair a complete mess.  

"Oscar…" 

"Y/N…"

"I want to do it."

Your voice was barely a whisper. Oscar’s eyes widened, surprised because, even though he perfectly understood what you meant, hearing you say it out loud was an entirely different feeling.  

"Bebe…" 

"I really, really want to do it, Osc," you repeated, more as a confirmation to yourself than to him. "Yesterday, you lost your v-card in Formula 1 with your victory, so… I was thinking maybe I could lose mine too."  

Oscar had known from the very beginning of your relationship that you had never been physically involved with anyone beyond a couple of kisses and teasing. At first, you had been insecure about telling him, worried about feeling ashamed, but Oscar had always made sure you felt safe and comfortable, promising you would only take steps forward when you were truly ready.  

Today, your words made clear that you finally felt like that moment arrived, and that filled Oscar with happiness not because you were about to have sex, but because it meant you were finally comfortable enough with yourself to take that step.  

"Are you… sure?" he asked, even though he already knew the answer. "You know we don’t have to rush anything… I don’t want you to feel like we have to do this just because, you know…" 

"I know, Osc, and I promise I wouldn’t be bringing this up if I weren’t sure," you reassured him, looking into his eyes as you ran your fingers over his hands. "I love you, and most importantly, I trust you. I’ve thought about this for a long time, and well… yeah."

"It’s just… I don’t want to mess anything up, Y/N. This is really important, and it should be perfect,” he confessed with a nervous chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck.  

You smiled, cupping his face and bringing him closer for a kiss.  

"It doesn’t have to be perfect as long as it’s with you, Osc.”

"Okay, but… if you change your mind at any point, you tell me," Oscar insisted. You laughed, rolling your eyes.  

"I promise, really."

Your lips met again, but this time much slower. Oscar took his time kissing you carefully, wanting to do everything right. He cradled your cheek with one hand to deepen the kiss, while the other wrapped around your back, guiding you gently toward the bedroom you shared.  

Once inside, he forced himself to stop and take a deep breath to avoid panicking, even though there was no reason to.  

You stood in front of him, looking at him with a mix of shyness and adoration that reminded him of your early days, when you just used to go out for coffee or to the movies back in high school.  

Oscar couldn’t help but look at you with an equally shy, yet utterly endearing, expression.  

"Tell me if you want me to stop, alright?"

"I will, yeah."  

You didn’t need to say anything else since kissing spoke for you. You took your time, enough for Oscar to make sure you felt completely comfortable, enough for you to overthink just a little more before deciding if you really wanted to continue…  

*"I love you, Oscar…" you murmured between kisses. You tugged at his shirt, helping him pull it off, running your hands over his bare chest as if you were seeing him for the first time.  

"I love you too, Y/N…" 

With nerves and hands shakier than he would have liked, almost as if he were the inexperienced one, he took hold of the hem of your hoodie and slowly lifted it over your head, leaving you in just your underwear.  

Oscar was surprised to see you in black lace lingerie instead of the usual shorts you wore around the house. He was about to say something, but you didn’t give him the chance. You closed the distance between you, pressing your foreheads together before kissing him once again.  

Neither knew how long you were like this, but you both agreed that it had been long enough to discover that you needed more of each other.

Oscar ended up forcing himself to pull away from you and take a breath. A smile curved between his lips, which caused you, somewhat nervously, to giggle at the situation and hug him around the waist, pulling him closer to you while trying not to shove him away.

“Really, we don't have to do it if you don't want to, Y/N,” the McLaren driver insisted once again.

“I've been looking forward to doing this for a long time, and I've been mentally preparing for it for a while,” she told him, trying not to sound uneasy. “I trust you, Osc, and there's nothing for you to worry about.”

“So...?”

“I want you to make me yours, Oscar. Today, tomorrow or whenever and wherever you want,” you whispered in his ear as sensually as you could.

“Y/N…”

“Oscar: I just want you to fuck me.”

You felt your boyfriend tense up after those words that had caught even you off guard. Instinctively, you brought your hand to the noticeable bulge under Oscar's pants, but when you tried to reach for the button to unbutton them, he pushed your hands away lovingly.

“No, honey, none of that for now. Today is your day, so let me do the work and just enjoy yourself.”

Oscar, without another word, took you by the chin and kissed you again for the umpteenth time that day. Now, your lips moved at a slower speed. You guessed it was because you noticed how one of Oscar's hands began to massage one of your breasts, giving special attention to the nipple. With the other, he lightly brushed your pussy, making you gasp when he decided to play with your clit.

“Do you like it, babe?” he asked in a tone of voice that showed too much excitement.

His fingers now delved a little deeper into your intimacy, those enveloping movements becoming a little faster.

“Yes, Osc...” you barely managed to answer.

That answer was enough for the Australian to stop immediately. You didn't even look him in the face. Oscar pulled away from you, leaving a quick kiss on your lips and starting a trail of kisses all over your body, stopping once he reached your lower stomach area.

“Y/N…”

His hands stood delicately on your thighs, which he was now kissing, closer and closer to your pussy. Your hair stood on end. Your breath was completely held, unable to breathe in case that put an end to it all, as if that would be enough for Oscar to finish whatever he was doing with you. 

“If anything we do tonight makes you uncomfortable and you want to stop, just tell me please,” the Australian declared. “And, before your little head starts thinking nonsense: no, I'm not going to get mad at you because you don't want to have sex, okay? If you don't want to…”

“Oscar, look at me,” you cut him off, and the boy immediately listened to you: “it's you, and I'm not going to feel uncomfortable with you and with anything you do to me.”

“Do you promise me, love?”

“I swear.”

Oscar nodded, grabbing your thighs again and dragging you to the edge of the bed so that his face was in front of your pussy, perfectly aligned with your entrance.

Without warning, he slid his tongue, flat, all over it with a slowness that was completely unbearable and that seemed that, rather than pleasing you, he wanted to kill you little by little. His movements were frantic; constant changes of speed, from faster to slower, and vice versa, that made his nose rub against your clit while his tongue seemed to do wonders with that dance.

When Oscar's tongue began to explore inside you, and his index finger, the one he used to show on camera every time he got a first position just like Sebastian Vettel did in his golden age, started a tortuous tour of your labia majora, you curled up shyly but instinctively. Your hands ended up tangled in his hair, forcing him closer to you at the same time your hips did the same.

“I think you're liking it, aren't you my little girl?” Piastri said, ending his oral contact with you and replacing it with his finger. His gaze was fixed on her, and you thought about why he hadn't done this to you before.

“Don't stop, Osc. For the sake of God, don't even think about stopping...” you gasped, becoming increasingly unable to articulate a word.

He didn't have to say anything else. After those words, Oscar slipped a second finger inside you. You let out a small gasp of surprise and he, without taking his eyes off you, laughed, your cheeks turning red almost instantly. Despite this, he kissed your thighs as he continued the back and forth with his index finger, adding his heart almost soon after while increasing even more the speed.

You felt that everything was going too fast, and the waves of pleasure that were flooding you were making you lose, more and more, the notion of time. You didn't know at what point, but when he decided to add his tongue back into the equation, without leaving the movements of his fingers inside you going straight to that spot that gave you the most pleasure, a strange sensation gripped the lower part of your stomach.

It was getting harder and harder for you to hold back your orgasm. You felt how your eyes were closing little by little, and your leg, too, to which Oscar put a little pressure on them to prevent them from closing.

“Come for me, love,” Oscar let you know. “Come on, Y/N, you've got it babe. Come on…”

And so you did.

Your back curved in such a way that your body, completely sweaty, could hardly keep on writhing as it was doing. You were moaning like you had never moaned before, and your boyfriend seemed to notice. A smirk of satisfaction and success began to break from his lips as he licked at your fluids, his mouth moving slowly now, over-stimulating your clit and making you incessantly.

The Australian rose and carefully positioned himself on top of you.

“I love you, Y/N, you don't know how much,” he said between kisses, making you taste yourself for the first time, but hopefully not the last one. “You are the most beautiful girl in the world... And the best girl in the world. Don't ever doubt it.”

“Oscar, don't…”

“Yes you are, Y/N, and I will not allow you to speak so negatively about yourself.”

After those last words, the driver pulled away from you slightly, trying yo give you some time to recover. Then, you looked at him taking what seemed to be a condom from the bedside table, which he carefully put on and immediately positioned at your entrance. 

You swallowed, while Oscar tried not to think about whether he was really going too fast.

·I don't want to sound weird, but... please, if you want me to stop, just tell me,” Oscar spoke as best he could, trying not to succumb to the nerves he felt about taking this important step with you. “I want you to be pretty sure about this since… Well, since there’s not going back…”

You said nothing. Instead, you gave him a slight nod with your head, still looking at him, which was enough for Oscar to enter you carefully, but without a previous warning.

He decided to stand for a while so you could get used to his length. You felt a little pain. You held back a scream, bit your lips and closed your eyes to do your best to make that feeling go away as soon as possible.

“Y/N…”

“Go on, Oscar. It's all right…”

The boy nodded, and finished entering you with the same care. Little by little, his movements gained speed. You arched your back, moaning incessantly as she started feeling more comfortable with the depth of penetration, and Oscar hitting her in a spot that made her feel a pleasure that you feel in a way you didn’t know how to describe, but that felt good enough to make you never want that sex session to end.

“Does it feel good, honey? Are you enjoying my... cock... for the first time?” Oscar moaned, biting her neck. “Look at you… so desperate for me to keep fucking you…”

“Fuck, Oscar... this is a fantasy,” you gasped. “And you talking so... like… like this... God... Don't stop, please…”

“Never for you, sweetheart.”

Your moans became one, a melody that your neighbors were probably listening to but you didnt give a fuck. Your gazes could hardly be averted, and your words, getting dirtier and dirtier as much as your were embarrassed at first, were sounding louder and louder, as were your pleas.

“Oscar!” you shrieked as you felt Oscar's fingers press against you nervous bundle.”

“Love...” he moaned through his teeth. ”Don't stop moaning my name, please. You don't know how you're making me feel right now.

·And of course I'm going to make you feel so much better when we do this again,” you replied, choking with pleasure. As best you could, you sat up a little and wrapped you arms around you boyfriend's neck. “I want to do it again, Osc,” you made it clear. “I want us to do this every time we get the chance....”

You kept moaning his name, giving him promises you knew he would never break. He kept reassuring you and how good you were doing, speeding up his movements as he couldn’t stop playing with your clit, all of that while he kept telling you that you were his.

You couldn't contain it anymore for the second time that day.

“Fuck, Osc,” he stammered. “I think I'm gonna…”

“Let yourself go, honey,” the brown-haired said. “You can do it, love. Cum for me.”

Your orgasm came before you could say anything else. Oscar came within seconds of you, and as soon as he did he ended, he gave you a short kiss on the lips as he carefully pulled out of heyour and collapsed beside you. 

Oscar's gaze remained fixed on the ceiling. You rested your head on his shoulder, trying to regain your composure with increasingly slower breaths. 

“You ok babe?” Oscar murmured after a few minutes.

“Yes,” you whispered, nodding your head with a smile peeking out. “Better than ever, actually.”

It was then that it dawned on Oscar. Quickly, he sat up a little and saw what was under where you were still positioned. His heart began to race, and a pressure settled in his chest as he realized the light blue bed sheets were stained slightly with blood as was his condom, still on him and which he hadn't paid attention to because he just wanted to be with you cuddling after he'd made you lose your virginity.

“Hey, listen, love…” he started to say in a calm, but concerned tone.

You followed his gaze, and couldn't help but blush and die of embarrassment inside.

“Oh...” you spoke quietly, instinctively covering yourself with the sheets. “This... is normal. Well, I guess so…”

“Does it hurt? Are you hurt?”

You shook your head, denying it, though the look on your face seemed to say otherwise.

“Well… It's just a little... just a little sore. But it's fine, really. It happens when you have sex for the first time with someone.”

Oscar studied your face, and he knew you wanted to stop this conversation. You wanted to let it go and pretend everything was fine so you wouldn't give him any sign that you hadn't liked it, even though your moans and pleas seemed to say otherwise.

“Still, you shouldn't let it go.”

The Australian approached you and gave you a shy kiss on the forehead. Then he got out of bed, still naked.

·Where are you going?” you asked in a voice mixed with curiosity and nervousness.

“I'm going to get a towel with hot water to clean you up.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but he was already heading towards the bathroom while taking off his condom. As you heard the faucet turn on, and your boyfriend getting everything ready, you couldn't help but feel bad because, maybe, Oscar deserved better, and your behavior, what was happening to you now, was not what he deserved.

You forced yourself to stop overthinking because if there’s one thing you knew for sure is that Oscar loved you, more than sometimes you were conscious of.

Your boyfriend came back a few minutes later, and found you sitting on the bed, curled up on yourself and clinging to the sheets while still covering with them, as if you were afraid.

“You don't have to…”

“I know,” Oscar cut you off, offering you a small smile, “but I want to. So, please, just let me take care of you.”

Your eyes softened at his proposal, and you forced yourself to calm down as Oscar, with his gaze and his hands coyly on your thighs, asked your permission to spread your legs. You nodded, and he carefully ran the wet towel and hot water over your pussy, giving it little touches because he didn't want to risk it stinging or hurting any more because he really didn't know exactly how the female body worked after losing your virginity.

When he finished, he kissed her knee and sat down next to her again, also covering himself with the sheets so he could hug her and, more than anything else, try to reassure her and make her feel as good as possible.

“There, that's it, all settled. Now, let's stay here and rest.”

“Was it good?”

Oscar let out a small laugh from his mouth at your sudden question as he leaned over to you and snuggled into your shoulder. 

”You've been amazing, love,” he replied, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer to him. Now you were both lying on your bed, looking at each other. “Are you okay now that… Did I hurt you? I need you to be honest with me... I should have asked you if you liked the pace I decided to take because, well, I’m not going to lie to you, I think I could have gone a little slower...”

You shook your head and didn't give him a chance to keep talking. Instead, you grabbed his face and pressed your lips to his.

“You don't have to worry about anything, Osc. It was far from perfect. So, from now on, I hope you win more races because from today on, winning sex has become a tradition that I hope we keep for a long time.”

Oscar laughed, knowing you were completely serious.

“We can make a tradition of this and anything else you want, love,” he buried his face in yours, and began to tickle your waist gently. “We can even have several rounds if you want, so… thoughts on that? Should we keep ready for a second round today?”

[checkeredflagggs]

Money Bags

pairing: sugar relationship!charles leclerc x fem!reader

summary: everyone is pretty sure charles has a sugar baby girlfriend — why else would she be posting so many photos of gifts?

a/n: the start of my week of romance! This was requested by a lovely anon and I hope you like it!

a/n2: I don’t know any actual shops or restaurants in Monaco so generic names it is! Please pretend it’s those exclusive places for the rich and famous. I also don’t know what type of Ferrari it is 🤷🏻‍♀️

Masterlist | Taglist

Bluesky

user1: …so it’s definitely charles and his girlfriend right?

↳user2: honestly they might as well as posted their faces

↳user1: Right? Like it’s so obvious

user3: you know you can just write their names? It’s definitely leclerc and his new girl

↳user4: it’s hilarious to me that they think it’s a secret?

↳user3: seriously! It’s been nonstop photos of gifts and trips and fancy dinners since they got together

user5: you mean charles and his gold digger?

↳user6: usually I wouldn’t promote that kind of language but in this case…

↳user7: I agree — she’s gonna drain him dry and move on to someone else to do the same

user8: don’t be coy deuxmoi — just say its the gold digger and charles leclerc…

↳user9: 😂😂

cl_gossip

liked by user, user, user and 982,349 others

tagged: charles_leclerc, yourusername

cl_gossip: shocking absolutely no one — this Valentine’s Day is going to be a bank-braker. This massive bouquet was seen heading into Leclerc’s apartment building

view all comments

user10: 😂😂😂 god just keep roasting her

user11: honestly how long does she think it’ll last when she blows his money so fast??

user12: … 😱 …🙄🙄🙄

user13: what a slut honestly.

user14: my money is she moves on to max next…

↳user15: oh same

↳user16: ohh that would be an ideal threesome…

↳user15: seriously?

↳user16: am I wrong?

↳user14: …no I guess not

user17: tagging them though…

↳user18: right? I could never…

↳user17: I hesitate to even comment sometimes and they’re just out here tagging them on a post that’s dragging his girl…

↳cl_gossip: sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do

cl_gossip

liked by user, user, user and 992,184 others

tagged: charles_leclerc, yourusername

cl_gossip: continuing with the apparent theme of the day — Charles and y/n were seen Bijouterie Jewelry Store, which is one of the most exclusive jewelry stores in the continent

view all comments

user20: wow…a new way to spend Charles’ money

↳user21: Jesus leave them alone

↳user20: we’re just calling it like we see it

↳user21: you’re just being a bitch

user22: oh to have a boyfriend like Charles to spoil you…

↳user23: right? Ignoring everything above — she’s got the jackpot. He’s so attractive, kind, seemingly caring, and rich?

↳user22: I’m so jealous

user24: man I’ve always wanted to go to Bijouterie Jewelry Store…

↳user25: same! I’ve seen pictures but I just know the aura of the place is unmatched

user26: leave the drivers and their personal lives alone challenge FAILED

↳user27: oh thank god I’m not the only one to think that

↳user26: they’re famous yes but we don’t need to know everything about their personal lives — and they have the right to privacy!

cl_gossip has posted a story, yourusername has posted 2 stories

[I don’t even know where to begin with this one…that is a mega yacht —not one of Charles’…][ today is only the best ♥️ | what a lovely lunch with charles_leclerc ♥️♥️♥️]

user28 replied GOLDDIGGER!

user29 replied god leave them alone

user30 replied what a bitchy move

user31 replied Charles please RUN

charles_leclerc replied Mon soleil, aujourd'hui a déjà été le plus beau jour de ma vie...My sunshine, today has already been the best day of my life...

↳yourusername Attendez, car ce n'est pas encore fini! Just you wait then because it's not over yet!

↳charles_leclerc mon soleil…my sunshine

↳yourusername 🥰🥰🥰

francisca.cgomes replied you guys are setting the bar absurdly high…

↳yourusername of course 🥰

↳yourusername but just say the word and we can run away baby

↳francisca.cgomes 🤯🤯🤯

pierregasly replied stop trying to steal my girlfriend

↳yourusername never

↳pierregasly 🙄😑

user32 replied jealousy activated oh my god…

user33 replied i want your life…

user34 replied please post some more photos of Charles queen!

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, francisca.cgomes, pierregasly, and 2,923,91: others

tagged: charles_leclerc

yourusername: a new car and still a passenger princess 👑

view all comments

charles_leclerc: Je ne le ferais pas autrement, mon soleil. I wouldn’t have it any other way, my sunshine

↳yourusername: 😍😍😍

user36: RUN CHARLES

this comment has been deleted

user37: a whore and a gold digger…

this comment has been deleted

lilymhe: the prettiest passenger princess ever

↳yourusername: no that’s you!

↳alex_albon: why must you always flirt with our girlfriends?

↳pierregasly: i know

↳francisca.cgomes: 😘

↳yourusername: stop having such babes for girlfriends then? liked by lilymhe, francisca.cgomes

↳alex_albon: 🙄🙄

user38: he bought her a BRAND NEW FERRARI???

↳user39: I’ve never been so jealous of a bitch in my life

user40: ok but is anyone gonna say anything about the FUCKING HUGE ASS pile of gifts?

↳user41: I KNOW! Like damn…

↳yourusername: spoiling is the name of the game girlies…

↳user40: are you guys looking for a third? A maid? A dog? liked by yourusername

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, oscarpiastri, and 3,128,183 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

yourusername: a last minute trip with my baby…

view all comments

charles_leclerc: ♥️♥️♥️

↳yourusername: my love 🥰

user42: leo!

↳user43: always a good day with a leo leclerc picture liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc

oscarpiastri: have a good trip dad!

↳charles_leclerc: thank you son!

↳yourusername: …yeah no. Thanks though osc! liked by charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri

maxverstappen1: Air Max is still better

↳yourusername: stop being jealous!

↳maxverstappen1: 😑

↳charles_leclerc: mon soleil…

user49: god imagine being so entitled that you demand an expensive trip…

↳yourusername: lol

↳charles_leclerc: 😂

↳user50: ok but what does this mean…

charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, arthur_leclerc, pierregasly, and 2,723,183 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: Mon soleil, tu as mon cœur et mon âme depuis le jour où je t'ai vu pour la première fois. Je t'aime infiniment, avec ferveur, vraiment. Votre beauté, votre gentillesse, votre générosité sont exceptionnelles. Merci pour cette journée si merveilleuse aujourd'hui. Je n'aurais jamais cru qu'être gâté était si agréable.

My sunshine, you have my heart and soul and have since the day i first saw you. I love you endlessly, fervently, truly. Your beauty, your kindness, your generosity is outstanding. Thank you for such a wonderful day today. I never knew that being spoiled felt so good.

(Also stay mad and stay jealous but mon soleil is not the sugar baby in this relationship ☺️)

comments have been restricted on this post

yourusername: Charles my love…

yourusername: you cannot imagine how happy you make me everyday

yourusername: meeting you was the best thing that ever happened to me

↳charles_leclerc: Mon soleil…🥹🥰♥️

yourusername: oh and to those judging us? Definitely stay mad and jealous

Taglist

@anamiad00msday @suns3treading @daniskywalkersolo @awritingtree @justheretoreadthxxs @coral7161 @lost4lyrics @mastermindbaby @freyathehuntress @voidvannie @sturmatt @nichmeddar @mxm47max @justaf1girl @a-beaverhausen @tallrock35 @elizamoe133 @imlonelydontsendhelp @jessica3478

[driverlando]

✧.* FAMILY FIRST

synopsis- In which Charles and Y/n have had enough of the paparazzi standing outside their house

before you continue: it’s been a while since I did anything for Charles, I missed this! If you enjoyed this then please reblog and give me a follow! <3

—

—

—

✧.* Charles has had enough

You glanced out the window, your heart sinking as you saw the familiar sight: a cluster of paparazzi, cameras flashing like distant lightning, capturing moments of your private lives for public consumption. You sighed deeply, feeling the weight of their intrusion settle heavily on you shoulders. Another day, another invasion of your sanctuary.

Charles entered the room, his footsteps heavy with frustration as he followed your gaze to the window. “Again?” he muttered through clenched teeth, his hands balling into fists at his sides.

“They just won’t leave us alone,” you said softly, your voice tinged with weariness as you absentmindedly rubbed your pregnant belly, the new life within a poignant reminder of your need for peace and privacy.

Charles kissed your forehead tenderly, a silent reassurance before he strode purposefully outside. His jaw was set in determination as he approached the nearest photographer, who greeted him with a mocking smirk.

“Hey, dude! Got any news for us?” the paparazzi taunted, his camera clicking away relentlessly.

Charles’s temper flared, a surge of protective instinct coursing through him. In one swift movement, he closed the distance, snatching the camera from the man’s hands with a firm grip. “I’ve had enough of this,” he growled, his voice low but carrying an unmistakable edge of authority. With a forceful gesture, he tossed the device to the ground, the clatter of impact punctuating his frustration.

The photographer stumbled back, momentarily taken aback by Charles’s sudden assertiveness. His eyes widened in surprise as Charles stood tall and unwavering, his presence commanding respect. “Get out of here,” Charles commanded, his tone brooking no argument, his stance a formidable barrier against further intrusion.

The paparazzi hesitated, uncertainty flickering in his eyes before he begrudgingly began to retreat, muttering under his breath as he moved away. Charles watched him go, a mix of relief and lingering tension evident in his posture, before he turned back to you.

“We’ll figure this out,” you reassured him gently, her touch a soothing balm against the raw edges of his frustration as you placed a comforting hand on his arm.

Charles sighed heavily, the weight of responsibility for their family’s well-being pressing heavily on him. Pulling you close, he buried his face in your hair, his cheek resting against yours. “I just want our family to have some peace,” he murmured softly, his voice filled with a mixture of longing and determination.

You stood together in the quiet of your home, finding solace in each other’s presence amidst the turmoil.

—

—

✧.* the boys show their support

—

charles_leclerc

liked by lewishamilton, yourusername and 156,478 others

charles_leclerc To the tabloids and paparazzi lurking outside: here’s your exclusive! a never seen before picture of me holding my son for the first time, hopefully this will stop you from spending day and night outside my house.

view all 14,628 comments

yourusername well they’ll have no choice but to leave us alone after the lawsuit 🫢

user1 omg crazy how this was 3 years ago and now yall are having another baby 🥹

user2 dad Charles is everything to me

user3 im glad they have gained some control, hopefully the paps leave

landonorris cutest baby (I’m not talking about you Charles)

—

—

Charles Leclerc’s Explosive Confrontation with Paparazzi: A Battle for Privacy

By: Sasha, Rumour Radar

In a gripping saga that has captured public attention, Formula One star Charles Leclerc and his influencer wife Y/N Y/L/N have found themselves embroiled in a fierce confrontation with paparazzi over their family’s privacy. The couple’s determination to protect their young son and their unborn child has led to heated exchanges, a broken camera, and a looming lawsuit against intrusive photographers.

The First Signs of Trouble

The tension reached a boiling point when Y/N tweeted a stark warning to the paparazzi:

“Hey paparazzi, here’s a tip: stop scaring my son. Respect our privacy or lawyer up.”

Charles Leclerc, known for his calm demeanor on the race track, showed a different side of himself by retweeting her post with his own impassioned message:

“I’ve reached my limit. It’s exhausting having to explain to my 3-year-old son why there are grown men waiting outside our house with big cameras. Please respect our privacy or be prepared to deal with the consequences. Nothing matters more to me than my family’s peace and security, and it’s my duty as a father and husband to shield them from any intrusion, especially now that my wife is pregnant.”

Forced to Reveal the Pregnancy

The couple, who had hoped to keep the news of their pregnancy private for as long as possible, felt compelled to make an announcement after the initial confrontation. The public reaction was overwhelmingly supportive, with fans expressing outrage at the paparazzi’s disregard for the family’s privacy.

Despite the couple’s plea for respect, the relentless paparazzi returned a few days later, once again besieging their home. The situation reached a critical point when Charles, frustrated and protective of his family, confronted the photographers and broke one of their cameras.

Charles’s Bold Statement on Instagram

In a bold move to address the paparazzi directly, Charles posted a poignant message on Instagram alongside a never-before-seen photo of him holding his son for the first time:

“To the tabloids and paparazzi lurking outside: here’s your exclusive! A never seen before picture of me holding my son for the first time, hopefully this will stop you from spending day and night outside my house.”

The post quickly went viral, with fans and fellow celebrities rallying behind Charles and Y/N, applauding their courage and condemning the paparazzi’s invasive behavior.

Legal Action Looms

Y/N followed up with a decisive announcement that the couple would be pursuing legal action against the photographers:

“We have had enough. Our privacy has been violated, our son has been scared, and our peace has been disrupted. We are taking legal steps to ensure this stops. Thank you to everyone who has supported us and respected our privacy.”

The news of the lawsuit has added another layer to this dramatic story, highlighting the ongoing struggle between celebrities seeking privacy and the relentless pursuit of paparazzi.

Public and Celebrity Support

The public reaction has been largely supportive, with social media flooded with messages of solidarity. Fellow drivers and celebrities have also spoken out, condemning the paparazzi’s actions and expressing their support for Charles and Y/N.

Carlos Sainz tweeted, “Absolutely unacceptable behavior from the paparazzi and it needs to be stopped. Charles and Y/N deserve to share their happy news on their own terms and to live their lives without being hassled. Congrats on the baby, my friends!”

Lewis Hamilton chimed in with, “Proud of @/Charles_Leclerc and @/YourUsername for standing up for their family. Privacy should be respected. Congrats on the new addition ❤️”

Moving Forward

As Charles and Y/N prepare for the arrival of their new baby, they continue to advocate for their right to privacy, setting a powerful example for other public figures facing similar challenges. Their story underscores the importance of respecting personal boundaries, even for those in the public eye.

This ongoing battle between the Leclercs and the paparazzi serves as a stark reminder of the toll that media intrusion can take on a family’s peace and well-being. As the lawsuit unfolds, it will be a pivotal moment not only for Charles and Y/N but for the broader conversation about privacy and respect in the age of instant celebrity.

Stay tuned to Rumour Radar for the latest updates on this unfolding story and more celebrity gossip.