#With the help of some brushes but I am so happy with
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FRESHMEN 101 FOR ASPIRING UPPERCLASSMEN
today’s lesson: proper communication and translation 🗣️
azul: greetings! i am your professor, azul ashengrotto! welcome to "freshmen 101 for aspiring upperclassmen" at night raven college! the only class that will you teach how to effectively handle those little brats— I MEAN loveable new faces you see around your dorm!
riddle: today, we will focus on how to properly communicate with your first-years. some of the things they say may be confusing and/or contradictory, so it's important to know how to translate their sentences into coherent language you understand.
vil: we have set up a variety of examples with our fellow co-professors and fellow seniors to guide you along this journey.
^
epel: vil, do you think i’d look better with a tattoo?
vil: translation: i am entering my rebellious phase and also want to ruin my delicate skin with a glorified paint job that i will most definitely regret in the future and will make me wish i had listened to my housewarden more. also, i have no hope of a happy future and will live out my days as a gangster on the streets.
epel: …what?
^
ortho: big brother, can you help me with a cosmetics alteration to my gear?
idia: big brother, i want to be the sparkliest, prettiest, most drop-dead gorgeous, most attractive, most charming, 5-star-reviewed, no notes, darling, glamorous, talented, brilliant, incredible, show-stopping, spectacular, never the same, totally unique, stunning, bewitching, adorbs, graceful, beguiling, smashing, knock-out, irresistible person in the classroom tomorrow.
ortho: yay~! 😀
^
deuce: sorry i was out past curfew, trey… i’m a little tired, so is it okay if i skip brushing my teeth tonight?
trey: translation: i have a secret boyfriend that i don’t want you to know about because he coerces me to engage in illegal underground boxing rings and convinces me that brushing my teeth is for losers. please get involved and maybe call the police and also never let me out of the dorm again until i���ve properly relearned the benefits of proper dental hygiene!
deuce: …huh?
^
sebek: silver, i think… i would like to make some friends with the people in our dorm. could you… mayhaps give me some advice?
silver: translation: i am a strikingly realistic imposter of your actual friend. i do not love nor care for you, and in fact, am very frightened by your presence, so i will gather allies from other places in an elaborate scheme to destroy you, the liege you’ve sworn your life to, your father, and your friend, whom i’ve already killed and whose body i have hidden in the basement. please end me.
sebek: pardon? what— what are you— why are you carrying around a camera— NO! NO NO NO NONONONO SILVER IF I’VE OFFENDED YOU I DEEPLY APOLOGIZE— SILVER PUT THE SWORD DOWN—
^
yuu: everyday, i’m scared that everything i’ve worked so hard to build in this world, all the friends i’ve made… all of it will just— slip through my fingers like sand… kalim? azul? what are your biggest fears?
kalim: translation: wow, things sure have been getting a little upsetti spaghetti around here! let’s throw a huge party in the mostro lounge with food and games and bright lights and elephants and and invite all of our friends to lighten up the atmosphere! the more, the merrier!
azul: translation: and while we’re at it, please don’t forget the mostro lounge’s limited time “part of your world” event, which offers authentic drinks, food, and even little trinkets from all around the world, for 20% off its original price!
yuu: guys pls
^
ace: hey, riddle? i, uh… i need help with smth.
riddle: translation: i have gotten into some very serious trouble and am about to lure you into a death trap that will get us both severely injured in all likelihood, and i am coming to you, specifically, about this, because i know you care deeply for me and couldn’t say no if you honestly thought my life was in danger, and i am going to exploit it for my own ends. what is it, ace?
ace: …ok, u lil bitch i see how it is
^
jack: hey, leona? ruggie? do you… do you love me?
leona:
ruggie:
leona:
ruggie:
ruggie: translation: give me food!
jack: …would it help if i said it first?
leona:
ruggie:
leona:
ruggie:
leona: …no, wait— i think maybe he said “give me sliced pears on a plate”... not sure, tho.
ruggie: that does sound right...
jack: oh my seven.
#twisted wonderland#twst#twst first years#deuce spade#sebek zigvolt#ace trappola#jack howl#ortho shroud#epel felmier#twst yuu#riddle rosehearts#azul ashengrotto#vil schoenheit#idia shroud#trey clover#kalim al asim#leona kingscholar#ruggie bucchi#maybe a lil ooc and not very funny but i liked it so who cares lol
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We are so back with Brutally Soft!! ⤷ story work in progress with me trying some new stuff we'll see how it goes!
#Queue: Moonrise ☾⋆⁺#📖 Brutally Soft ✧˖°.#These aren't finished still have a lot of work with the first one#but I painted that water!!#With the help of some brushes but I am so happy with#how it has come out!#I had the thought I am doing too much#and I am still on the fence#but I am older and have a different POV#on Brutally Soft now that it's been 2 going on 3 years#so I am doing things different.#This post will have a pretty obvious nod#to a pretty popular piece#of media lol#that I am not trying to be coy about lol#If I posted a soundtrack would anyone listen lmao#probably not but I got to perfect tracks for this scene.#BS: Wednesday Bennett
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maybe you should doodle however many or few starcon/helix/damned characters as you like (in human or alien form) in cute halloween costumes! imagine... ZEX dressed up as Ariel thelittlemermaid...
Day 26 - "I hadn't realized humans also had aquatic subcultures!" "Oh, well, uhm..."
#My art#Requestober#SCII#Damned#DAX#ZEX#The Captain#You can't tempt me like this I'm too weak to it agh#I am sorely convinced that with a Slightly longer time frame to work on this I would've gone with my first idea#It was way overly-ambitious for a less-than-24-hour time limit but hhghhh I /do/ want to draw everyone in cute costumes!!!#Super doesn't help that I very broke my sleep schedule and like as soon as this came in I fell asleep for three hours lol#And was still tired!!! That's just not fair says I#But I still managed >:3c Because I limited my scope haha but that's important too!! And it still turned out cute!!!#I mean how couldn't it - ZEX as The Little Mermaid is just-#I'm enamoured it's so perfect for him..........what an excellent idea...........definitely not going to be thinking about this for A While#Funnily enough my immediate thought was actually angst haha - the mermaid has to give up her voice! What would ZEX give up?#That he hasn't already anyhow - and then thoughts of reviving Zelnick but selfishly I just hhghgh I love himm I love themmmm#For now the cutes tho!!!!#It tickles me so bad that a significant portion of Damned takes place in October hehe <3 ZEX arrived in November but still!#And then the Halloween event to get their canon outfits back fjdskalfjd ahhh!!!#I'm many many years too late lol but there's something very lovely about the theme continuing ahh <3 <3#Oh yeah and there's also two others in costume here lol - the Captain's was easy haha <3 Dashing prince! He suits it ♪#For DAX lol at first I considered Triton? But he's not quite That bad about ZEX's human infatuation#Not that he's as admissive or manipulative as Ursula either - at some point it might've just become ''I want to see him in it'' lol#He's so happy about it haha <3#Can you tell I had fun with ZEX's costume lol - sparklies!!! Had fun with the glitter on his shoes :D#I Will find a place to use my scale brush anywhere and everywhere and that's a threat#I wonder what ZEX would think of human animation haha - I only remember there being one movie night at the Institute!#Surely Disney would get the greenlight to be played in the Sun Room! ZEX having a transcendent ''seen'' experience aw <3
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i need 2 stop drawing static stuff . white bg . front facing pose. <will do it again
#i looked thru my media tab 2day .horrific#WHERES THA PURPOSEEEE E#there doesnt have 2 be any . of coursies .#but thats smt i want to work on rly hard T_T 2024!!!!!!!!!#smth smth reflection but i am happy with what ive done in 2023#definitely havent finished as many things as id hoped but thats okay.kind of touched on it w that one trgn comp a few months ago#but i tried 2 be more confident in areas i wasnt so sure abt before and it paid off in a way that im happy with T__T❤️#like despite all my gloom & burnout and artblock . i had a lot of fun . and im rly fortunate that ive been able to meet the nicest ppl#through it T__T#idk what jm talking abt anymore but j think . i am happy w the direction im headed in and i just need to work harder now on variability#and concept and composition. not rly sure where to start but i think compiling some of my favs in a single place#and studying them will help. :3.. AND NOT GIVING UP A SKETCH IF ITS FRUSTRATING ATM😭😭😭😭#some of them ..that one w meryl and vash . i ould not for the life of me figure out and i was like soo done w it#but then i was likeno OK just do it who cares . and then i found a workflow that worked and it WAS SOO MUCH FUNNN AND I STILL RLY LOVE HOW#IT TURNED OUTTT ..#and the one w knives . the beautiful universe one . i rmbr being so annoyed by a similar attempt that inwas lkke fuck it im just gna use the#biggest brush ever and play arnd with stuff bc its not gna see the light of day and fhen j agonized abt sharing it and everyone WAS SOOO#NICE TO ME !!&2&2 LIKEEE it was one of my earliest trgn pieces so kind of new 2 da scene and lkke . idk man it helped me enjoy my art from#an outside perspective after struggling w the doubt and its now one of my favorites ever too …#ORRR .. the vash and wolfwood one w the silly blue sky bg .. the textures were so mindless and fun#or the elendira . SOOO MANY FUN ELENDIRAS.. the perspective nail gun one is still a fav bc i shy away from perspective bc its hard as shit#but it worked out and i luv it tew .#sory anyways . very happy. and thankful^__^ ik when j post stuff like URRG MY ART!!!it mostly jst comes from .like GAAH want 2 push myself#harder bc i know itll be fun once i get 2 where im going T_T#anyways if u got 2 this point u r lkterally angel my angelll~ hamtaro pic#tys
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#THE PARTY & THE AFTER PARTY. g. suguru
☆ sum. the last thing you’d expect for a surprise birthday present by your friends was a visit to a men’s strip club. geto suguru—your dancer’s got it all. tall, handsome, and he wants waaay more than just thirty minutes with you.
wc. 6.9k (h.. haha)
warnings. fem! reader, stripper au, stripper! geto, unprotected, lap dancīng, dry humping, switch geto, lots of riding, 69, finishing too quick, choking, geto has nīpple piercings, hair pulling, spīt, dirty talk, he licks champagne off you, nīpple play, breedīng, praise, **** cameo :), petnames.
an. ty to the ppl who voted on my poll <3 kinda scared to post this LOL. this came on a whim ʅ(◞‿◟)ʃ
➤ kinktober mlist.
“i understand your body wants it. i know your thoughts, oh you ‘bout it ‘bout it . . ”
the erotic lyrics that blared through the club’s abject speakers nearly deafened your ears the moment you stepped inside. you were flashed with a plethora of luminescent jade lights as you read a glowing sign near the bar that read ‘welcome to the vixxxen lounge.’ your friends, who decided to surprise you for your birthday with nothing more than a girls’ trip to a men’s strip club told you they’d be getting drinks if you need them. of course . . that was probably code for: going to spend time near the private rooms.
apparently, it’s ‘happy hour’ which meant countless discounts—and you’d already had your two individual sessions paid for by one of your friends. crisp aerating air waves from the air conditioner chills against your skin as you lean against the bronzy brick pillar. you gather your surroundings, eyeing the oily attractive glossed men that entertained the screaming crowds of thirsty women. the wide stage was spacey, and it almost looked like a concert—you started to wonder just who you were paired up with. but right as you’re pondering deep in thought, there’s a light tap on your shoulder.
“miss.”
you turn around to face probably the most attractive man you’ve laid your eyes upon. he’s tall with lengthy long hair — tangled black tresses of strands that reach just about past his shoulders. you couldn’t help but openly gawk a bit . . finding your eyes to leisurely trail down toward his skimpy attire. near his neck, he had a stained smooch of a lip stick mark that was a dark shaded red. you then noticed a few hundred dollar bills stuck in between his red thin straps.
this guy, it appeared he was dressed as some kind of firefighter. he had on the helmet along with the matching baggy yellow pants, but was completely topless. the only thing that went against his chiseled pecs was the skinny straps that attached onto the belts of his pants.
“heyy,” he waves a hand in your face, arching a brow.
“o- oh, sorry,” you bashfully murmur, mentally cursing yourself out for wandering off into space again. embarrassing, embarrassing. fishing for your vip pass that gave you direct access to one of the secluded private rooms—you dig it out your pocket, staring down at the assigned dancer and room number. “are you uh . . geto?”
“i am. but ah, suguru’s fine,” he murmurs, and he takes your pass, putting the temperature lanyard over your neck. geto’s fingers brush against your skin and you nearly shudder.
his touch.. it felt like sparks of electricity, and near the far distance by the crowded stage, your friends waved at you. with a throaty, “follow me, birthday girl,” he swiftly turns his heels and starts making a beeline toward the back of the club. you follow him, continuing to eye his costume.
but phew, he had quite the ass.
but anyway—that’s not the point.
it never really occurred to you how all the male strippers had specific costumes—you were far too entranced by geto. it was probably because of how halloween was only a mere few weeks away, so it’d make sense how they’d be ordered to get into the spirit of things.
“and imma let you do it how you wanna girl i’ll riiiide with it, riiiide with it . . ”
the lyrics of that catchy same song that resounded through the speakers of the club grew louder—and as he guided you inside the dimly red lit room, he makes you lie back against a cushioned sofa. there’s a few piles of money scattered near the front, and you didn’t count but that amount could make anyone filthy rich.
geto rubs the back of his neck, rolling it around to stretch before he glances down at you. you struggle to look him in the eye and a faint smile creases across his lips.
you’re new, and he could tell you weren’t used to such carnal provocative environments.
“relaaax, pretty girl,” his voice was low purr. the way he talked was soothing, a good amount of teasing and playfulness. right at his words, your shoulders slumped and you lean back.
the air around you seems to close in, getting thicker ‘n thicker before he makes you haul your arms over the edges of the couch. “comfy?” and he doesn’t do anything else until you give him a subtle complying nod. geto takes off his amber-colored helmet before putting it on your head. “lean back. just focus on me.”
“o . . okay,” you exhale, and your eyes finally meet his.
the fake firefighter helmet crooks, tilting a bit to the side over the crown of your head as you watch him starting to sway to the bass dropping beats. you gulp as he gets closer . . and closer, following the exact steps to his usual routine before he gets on your lap.
he’s so pretty, and now that his helmet was off of him, you got an even more view of his face. geto starts to slowly grind against you, one hand resting near back of the couch that’s next to your shoulder. he’s fully in sync with the song that booming blares in the background.
the friction. he was moving up against you, and you couldn’t help but glance down his glossy chest. his legs were huge, and you didn’t even notice the clamped silver piercings that stuck against his reddened nipples. “is this okay?” he whispers, and you already feel yourself starting to heat up. the a/c was blasting—and yet, you felt like it was over a hundred degrees.
“ ‘s okay,” you breathlessly say, feeling your facial expressions serene. geto swiftly gets off you, and he starts to rock and grind his hips against the floor.
he’s slow and precise—each movement matches the following before he sits up, flicking against the straps of his costume. fuck, you couldn’t keep your eyes off of him. you knew he was probably used to this . . seeing so many women at a time, giving them a thirty minute private dance and going on with his day.
geto had charisma and lots lots of it.
it was ironic because he didn’t even have to say anything. throughout the duration of his entire routine, he let his hips do the rest of the talking. speaking of hips, you’ve never seen a more a slutty waist.
it’s unapologetically snatched, and you start to envision seeing his face plastered on every cover of a a men’s vogue magazine. he’s gorgeous—and the second he’s back in your lap again, he leans into the crook of your neck. “hey,” he repeats, and his voice was a lot more pitched and lower. it’s a dirty kind of husky that makes you clench your thighs together. as he’s up close—you get a whiff of his cologne. it’s quite loud, and you’d guess the scent was something between bergamot and rich aromatic oak moss. “do you wanna touch me?”
a breath gets trapped in the back of your clogged throat at the question.
geto continues to gradually grind his hips into you as pretty black strands of his hair tickles near your shoulders. “y- yes,” and the words smoothly flow from your lips like smooth molasses of chocolate.
geto was patient, and he wanted to make you comfortable—that was his number one priority.
he speaks in a more rough yet sly tone. “ ‘m gonna grab your wrists okay? just feel me,” and you feel mentally prepare yourself. biting down on your bottom lip—you mouth a soft, ‘okay,’ and geto gently grabs your wrists.
he’s still slowly jerking his hips against you, matching each sultry beat of the song. the base of the chorus rang through your ears and the lyrics flowed through once ear ‘n out the other.
as you stare up at him, he makes you press your hands firmly against his shaven flexing chest. sheets of slicking sweat that covers the top part of his body coats on your hands and you cutely furrow your brows. “heh, oh sorry love. ‘m a bit sweaty, hope that doesn’t turn you off.”
“it’s f . . fine,” you utter, and he resumes to guide your hands. his chest was as hard as a brick, and you felt how his muscles would freely tense.
god, geto was a literal sculpture. you probably looked stupid with how you kept openly staring at his perfectly carved abs. an entire six pack - each section even more strenuously ripped than the first.
as you continue to gawk, eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets—you feel him shifting his weight a bit so he wouldn’t crush you. your thumb snags against his pierced nipple and he grunts, breaking character for a second. he lets off a cute snarl. “sorry! i didn’t-”
“sweetheart, it’s okay,” he hums, releasing a low puff of air. so he was sensitive there, noted.
as he continues, he makes your hands reach lower. the thin straps of his costume glide against your plump fingertips before he stops at his fading raven-colored happy trail.
black ‘n bushy . . you could make out every single tiny speck of hair that stuck against the lower part of his abdomen if you squinted, and you did.
the rest was hiding underneath the upper hem part of his prop turnout pants. “now ‘m gonna let go of my hands,” he whispers, eyeing you intently.
it was so much lustful ardor in the air. the more you stared at the dancer, the more you started questioning why the hell you never visited a strip club sooner. a question that was probably gonna remain unanswered..
“ . . ‘n ‘m gonna let you do whatever you want while i finish.” he concludes his sentence, and as if his hands were attached to your own with adhesive velcro, geto slowly pulls away.
now, it’s just your two balmy palms pressing against his chest. you take it upon yourself to drag an invisible line down his flat sleek cheek with your fingers.
your hands then find themselves reaching for a few papery fifty dollar bills, tossing it at his glossed grinding body. geto sighs with a cunning simper, continuing to rock his slim hips into your lap. “that’s it, feel me princess. ‘m all yours.”
and in a way – he was.
it was only you two in the room, and yet it felt like you ‘n suguru were the only people on earth. the entire mood was sensual and you could almost smell the libido that radiated off his skin. it was a scent you couldn’t describe—but you didn’t want him to stop.
as your hands kept roaming down his puffed out chest, you stop right at the hem of his pants. poking out, his sharp carved-like ‘v’ shaped pelvis arches within each muscle he moves forward.
the crimson red lights that flicker every three seconds narrowly spotlights toward geto’s fit body. for a quick moment—you get a good glimpse of his face and he’s inches away from your shimmery twitching lips.
geto leans up to your ear and he hoarsely whispers. “birthday girllll,” and he huffs out a drawn breath, feeling you eagerly tug at his pants. a snicker leaves from him before he gets a nice smell of your citrusy perfume. “ah. is the pants gettin’ on your nerves?”
“a bit,” you murmur honestly, and you were already undressing him with your eyes. you were sure geto was most likely wearing a thong underneath but you imagined otherwise.
filthy - you couldn’t believe the thoughts you were having.
to think, if you hadn’t accepted this little ‘girls’ trip’ with your friends, you’d probably be sleeping the entire day away. after all, they did want you to get out more. especially for your special day. with a pout twisting across each part of your lips, you sigh. “can i—”
“what, undress me?” he tries to play coy, seeing your pouty expression increase. geto hums, amused as you lightly hook a finger underneath his hooked strap before he shrugs. “go ‘head, princess. knock y’rself out.”
geto found your hesitance cute. you didn’t wanna seed ‘needy’ but you were showing all signs of it. at the moment, you completely forgot you were at a strip club and he was just a dancer.
but fuck it.
you went slow as he still straddles your lap, slowly pulling down his loosely fitted pants. they were baggy.. a flashy color of yellow, and the more you tugged them down, the more you got a glance at his scanty thong.
it’s dark purple with his name embedded on the thin white strips.
from all sides, it spelled ‘s u g u r u,’ in bold lilac plum colors. he even had custom made thongs? as if you couldn’t get even more aroused—
yeah, you were aroused. leave it to your legs that remained glued together starting to swelter up with … stickiness.
not everyday did you have a man grind against your lap, and to be fucking frank you didn’t think you’d last.
“you’re so pretty,” you pant, watching him shimmy his pants down to where it flops down to his ankles. and oh, he had quite the bulge.
it looked almost painful—so swole and round, you just wanted to kiss it. it looked like at any second it was about to just burst through the cottony stretched fabric. the scenery grows more hedonic as the red lights dimmer. you could barely see his face anymore, just a silhouette that grinds against your lap at each beat of the song playing loudly.
as you nearly slip out a moan, you lean back before your heaving breaths start to accelerate. “suguru.”
“aw,” he coos, feeling your arms wrap around his slender waist. geto’s still swiftly grinding into you, feeling your cute nails claw into his back. the back of your brain kept chanting ‘more, more, more!’
you still have the helmet on, and with the way it’s crooked and could barely fit your head—he found that small detail adorable. as he remained seated on your squished thighs, it was embarrassing to think you were starting to feel yourself erratically throb.
leaning into your neck, he could loudly smell your sheer arousal and it makes him lowly chuckle against the soft shell of your ear. “not satisfied, yeah?” and he lets off a quiet bellowing grunt, feeling your hands trail down his sweaty body once more.
he’s so built, parallel to a literal tank.
geto’s rocking against you in rhythm with the same song that still trumpets through the speakers before whispering. “just say it ‘n i’ll give it to you.”
“you always come to the parties. to pluck the feathers off allll the biiiirds. . ”
the lengthy song continued to drag on—and the busted speakers in the private room sounded like it was about to break from the distortion. it was loud, but your panting breaths was even louder the more geto dances on you.
letting off a longing three second moan once a leg of yours voluntarily hooks around his slim waist, you mewl out a sweet, “i want you. suguru, fuck me.”
“oh. sounds like a demand, sweetheart,” he purrs, and he stills his hips against your lap.
geto’s got a plethora of rings on each of his fingers. pretty silver ‘n gold bands that would wrap around his digits. he had long fingers, thin and perfectly slender.
the more you stared, the more you thought how good they’d fit insi—
“eyes up here,” he cuts you off, and you shudder feeling his palms cup your face. your leg still wraps around his waist before another shortly follows.
he’s barely rocking into you now, and with a bumpy shimmy, you feel his bulge rub against you. “mhm,” geto grunts before meeting your needy gaze once more. as a thumb strokes your bottom lip, pulling it down gingerly, he whispers. “ask nicely. say pretty please.”
“you won’t … charge me extra?” you sheepishly say, beads of perspiring sweat trickling down all sides of your forehead.
geto smugly smiles, grumbling a subtle, ‘nah,’ before making you lean all the way back against the padded sofa. “okay,” you breathe, and you just didnt care anymore.
you wanted him – maybe even needed him..
geto’s hardened bulge that presses against his thong throbs harder before you sweetly murmur,“please, fuck me, suguru.”
“anythin’ for the birthday girl.”
and those words were the same exact words that ran through your mind as you now found yourself in . . quite the risqué position.
you’d be the one straddling geto now. he’s got you in a classic 69, and your pretty perked ass hovers over his face. right in front of you was his weighty fat cock, and it’s a pretty flushed pink with rosy-lime veins prodding from the sides.
you’re whimpering out sweet harmonic keynotes as his long pointed tongue slithers its through your inviting entrance, two broad arms clinging onto your hips. “fuuckk,” he’d groan, feeling you smear a thumb over his leaky mushroomy tip.
you’ve already got him sopping wet from the chin down thanks to your wet cunt – glossy pearly drool seeping from the sides of his dick.
geto’s shaft remains idle, and you wrap a hand around his base before pumping it, rotating your wrist – once, twice, thrice..
he was aching, and the entire time he was giving you a show he had a boner. it was rare, usually whenever he gave lap dances—he was one to never really crack, he was a trained professional and yet here you were.
“mmch,” his swollen puckered lips smack against your cunt as he eats you out entirely from the back.
your mouth drops, jaw dangling— goofily hanging open like a cartoon as he resumes to extends the length of his tongue inside the outskirts of your warm room-temperate-tastin’-pussy.
lolling it out all the way, he licks from top to bottom—stopping at your clenching hole. geto gives it a five second kiss, a sloppy one that glues a mixture of his spit and your slimy juices on his mouth. “sweetheaaart,” he rasps, biting back a greedy groan once he feels you starting to take him in your mouth.
your throat’s seraphic warmth draws a hot sharp breath out of him as he swats a hard palm against your ass for you to start. “when i say move your ass against my face, i fuckin’ mean it. move,” and you let off a candied whimper the second the temporary sting sends singles toward your weeping whiny clit.
feebly, you start to flop your ass up and down against his face and you hear a satisfy ‘hmm’ purr from his lips. you’re moaning, sinking his cock down your throat in the process before your sticky tongue swirls around his angered crownhead. “mmph,” and you take a few inches before you feel his tip swipe against the scaled roof of your mouth.
going back up, it loudly ‘pops!’ out as a bit of sheeny saliva trickles down your chin. you’re taking him deep within no time, and you let off a cute hiccup once his swollen sack paps near your jaw.
so full ‘n round…
you’re breathing through your nose, still shaking your ass against his face, swipin’ his nose occasionally like a credit card with your honeyed-slathered cunt.
his wide flat tongue felt so good that you felt your toes curling each time he playfully nibbles on your sensitive throbbing clit. his tastebuds felt each pulse and it was so hot. “sugu, fuck.”
“i know, i know,” he gruffly whispers against your runny folds. bringing a pair of long twinned fingers towards your pussy, geto strums it down the pulsating slit in a straight pillaring line.
with a bit of pressure—he spreads your lower lips apart, getting a front row seat view of your clit pumpin’ pumpin’ away.
you had such a pretty throb, the prettiest he’s ever seen.
“god, you’re pretty but you’re even prettier down here too,” and not only do you hear him swallow but you feel it too.
a long full gulp, and he’s making sure to savor as much of your sweet slick on his tongue as possible.
geto’s just nasty, and a proud eater. he zigzags his tongue everywhere until your vision’s murky and clouded. you’re left crossed eyed with puffed up cheeks, barely able to focus on his dick that’s laying flat on your tongue.
a hand of his squeezes against your ass before with a mean ‘whack!’ he spanks it again just to see the bouncy recoil. the way a ‘lil fat portion of your ass would jiggle all due to the hasty-rash contact of his palm makes him throb.
and you feel it right in your mouth.
as your head bobbles at a more quick yet languid pace, your tongue skims down one of the many veins that paint down his cock. your repeated moans become muffled, and geto groans at how sloppy you sound—from the front and from behind.
the more he slurps every syrupy drop that dribbles out from your gurgling pussy, his precisely-thorough licks turn into exaggerated four second sucks.
geto softly caresses a hand against the bare skin of your exposed flesh, tugging on your pulled up skirt. pulled to the side were your panties that had a pretty pink star imprinted on the back decorated with glimmery rhinestones. you moan as your back slowly arches inward ‘n out and your knees become to buck.
his tongue, he definitely knew how to eat.
“ ‘s good, juuuus’ like that princess,” he huffs, feeling minuscule dewdrops of your saliva pour down the sides of his cock, slicking all over his base.
your thumb traces a heart over his hefty sack, massaging his tender full testes before you hear geto whine out a sweet, “o- oooh shit,” he was tender there too, huh..
and the sound catches him completely off guard because he grunts, the swaying of his tongue gradually slowing down. geto’s pretty lashes flutter before he grunts, taking a second to breathe. “don’t . . stop, play with ‘em some more,”
“pf—” you pop your mouth off his dick again, wet slimy sounds following as you stroke him off with an closed palm. “are you sure?”
“yeah yeah, ‘m sure,” and there’s a bit of sass in his gruff tone.
geto’s getting flustered, and never in a million years would he admit that you playing with his balls made him feel so good but fuck, it did.
geto paws a hand against your ass before letting off a hurried breathless, “fuck, ‘m gonna cum.”
you went back to bobbling your head up ‘n down, pumping his fleshy pillar of length in your free hand before you start writhing your ass against his face even more quicker. geto moans, a surge of a trill nearly escaping out his gruff vocal chords before he grunts loudly. “mmp,” and your throat was so wet ‘n warm.
it enveloped him entirely, and as your cunt’s sitting over his slick lips—every so often rubbing against his nose and slick-streamed chin, he peppers it with a few kisses.
your hips were arched ‘n askew, and as your tongue occasionally darts down his sensitive slit you hear him grunt again. the burgundy colored sofa pathetically dips inward due to the stacked weight of both rutting bodies. geto’s eyes start to roll their way back as you continue, nearly sucking the soul out of him.
“fuck, baby. spit on it,” he groans, clasping his teeth at your needy clit.
he slides his tongue against your cute bulbous-shaped nub before sucking on it for the umpteenth time. you moan, still tossing your ass around for him in a slow meandering manner, feeling his tongue drag down the slope of your ass again.
geto’s pussy drunk entirely, and he didn’t care if this was against policy, having a customer touch him. when you tasted this divine, he couldn’t help devour your cunt like the starved, starved man he was..
at his words, you spat out translucent globs of saliva from your lips, pasting the slightly curved sides of his dick with your slick mess. “pff,” and you drench him from the base down, twisting his shaft with your wrist before hearing him groan.
geto’s about to finish and you could feel the vigorous pumps of his dick in your mouth growing weaker … and weaker – until, he cums.
geto’s jaw goes slack the moment his peak abnormally reaches, and growls out a husky ‘fuuuuuck,’ with the muscles in his neck tensing.
within a blink of an eye and a snap of a finger, the flat tip of your tongue’s now being sprayed with spritz of waxen cum. it’s a bittersweet taste that coats on your judgy tastebuds, and as you close your eyes with a humming moan departing from your lips, you hear him hiss. his body’s violently shaking, and his hips start to hungrily thrust into your mouth.
you wriggle your ass in face as he’s barely eating you out anymore, frantically heaving as he dumps his all down your pretty tight throat. “fuck, fuck, take it,” and his body still sporadically tremors.
as your mouth’s still full, geto gives your teary wet cunt it’s last few lapping licks before his head collapses back in lecherous defeat.
with cheeks still plumply puffed — his cock remains shoved inside. his aggravated red tip’s just swiping ‘n erupting near the roof of your mouth as you slurp him clean.
you swallow instantaneously, luxuriating in the mildly honey taste before feeling him shudder underneath you. “goddamn, so fuckin’ good. fuckin’ filthy, princess.”
with clammy palms, he turns you over and you lean in to kiss him. geto’s taken by surprise, and as you make him flop back against the velveteen cushion, you made your way on his lap. rough edges of teeth clash and roughly clatter against each other as each tongue plays a more salacious version twister.
geto reclines back, his hands moving toward your rocking waist as he grunts—tasting himself on your tongue. its bitter, but with the help of your lip gloss—it turns far more sweet within seconds. feverish breaths ghosts inside each mouth before you watch him reach near the side of him.
grabbing a half filled up bottle of mousseux, he flicks off the cork with a flick of his middle finger. geto’s eyes still closed as he’s delving his tongue right into your mouth.
the merciless smacking of lips grew louder before he pulls away, huffing breathlessly. “wan’ more of a taste real quick, princess,” and it sounds more like a needy plead. you see how flushed his face was, and geto’s eyes dart straight toward your bare chest. the top you wore was pulled down, clinging near the very bottom of your waist. “c’mere..”
and as you lean in, you watch as geto starts to pour down a small stream of champagne all down your chest. right between your tits, cupping underneath your tummy so none wouldn’t spill further down.
he makes sure a few glosses over your pretty round breasts before he grunts, closing the distance between your chest.
geto buries his face in between the valley of your tits, licking it right up. the bubbly fruity taste lingers on his tongue as he laps you up from top to bottom moaning at the spicy sweetness.
a mixture of your skin and champagne—better than any cocktail this club’s ever served.
“f- fuck,” he moans, lying his tongue flat. geto stares at you the entire time too, and his mouth gradually trails it way toward your damp neglected nipples. he cups his lips around the first nipple—slowly transitioning to the next before slurping the drink right off your body.
a tight breath gets caught in your throat as he continues to lick the rainy drops of sugary champagne off your body. geto groans, savoring the taste before with a loud ‘plop’, he pops your tender wet nipple out of his mouth.
there’s nothing but utter lust and infatuation in his eyes—and he then gets up to kiss you. the room’s nearly pitch dark without the help of the dim effulgent red lights that shined against you both. it added to the mood perfectly.
as tongues continue to try to assert dominance, you moan right in the dancer’s mouth, returning the gesture of swapping gauzy strings of gossamer spit.
abruptly though, you pull away, gently pushing geto back against the sofa.
with a raspy ‘ugh,’ geto lands on his back as you give him a light shove. he’s at your mercy, and you stand up from his lap, a wind of confidence coming out of nowhere and nearly pulling you forward.
he stares at you with hooded cunt-drunk eyes, watching you do a figure eight with your body.
“what’s . . this?” he huffs, burly arms stretching over each edge of the sofa. you looked so pretty, eyeing him up and down as he does the exact same to you.
the luminescent lights started to beam on you now, highlighting your curves and entire physique.
“lie back,” you murmur, slowly sashaying toward him. geto runs a hand through his hair, his dick twitching from the cool air wafting against it. you teasingly drag a finger down the scarred middle line of his bare-puffed chest, stopping at a hardened row of his brick-made abs. “i wanna try your little routine.”
“yeahh?” geto snickers, sucking in a sharp breath once you spin around, bending all the way over. the helmet that was still on your head—you put it back on him, watching him scoff at your audacity.
so you stole his profession now, great.
as you’re turned the other way, you slowly wriggle your ass in front of him, putting a hand over your sopping pussy and he kisses his teeth. “tch. don’t tease, sweetheart,” and geto’s allured stare fixates on you the entire time. his dilated irises frantically roamed around every and any part of your body like a laser. “fuck,” he grunts, watching you finally make your way on his lap.
geto’s all submissively underneath you—bare ‘n exposed with his poor tip flushed. its color was a sheeny carmine red that’s akin to a ripe cerise rose.
a few dried up splotches of cum stick near his weighty sides before he shudders. your ass sits on his flaccid dick before you start to move.
slowly,
you’re rutting into him—just like he was to you, grinding back and forth. geto looks so pretty though, underneath you. he’s still panting a bit, sweating bullets as you tease him with your crazed hips.
you weren’t at his level quite yet, but fuck could you move. geto groans, feeling your sloppy pussy rub off against his dick. you were so close to his tip that his foreskin would peel back a bit. “do you wanna touch me?”
touché..
geto narrows his eyes at you as you tease him, repeating his exact words from what he said to you earlier.
he doesn’t just touch you, he fucks you—
but in this case . . you fuck him.
geto holds back a moan as he’s watching his claret-colored cockhead disappear between your sappy folds. it’s like a magic trick, and with a ‘poof!’ half of length vanished within you.
you let off a soft shrilling whine, trying to writhe yourself around his length.
his dick was fat. ‘eyes-rolling-tongue-lolling-drag-your-nails-down-his back-’ type of fat.
and his girth only made things ten times more intense. you felt him rearranging your guts within each prolonged inch you took – literally.
you’re as slow as a snail with the way you try to take him wholly. even as you’re gingerly sinking your bare ass down with his cock snug ‘n deep inside you, he easily kisses against your g-spot.
it’s happening already, and you don’t even realize he’s fully in before a cooing whimper rawly snatches from the back of your dry esophagus. “oh fuck,” you huff, tossing your arms around the dark haired man.
geto’s got the same wide-eye-jaw-dropped reaction to you, and with one arm snaking around your waist—another’s tightly gripping onto your right ass cheek.
he spanks it, giving it a short squeeze afterward. your chest starts to heave in quickened intervals, and once he feels you starting to move it’s game fuckin’ over..
“god, pussy’s ‘ta die for,” he groans, eyes sexily rolling back until his sockets show nothing but white.
you had him whipped, and he can hear your cunt trying to have a word of its own, squelching out cute gargled squelches. you start to ride him at a mere hypnotic rhythm—and geto’s a lot more vocal now.
with his adam’s apple bobbing, both hands of his were now gripping onto your waist now. piles of money surround you too, a few sticking against his sweaty beefy thighs. “fuck me,” he grunts, and it’s more like he’s begging.
geto locks eyes with you, shaggy long bangs running past his eyes before he securely grabs your hips—trying to keep up pace with you. “mhm, thaaa’s it. ride it, ride . . the shit out of me, uuughhh.”
“ ‘m trying,” you moan, biting your lip each time his swollen cockhead plummets its way deep.
he’s just so big—you couldn’t wrap your head around how a guy could be so damn big.
the good kind of big, and each time he’d seep a single girthy inch into you, your stomach would churn like butter. he’s in sooo deep, your legs could barely support yourself anymore and he had to hold you steady.
as he pulls you all the way down, geto reaches waaay inside of your sloppy gripping cunt that’s oh-so desperate to wring him like a vice.
his thick cock greets your pretty fleshy cervix, mimicking a soft ‘knock’ before introducing itself with a welcoming pound.
he holds your hips, pumping himself into you again, and again, until your pussy remembered each stroke, each thrust, each fuckin’ letter of his name—front to last..
slow but fucking deep.
you gasp, clinging onto his neck before soft hurried pants of ‘yeah, yeah’ ‘s scurry past your glossed lips.
geto’s dewy eyes were half lidded and he’s never felt more pussy drunk in his life. trust—he’s had his fair share of women but oh, you were far different. it was something about you, and he just wanted more after each carnal second passed.
you’re so into his dick givin’ your pussy a fuck of a lifetime that you don’t even realize your hand was now wrapped around his thick neck. not too tight, but geto’s reaction time was slow also. once he realizes seconds after you did, he sheepishly scoffs before slyly humming.
“goddd, y’r so fuckin’ hot when you choke me,” he purrs, tugging at the panties that pull to the side of your thighs. of course he’d enjoy it, and as his dick’s still massaging your gummy walls, he moans. “harderrr.”
“don’t be greedy,” you mumble, burying your knees into his bulky thighs.
the way you rocked against him was hypnotic—and geto’s hands remain on your waist.
you nearly shudder, feeling the various cold bands of his rings run and tickle down your skin. he’s in love with your body, and even more in love with the way you feel from the inside.
leaning in close until you’re just inches away from his spit-slicked lips, your thumb runs its way down the bulging ball that lies inside his throat. “say ‘pretty pleaseee.’ ”
“tsk,” geto scowls, and even with a pout he’s effortlessly attractive. your hips continued to champion its way up ‘n down at a deranged pace as you moved, and his cock’s pumping you full over and over and over. with a vexed grunt, he utters. “pretty please, choke me harder.”
leaning in to kiss the side of his mouth, you whisper a crooning, “good boy,” and geto whines the moment you add a bit more pressure around his neck.
his hair’s all in his face, and your ass was just ruthless.
ferociously slamming down onto his stout cock, you’re drenching him from the base down with your syrup-coated slick. a bit of your own sloppy arousal glues against the pried apart crevices of your thighs—pasting against his as well.
it’s a mess, and with how close he was getting, he was about to create an even bigger one..
geto felt like he was ascending—and with how you were riding him, it didn’t take him long before he’s close again.
yet this time—so were you, and you could recognize the feeling all too well. geto’s cock stretched you to capacity, and he grabs the few dollar bills that scatter on the sofa, throwing it at your body whilst you rode him. he makes it rain on you, spanking your ass with a crumbled up hundred rubbing against your stung skin.
“fuck, ‘m gonna fuckin’ cum again,” he grunts in your ear, feeling your pace accelerate by a mile. you were draining him, preparing to milk him and the thought of him stuffing your cunt full made you pulse.
your tongue salivated at just imagining it..
the warmth, the stickiness, the way it’d spill between your thighs. you’re moaning out sweet noises yourself as you both rut into each other at a demented overzealous pace. geto’s thick thighs clench—and while you’re letting out cute blubs of his name on repeat until it’s the only syllables your dumb brain could register—he pulls you close. “ngh, same time, pretty girl. cum with me, let’s make a . . hah, mess together.”
“okay,” you mewl out, both hips pivoting in lascivious unison.
both sweaty mounds of flesh blissfully bounce into at other and each squelch makes you whimper out in ecstasy.
you cup geto’s pecs, smearing a thumb over his pierced nipples and he whines instantly. you lean in to suck against the bars that slash through his tender areola. geto leans back manspread, growling out husky, ‘fuuuuck!’ ‘s as you hum, giving both his nipples its few seconds of attention.
it lasts for seconds that felt like years, and one you pull away he lets out a cute blasé huff.
as your cunt’s in the midst of overflowing—your hips tremor once more time before within milliseconds, you both cum.
it’s quick..
and with your jaw dropping and geto’s shoulders fatally sagging after his big, heavy sigh—he starts to fill you up ounce after ounce.
it’s patching hot, and the second he’s beginning to spill ‘n dump out his perfect ivory ribbons of cum inside of you, you grunt out a melodic finishing, “fuuuck.”
swinish, weak hands grab at your ass as you come undone also—whimpering soft defeating babbles from the sensitive feeling of your cunt spasming right between your jittery numb legs.
you feel static … shock, electricity pulsing through your veins all at once. your entire body was turning haywire. as you start to grow limb right with geto underneath you—nirvana runs through each individual axon on your body before you hear a loud ‘pop.’
it’s more of a sopping squishing sound, and you were so dumbed down from his dick that you didn’t even realized how full you were..
peeking down, he filled you to the brim. wads and wads and wads of cum went inside of you and you moan, spreading your ass apart while craning your neck around just to see for yourself.
“ ‘m so full, suguru,” you pant, sliding a thumb down your sputtering cunt that’s plugged with both his cock and his thin oozing seed. you lick your lips before turning back towards geto and he’s absolutely fucked stupid.
you rode him so good to the point where he’s just stammering out inaudible whines. it’s cute, and you lean in to kiss him once more.
oh.. he was hooked.
he deepens with a few clingy hands feeling at your chest. the kiss gets more passionate rather than sloppy, and as he’s still buried inside of your cunt—he slowly starts to trail butterfly kisses down your neck. you moan, turning your head before you pull away. “shit, i almost f- forgot.”
“forgot what?” he hoarsely rasps, watching you unalign yourself, plopping down on the sofa with a big content sigh.
geto leans in, allowing his thumb to draw circles around your hips before you reach in for your purse, pulling out another decorated vip pass.
sheepishly, you utter. “my friends bought me two sessions with two dancers. so i have another one after you,” and you glance at the clock, squinting before you let off a bashful titter. “. . . oh, that was way past thirty minutes.”
“who? what dancer, sweetheart?” geto utters with a pout. he was still aching, already missing his you felt from the inside. he watches as you squint at your pass that reads the dancer’s stage name and / or full name on the back.
“uhh, it says t—”
“she means me,” and the both of you spin heads, ogling at the glittery red carpet and decorated pathway that was once covered up.
you could hear geto that laid beside you muttering out a jealous, ‘fuck,’ as you meet the other dancer’s gaze.
he’s wearing a leopard thong with an added on accessory of the most smuggest grin you’ve ever seen.
a slashed scar runs down the right side of his crooked curved lips and you spot bills sticking at both sides of his halfway on thong that nearly shows his sharp hips before he hums.
“name’s toji,” and you’re suddenly being lifted up by strong, tatted brawny arms before he turns around, winking at a very pissed of geto before trodding out the private room with you in his arms.
“i’ll take it from here,” and feral green eyes with an even more feral grin. “ain’t that right, birthday girlll?”
#★vegasbaby.#geto x reader#geto smut#geto x you#geto x y/n#geto suguru#geto suguru smut#geto suguru x reader#geto#suguru geto x reader#jjk smut#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#female reader#jujustsu kaisen x reader#anime smut#jjk#cw sex mention
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Do I wanna know?
Summary: You and Drew are best friends, but you want more. What happens when you get invited to a day out on Drew’s friend’s yacht and get more?
Warnings: MDNI(18+), fem!reader, thigh riding, daddy kink, nicknames used (princess, baby, little lady, good girl…), kissing, alcohol (beer), swearing, no use of (y/n), reader wears a skirt, shy!reader, pining amongst friends, English is not my first language, if I forgot anything; please let me know!!
WC: ~2.4k (no idea how that happened)
A/N: I got inspired by this photo so I wrote this at like 2 am and I’m posting it now at 5 am, this is a mess, gn my loves (NOT PROOF READ, SORRY) (also this is my first fic about Drew so yeah)
When your best friend, Drew Starkey, invited you to a small get together on his friend’s yacht, you were more than willing to go. You and him had been friends since years, getting to know each other through mutual friends and suddenly you were eating take out with a b-list celebrity every other night.
You twirled around in front of your full body sized mirror, watching with amusement as your skirt twirls with you, the ruffles bouncing as they fluttered in the wind.
“Wow. Really doesn’t take much to get a smile on that pretty little face of yours, huh?” Drew chuckled as he watched you spin around.
Startled by his voice you stopped your little turns, looking at him with a small playful glare when the dizzy fog finally cleared from your vision.
“I’m just a happy person. You should try it sometime” you shot back, but you knew it was no use. Drew was great at talking, arguing, whatever. He was great with people in a way you just couldn’t figure out for yourself.
But honestly? You were fine just standing on the sidelines watching him do his thing, waiting for him to abandon that and come talk to you for a bit.
You had been fine with it.
Lately every time he laughed and grinned at one of your sarcastic comments and every time he stared at you like he was a theoretical physicist and you had the answers to string theory, you couldn’t help but want more. Couldn’t help but want that “best friend” status to be upgraded to “girlfriend”. Hell, you even dreamt of being called his wife.
For now though, you were just going to try and enjoy the day on a luxurious boat.
Soon you found yourselves in the car. You clicked on random songs on your phone and sand along to the “wait, this is the best part, shut up”’s before yet again changing the song as Drew drove to the harbour, admiring the way you seemed so enthralled by the different songs and music.
“Would love to continue listening to your big world tour concert, little lady, but we’re here,” he announced once he’d gotten the car carefully parked.
Excitedly, you jumped out of Drew’s car, watching as he did the same before you both made your way closer to the water where many ships floated atop the sea.
At the same time, you both spotted Drew’s group of friends, waving at them as they saw you two as well.
You’d gotten to know them a bit but the amount of group hangouts you attended, didn’t really allow you to form a strong bond to any of Drew’s friends.
What can you say?
You’re just not a people person.
You’re a person person.
A Drew person.
You squashed the ridiculous thought, giggling it off before you checked that your outfit was neatly in order.
Upon seeing you inspecting your clothes, Drew leaned down and whispered in your ear, his breath tantalizingly brushed against your ear and neck as he spoke, “You look amazing, baby, don’t worry.”
As you reached the boat, the smile you had shared for a few enchanting seconds came to a sudden end.
“Hey, Drew!” Various different voices greeted the both of you and you both returned the favour with just as much enthusiasm.
One of the guys, the one whose yacht it was presumably, invited everyone aboard.
Your eyes flitted to everything around you, spotting a few seats, some complicated looking boat equipment and random day-to-day fun stuff lying around.
The smell of fish and sea breeze filled the air and your nostrils, but that scent quickly evaporated when Drew stepped next to you, finally finished with catching up with his friend and was now holding out a beer bottle for you to take. His cologne took over, overwhelming your senses. Something you were definitely not complaining about.
You accepted the beer from him, taking a sip before handing it back to him and watching as he repeated your action of drinking from the bottle.
Your gaze drifted to his Adam’s apple as it bobs when he took gulps of the alcoholic drink. He lowered the glass container from his lips, putting his strong bicep right in your line of sight.
As embarrassing as it is to admit you could have almost moaned from just looking at his muscly arm.
He must have taken off his shirt sometime between helping you up the steps on the side of the ship, his hand securely wrapped around your thigh to keep you from falling, and when he seemingly appeared behind you as you admired your surroundings.
Then your eyes found his chest, strong pecs priding over his abs that seemed carved from the very marble that Michelangelo had used to sculpt David, each muscle defined with an almost perfect precision to it.
Just before you could take a good look at his black swim shorts hanging off his hips and hugging his beefy thighs, his voice called your name.
“Hey, come on, picture time,” he reiterated what he had said when you were still zoned out.
“Oh. Okay,” Throwing your thoughts back into reality, you watched as everyone made their way over to the discussed upon place where the photo would be taken.
“Who wants to set the timer?” A girl, who you’d forgotten the name of, asked.
Something with an F? L? A? Who cares.
“Not it!” Was called by everyone but you, your face quickly morphing from a surprised look of “who the hell still uses ‘not it’?” to an accepting face that you were in fact “it”.
The girls and boys all took their places on the netting of the boat. The 5 people in front of you got ready to pose for the group photo.
Efficiently, you adjusted the tripod so that the camera of the phone pointed perfectly towards the centre of everyone.
You bent down, looking at the screen of the mobile. You saw Drew depicted by many pixels, your thighs clenching when he moved his hips up to readjust his position on the midnight blue blanket that lay sprawled over the rough nylon net.
Fuck, he was perfect.
Of course, you fixed your hair one last time before pressing the white button on the right side of the device, starting the 10 second countdown until the picture.
Swiftly, you made your way around the tripod, and plopped down onto the free space between a dark haired guy, you��ve come to know as Matthew, and Drew. You smiled sweetly at the round circles on the back of the phone as Drew slung an arm around your shoulders.
Once the photo was taken, everyone scattered and the usual chatter was back. You ran up to the phone and you looked at the image.
Well fuck.
Drew looked absolutely freaking ethereal.
His sitting in a reclined position with one leg bent and the other stretched out, manspreading, almost made you go feral. He was smiling widely toward the camera, his impossibly bright grin attracting all the attention in the photo.
His body looked like a dream. For a moment, you thought maybe you were dreaming, if you were you would hold onto the memory of the photo, even if it was just a dream, for the rest of your life.
God, pining for your hot best friend made you sound so so pathetic.
The thought that what you were experiencing was just a dream was snapped in two like a twig when Drew came up from behind you and flicked your bare back.
“Ouch!” You exclaimed, a frown forming on your face.
“‘M sorry, princess,” he swung his arms over your shoulders, holding on to you from behind like a koala would his mother, peering at the screen in your hands.
“Did it turn out good?” He asked casually, acting as if he didn’t see how your face was blushing an awfully deep shade of red and don’t even start to think that he missed the way you were obviously turned on.
“Yup,” you answered curtly, ducking down to be released of any physical contact with him, because you felt as if you would melt if he touched you a second longer.
“I’m um… gonna go below deck. The sun uh- it’s hitting me pretty hard right now. I have a headache,” you lied, coming up with some excuse to just get yourself somewhere where you can have your alone time.
“O…kay…” He didn’t seem convinced but that wasn’t for you to deal with in that moment. You made your way down the stairs leading below the deck of the ship, the room was nice and cozy.
With a sigh of relief you sat down on a wooden bench near the kitchen and slipped your phone out of your purse.
After a few minutes of mindlessly scrolling through various social media apps you heard footsteps nearing you, causing you to look up.
Your eyes met none other than Drew Starkey himself.
“On your phone when you have a headache? Really?” He asked unamused. “You lyin’ about the headache or you just stupid?”
“Stupid…?” you offered in a quiet meek voice.
“C’mon, sweetheart, what’s the problem, huh? You don’t like my friends or something?” He questioned as he sat himself down next to you on the oak plank.
“No, no, they’re great, I just…” You really should have been able to come up with something to say but the way his forearm was flexing as it rested on his thigh distracted you.
A smirk grew on Drew’s face. “No yeah, I uh-“ he chucked as he shook his head in what looked like slight disbelief, “I know.”
Unsure of the true meaning behind his comment you averted your eyes to the floor, focusing on the swaying of the boat on the water instead of Drew’s piercing blue eyes staring intently at you.
He leaned back with a sigh, his legs spreading wider and his arm sneaking behind your back and around your waist. “You’re kind of ridiculous, you know that?”
All you could do was nod which earned you yet another laugh from Drew.
Just as you were about to persuade yourself to actually speak, you were pulled onto Drew’s lap by his arm, his hands quickly settling you on his thighs.
“Wha-“
“I know, princess,” he cooed.
You know you should have felt at least slightly degraded or mad because of his tone but the only thing it did, was make you want to clench your thighs together. Which of course wasn’t possible because each of your legs rested on different sides of Drew.
“You look so pretty today, baby,” he said, tucking some loose strands of hair behind your ear before moving his face down to your neck and pressing soft, fleeting, sensational kisses to the side of your collar.
Your breathing became panted and you unintentionally slowly rubbed your core along the material of his pitch black swim trunks.
“Not even a thank you?” He murmured teasingly as his kisses walked over to the area right under your ear and his large hands gripped your hips harshly, stopping you from any further movement.
“Th- thank you…” You whispered, your tone dipped and coated in your lust and arousal.
You felt a small nip on your throat that made you let out a small “Ah-!”
“Thank you…?” He muttered expectantly.
“Sir?” You tried, getting your confirmation of that being the wrong answer when a more harsh bite was left just under your jawline.
“Daddy..” you practically moaned out, the small pleasure that you got from the bites making you rut against Drew’s strong hold on your body.
“Good girl…” he praised, his face finally coming up to meet yours, kissing you softly but also at the same time with an unforeseeable force.
His fingers stopped drilling into the skin over your hipbones, letting you push your aching core down onto his covered thigh.
He broke the kiss, his plump lips and hot breath trailing over your cheek as you both gasped from air.
His hand roughly grabbed the back of your head, wrapping his fingers around your messy hair, holding you tight against him.
Immediately after, his other hand took hold of your hip again, helping you grind down on his swim pants.
“That’s right, baby, use daddy’s leg,” he breathed out heavily.
“Such,” he pressed a sloppy kiss to your jawline, “a,” another kiss was placed on the corner of your mouth, “good,” he said before pecking your lips, “girl,” he murmured into your mouth before shoving his tongue down your throat.
The press of his thigh onto your bikini bottom made a perfect friction emerge against your clit, sending jolts of pleasure through you.
“What about-“ you started.
“I locked the door, sweetheart, no worries.”
The way he basically read your mind made you feel even more turned on.
Your folds rubbed back and forth in your
soaking wet swim bottoms as you gripped Drew’s shoulders tightly, eyes squeezed shut as he continued to spew out praise after praise to you.
Suddenly a knock resounded throughout the room, a sudden halt coming to your despicable actions.
“Hello? Anyone in here? Why is the door locked?” A female voice asked from the other side of the door.
“One second!” Drew called before returning his attention to you.
“We’ll finish this later, yeah?” All you could do was nod, still completely dazed.
He picked you up off his lap, helping you settle back into a standing position and smoothing out both of your guys’ clothes.
With a casual smile on his face he unlocked and opened the door, spouting out some excuse for the door being locked before leading you upstairs with him.
For the rest of the afternoon, you sat, with a drink in hand, watching Drew talk amongst his friends, his eyes flicking to you every once in a short while.
Once other people started leaving and the sun started setting, he walked up to you.
“Ready to leave, princess?”
“Uh-huh,” you uttered out, standing up and saying your goodbyes to everyone that still found themselves on the yacht.
As you walked down the dock, admiring the sunset, you gripped onto Drew’s arm.
“Everything okay?” He asked.
You looked up at him with an “Are you serious?” face, annoyed at his nonchalant antics.
“Gee, sorry, okay?” He chuckled.
“I’ll make you feel good soon. Don’t worry, little lady.”
@emma-e-a
#drew starkey#drew starkey fanfiction#drew starkey x reader#drew starkey x you#drew starkey x female reader#rafe cameron#drew starkey fic#drew starkey smut#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron smut#rafe cameron x reader
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Little Star
Max Verstappen x Leclerc!Reader
Summary: you’ve grown used to being overshadowed by your older brother, merely a distant star that seems dull in comparison to the sun of Maranello … and then Max happens
Based on this request
The sun dips low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the paddock of the Autodromo Nazionale Monza. The air still buzzes with excitement from the day’s race, but behind the Ferrari hospitality unit, a different energy permeates the air.
You lean against the cool metal wall, sliding down until you’re sitting on the concrete, knees pulled to your chest. Tears stream silently down your face as you struggle to catch your breath between sobs. The sounds of celebration echo in the distance, a stark contrast to your solitude.
Footsteps approach, and you hastily wipe at your eyes, hoping to erase any evidence of your breakdown. A familiar figure rounds the corner, stopping short when he spots you.
“Hey,” Max Verstappen says, his brow furrowing with concern. “Are you alright?”
You force a smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. “I’m fine,” you insist, your voice wavering slightly. “Just ... needed some air.”
Max doesn’t buy it for a second. He crouches down beside you, his blue eyes searching your face. “You don’t look fine,” he says gently. “What’s going on?”
You bite your lip, debating whether to confide in him. After a moment, you sigh. “It’s stupid,” you mumble.
“If it’s making you cry, it’s not stupid,” Max counters. He settles down next to you, his shoulder brushing yours. “Come on, talk to me.”
You take a shaky breath. “It’s my birthday,” you admit quietly.
Max’s eyebrows shoot up. “Today? Why aren’t you celebrating?”
A bitter laugh escapes your lips. “Because everyone forgot,” you explain, fresh tears welling up. “Charles won the race, and ... I’m happy for him, I really am. But it’s like I don’t even exist when he’s around, you know?”
Max nods slowly, understanding dawning on his face. “That must be really tough,” he says softly.
You nod, sniffling. “I’ve always felt like I was in his shadow, but today ... it just hit me harder, I guess. Even my mom forgot.”
“That’s not okay,” Max says firmly. “Your birthday should be special, no matter what else is happening.”
You shrug, picking at a loose thread on your jeans. “It’s fine. I’m used to it.”
“No, it’s not fine,” Max insists. He stands up suddenly, determination etched on his face. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”
Before you can protest, he’s gone, jogging away towards the paddock. You’re left alone again, wondering what he’s up to.
True to his word, Max returns a few minutes later, slightly out of breath and holding something behind his back. “Close your eyes,” he instructs with a grin.
Curious, you comply. There’s a rustling sound, and then Max’s voice rings out, clear and slightly off-key: “Happy birthday to you ...”
Your eyes fly open in surprise. Max stands before you, holding a small cupcake with a single candle stuck in the frosting. His face is illuminated by the flickering flame as he continues to sing.
“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Y/N, happy birthday to you!”
Emotion wells up in your chest, a lump forming in your throat. “Max,” you whisper, overwhelmed. “You didn’t have to do this.”
He crouches down, carefully balancing the cupcake. “Of course I did,” he says softly. “Everyone deserves to feel special on their birthday. Now make a wish and blow out your candle.”
You close your eyes, thinking for a moment before leaning forward to extinguish the tiny flame. When you open them again, Max is beaming at you.
“What did you wish for?” He asks, settling back down beside you and offering you the cupcake.
You shake your head, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Can’t tell you, or it won’t come true.”
Max laughs, nudging your shoulder playfully. “Fair enough. So, twenty-two, huh? How does it feel to be so old?”
You roll your eyes, but can’t help chuckling. “Says the guy who’s practically ancient at twenty-six.”
“Hey!” Max protests, feigning offense. “I’ll have you know I’m in my prime.”
The banter feels natural, and you find yourself relaxing for the first time all day. You take a bite of the cupcake, savoring the sweetness. “This is really good,” you mumble around a mouthful of frosting. “Where did you even find it?”
Max grins mischievously. “I have my sources. Can’t reveal all my secrets, can I?”
You laugh, shaking your head. “Thank you, Max. Really. This ... it means a lot.”
His expression softens. “You’re welcome. I’m sorry the rest of your family forgot. That’s not fair to you.”
You sigh, your momentary happiness fading slightly. “It’s not their fault. Charles had a big win today, and-”
“Stop,” Max interrupts gently. “You don’t have to make excuses for them. Your feelings are valid.”
You blink, surprised by his directness. “I ... I guess I’m just used to it,” you admit. “It’s always been about Charles. Even before he got into F1, he was the golden child. I love him, don’t get me wrong, but sometimes ...”
“Sometimes you want to be seen too,” Max finishes for you. You nod, grateful that he understands.
“Exactly. And it’s not just Charles. Arthur’s always been following in his footsteps, and Lorenzo ... well, he’s the oldest. I’m just ... there.”
Max frowns. “That’s not true. You’re your own person, with your own talents and dreams. Have you talked to them about how you feel?”
You shake your head. “I don’t want to make them feel bad. Especially Charles. He works so hard, and he deserves his success.”
“His success doesn’t diminish your worth,” Max says firmly. “You deserve to be celebrated too.”
Tears prick at your eyes again, but for a different reason this time. “Thank you,” you whisper. “I don’t think anyone’s ever put it quite like that before.”
Max smiles softly. “Well, it’s true. And for what it’s worth, I think you’re pretty amazing.”
A blush creeps up your cheeks. “You barely know me,” you point out.
“I know enough,” Max counters. “I know you’re kind enough to put your family’s happiness before your own. I know you’re strong enough to handle being overlooked without becoming bitter. And I know you’ve got a great taste in cupcakes.”
You laugh, the sound bubbling up from deep in your chest. “Well, when you put it like that ...”
Max grins, clearly pleased to have made you smile. “So, birthday girl, what do you want to do now? The night is young, and I happen to know where they keep the good champagne around here.”
You hesitate, glancing towards the paddock where you can still hear the sounds of celebration. “I don’t know ... I should probably go find my family.”
Max raises an eyebrow. “On your birthday? Come on, live a little. They can wait.”
A spark of rebellion ignites in your chest. “You know what? You’re right. Let’s do it.”
Max jumps to his feet, offering you his hand. “That’s the spirit! First stop, champagne. Then, who knows? Maybe we’ll steal a golf cart and go joyriding around the track.”
You take his hand, allowing him to pull you up. “Is that even allowed?”
Max’s eyes twinkle with mischief. “Probably not. But it’s your birthday, so I think we can bend the rules a little.”
As you follow Max towards the paddock, a warmth spreads through your chest that has nothing to do with the lingering summer heat. For the first time in years, you feel seen. Appreciated. Special.
“Hey, Max?” You say, causing him to pause and look back at you.
“Yeah?”
You smile, genuine and bright. “Thank you. For everything.”
Max’s expression softens. “Anytime,” he says softly. “Now come on, birthday girl. Let’s make this a night to remember.”
As you walk side by side into the fading light, you can’t help but feel that this birthday might just be the start of something new. Something exciting. Something uniquely yours.
And for once, you’re not thinking about Charles, or Arthur, or anyone else. You’re just thinking about you, and the possibilities that stretch out before you like an open road.
Happy birthday indeed.
***
The Ferrari hospitality suite thrums with energy, laughter and music spilling out into the warm Italian night. Charles Leclerc stands at the center of it all, a wide grin plastered across his face as he basks in the glow of his hard-fought victory. Champagne flows freely, and the air is thick with the scent of celebration.
“To Charles!” Someone shouts, raising a glass. The room erupts in cheers, and Charles feels a swell of pride in his chest.
“Speech! Speech!” The crowd chants, and Charles laughs, holding up his hands in mock surrender.
“Alright, alright,” he concedes, clearing his throat. “I just want to say thank you to everyone here. This win ... it’s not just mine. It’s ours. The team, the mechanics, the engineers, the strategists ... we did this together.”
More cheers erupt, and Charles feels a hand clap him on the back. He turns to see his teammate grinning broadly.
“Well said, amigo,” Carlos says, slinging an arm around Charles’ shoulders. “You drove like a champion today.”
Charles beams, the praise from his teammate adding to the euphoria of the moment. “Thanks, Carlos. Couldn’t have done it without you pushing me.”
Carlos laughs, taking a swig of his drink. “Always happy to provide motivation. Oh, hey, before I forget — can you pass on my birthday wishes to Y/N? I meant to find her earlier, but things got a bit crazy.”
The words hit Charles like a bucket of ice water. His smile freezes, his eyes widening in horror. “W-what?” He stammers, hoping he’s misheard.
Carlos frowns, noticing the sudden change in Charles’ demeanor. “Your sister? It’s her birthday today, right? Her 22nd?”
Charles feels the room spin around him. How could he have forgotten? His little sister’s birthday, on the same day as his big win. The realization crashes over him in waves of guilt and shame.
“Charles?” Carlos prompts, concern evident in his voice. “You okay, mate?”
Charles shakes his head, trying to clear the fog of shock. “I ... I forgot,” he whispers, more to himself than to Carlos. “How could I forget?”
Carlos’ eyes widen in understanding. “Oh, shit,” he mutters. “You didn’t remember?”
Charles runs a hand through his hair, panic rising in his chest. “I was so focused on the race, and then the win ... God, I’m such an idiot.”
He scans the room frantically, hoping against hope that he’ll spot you among the partygoers. But of course, you’re not there. Why would you be, when your own family forgot your birthday?
“I need to find her,” Charles says, already moving towards the exit. “I need to apologize.”
Carlos nods, squeezing Charles’ shoulder supportively. “Go. I’ll cover for you here if anyone asks.”
Charles barely hears him, his mind racing as he pushes through the crowd. He bursts out of the hospitality suite, the cool night air a stark contrast to the stuffy interior.
“Y/N!” He calls out, his voice echoing in the near-empty paddock. But there’s no response.
Panic rising, Charles pulls out his phone, fumbling with the screen as he opens his contacts. He hits your name, holding the phone to his ear as it rings.
Once. Twice. Three times. Then, your voicemail.
“Hey, this is Y/N. Leave a message!”
Charles swears under his breath, ending the call. He tries again, and again, but each time it goes straight to voicemail.
“Come on, come on,” he mutters, pacing back and forth. Where could you be? Who would you have gone to when your family let you down?
A thought strikes him, and he quickly dials another number.
“Hello?” Arthur’s sleepy voice answers.
“Arthur!” Charles practically shouts. “Is Y/N with you?”
There’s a pause, then confusion in Arthur’s tone. “No? Why would she be? Aren’t you guys celebrating?”
Charles feels his heart sink even further. “Arthur, it’s her birthday. We forgot.”
“Shit,” Arthur breathes. “How did we ... God, we’re terrible brothers.”
“I know, I know,” Charles says, the guilt eating away at him. “I’m trying to find her now. Can you call Maman and Lorenzo, see if they’ve heard from her?”
“Yeah, of course,” Arthur agrees quickly. “I’ll call you back if I hear anything.”
Charles ends the call, his mind whirling. Where else could you be? He tries to think back to earlier in the day, wondering if he’d seen you at all after the race. But everything is a blur of champagne and celebration, and he realizes with a sickening jolt that he can’t remember the last time he actually spoke to you.
He’s about to start knocking on motorhome doors when another idea strikes him. Quickly, he opens the Life360 app on his phone. The family had started using it a few years back, mainly to keep track of each other during race weekends.
Charles waits impatiently for the app to load, praying that it will show your location. But when the map finally appears, his heart sinks. Your icon is greyed out, with a message underneath: “Location permissions turned off.”
“No, no, no,” Charles mutters, refreshing the app desperately. But the result is the same. You’ve deliberately turned off your location tracking.
The realization hits him like a punch to the gut. You didn’t just disappear — you chose to be unfindable. And it’s all his fault.
Charles slumps against the nearest wall, sliding down until he’s sitting on the ground. He puts his head in his hands, overwhelmed by the magnitude of his mistake.
“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he whispers into the night. “I’m so, so sorry.”
As he sits there, memories flood his mind. Your proud smile when he won his first karting race. The way you’d curl up next to him during thunderstorms, seeking comfort. Your unwavering support through every step of his career, even when it meant less attention for you.
And how had he repaid that loyalty? By forgetting the one day that was supposed to be about you.
Charles’ phone buzzes, and he snatches it up eagerly. But it’s just a text from his mother:
Haven’t heard from Y/N. Is everything okay?
He stares at the message, unsure how to respond. How can he explain that he’s lost his little sister on her birthday?
Another text comes through, this time from Lorenzo:
No luck here either. What’s going on?
Charles takes a deep breath, steeling himself. He has to tell them the truth, no matter how much it hurts.
He creates a group chat with his mom, Lorenzo, and Arthur, his fingers shaking slightly as he types:
We forgot Y/N’s birthday. All of us. She’s not answering her phone and her location is turned off. I can’t find her anywhere.
The responses come in rapid succession:
Maman: Oh no. How could we forget?
Lorenzo: Shit. Have you checked with her friends?
Arthur: I’m on my way to the track now. We’ll find her.
Charles feels a mix of relief and shame. At least now everyone knows, and they can all work together to make things right. But the fact remains that they let you down in the first place.
He’s about to reply when he spots a familiar figure walking across the paddock. Max Verstappen, looking slightly disheveled and ... was that a touch of glitter on his cheek?
Without thinking, Charles jumps to his feet and runs over to his rival.
“Max!” He calls out, slightly out of breath. “Have you seen Y/N?”
Max turns, surprise evident on his face. Then, something else flickers in his eyes. Anger? Disappointment? It’s gone too quickly for Charles to be sure.
“Why?” Max asks, his tone cooler than usual. “Suddenly remembered she exists?”
The words sting, but Charles knows he deserves them. “Please, Max. I know I messed up. We all did. But I need to find her, to apologize.”
Max studies him for a long moment, as if weighing his options. Finally, he sighs. “She’s safe. That’s all you need to know right now.”
Relief washes over Charles, quickly followed by confusion. “You’ve seen her? Where is she?”
“I’m not telling you that,” Max says firmly. “She needed space, and after what happened, I don’t blame her.”
Charles feels a flare of frustration. “She’s my sister. I have a right to know where she is.”
“No,” Max counters, his blue eyes flashing. “You had a responsibility to remember her birthday. You didn’t. So now, you don’t get to demand anything.”
The words hit Charles like a slap. He opens his mouth to argue, then closes it again. Max is right, as much as it pains him to admit it.
“Is she ... is she okay?” Charles asks quietly, all fight leaving him.
Max’s expression softens slightly. “She will be. Eventually. But Charles, you really hurt her. All of you did.”
Charles nods, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat. “I know. God, I know. I just want to make it right.”
“Then give her time,” Max advises. “And when she’s ready to talk, really listen to her. Don’t make excuses. Don’t try to justify it. Just listen.”
Charles nods again, feeling utterly defeated. “Will you ... will you tell her I’m sorry? That we’re all sorry?”
Max hesitates, then nods. “I will. But Charles? You need to do better. She deserves better.”
With that, Max turns and walks away, leaving Charles alone with his thoughts and regrets.
Charles pulls out his phone again, looking at the group chat with his family. He types out a message, his heart heavy:
Y/N is safe. A friend is looking out for her. We need to give her space, but when she’s ready to talk, we all need to be there. Really be there. We’ve got a lot to make up for.
As he hits send, Charles makes a silent promise to himself and to you. He’ll do better. He’ll be the brother you deserve. And somehow, someway, he’ll make this right.
But for now, all he can do is wait, and hope that you’ll find it in your heart to forgive them all.
***
The city lights twinkle below as Max leads you into his penthouse suite, the door clicking shut behind you. The space is modern and sleek, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a breathtaking view of Milan’s skyline.
“Make yourself at home,” Max says, gesturing around the room. “Are you hungry? I can order some room service if you want.”
You shake your head, still feeling slightly overwhelmed by the events of the day. “No, thanks. I’m okay.”
Max nods, studying your face with concern. “You sure? It’s been a long day.”
A small smile tugs at your lips. “Yeah, you could say that again.”
There’s a moment of awkward silence before Max clears his throat. “So, um, you can take the bed. I’ll crash on the couch.”
“Oh, no,” you protest immediately. “I can’t kick you out of your own bed. I’ll take the couch.”
Max shakes his head firmly. “Absolutely not. It’s your birthday. You get the bed.”
You bite your lip, an idea forming. “We could ... share? I mean, if that’s okay with you. The bed looks plenty big enough.”
Max’s eyes widen slightly, a faint blush creeping up his neck. “Are you sure? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
“I’m sure,” you say, surprising yourself with your boldness. “Unless it makes you uncomfortable?”
“No, no,” Max says quickly. “I’m fine with it if you are.”
You nod, and another silence falls. Max runs a hand through his hair, looking suddenly unsure of himself.
“Do you want to watch a movie or something?” he suggests. “Or we could just talk, if you prefer.”
“Talking sounds nice,” you admit. “I’m not really in the mood for a movie.”
Max nods, gesturing towards the bed. “Shall we?”
You both settle onto the massive king-size bed, sitting cross-legged and facing each other. It’s oddly intimate, and you feel a flutter of nerves in your stomach.
“So,” Max begins, his blue eyes fixed on you. “Tell me something about yourself that isn’t related to racing or your family.”
You pause, caught off guard by the question. It’s been so long since someone asked about you, just you.
“Well,” you start hesitantly, “I’m actually studying to become an astrophysicist.”
Max’s eyebrows shoot up. “Seriously? That’s incredible! Why astrophysics?”
The enthusiasm in his voice makes you smile. “I’ve always been fascinated by space, you know? The idea that there’s so much out there we don’t understand ... it’s exciting.”
“That’s amazing,” Max says, genuinely impressed. “What kind of stuff are you studying right now?”
You laugh softly. “Are you sure you want to know? I might bore you with all the technical details.”
Max leans forward, his expression earnest. “Try me. I want to hear all about it.”
Encouraged by his interest, you begin to explain your current research project. As you talk, your hands move animatedly, your eyes lighting up with passion. Max listens intently, asking questions and showing genuine curiosity.
“... and that’s why understanding dark matter is so crucial,” you finish, slightly out of breath. “Sorry, I kind of went off on a tangent there.”
Max shakes his head, smiling warmly. “Don’t apologize. It’s fascinating. I had no idea you were into all this. Why haven’t I heard about it before?”
Your smile falters slightly. “Oh, well ... it doesn’t really come up much. Everyone’s usually more interested in talking about racing.”
Max frowns. “But this is incredible. You’re studying to unravel the mysteries of the universe. That’s way cooler than driving in circles.”
You laugh, but there’s a hint of sadness in it. “Try telling that to my family. I think they see it as more of a hobby than a career path.”
“What?” Max looks genuinely shocked. “How can they not be incredibly proud? This is huge!”
You shrug, picking at a loose thread on the comforter. “I guess it’s just not as exciting as F1? It’s okay, though. I’m used to it.”
Max shakes his head firmly. “No, it’s not okay. Y/N, you’re brilliant. Your family should be shouting it from the rooftops.”
Tears prick at your eyes, and you blink them back hastily. “Thanks, Max. That ... that means a lot.”
He reaches out, hesitating for a moment before placing his hand over yours. “I mean it. And for what it’s worth, I think what you’re doing is incredible.”
You look up, meeting his gaze. There’s a warmth there, an understanding that makes your heart skip a beat. Without really thinking about it, you shift closer to him.
Max seems to take this as an invitation, because he moves closer too. Soon, you’re sitting side by side, your shoulders touching.
“So,” you say, trying to lighten the mood. “What about you? Any secret passions outside of racing?”
Max chuckles. “Nothing as impressive as astrophysics, I’m afraid. But I do enjoy sim racing in my spare time.”
You raise an eyebrow. “Isn’t that just more racing?”
“Hey, it’s completely different,” Max protests with a grin. “In sim racing, I can drive any car on any track. Even ones that don’t exist in real life.”
“Okay, okay,” you concede, laughing. “Tell me more about it.”
As Max launches into an explanation of his favorite sim racing setups, you find yourself relaxing more and more. The conversation flows easily, punctuated by laughter and playful debates.
Without really noticing, you both shift positions throughout the night. Max leans back against the headboard, and you mirror him. Your shoulders are pressed together, and you can feel the warmth radiating from his body.
“... and that’s why I think pineapple absolutely belongs on pizza,” Max finishes, looking at you expectantly.
You shake your head, grinning. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this from a world champion. Your taste buds clearly can’t be trusted.”
“Oh, come on,” Max laughs, nudging your shoulder with his. “Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.”
“I have tried it,” you insist. “It’s an abomination.”
Max clutches his chest in mock offense. “You wound me, Y/N. And here I thought we were becoming friends.”
The word ‘friends’ sends an odd pang through your chest. Is that what this is? It feels like more, somehow.
As if reading your thoughts, Max’s expression softens. He reaches out, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. The gesture is so gentle, so intimate, that it takes your breath away.
“Y/N,” he says softly. “I’m really glad you’re here.”
You swallow hard, your heart racing. “Me too,” you whisper.
There’s a moment of charged silence, and then Max is leaning in. You meet him halfway, your lips meeting in a soft, tentative kiss.
It’s brief, just a fleeting press of lips, but it sends sparks shooting through your entire body. When you pull back, Max is looking at you with a mixture of wonder and uncertainty.
“Was that okay?” He asks, his voice husky.
You nod, not trusting yourself to speak. Instead, you lean in again, capturing his lips in another kiss. This one is deeper, more assured. Max’s hand comes up to cup your cheek, and you melt into his touch.
When you finally break apart, you’re both slightly breathless. Max rests his forehead against yours, a smile playing at his lips.
“I’ve wanted to do that all night,” he admits.
You laugh softly. “Even when I was insulting your pizza preferences?”
“Especially then,” Max grins. “You’re cute when you’re indignant.”
You swat at his arm playfully, but you can’t keep the smile off your face. For the first time all day, you feel truly happy.
As the night wears on, you and Max continue to talk, trading stories and stealing kisses. Gradually, your positions shift again. Max lies down, and you curl up against his side, your head resting on his chest. His arm wraps around you, holding you close.
“Y/N?” Max says softly, his fingers tracing patterns on your arm.
“Hmm?” you mumble, feeling drowsy and content.
“Happy birthday,” he says. “I know it didn’t start out great, but I hope it got better.”
You tilt your head up to look at him, a warm smile spreading across your face. “It did,” you assure him. “Thanks to you.”
Max kisses your forehead gently. “Get some sleep,” he murmurs. “We can figure everything else out in the morning.”
As you drift off to sleep, wrapped in Max’s arms, you can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this birthday wasn’t so bad after all. In fact, it might just be the start of something wonderful.
***
The early morning sunlight filters through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. You stir slowly, awareness creeping in as you feel a strong arm wrapped around your waist. For a moment, confusion sets in before the events of the previous night come rushing back.
You’re in Max Verstappen’s bed. And Max Verstappen is currently spooning you.
A smile tugs at your lips as you nestle back into his warmth, not quite ready to face the day. But fate, it seems, has other plans.
A sharp knock at the door jolts both of you awake. Max groans, burying his face in your hair.
“Room service?” You mumble, still half-asleep.
Max shakes his head, his voice gravelly with sleep. “Didn’t order any.”
The knock comes again, more insistent this time. With a sigh, Max untangles himself from you and slides out of bed.
“I’ll get it,” he says, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “You stay here.”
You nod, pulling the covers up to your chin and watching as Max pads to the door in his t-shirt and sweatpants. He opens it a crack, peering out.
“Can I help you?” He asks, confusion evident in his tone.
There’s a muffled response, and then Max is stepping back, opening the door wider. A hotel staff member enters, carrying an enormous bouquet of red roses.
“Delivery for Y/N Leclerc,” the staff member announces, looking around the room.
You sit up in bed, eyes wide. “That’s ... that’s me.”
The staff member nods, moving to set the bouquet on a nearby table. “Sign here, please,” he says, holding out a clipboard.
Still bewildered, you climb out of bed and make your way over, scrawling your signature on the form. The staff member thanks you and exits, leaving you and Max staring at the ostentatious display of flowers.
“Well,” Max says after a moment, “I guess your brother remembered after all.”
You let out a rueful laugh, shaking your head. “Yeah, I guess he did.”
Max frowns, noting the lack of enthusiasm in your voice. “Aren’t you happy about it?”
You sigh, reaching out to touch one of the velvety petals. “It’s just ... I’ve told Charles a hundred times that I don’t like roses. They’re not my favorite flower. But every time he needs to apologize or wants to do something nice, it’s always roses.”
“Oh,” Max says softly, understanding dawning on his face. “So it’s less about you and more about what he thinks you should like.”
You nod, a lump forming in your throat. “Exactly. It’s like he doesn’t really listen, you know? He just does what he thinks is right without considering what I actually want.”
Max moves closer, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you against his side. “That must be frustrating,” he says gently.
You lean into him, grateful for the support. “It is. And I know I should be grateful. It’s a beautiful bouquet, and he’s trying. But ...”
“But it’s not what you want,” Max finishes for you. “And that matters.”
You look up at him, surprised by how well he understands. “Yeah, exactly.”
Max turns to face you fully, his blue eyes serious. “Y/N, listen to me. It’s okay to be upset about this. It’s okay to want your family to actually listen to you and consider your feelings.”
You bite your lip, tears threatening to spill over. “But they’re trying now. Shouldn’t I just forgive them and move on?”
Max shakes his head firmly. “No. You don’t have to forgive them right away just because they made a grand gesture. It’s okay to make them work for your forgiveness.”
“Really?” You ask, your voice small.
“Really,” Max assures you. “They hurt you, Y/N. They forgot your birthday and made you feel invisible. One bouquet of flowers — flowers you don’t even like — doesn’t erase that.”
You nod slowly, processing his words. “So what do I do?”
Max runs a hand through his hair, thinking. “Well, what do you want to do? How do you feel?”
You take a deep breath, considering. “Honestly? I’m not ready to see them yet. I know I’ll have to face them eventually, but right now ... I just can’t.”
“Then don’t,” Max says simply. “Take the time you need. They can wait.”
A weight lifts off your shoulders at his words. “You don’t think that’s selfish?”
Max cups your face in his hands, his gaze intense. “It’s not selfish to prioritize your own feelings and well-being. You matter, Y/N. Your feelings matter.”
Tears spill over then, and Max pulls you into a tight embrace. You bury your face in his chest, letting out all the hurt and frustration you’ve been holding in.
“Shh,” Max soothes, rubbing your back. “It’s okay. Let it out.”
After a few minutes, your sobs subside. You pull back slightly, wiping at your eyes. “Sorry,” you mumble. “I got your shirt all wet.”
Max chuckles, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I think I’ll survive. Feel better?”
You nod, offering him a watery smile. “Yeah, actually. Thanks.”
“Anytime,” Max says softly. Then, a mischievous glint enters his eye. “So, what should we do with the roses? I vote we throw them off the balcony and watch them scatter in the wind.”
You laugh, the sound bubbling up from deep in your chest. “As tempting as that is, I don’t think hotel management would appreciate it.”
Max shrugs, grinning. “Their loss. We could always donate them to a hospital or something. Brighten someone else’s day.”
“That’s ... actually a really good idea,” you say, impressed. “We could do that.”
Max beams, clearly pleased with himself. “See? I’m not just a pretty face and fast driver.”
You roll your eyes fondly, but can’t suppress your smile. “Careful, Verstappen. Your ego’s showing.”
“You love it,” he teases, pulling you close again.
As you stand there in his arms, surrounded by the cloying scent of roses you don’t even like, you’re struck by how safe you feel. How understood.
“Max?” You say softly.
“Hmm?”
You pull back slightly to meet his gaze. “Thank you. For everything. For making my birthday special, for listening to me, for ... just being here.”
Max’s expression softens, a tender smile playing at his lips. “You don’t have to thank me for that. I ... I care about you, Y/N. A lot.”
Your heart skips a beat at his words. “I care about you too,” you admit.
For a moment, you just stare at each other, the air charged with unspoken emotions. Then, slowly, Max leans in. His lips meet yours in a soft, sweet kiss that makes your toes curl.
When you break apart, you’re both slightly breathless. Max rests his forehead against yours, his thumb tracing circles on your cheek.
“So,” he says, a hint of uncertainty in his voice. “What happens now?”
You take a deep breath, considering. “Honestly? I’m not sure. This is all happening so fast, and with everything going on with my family ...”
Max nods, understanding in his eyes. “We can take it slow,” he assures you. “There’s no rush.”
Relief washes over you. “Thank you,” you say softly. “I do want this — us. I just need some time to figure everything out.”
“We’ve got all the time in the world,” Max says, pressing a gentle kiss to your nose. “For now, how about we get some breakfast? I’m starving.”
You laugh, grateful for the shift in mood. “Breakfast sounds perfect. But maybe we should change first? I’m not sure I want to face the paparazzi in yesterday’s clothes.”
Max grins, a mischievous glint in his eye. “I don’t know, I think you look pretty good in my t-shirt.”
You glance down, realizing for the first time that you’re indeed wearing one of Max’s shirts. A blush creeps up your cheeks. “When did that happen?”
“You got cold in the middle of the night,” Max explains, looking far too pleased with himself. “I offered you my shirt. You were very insistent that it was the most comfortable thing you’d ever worn.”
You groan, burying your face in your hands. “Oh god. Please tell me I didn’t say anything else embarrassing.”
Max laughs, gently prying your hands away from your face. “Nothing too bad. Though you did mention something about my waist being ‘unfairly perfect’. Your words, not mine.”
“Kill me now,” you mutter, but you can’t help the smile tugging at your lips.
Max pulls you close, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Never. I’m rather fond of you, embarrassing sleep talk and all.”
As you stand there in Max’s arms, the morning sun warming your skin and the scent of roses filling the air, you can’t help but feel a sense of hope. Yes, there’s still a lot to figure out — with your family, with Max, with your future. But for the first time in a long time, you feel like you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.
And that, you think, is the best birthday gift of all.
***
The private terminal of Milan Malpensa Airport buzzes with activity as the Leclerc family waits to board their chartered jet. Charles paces back and forth, his phone clutched tightly in his hand, eyes darting to the entrance every few seconds.
“Charles, honey, please sit down,” his mother, Pascale, says gently. “You’re making me nervous.”
Charles shakes his head, running a hand through his hair for what must be the hundredth time. “I can’t, Maman. Where is she? She should be here by now.”
Lorenzo exchanges a worried glance with Arthur. “Maybe she got held up in traffic?” He suggests, though his tone lacks conviction.
“For three hours?” Charles snaps, immediately regretting his harsh tone. “Sorry, I just ... I’m worried.”
Arthur stands up, placing a comforting hand on Charles’ shoulder. “We all are. But Y/N’s an adult. She can take care of herself.”
Charles lets out a frustrated sigh. “I know that. But after yesterday ... we really messed up.”
“We did,” Pascale agrees softly, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “But we’ll make it right. We just need to talk to her.”
“If she ever shows up,” Charles mutters, resuming his pacing.
The minutes tick by agonizingly slow. Charles alternates between checking his phone and staring out the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of you arriving. But the parking lot remains stubbornly devoid of your presence.
Finally, a staff member approaches the family. “Mr. Leclerc? The jet is ready for boarding. We need to depart soon to maintain our flight slot.”
Charles feels panic rising in his chest. “No, we can’t leave yet. My sister isn’t here.”
The staff member looks uncomfortable. “I understand, sir, but we have a schedule to keep. Perhaps your sister could take a commercial flight?”
“Absolutely not,” Charles says firmly. “We’re not leaving without her.”
Lorenzo steps in, ever the diplomat. “Is there any way we could delay for just a bit longer? It’s really important that we wait for our sister.”
The staff member hesitates, then nods. “I’ll see what I can do. But please understand, we can’t hold the slot indefinitely.”
As the employee walks away, Charles resumes his pacing with renewed vigor.
“This isn’t like her,” he mutters. “She wouldn’t just disappear without telling us.”
Arthur bites his lip, looking guilty. “Maybe ... maybe she’s still upset about yesterday?”
Charles stops in his tracks, turning to face his younger brother. “What do you mean?”
Arthur shifts uncomfortably. “Well, we did forget her birthday. And then when we remembered, we didn’t exactly handle it well. Those roses you sent? Y/N hates roses.”
Charles feels like he’s been punched in the gut. “She ... what? No, she loves roses. I always get her roses.”
“Because you always get her roses,” Lorenzo chimes in, realization dawning on his face. “Not because she actually likes them.”
Charles slumps into a nearby chair, head in his hands. “How did I not know that? What kind of brother am I?”
Pascale moves to sit beside him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “We’ve all made mistakes. But we can fix this. We just need to talk to her.”
“If she’ll even talk to us,” Charles mumbles.
Just then, his phone buzzes. Charles nearly drops it in his haste to check the notification, hope flaring in his chest. But it’s not from you.
“It’s Max,” he says, frowning in confusion.
“Verstappen?” Arthur asks, leaning over to peek at the screen. “What does he want?”
Charles opens the message, his eyes widening as he reads it aloud:
“Y/N is with me. She’s safe and we’re flying back to Monaco together. She needs some space right now. Give her time.”
The silence that follows is deafening. Charles reads and rereads the message, trying to process what it means.
“She’s with Max?” Lorenzo finally says, breaking the silence. “Since when are they even friends?”
Charles shakes his head, still staring at his phone. “I don’t know. I ... I saw him last night. He knew where she was, but I thought it was just a spontaneous thing.”
“Well, at least we know she’s safe,” Pascale says, always trying to find the silver lining. “That’s the most important thing.”
But Charles can’t shake the feeling of unease settling in his stomach. “Why didn’t she come to us? Why Max, of all people?”
Arthur places a hand on Charles’ shoulder. “Maybe because he was there when we weren’t,” he says softly.
The words hit Charles like a physical blow. He knows Arthur is right, but it doesn’t make it any easier to hear.
“So what do we do now?” Lorenzo asks, looking around at his family.
Charles takes a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions raging inside him. “We do what Max said. We give her time.”
“But for how long?” Pascale asks, worry evident in her voice. “She’s our little girl. We can’t just leave her alone.”
“She’s not alone, Maman,” Charles says, surprised by the steadiness in his voice. “She’s with Max. And as much as it pains me to admit it, I think ... I think she might be better off with him right now.”
The family falls silent again, each lost in their own thoughts. The weight of their collective mistake hangs heavy in the air.
Finally, Charles stands up, squaring his shoulders. “We should board the jet. There’s nothing more we can do here.”
As they gather their belongings and make their way to the plane, Charles can’t help but replay Max’s message in his head. You’re with Max. You’re safe. You need space.
He tries to imagine you and Max together, and finds that he can’t. What could have happened in the span of one day to bring you two together? And more importantly, what had driven you away from your own family?
As he settles into his seat on the jet, Charles makes a silent promise to himself and to you. He’ll give you the space you need, but he won’t give up. He’ll find a way to make things right, to be the brother you deserve.
The jet takes off, carrying the Leclerc family back to Monaco. But for Charles, it feels like they’re leaving a piece of themselves behind in Milan. A piece that, he fears, might be harder to reclaim than he ever imagined.
Meanwhile, across the airport, you and Max are boarding his private jet. The contrast between the two scenes couldn’t be more stark.
“You okay?” Max asks softly as you settle into your seat.
You nod, offering him a small smile. “Yeah, I think so. Thanks for ... well, everything.”
Max reaches over, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. “Anytime. You know that.”
As the jet prepares for takeoff, you can’t help but think about your family. Are they worried? Angry? Do they even care?
“Max?” You say, your voice barely above a whisper.
“Hmm?”
You turn to look at him, vulnerability shining in your eyes. “Did I do the right thing? Leaving without talking to them?”
Max considers your question carefully before answering. “I think you did what you needed to do for yourself. And that’s never wrong.”
His words settle over you like a warm blanket, easing some of the tension in your shoulders.
“Thank you,” you murmur. “For understanding. For not pushing me to do what everyone else thinks I should do.”
Max smiles, a soft, genuine expression that makes your heart flutter. “That’s what ... friends are for, right?”
There’s a hesitation in his voice, a question in his eyes that makes you wonder if ‘friends’ is really the right word for what’s developing between you.
As the jet takes off, carrying you away from Milan and the chaos of the past day, you find yourself feeling something you haven’t felt in a long time: hope. Hope for a future where you’re seen, heard, and valued for who you are.
And as you glance at Max, his profile illuminated by the setting sun streaming through the window, you can’t help but wonder if he might be a bigger part of that future than you ever imagined.
The jet climbs higher, leaving the ground and all its complications behind. For now, at least, you’re free. Free to breathe, to think, to feel without the weight of expectations pressing down on you.
You close your eyes, letting out a long breath. Whatever comes next, you know one thing for certain: things will never be the same again. And maybe, just maybe, that’s exactly what you need.
***
The sun is setting over Monaco, shining warmly through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Max’s penthouse apartment. You’re curled up on the plush sofa, a book in your lap, trying to lose yourself in the pages. But your mind keeps wandering, replaying the events of the past couple of days.
Max emerges from the kitchen, two steaming mugs in hand. “Thought you might need this,” he says, offering you one.
You smile gratefully, inhaling the rich aroma of hot chocolate. “Thanks. You didn’t have to.”
He shrugs, settling down beside you. “I wanted to. How’re you holding up?”
You’re about to answer when the doorbell rings. Max frowns, glancing at his watch. “I’m not expecting anyone. Are you?”
You shake your head, a knot of anxiety forming in your stomach. Could it be your family? Are they here to confront you?
Max squeezes your hand reassuringly before getting up to answer the door. You hear muffled voices, then the sound of something heavy being dragged across the floor.
“Um, Y/N?” Max calls. “I think you might want to see this.”
Curiosity overcoming your apprehension, you make your way to the foyer. Your jaw drops at the sight that greets you.
The entire space is filled with bags. Not just any bags, but the kind that comes from the most exclusive boutiques in Monaco. Gucci, Prada, Louis Vuitton, Chanel — the logos stare back at you from every direction.
“What ... what is all this?” You stammer, looking to Max for explanation.
He hands you a small envelope. “This came with it. It’s addressed to you.”
With trembling fingers, you open the envelope and unfold the note inside. You’d recognize that handwriting anywhere.
Y/N,
I know I messed up. We all did. I’m so sorry for forgetting your birthday and for not being the brother you deserve. I hope these gifts can begin to make up for it. Please come home. We miss you.
Love,
Charles
You read the note twice, then a third time, disbelief turning to anger with each pass.
“He’s got to be kidding,” you mutter, crumpling the paper in your fist.
Max steps closer, concern etched on his face. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
You let out a bitter laugh. “This,” you say, gesturing at the sea of designer bags, “is my brother’s idea of an apology. He thinks he can just ... buy me back with expensive gifts.”
Understanding dawns on Max’s face. “Ah. And I’m guessing that’s not going to work?”
“Not even close,” you say, shaking your head. “God, it’s like he doesn’t know me at all. I’m not one of his girlfriends who can be placated with a shopping spree.”
Max winces. “Ouch. Has he done this before?”
You nod, sinking down onto the nearest clear spot on the floor. “Every time he messes up with a girl, it’s the same routine. Flowers, jewelry, designer clothes. And it usually works, because the girls he dates ... well, they tend to be into that kind of thing.”
Max sits down beside you, his shoulder brushing against yours. “But you’re not.”
“No,” you confirm. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I appreciate nice things. But that’s not what this is about. It’s about him actually listening to me, actually seeing me as a person and not just ... his kid sister who can be bought off.”
Max is quiet for a moment, then says softly, “You know, it’s okay to be angry about this. You don’t have to pretend it doesn’t hurt.”
His words break something open inside you. Tears well up in your eyes, spilling over before you can stop them. “I just ... I thought he knew me better than this. I thought they all did.”
Max wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. You lean into him, letting the tears fall freely now.
“It’s like they don’t even see me,” you choke out between sobs. “They see this idea of who they think I should be, but not ... not who I actually am.”
Max rubs soothing circles on your back, letting you cry it out. When your sobs finally subside, he hands you a tissue.
“Feel better?” He asks gently.
You nod, wiping your eyes. “A little. Sorry for breaking down on you like that.”
Max shakes his head firmly. “Don’t apologize. That’s what I’m here for.”
You offer him a watery smile, then turn back to survey the mountain of bags. “So ... what do I do with all this?”
Max considers for a moment. “Well, what do you want to do?”
You bite your lip, thinking. “Honestly? I want to send it all back. Show him that he can’t just throw money at the problem and expect it to go away.”
Max nods approvingly. “I think that’s a great idea. It sends a clear message.”
“You don’t think it’s too harsh?” You ask, a hint of uncertainty creeping into your voice.
“Not at all,” Max assures you. “You’re standing up for yourself, setting boundaries. That’s important.”
Emboldened by his support, you start rifling through the bags, curiosity getting the better of you. “I wonder what he even bought ... oh.”
You pull out a small velvet box, opening it to reveal a delicate tennis bracelet. The diamonds catch the light, sparkling brilliantly.
“Wow,” Max breathes, leaning in for a closer look. “That’s ... that’s something.”
You nod, mesmerized by the way the bracelet shimmers. “It’s beautiful,” you admit softly.
Max watches you carefully. “You like it,” he observes.
You sigh, closing the box with a snap. “It doesn’t matter. It’s going back with everything else.”
“Why?” Max asks, genuine curiosity in his voice. “If you like it, why not keep it?”
You look at him, surprised. “But ... I thought you said sending it all back was a good idea?”
Max shrugs. “It is. But that doesn’t mean you can’t keep one thing if it genuinely makes you happy. You’re allowed to like nice things, Y/N. That doesn’t invalidate your feelings about the situation.”
You turn the box over in your hands, considering. “I don’t know ... wouldn’t keeping anything send the wrong message?”
“I think,” Max says slowly, “that the message you send depends more on what you say than what you keep or don’t keep. If you like the bracelet, keep it. But make sure Charles understands that a pretty piece of jewelry doesn’t fix the underlying issues.”
You nod, his words resonating with you. “You’re right. I’ll keep the bracelet ... but everything else goes back.”
As you start sorting through the bags, separating out what will be returned, you can’t help but laugh.
“What’s so funny?” Max asks, a smile tugging at his lips.
You hold up the bracelet box. “I was just thinking ... it would be a shame to let something this pretty go to waste, right?”
Max chuckles, shaking his head. “Absolutely. It’s practically your duty to keep it. For the sake of the bracelet, of course.”
“Of course,” you agree, giggling. “I’m being completely selfless here.”
As you continue to sort through the gifts, occasionally showing Max particularly outrageous items (“A fur coat? In Monaco?”), you feel a weight lifting from your shoulders. For the first time since this whole ordeal began, you feel like you’re taking control of the situation.
“You know,” you say, folding a designer dress back into its bag, “I think I need to have a real conversation with Charles. With all of them, really.”
Max nods encouragingly. “I think that’s a great idea. What do you want to say?”
You take a deep breath, organizing your thoughts. “I want them to understand that I’m my own person, with my own dreams and desires. That I need them to see me, really see me, not just as Charles Leclerc’s little sister or as an extension of the family name.”
“That sounds perfect,” Max says softly. “You deserve to be seen for who you are.”
You smile at him, a rush of warmth flooding your chest. “Thank you. For everything. I don’t know how I would have gotten through this without you.”
Max reaches out, taking your hand in his. “You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for. But I’m glad I could help.”
As you sit there, surrounded by discarded luxury goods, your hand in Max’s, you feel a sense of peace settling over you. You know the road ahead won’t be easy — confronting your family, establishing new boundaries, figuring out exactly where you stand with Max — but for the first time in a long time, you feel ready to face it all.
You slip on the tennis bracelet, admiring the way it catches the light. It’s beautiful, yes, but it’s also a reminder. A reminder that you’re worth more than grand gestures and expensive gifts. You’re worth being truly seen, truly heard, truly understood.
And as you look at Max, his blue eyes warm with understanding and something that might be more, you think that maybe, just maybe, you’ve found someone who sees you for exactly who you are.
***
The afternoon sun beats down on the streets of Monaco as Charles leans against his Ferrari, fidgeting nervously. He’s parked across from the International University of Monaco, his eyes fixed on the entrance. Students stream in and out, but none of them are the one he’s looking for.
He checks his watch for what must be the hundredth time. Your last class should be ending any minute now. Charles takes a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. He’s rehearsed what he wants to say a thousand times, but now that the moment is approaching, all his carefully prepared words seem to evaporate.
A group of students emerges from the building, laughing and chatting. Charles straightens up, his eyes scanning the crowd. And then he sees you.
You’re walking with a couple of friends, your bag slung over your shoulder, a smile on your face. For a moment, Charles is struck by how ... normal you look. How at ease. It’s a stark contrast to the tense family dinners and stilted conversations of recent months.
Before he can second-guess himself, Charles pushes off from his car and starts walking towards you. He sees the exact moment you spot him — your smile falters, your steps slow.
“Y/N!” He calls out, waving awkwardly.
Your friends notice him too, their eyes widening in recognition. You say something to them that Charles can’t hear, and they nod, casting curious glances between you and your brother as they walk away.
Charles reaches you, stopping a few feet away, suddenly unsure of himself. “Hey,” he says softly.
“Charles,” you reply, your voice carefully neutral. “What are you doing here?”
He runs a hand through his hair, a nervous habit he’s never been able to shake. “I ... I wanted to talk to you. In person. You haven’t been answering my calls or texts, and I just ... I needed to see you.”
You sigh, adjusting the strap of your bag. “I’ve been busy with classes. And I needed some space.”
“I know,” Charles says quickly. “I know, and I’m sorry for ambushing you like this. I just ... can we talk? Please?”
You glance around, noticing the curious stares from passing students. “Not here,” you say finally. “There’s a café around the corner. We can talk there.”
Charles nods eagerly, relief washing over him. “Yes, of course. Whatever you want.”
You lead the way to the café, a small, cozy place tucked away from the main streets. As you settle into a booth in the back, Charles can’t help but wonder how often you come here, how many parts of your life he knows nothing about.
A waitress approaches, and you order your usual — an iced latte with an extra shot. Charles fumbles with the menu before ordering a simple espresso.
An awkward silence falls over the table as you wait for your drinks. Charles fidgets with a napkin, trying to find the right words to begin.
“So,” you say finally, your tone clipped. “You wanted to talk. Talk.”
Charles takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” he blurts out. “I’m so, so sorry, Y/N. For forgetting your birthday, for not being there for you, for ... for everything.”
You raise an eyebrow, your expression unreadable. “Is that it?”
Charles blinks, thrown off balance. “I ... what do you mean?”
“I mean,” you say, leaning forward slightly, “is that all you have to say? You’re sorry?”
Charles feels a flash of frustration. “What else do you want me to say? I messed up, I know that. I’m trying to make it right.”
The waitress returns with your drinks, and you take a long sip of your latte before responding. “Charles, this isn’t just about my birthday. This is about years of feeling invisible, of being overshadowed, of not being seen for who I am.”
Charles feels like he’s been punched in the gut. “What? Y/N, I ... I had no idea you felt that way.”
You let out a bitter laugh. “That’s kind of the point, Charles. You didn’t know because you never asked. None of you did.”
Charles sits back, his mind reeling. “I ... I don’t understand. We’ve always been close. At least, I thought we were.”
“We were,” you agree softly. “When we were kids. But as you got more and more successful, it was like ... like I faded into the background. Everything became about you, about your career.”
Charles feels tears pricking at his eyes. “Y/N, I never meant for that to happen. I love you. You’re my little sister.”
“I know you love me,” you say, your voice gentler now. “But loving someone and seeing them are two different things.”
Charles nods slowly, realization dawning. “The gifts,” he says. “That’s why you sent them back. Because I was trying to fix things without actually understanding what was wrong.”
“Exactly,” you confirm. “Charles, I don’t need expensive clothes or jewelry. I need my brother. The one who used to listen to me ramble about constellations for hours, who’d sneak me extra dessert when Maman wasn’t looking.”
Charles reaches across the table, hesitating for a moment before taking your hand. To his relief, you don’t pull away. “I want to be that brother again,” he says earnestly. “Tell me how. Please.”
You take a deep breath, considering. “Well, for starters, you could ask me about my life. My studies, my friends, my dreams. And actually listen to the answers.”
Charles nods eagerly. “Yes, of course. Tell me everything. What are you studying? How are your classes going?”
A small smile tugs at your lips. “I’m majoring in Astrophysics, remember? This semester I’m taking a course on Stellar Evolution that’s absolutely fascinating. We’re learning about the life cycles of stars, from their formation to their eventual death.”
As you continue talking, passion lighting up your eyes, Charles feels a mix of pride and shame wash over him. Pride in your intelligence and enthusiasm, shame that he’s missed out on so much of your life.
“That sounds incredible,” he says when you pause for breath. “I had no idea you were studying something so complex. You must be really good at it.”
You shrug, a hint of your old shyness creeping in. “I do okay. It’s challenging, but I love it.”
“I’m sure you do more than okay,” Charles insists. “You’ve always been the smartest one in the family.”
You laugh softly. “I don’t know about that. But ... thanks, Charles. It means a lot to hear you say that.”
Charles squeezes your hand. “I mean it. And I want to hear more. About your classes, your friends, everything. I’ve missed so much, and I want to make up for it.”
You nod, a cautious hope in your eyes. “I’d like that. But Charles, it can’t just be today. This has to be a continuous thing. I need to know that you’re genuinely interested in my life, not just when you’re trying to make amends.”
“Absolutely,” Charles agrees immediately. “What if we set up a regular call? Once a week, we can catch up properly. No distractions, no racing talk unless you want to. Just us.”
A genuine smile spreads across your face. “I’d really like that.”
Charles feels a weight lifting from his shoulders. It’s not fixed, not completely, but it’s a start. “There’s something else,” he says, suddenly remembering. “Max ... are you and Max ...”
You blush slightly, looking down at your latte. “We’re ... figuring things out. He’s been really supportive through all of this.”
Charles nods, pushing down the instinctive surge of protectiveness. “He’s a good guy. If he makes you happy, then I’m happy for you.”
You look up, surprise evident in your eyes. “Really? You’re not going to go all overprotective big brother on me?”
Charles chuckles. “Oh, I’m sure I’ll have my moments. But Y/N, you’re an adult. You can make your own choices. I trust you.”
Tears well up in your eyes. “Thank you. That ... that means more than you know.”
As you both finish your drinks, the conversation flows more easily. Charles asks about your friends, your hobbies outside of studying. You tell him about the astronomy club you’ve joined, the research project you’re hoping to get involved with next semester.
When it’s time to leave, Charles stands up, hesitating for a moment before opening his arms. “Can I ...”
You nod, stepping into his embrace. Charles holds you tight, realizing how long it’s been since he’s really hugged you like this.
“I love you, little sister,” he murmurs into your hair. “And I promise, I’m going to do better.”
You squeeze him back. “I love you too, big brother. And ... I’m willing to give you the chance to prove it.”
As you part ways outside the café, Charles heading back to his car and you towards your apartment, there’s a lightness in the air that wasn’t there before. It’s not perfect, not yet. There are still conversations to be had, bridges to be rebuilt. But for the first time in a long time, there’s hope.
Charles watches you walk away, a mix of emotions swirling in his chest. Pride in the amazing person you’ve become, regret for the time he’s missed, determination to be the brother you deserve.
He pulls out his phone, creating a new reminder: Call Y/N — every Sunday, 7 PM.
It’s a small step, but it’s a start. And as he drives home, Charles finds himself looking forward to getting to know his little sister all over again.
***
The auditorium of the International University of Monaco buzzes with excitement as proud families and friends gather to celebrate the graduating class. In the front row, an unusually high-profile group draws curious glances and whispered conversations.
Charles fidgets in his seat, craning his neck to scan the sea of graduates. “Do you see her?” He asks, nudging his older brother.
Lorenzo chuckles, placing a calming hand on Charles’ shoulder. “Relax. She’ll be here. Alphabetical order, remember?”
On Charles’ other side, Arthur rolls his eyes fondly. “You’d think he was the one graduating, the way he’s acting.”
“Can you blame him?” Max chimes in from the end of the row, a warm smile on his face. “It’s a big day.”
Pascale, seated between Lorenzo and Arthur, dabs at her eyes with a tissue. “My baby girl, graduating university. I can hardly believe it.”
Max reaches across to pat her hand. “She’s amazing, Pascale. You should be very proud.”
Charles turns to Max, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Look at you, all calm and collected. I remember when you were a nervous wreck asking her out for the first time.”
Max blushes slightly, but grins. “Hey, your sister is intimidating. All that brainpower.”
“Shh!” Arthur hisses suddenly. “I think it’s starting!”
The auditorium falls silent as the ceremony begins. The family watches with rapt attention as the graduates file in, searching for that familiar face among the sea of caps and gowns.
And then, there you are. Your eyes scan the crowd until they land on your family, a bright smile spreading across your face as you wave discreetly.
“There she is!” Charles whisper-shouts, practically bouncing in his seat.
Lorenzo chuckles. “We see her. Try to contain yourself, yeah?”
The ceremony progresses, with speeches from the valedictorian and various dignitaries. Charles fidgets impatiently, earning amused glances from his family and Max.
Finally, the moment arrives. “Y/N Leclerc,” the announcer calls.
Charles jumps to his feet, letting out a whoop that echoes through the auditorium. “That’s my sister!” He shouts, drawing startled looks from nearby attendees.
Lorenzo and Arthur quickly join in, their cheers mixing with Charles’. Max and Pascale stand too, clapping enthusiastically.
You walk across the stage, accepting your diploma with a graceful nod. As you turn to face the audience, your eyes lock with your family’s, and your composed expression breaks into a radiant smile.
Charles, caught up in the moment, continues cheering even after you’ve left the stage. “That’s right! Astrophysicist in the house! Watch out, universe!”
Max, noticing the irritated glances from other families, reaches over and claps a hand over Charles’ mouth. “Okay, Charlie, I think she heard you,” he says, laughter in his voice.
Max feels something wet against his palm and jerks his hand away.
“Ugh, gross!” Max yelps, wiping it on his pants. “What are you, five?”
Charles grins unrepentantly. “You started it.”
Pascale sighs, shaking her head. “Boys, please. This is Y/N’s big day. Try to act like adults.”
“Sorry, Maman,” Charles mumbles, properly chastised.
As the ceremony concludes, the family makes their way outside, eagerly scanning the crowd for you.
“There!” Arthur calls out, pointing.
You’re making your way towards them, diploma in hand, your face glowing with happiness. Max reaches you first, sweeping you into a tight hug.
“Congratulations, liefje,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I’m so proud of you.”
You beam up at him, about to respond when Charles practically tackles you both.
“My sister, the genius!” He crows, lifting you off your feet and spinning you around. “I always knew you’d take over the world someday.”
You laugh, hugging him back just as fiercely. “Put me down, you goof! You’re making a scene.”
“Let him have his moment,” Lorenzo says, stepping in for his own hug once Charles releases you. “It’s not every day your little sister graduates top of her class in Astrophysics.”
Arthur’s turn comes next, his hug gentler but no less heartfelt. “Congrats. You’ve officially made the rest of us look like underachievers.”
Finally, you turn to your mother, who’s openly crying now. “Oh, my darling,” she says, cupping your face in her hands. “I’m so, so proud of you.”
You feel tears welling up in your own eyes as you embrace her. “Thanks, Maman. For everything.”
As you pull back, wiping at your eyes, Charles slings an arm around your shoulders. “So, what’s next? Going to discover a new planet? Name a star after your favorite man?”
You roll your eyes fondly. “First of all, I still have to get through graduate school. And second, bold of you to assume you’re my favorite.”
“Ouch,” Charles clutches his chest in mock pain. “After all we’ve been through?”
Max chuckles, wrapping an arm around your waist. “Face it, Leclerc. I’ve got you beat in the favorite department.”
Charles narrows his eyes playfully. “Is that a challenge, Verstappen?”
“Boys, boys,” you interject, laughing. “There’s plenty of me to go around. Now, how about we get out of here? I’m starving, and I believe someone promised me a celebration dinner.”
“Ah, yes!” Pascale says, clapping her hands together. “I’ve made reservations at La Maree. Your favorite, chérie.”
As the family starts to move towards the parking lot, Max hangs back, tugging gently on your hand. “Hold on a sec,” he says softly. “I want to give you something.”
Curious, you turn to face him. Max reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small velvet box.
Your eyes widen. “Max ...”
He opens the box, revealing a delicate necklace. A small white gold star pendant hangs from the chain, a tiny diamond twinkling at its center.
“I know it’s not much compared to your usual study subjects,” Max says, a hint of nervousness in his voice. “But I thought ... well, you’re my star, Y/N. My brilliant, beautiful star.”
Tears well up in your eyes again as Max fastens the necklace around your neck. “It’s perfect,” you whisper. “I love it. I love you.”
Max’s face breaks into a radiant smile. “I love you too,” he says, before leaning in to capture your lips in a tender kiss.
You melt into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck as his hands settle on your waist. For a moment, the world fades away, and it’s just the two of you.
The spell is broken by an exaggerated gagging sound. You break apart to see Charles pretending to retch, while Lorenzo and Arthur laugh.
You break apart, laughing. “Real mature, Charles,” you call back.
Charles grins, unrepentant. “Hey, someone’s got to keep an eye on you crazy kids.”
Max rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “Your brother, the chaperone,” he mutters.
You giggle, taking Max’s hand as you rejoin your family. “Don’t worry,” you whisper conspiratorially. “We’ll ditch him at the restaurant.”
As you all pile into the waiting cars, the air buzzing with excitement and plans for the evening, you can’t help but feel overwhelmed with happiness. A year ago, you never would have imagined this scene — your family truly seeing and celebrating you, a wonderful man by your side who loves and supports you, and a bright future ahead in a field you’re passionate about.
The cars pull away from the university, carrying you towards your celebration dinner. As you watch the familiar streets of Monaco roll by, you find yourself filled with an incredible sense of anticipation. This isn’t just the end of your university journey — it’s the beginning of something new and exciting.
You glance around the car — at Charles and Arthur bickering good-naturedly in the back seat, at your mother chatting happily with Lorenzo who’s driving, and finally at Max beside you, his hand warm in yours. Your family, in all its chaotic, loving glory.
“Hey,” Max says softly, noticing your pensive expression. “You okay?”
You smile, squeezing his hand. “More than okay. I’m perfect.”
And as the car winds its way through the streets of Monaco, towards a future bright with possibility, you know that it’s true. You’re exactly where you’re meant to be, surrounded by love, with the stars stretching out endlessly before you.
#f1 imagine#f1#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 fanfiction#f1 x reader#f1 x you#max verstappen#mv1#max verstappen imagine#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen x you#max verstappen fic#max verstappen fluff#max verstappen fanfic#max verstappen blurb#f1 fluff#f1 blurb#f1 one shot#f1 x y/n#f1 drabble#f1 fandom#f1blr#f1 x female reader#max verstappen x female reader#max verstappen x y/n#red bull racing#max verstappen one shot#max verstappen drabble
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Sleepy Crow
Word Count: 1.8k words
Tags: sylus x fem!reader, somno, noncon, mentions of breeding, pet names such as kitten, sweetie, darling, reader is somewhat drugged but its her sleep meds!
AN: Hi all! This isn't my first time writing fanfics but I noticed a lack of Sylus fics with a darker undertone ( ๑‾̀◡‾́)σ". PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE read the tags and if this isn't something that interests you or is potentially triggering, please do not interact! I get this isn't everyone's cup of tea but this is a fic for people who like darker romance stuff!! Please enjoy, and I AM taking requests as I really want to get back into writing again. Do not hold back, this is a safe place! Ty!! <333
Sylus trudged through the pouring rain, his jacket soaked through and his hair matted against his forehead. The drops were heavy and unrelenting, pelting against the pavement and creating small rivers that flowed along the gutters. The barely lit streetlights of the N109 zone cast an eerie glow on the slick surfaces, reflecting off the wet asphalt like a distorted mirror.
As the man approached his mansion, he couldn't help but feel relieved. The warm glow of the lights shining through the windows beckoned him home. He fumbled with the keypad to the door, his fingers slightly numb from the cold, before finally hearing the click that beckoned his entrance.
The sound of raindrops hitting the roof and windows followed him, a steady drumming that seemed to fill every corner of the place. He took off his sodden jacket and hung it up, feeling the weight of it pulling him down. He walked through the dimly lit hallway, his footsteps echoing softly on the marble floors, trying his hardest to be quiet. Mephisto was perched on his cage (not that he was ever really in it, it was more for decor) tilting his head when he saw Sylus brush past him but not making any sound himself.
He made his way to the bedroom chambers, deciding to make sure you were where you belonged. Peeking his head in the bedroom doorway, he saw your sleeping figure, chest rising ever so slightly with each breath. He smirked, closing the door behind him as he entered. He was happy you finally seemed to be getting some rest.
Your insomnia had been getting worse, and he'd been getting worried when he saw you were often messaging him at 4 am, sometimes as late as 8 am with no sleep. Of course he’d offer to have you over, to hold you and whisper sweet things in your ear until you succumbed to sleep, but he couldn’t always. Sometimes business was needed to be handled, and for those nights he had gotten you the best sleep medication that money could buy. You had been weary about taking them at first, but he had assured you that the side effects were basically none. He had made sure of it.
Sylus made his way to the bathroom, proceeding to rid himself of the damp clothes clinging to his skin. A quick shower and then he could finally curl up next to his little crow. Not that he would be sleeping yet, but it was nice to watch you dream. Sometimes you’d whine or make little noises, which he found absolutely adorable. He wondered what you dreamt about sometimes, but you had refused to answer much to his annoyance.
The hot water felt amazing after being gone practically all night. He washed all the blood and dirt from his skin, examining all of his various injuries. He had a run in with a few “pests” that he quickly exterminated, but they had managed to get a few nicks on him. He touched his arm where the biggest cut was, his Evol immediately snaking around it and healing it faster than he could blink. He did the same for the others, feeling brand new once more.
Some time passed before he finally turned the water off, dried himself, and slipped into a pair of boxers. He slowly made his way into the bedroom, hoping that he wasn't being too loud but you were out like a light. Sleeping like a rock.
Sylus slipped in bed next to you, sighing with pleasure as the soft mattress sunk beneath his weight. It felt heavenly. He turned to put his arm around you, trying to get as comfortable as possible so he could hold you. He softly kissed the corner of your ear, his head starting to swim with thoughts. Surprisingly, he felt comfortable enough to possibly fall asleep with you.
But he couldn't.
He had been laying in bed for thirty minutes just thinking. He thought about all the business arrangements he needed to finish. Tonight had been…messy. No doubt he had made some new enemies. How impatient he was getting about the new weaponry he had bought from Spain. They should be arriving soon, but it had been taking forever.
How he wanted to feel your tight cunt pulsing around his fingers.
Sylus stiffened, attempting to rid his head of these thoughts about you. His efforts were in vain though, as he was already rocking a semi hard on that was steadily growing into a full erection.
Obviously there was nothing he could do about it. You were sleeping after all. And not only that, it's not like he could wake you to do anything anyways. He hates quickies, they bored him. He likes to take his time. To take in your reactions, your faces, and your noises. Besides that, you were taking a pretty high dose of your sleeping meds and he kinda doubted he could wake you even if he really tried.
This thought stirred in his head for a bit.
Yeah...you wouldn't wake even if he tried. He sighed with a twinge of pleasure as he pressed his erection against the soft cotton of your underwear. The pressure felt immaculate, and if he hadn't been gone all night he probably could've finished just by pressing himself against you. You were the only girl ever that could make him finish that quickly.
But it wasn't enough. He needed more. It had been a bit since he touched you like this.
You moved a bit in your sleep, letting out a small whine. He leaned over you to get a better look at your face. Still sleeping, mouth open slightly ajar. You were so fucking pretty when you slept.
“Such a sleepy kitten” he growled lowly, snaking his fingers underneath the hem of your underwear. He didn’t know why, but the mere sight of your sleeping face was getting him worked up. You looked so docile, so vulnerable. He wanted you. Sylus began to tug them down slowly.
This was very wrong. He knew this and yet he couldn't stop. He kept going, making empty promises to himself that he would only take a peek. He just wanted to see you. All of you.
Sylus froze has he finally pulled your underwear down to your legs, practically breathless at the site of your cunt at his fingertips.
"Fuck..." he groaned, unable to stop himself from pressing a finger between your folds. He watched you carefully for any signs of discomfort or movement, but you were still fast asleep as he pushed his finger in. You were warm, inviting even. It's like your pussy was sucking his finger in, deeper and deeper. He slid a second finger in, picking up the pace. Soon enough, your cunt was slightly wet, spots of your slick forming on the backs of your legs near your pussy. Pulling out, he practically shivered with excitement.
Sylus was quick to put his fingers in his mouth, savoring every drop of you. You tasted so sweet to him, the best flavor he ever had the honor to try. He wanted nothing more than to dive head first into the source and lap it up. But his erection was so starting to bother him. It was rock hard, and throbbing ever so slightly, begging to be freed.
He had to have you. And he had to have you now.
He pulled his erection through the hole in his boxers, beginning to stroke himself with an intense grip. Groaning as quietly as he could, he stared at your wet and welcoming cunt. He swore it was just begging to be filled by every inch of his cock. Still wanting him, even when you were asleep.
"You’re so pretty sweetie" he whispered in your ear, closing his eyes as electrifying pulses of pleasure crashed through him. Sylus told himself he should stop now, but it was past that point. He knew himself better than that. His mind was already made up, no matter how much he was trying to talk himself out of it.
Turning you a bit more on your side, he readied the fat head of his tip to your entrance. You stirred once again, mumbling incoherent nothings before becoming silent again. Sylus chuckled softly, pressing his lips to the tip of your ear as he stroked himself a few more times.
As he sinks his tip into your tight entrance, his precum smears all over your hole. He shudders with intensity, trying his best to hold back a groan, worried that making too much noise next to your ear would wake you. He pushes further and further until he can't possibly sink himself into you anymore. You squirm, letting out another whine, this one a bit louder than the last.
"Im sorry kitten…" Sylus coos, laying his head behind yours as he fucks you with a slow, rhythmic pace. "Just need to cum in what’s mine. Be a good girl and stay asleep for me”.
He rests one of his hands on your hip, trying to keep from shaking you too much as he continually plunges himself inside you. You were warm, your gummy walls constantly tightening around him. He moans your name over and over like a prayer, feeling lost in your walls. The soft clap of his skin meeting your ass echoes a bit in the room.
"You're fucking made for me. Look at you sweetie, tightening around me, trying to squeeze me dry even when you're sleeping" he whispers, feeling himself getting closer and closer to bliss.
His thrusts became sloppy and he had to slow himself, trying to savor every moment he had inside of what essentially felt like heaven. He had been wanting to fill you for days. Images of his seed erupting onto the walls of your fertile pussy, eventually giving you a nice, round tummy that would grow his baby filled his head and he couldn't stop himself from finishing anymore.
As his hot ropes of sticky cum shoot against the walls of your womb, he accidently grips your hip a bit tighter than he meant to. You yelp, and he quickly rubbed his hand over the spot he'd hurt you, ensuring you remained asleep. He checks the spot and sees some slight bruising already starting to form and curses himself silently for losing control and hurting you. His Evol was quick to move over the injury where his hand lay, instantly restoring your skin back to a healed state. Sylus was amazed he could even do that. His Evol had only ever healed him. It wasn’t until you came along that it had ever revealed that kind of power and it didn’t work for anyone else either.
"Shh shh, its ok. Just be still, I'm almost done filling you up darling…”
Once his orgasmic high subsided, he took a moment to catch his breath before watching as his cum pooled out of you. He took his finger and scooped as much of it as he could gather before gently pushing it back within your folds. Feeling satisfied with his work, he pulled your panties up before finally pulling the cover back over you.
"There you go. Gotta keep my seed where it belongs so you can make us a baby. Right kitten?" he chuckled, finally feeling tired enough to cuddle you and fall asleep.
#umi writes ♡︎#love and deepspace#love and deepspace smut#sylus x reader#sylus#lads sylus#lads#lads smut#lads fic#sylus x reader smut#love and deep space x reader#l&ds smut#lads scenarios#love and deep space scenarios#sylus x reader fic
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Whole Package, Babe, I Like The Way You Fit
Summary: Holiday beach trip with Pedro and friends.
Or, that one new Pedro shirtless pic…
Paring: Pedro Pascal x F!Reader
Warnings: Established Relationship, TOOTH-ROTTING FLUFF, Slight Nudity, Slight Angst, Swearing, Anxiety, Cheesy Dialogue, Romance, Kissing, Real People Fiction, Cameras, Paparazzi, Social Media, Beach Trip, Light Blood, Scratch, Ocean, Swimming, Swimwear, Shirtless Pedro, Light SMUT, Spicy, Sweet, Implied SMUT, Banter, Idk Spanish so the terms might be wrong but I'm trying my best
Word Count: 4.6k
A/N: The mf decided to give us shirtless Pedro and suddenly I have the will to live again LMAO. Weirdly enough, I am also at the beach while writing this so it’s kinda a funny coincidence… Imagine if we were at the same beach, that would be so funny (He can never know my existence I might die.)
No one ask me how I knew what hotel they were staying at. I scare myself too dw.
Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!
Song: Juno by Sabrina Carpenter
| Main Masterlist |
HOTEL ESENCIA, MEXICO — DAY
The warm tropical breeze carried the salty tang of the ocean as you stepped onto the soft, powdery sand of the secluded beach Pedro’s friends had chosen for the Christmas getaway. The sun kissed your skin, palm trees swayed lazily overhead, and the gentle rhythm of waves provided the perfect soundtrack for a holiday escape.
The group—Lauren Alexander, Brandan Campbell, Omar Apollo, and Pedro’s ever-charismatic agent, Franklin Latt—had already claimed a prime spot near the water. Lounge chairs were lined up under brightly colored umbrellas, a massive cooler sat brimming with ice and drinks, and Omar was enthusiastically attempting to set up a speaker while humming the latest tune stuck in his head.
Pedro lagged a few steps behind you, carrying your beach bag and his, though his attention wasn’t on the task. It was on you.
When you shrugged off your airy cover-up, revealing a stunning red bikini that hugged your curves just right, Pedro froze mid-step. His sunglasses couldn’t hide the way his jaw tightened or how his eyes darkened as they roamed over you.
“Everything okay there?” you teased, tilting your head as you caught him staring.
Pedro blinked, visibly gathering himself. “Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine.” He cleared his throat, but his gaze didn’t waver. “More than fine.”
You smirked, adjusting the straps of your bikini for good measure. “You’re staring.”
“Can you blame me?” he shot back, taking a step closer. His voice dipped, low and husky. “You look... breathtaking.”
A flush crept up your neck, but you refused to let him win so easily. “Not too bad yourself,” you quipped, lightly poking his chest. His white linen shirt was unbuttoned just enough to reveal a tantalizing hint of his tan skin and the gold chain that rested against his collarbone.
Pedro chuckled, the sound warm and intimate. “If I’d known you’d be wearing this, I’d have hired a bodyguard to keep everyone else from looking.”
“Oh, please,” you replied, rolling your eyes but unable to stop the grin tugging at your lips. “I’m here with you, aren’t I?”
He leaned in, his hand brushing against your waist as he planted a soft kiss on your forehead. “Stop being so cute, or I might never let you leave my sight,” he murmured.
“Is that a promise or a threat?” you teased, your voice playful but your heart racing.
“Both,” he said, his grin widening as he pulled back to admire you once more.
From nearby, Omar let out a loud whistle. “Pedro, are you gonna stand there all day, or are you gonna help us with this speaker? Some of us want to vibe to music!”
Pedro groaned, turning reluctantly toward the group but throwing an arm around your shoulders as he led you over. “Fine, but only because she’s coming with me,” he called out, earning a round of laughter.
As you settled into the setup, the sun beamed overhead, and the carefree energy of the group was infectious. Pedro stayed close, his arm brushing yours as you helped Lauren unpack snacks, and his eyes never strayed far from you.
At one point, Franklin handed you a coconut with a straw and a cheeky smile. “Best way to stay hydrated,” he said, winking.
“Cheers,” Pedro said, clinking his coconut against yours. He took a sip before leaning closer, his breath warm against your ear. “But if you spill even a drop, I’m licking it off you.”
Your cheeks burned as you nearly choked on your drink. “Pedro!” you hissed, swatting at him.
He grinned, unapologetic. “What? I’m just being practical.”
The day unfolded in easy laughter and warmth, with the sun high overhead and the turquoise ocean sparkling like a field of diamonds. Pedro carried you on his back through the shallows, his hands gripping your thighs as you pretended to be his commanding officer.
“Faster, soldier!” you commanded, leaning forward and tugging gently at his ears as if steering him.
“Ma’am, yes, ma’am!” he called back, mock-serious but laughing as he jogged through the water, sending small waves splashing around you both. “Anything else, ma’am? Should I do some push-ups in the sand too?”
You grinned wickedly. “Push-ups? I’d like to see you try—with me on your back.”
Pedro stopped abruptly, twisting his head to glance at you with a raised brow. “Oh, you think I can’t?”
“I know you can’t,” you teased, leaning down to press your cheek against his.
He smirked, suddenly spinning in place. “You’re asking for it now.”
Before you could protest, he dropped into the water with a dramatic splash, sending you tumbling off his back and into the cool embrace of the ocean.
“Pedro!” you shrieked, surfacing with a gasp and pushing your wet hair out of your face.
He was already laughing, standing a few feet away with his hands on his hips, his soaked hair plastered to his forehead. “That’s what you get for doubting my strength!”
“Oh, you’re so dead!” you shouted, lunging toward him.
Pedro yelped playfully, backpedaling but not fast enough. You caught his arm, laughing as you pulled him down into the water with you. The two of you wrestled like kids, splashing and laughing so hard your stomach hurt.
“Truce! Truce!” he called out, holding up his hands in surrender as you pelted him with another wave of water.
“Do you admit defeat?” you demanded, a triumphant grin on your face.
“Never!” he declared, darting forward to grab your waist. Before you could react, he lifted you effortlessly, spinning you around in the water.
“Pedro!” you shrieked, laughing and trying to wriggle free.
“You wanted a soldier,” he said, his voice full of mischief, “and now you’ve got one!”
You finally stopped struggling, letting your arms drape around his shoulders as he held you close. The laughter faded into something softer, the two of you catching your breath as you stood chest-deep in the water.
His hands slid down to your hips, steadying you as he gazed at you with a look that made your heart flutter. “You’re beautiful, you know that?” he murmured, his voice low and intimate.
The way he said it, like it was a simple truth he’d always believed, made your cheeks warm despite the cool water. “You’re just saying that because I’m soaked and ridiculous-looking,” you replied, biting back a smile.
“No,” he said, leaning in so his forehead pressed against yours. “I’m saying it because it’s true.”
Your breath hitched as his lips brushed against yours, soft and hesitant at first, like he was savoring the moment. The kiss deepened quickly, his arms pulling you closer until there was no space between you.
When you pulled back for air, Pedro’s eyes were dark, his lips slightly swollen from the kiss. “You’ve got this effect on me,” he admitted, his voice husky.
“Oh yeah?” you teased, though your voice wavered with the same breathless energy.
“Yeah,” he said, leaning in to kiss you again, his hands sliding up your back. “And I never want it to go away.”
For a while, the rest of the world melted away. You stayed there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the ocean rocking gently around you. He kissed you like he was memorizing every detail, every taste, and you couldn’t help but smile against his lips, feeling completely and utterly adored.
At one point, he pulled back just enough to whisper, “If this is what it feels like to surrender, I’m never fighting again.”
You laughed, threading your fingers through his damp hair. “I think I like you defeated.”
“And I think I like you here, in my arms,” he replied softly, his lips brushing against your temple.
The sound of your friends laughing and splashing in the distance barely registered. For now, it was just you and Pedro, lost in a world of sunlit kisses and salty skin, the ocean your only witness.
The group gathered in a loose circle, each person holding a large green coconut decorated with colorful straws and tiny paper umbrellas. The warm, golden light of the late afternoon sun bathed everything in a soft glow, making the moment feel like a scene out of a postcard. Omar crouched to capture the perfect angle with his camera while Lauren struck a dramatic pose, tilting her head back and raising her coconut like it was a chalice of the gods.
“Lauren, you’re doing the most,” Franklin said, shaking his head but smiling as he adjusted his sunglasses.
“Darling, I am the most,” Lauren shot back with a wink, drawing laughs from everyone.
Pedro, standing just behind you, pulled you snugly against his side, his arm wrapped securely around your waist. “C’mon, let’s show them how it’s done,” he murmured in your ear, his warm breath sending a shiver down your spine.
Franklin, standing in front with his phone, held it up. “Okay, lovebirds, your turn. Smile for the camera!”
You turned your face toward Pedro’s at the exact same moment he turned toward you, and the laughter bubbled up before either of you could stop it. Your foreheads bumped lightly, and you both dissolved into giggles, the kind of uncontainable joy that made your chest feel light.
“Oh, my god,” Lauren groaned theatrically, pointing at the two of you. “Are they even real? Look at them, they’re in their own damn rom-com!”
“Y’all are embarrassing,” Omar chimed in, snapping pictures anyway. “But keep doing whatever that is because it’s disgustingly cute.”
Pedro’s grin widened as he tilted his head toward you, his nose brushing against yours. “You’re ridiculous,” you said through your laughter, feeling your cheeks warm under the attention.
“And you’re perfect,” Pedro replied, his voice low but playful, the corners of his mouth lifting into a smirk.
Franklin groaned loudly, still holding up his phone. “For the love of all things holy, just kiss her already! We’re trying to make memories here, not watch a slow-burn romance unfold in real-time!”
Pedro raised an eyebrow, glancing at the group before looking back at you with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “What do you think, Hermosa? Should we give them what they want?”
You laughed, pretending to ponder. “Hmm… maybe. But only if you make it a good one.”
“Challenge accepted,” Pedro whispered, and then his lips were on yours, soft but sure. The kiss was sweet and unhurried, the kind that made everything around you fade into the background.
“Oh my god, they’re actually doing it,” Lauren shrieked, clapping her hands together like a giddy child.
“Finally!” Omar exclaimed, snapping several pictures in rapid succession. “This is going on the Christmas card.”
“Make sure you get my good side!” Pedro joked, pulling back just enough to shoot Omar a wink, his arm still secure around your waist.
“I don’t think you have a bad side,” you teased, your eyes meeting Pedro’s.
“Ugh, stop!” Franklin groaned, clutching his chest dramatically. “This is too much. I need a drink—and not out of a coconut. I’m going straight for the tequila.”
Everyone burst into laughter, the lighthearted teasing filling the air as the moment was immortalized with photos, laughter, and a shared sense of joy. Pedro leaned closer, his lips brushing your temple as the group continued to banter.
“They’re just jealous,” he murmured softly, his voice filled with affection.
You tilted your head up to meet his gaze, your heart swelling at the warmth in his eyes. “Maybe. But I’m not sharing, so they can stay jealous.”
Pedro chuckled, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Good. Because neither am I.”
The heat of the day softened into a golden, languid warmth as the two of you found refuge under the shade of a broad umbrella. The beach stretched endlessly before you, the waves lazily licking at the shore. Pedro reclined in a beach chair, his book propped open on his lap. The faint breeze tousled his hair, a few stray strands falling over his forehead, and the way he absentmindedly pushed them back sent a flutter through your chest.
You leaned against his side, your legs stretched out on the chair beside him, the perfect picture of ease. With one hand, you held your favorite romance novel, its dog-eared pages evidence of how many times you'd read it. With the other, you traced patterns along the inked lines of his tattoos. Your fingertips moved slowly, savoring the ridges of muscle and warmth beneath his skin, as if committing every part of him to memory.
Pedro’s free hand slid into yours, threading your fingers together with a natural intimacy that still made your heart skip a beat. He didn’t look up from his book as he murmured, “Everything feels right when you’re with me.”
The sincerity in his tone made you pause, your eyes lifting from the words on the page. A small smile tugged at your lips as you squeezed his hand gently. “I know the feeling,” you replied, your voice soft.
For a while, the two of you sat in comfortable silence, the kind that only comes when you’re entirely at ease with someone. The distant laughter of your friends mingled with the rhythmic crashing of waves, creating a serene soundtrack to your stolen moment.
Pedro finally set his book down, slipping a receipt in as a placeholder. His gaze shifted to you, lingering in a way that made your cheeks heat even before he said a word.
“You know,” he began, his voice warm and teasing, “you’re kind of amazing.”
You tilted your head, meeting his eyes with a playful arch of your brow. “Kind of?”
Pedro chuckled, his smile widening. “Okay, more than kind of. Very. Incredibly. Like, the kind of amazing that makes me wonder what I ever did to deserve you.”
You closed your book, setting it on the small table between your chairs. Turning slightly, you rested your chin on his shoulder, your fingers still entwined with his. “Pedro, where’s all this coming from?”
He shrugged, but his eyes were soft, almost vulnerable. “Just thinking. Watching you. It hits me sometimes how lucky I am. How lucky I feel to be the one sitting here with you.”
You laughed lightly, shaking your head. “You’re the one everyone loves. The kind, talented, ridiculously handsome Pedro Pascal. If anything, I’m the lucky one.”
Pedro leaned closer, his free hand brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “You’re wrong about that. Don’t get me wrong—I like myself just fine,” he teased, earning a laugh from you. “But you? You’re everything. Smart, funny, compassionate. And don’t even get me started on how beautiful you are.”
Your cheeks flushed, and you tried to deflect with a teasing grin. “Oh, so it’s just my looks, huh?”
“Not even close,” Pedro said, his voice dropping to a softer, deeper tone. “It’s the way you talk about your favorite books like they’re old friends. The way you laugh with your whole body. The way you care about everyone—how you make every room brighter just by being in it.”
“Pedro…” you whispered, your throat tight with emotion.
“And don’t think I haven’t noticed how you’ve got everyone wrapped around your finger,” he added, his grin returning. “Omar can’t go ten minutes without asking if you need something, and Lauren keeps calling you her ‘new favorite person.’”
You laughed, brushing at your cheeks as your emotions threatened to overwhelm you. “Stop. You’re going to make me cry.”
Pedro’s expression softened further, his thumb brushing over your cheek as if to catch a tear before it could fall. “If I do, they’d better be happy tears. Because, cariño, I love you more than I ever thought was possible.”
Your breath hitched, and you leaned into his touch. “I love you too. So much.”
For a moment, the world around you faded into the background. Pedro leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was slow and tender, like a promise. When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Promise me you’ll always stay this close,” he said, his tone carrying a weight you couldn’t quite place.
You smiled, your hands cupping his face. “I promise. Always.”
Pedro’s heart swelled at your words, and though he didn’t say it out loud, a plan began to take shape in his mind. He pictured the perfect ring, the perfect moment, the perfect way to ask you to spend forever with him.
“I’ll hold you to that,” he said softly, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead.
You didn’t need to say anything else. The way you melted into his arms, the way your fingers found his once again, said everything. For now, this was enough. But in his heart, Pedro knew it wouldn’t be long before he made good on the promise his soul had already made: to love you, always.
The late afternoon sun bathed the beach in golden light as you wandered back into the water. The waves lapped gently at your legs, warm and inviting. Lost in the tranquil rhythm of the ocean, you didn’t notice the jagged rock just below the surface until it grazed your shin. You winced, feeling the sharp sting before brushing it off as nothing.
You emerged from the water, the salty breeze brushing against your skin. Pedro, lounging nearby with a half-finished coconut drink, immediately sat up. His eyes darted to your leg, catching the small but noticeable trail of red trickling down your shin.
“Are you bleeding?” His voice carried that signature mix of concern and urgency that only Pedro could make sound so endearing.
You glanced down, surprised to see the cut. “Oh.”
“Oh?” Pedro’s tone was incredulous as he practically leapt from his chair, already reaching for the towel draped over the back. “That’s all you have to say? Oh?”
“It’s just a scratch, Pedro,” you said with a small laugh, trying to wave him off. “I’m fine.”
But Pedro was having none of it. He crouched in front of you, his warm hands circling your calf to keep your leg still. The towel dabbed gently at the cut, his brow furrowed in concentration. “You’re not allowed to get hurt on my watch,” he muttered, more to himself than to you.
“It’s barely a paper cut,” you teased, watching the way his features softened even as he fussed over you.
“Doesn’t matter.” His voice was firm, though his touch remained impossibly gentle. “What if it gets infected? What if—”
You laughed, cutting him off. “Pedro, it’s not like I got bitten by a shark.”
He looked up at you, his expression a mixture of exasperation and adoration. “Don’t joke about that. I’d fight a shark for you, you know.”
The sincerity in his voice, paired with the completely ridiculous statement, made you laugh even harder. “Oh, I’m sure you would,” you said, brushing your fingers through his damp curls.
“Don’t test me,” he quipped, finally satisfied that the cut was clean. He reached for the small first-aid kit Franklin had insisted on bringing, pulling out a bandage. “Hold still.”
“Seriously?” you asked, your amusement growing.
“Seriously,” he said, shooting you a look that dared you to challenge him. He peeled the adhesive back and smoothed the bandage over your shin with a precision that would make a surgeon proud.
“There,” he said, sitting back on his heels and surveying his work with a nod. “Good as new.”
“You’re ridiculous,” you said, shaking your head but smiling all the same.
“And you’re reckless,” he shot back, standing up and pulling you into his arms. “I leave you alone for five minutes, and this is what happens.”
You leaned into him, your hands resting against his chest. “I think you’re overreacting. It’s a scratch, Pedro.”
“It’s your scratch,” he said, his voice softening. His fingers tilted your chin up, his eyes searching yours. “That means it matters to me.”
Your heart did a little flip at his words, and you couldn’t resist teasing him just a little. “You know how you’re like—”
“Absolutely embarrassingly in love with you?” he cut in, a smirk tugging at his lips.
You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face. “Yeah, that.”
Pedro leaned in, his forehead resting against yours. “I am, you know,” he said, his voice dropping to a tender murmur. “Completely, hopelessly, embarrassingly in love with you.”
Your teasing melted away as you cupped his face, brushing your thumbs over the scruff of his jaw. “Good. Because I’m absolutely embarrassingly in love with you too.”
His smile grew, and he kissed you softly, as if sealing a promise. When he pulled back, his eyes sparkled with mischief. “Now, no more rock fights, okay? You’ve got to take it easy on me.”
You laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I’ll do my best. But no promises if a shark shows up.”
Pedro groaned dramatically, lifting you off your feet as he carried you back to the lounge chairs. “If a shark shows up, I’ll negotiate with it. Tell it I’m already your protector and it can’t have the job.”
You giggled, nuzzling against his neck. “Sounds like a good plan. My hero.”
He set you down with exaggerated care, pressing one last kiss to your forehead. “Always,” he said simply.
And as the two of you sat there, the ocean stretching endlessly before you, you felt it again—that perfect, undeniable feeling of being home.
HOTEL ESENCIA, MEXICO — SUNSET
The sunset painted the sky in hues of orange, pink, and deep indigo, casting a magical glow over the beach. The group sat in a loose circle, their laughter and conversation mingling with the soft crash of the waves and the mellow strumming of a guitar Omar had picked up. The mood was serene, the kind of calm that felt like it could stretch forever.
Pedro sat behind you on the sand, his strong arms wrapped securely around your waist as you leaned back against his chest. His chin rested lightly on your shoulder, and you could feel the soft puff of his breath against your neck. His warmth enveloped you, a perfect contrast to the cool ocean breeze.
“You cold, cariño?” Pedro murmured, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.
“Not even a little,” you replied, turning your head to catch his eyes. They sparkled, reflecting the fiery colors of the horizon.
His fingers traced slow, idle circles against your stomach. “Good. Can’t have you shivering out here, not when I’ve got two perfectly good arms to keep you warm.”
“You’re too good at this,” you teased, smiling as you reached up to brush a strand of hair from his forehead.
“Good at what?” he asked, his tone playful, though his eyes held that familiar, unspoken intensity that always made your heart skip a beat.
“At making me feel like the luckiest person in the world,” you said softly.
Pedro’s lips curved into a slow smile, and he leaned down to press a tender kiss to your temple. “That’s funny,” he murmured, “because that’s exactly how I feel about you.”
The golden light of the sunset cast a halo around his face, and you couldn’t help but reach up, cupping his cheek as you brought his forehead to yours. “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of hearing you say things like that.”
“You’d better not,” he said, his voice warm and teasing, though there was an edge of vulnerability beneath it. “Because I’m not planning on stopping.”
“I’ll love you forever,” Pedro whispered, his lips ghosting against your ear as the first stars began to peek through the darkening sky.
You tilted your head back to meet his gaze fully, the world around you falling away. “You promise?”
He cupped your face in his hands, his thumb brushing tenderly over your cheek. “I promise,” he said, his voice steady and filled with so much certainty it made your chest ache in the best way.
His lips found yours in a kiss that was soft and lingering, filled with a sweetness that felt endless. When he pulled back, he pressed another kiss to your forehead before tucking you closer to him.
The night deepened, and the group eventually wandered back to the cozy beachfront hotel. Pedro’s hand never left yours as you made your way to your shared room, the two of you moving in quiet, comfortable synchronicity.
Inside, the room was dimly lit, the glow of a single bedside lamp casting a warm, intimate light over the space. The sound of the waves was faint through the open balcony doors, and the scent of salt air mingled with the faintly floral perfume you’d spritzed on earlier.
Pedro closed the door behind you and turned to face you, his expression soft but unmistakably intent. “You know,” he said, stepping closer, “I meant it. Every word I said out there.”
You tilted your head, giving him a playful look. “Even the part where you said you’d never get tired of me stealing the covers?”
“Especially that part,” he said with a grin, his hands finding your waist and pulling you flush against him. “Though I might need extra cuddles as compensation.”
You laughed softly, your hands sliding up his chest to rest on his shoulders. “I think that can be arranged.”
His grin faded, replaced by something deeper, more serious, as his eyes searched yours. “I love you,” he said, the words simple but carrying the weight of everything he felt. “So much that sometimes it scares me.”
You leaned up, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I love you too. And you don’t have to be scared, Pedro. You’ve got me.”
His lips claimed yours in a kiss that was slow and deliberate, his hands splaying across your back as he pulled you closer. The kiss deepened, his lips parting to taste yours, and you felt the warmth of him everywhere.
He backed you gently toward the bed, his movements unhurried, as if savoring every moment. The backs of your knees hit the edge, and you sank onto the soft mattress, pulling him down with you.
Pedro’s hands roamed, his touch reverent as his lips moved from your mouth to your jaw, then down the column of your neck. “Tell me if I’m going too fast,” he murmured against your skin, his voice low and husky.
“You’re perfect,” you whispered, threading your fingers through his hair and tugging lightly to bring his lips back to yours.
His breath hitched at your words, and you felt the weight of his love in every kiss, every touch. The world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you wrapped in each other, lost in a moment that felt infinite.
Pedro pulled back briefly, his forehead resting against yours as his fingers laced with yours. “You’re my everything,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.
“And you’re mine,” you replied, your heart full to bursting.
And as the night stretched on, the love between you grew even deeper, wrapping around you both like a warm, unbreakable cocoon.
#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal x f!reader#pedro pascal#pedro pascal x reader masterlist#pedro pascal fanfic#pedro pascal smut#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal x y/n#pedro pascal x you#pedro pascal x ofc#pedroispunk#pedropascaledit#pedro#joel miller x reader#marcus acacius x reader#pedro pascal x plus size reader#pedro pascal character fanfic#pedro pascal fandom#pedro pascal characters#pedrohub#pedro pascal fic#jose pedro balmaceda pascal
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니키 - Sneaking in - - — -> N.NK
Synopsis -> After a long day, Niki just wants cuddles from his girlfriend.
Pairing -> TiredBf!Niki x SleepyGf!FemReader.
Warning -> None!
*ೃ༄ click here - WC -> 0.8k
DESC - ✿︑︒⚬∙︓·⠄ This is my only account!! any other account that has my work! Please don't be afraid to P.M me and help take it down.. & All works under - #✶.enha
Niki held his breath as he slowly and quietly closed the window of your dorm room.
He closed the curtains so you wouldn't be bothered by the moonlight.
It's late, nearing two in the morning, and he knows after the day you had you've got to be in a deep sleep now.
He didn't want to wake you. At least, not yet.
So he tried to be as quiet and as careful as he possibly could.
But that was a little easier said than done as he walked through your room and had to be careful not to step or trip on anything you might have on the floor.
He soon began to tiptoe to your bed and finally, he reached it.
He breathed out a sigh of relief and then quietly took his shoes off before she crawled under the covers with you.
He wanted to get here much sooner than this but he's been busy since early this morning and just finished everything he had to do today an hour or so ago.
It felt like time had just dragged on today.
He was completely exhausted and felt very stressed.
His day was, honestly, terrible; one of the worst that's one of the reasons why he snuck in so late tonight.
Because until now, he didn't have the chance to see you and he needs cuddles from you more than he ever has before.
He curled up with you and put his arms around you to hold you tight.
But as he did so, his hand fell to your back, and your eyes flew open at the feeling.
At first, you had no idea that it was him.
The only thing you knew was it was late and dark and someone was in your bed.
You almost screamed but Niki felt you jump and was quick to shush you before you made a sound.
"Shh. Baby, it's just me."
"Nini?" You mumbled sleepily and turned over to face him. "What are you doing here? How did you get into my dorm room?"
"I snuck in through your window." He said.
"You climbed all the way up here?"
"Yeah." He answered as he tangled his legs with yours.
"I don't think you've ever done that before. Are you alright? Not that I'm complaining but it's after two am. Why are you here?"
"I had a very bad day." He sighed as you began to brush your fingertips across his skin. "It was just awful. One of the worst I've had in quite some time. I'm exhausted and I'm so stressed out and I just need some cuddles."
"Oh, niki," you cooed and curled up as close as you could, holding onto him tightly. "I'm so sorry to hear that. I know things have been hard for you lately. I'm more than happy to give you all the cuddles you want."
"Thank you." He spoke softly as he kissed your head.
"Do you want to talk about it? You can tell me anything you want to get off your chest. I'll listen to every word."
"I know you will, my love. But no. I'd rather just hold you. I want to try and forget about the entire day if I can and just hope that tomorrow is better."
"Baby, I'm sure it will be." You said as you played with his hair.
"You deserve the world. I have hope that tomorrow will be a much better day. You deserve it."
"Thank you." He said and for the first time all day, he cracked a real and genuine smile.
"Are you warm? Have some of my blanket." You said and covered him up with your blanket, letting her have as much of it as he wanted.
"The day is over, baby. You're okay now. You're here with me. I've got you."
Your words were so sweet and so comforting and they helped to make him feel so much better.
"You're the best thing that has ever happened to me." He softly spoke as he brushed his fingers across your back. "I don't know what I'd ever do without you. You're so sweet and I'm just so in love with you."
"Niki, I'm so in love with you. You don't ever have to wonder what you'd ever do without me because I'm not going anywhere. Not ever. I promise."
He closed his eyes and let out a long sigh.
Sometimes, those worries creep into his brain.
He just needs you to remind him that you're never leaving.
Because you know he isn't ever either.
"I know it was a bad day but you don't have to worry about a thing anymore. It's all over. It's just us now. I'll cuddle you until the sun comes up. I won't let go."
He smiled for a few seconds, until you put your lips on his and gave her a sweet kiss.
"Get some rest. I love you, angel."
"I love you more, sweet girl." He said and held you tighter as you put your head on his chest and closed your eyes, drifting off to sleep together.
©chxrry-lv
#✶.enha#enhypen#enha imagines#enha#enha x reader#enha fluff#enha smut#enha niki#enha riki#enha nishimura riki#enhypen x female reader#enhypen niki#enhypen riki#enhypen niki x reader#enhypen x fem reader#niki x reader#ni ki#niki x you#niki x y/n#nishimura riki#riki x reader#riki x you#riki x y/n#riki fluff#niki fluff
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A baby ?!
Summery: his departure always bugs you, and surprise, it was just your lil hormones messing with you.
Wc: 3.4k
Warnings: Fem!reader, sfw because we decided to be sweet, pregnancy, reader is pregnant, there are some suggestive comments but that's all. Happy ending because i love yall.
Part one and two if you missed it my loves.
Notes: welcome to part 3 which i believe is the last part. I am kindly asking not to ask for a part 4 because i have run out of ideas. If i ever decided to write for capitano again, it wouldn't be part of this series, it would be like headcanons instead, you could imagine the reader being the same, apologies for spelling errors and thank you. :)
Credits: the art of the left panel is by @/reaperpie
Fall was slowly approaching in Snezhnaya, and you had already expected it to be colder than the normal autumn. Which to your bad luck, it was not a suitable place for your picnic’s.
Your husband has continuesly rejected your date ideas, but you expected that anyway, you knew he couldn’t. He had duties to attend to, responsibilities to the Fatui, to the Tsaritsa, to the world. He couldn’t stay, as much as you—he wanted to.
It's not fair, You think while pouting as you stare outside the window with your chin resting on the palm of your hand, looking like a princess in need to be rescued from the tower. Your thumb toying with the diamond ring resting around your ring finger.
“Ugh, it's unfair baby.” You slump back on the bed, while your little fur baby only meowed at you in return, the orange cat jumping on the bed to make itself warm on your lap. “meow back if he doesn't love me.”
You're met with silence, only happy purrs reach your ears, and you grin, “obviously he loves me, obsessed even.” Your hand reaches to slowly pat the kitty.
“I miss him.” You sigh dreamily, deciding to stand up while carrying kitty with you so it doesn't feel left out. You make your way towards the desk in the corner, pulling the seat to take your place before pushing yourself closer to the desk.
You rest the kitten on your lap again—who quickly adjusts like nothing happened, looking as sleepy as ever.
You open the drawers to take an envelope, some wax, a stamp, a paper, and a quill.
Yeah, you're going to write him a letter, he said he didn't mind recieving even hundreds of letters from you.
How romantic.
“Dear, husband.” You start, dipping the quill in ink to brush it along the neat surface of the paper.
“i miss you.” you narrow your eyes at the empty page, saying that you miss him felt too boring.
“i utterly miss being next to you.” Hm, it lacks excitement.
“Please come back soon or i will run away.” Huh, you could already imagine the army's he would send to search for you.
“i want you inside—” okay, now you're being desperate.
You rest your arms on the desk, leaning your head on them while sighing.
—
“Do you know when will he return?” You politely ask one of the guards in front of the estate’s gate. Your hands together behind your back.
A leaf flew by in front of the guards with still no answer from them, and you narrow your eyes, wondering if they even heard you in the first place.
Finally, one of them shook their head and you only sigh in resignation, “thank you.” You mumble before heading your way back inside the estate.
It has been more than two weeks since he left, and he would sometimes send you neat letters to inform you about his well being, but the last letter you received was about a week ago, it was worrying you.
“My lady, are you okay?” Your personal maid, Marina, asked out of concern, watching you put an apron with a frown plastered on your face.
“Just hungry.” You take the glassy bowl, eggs, flour, butter, and sugar. Then you set them on the table. “I can help you.” Marina stands next to you, taking the butter to melt it.
“you want to make cookies, correct?” She asks, and you nod with a small smile. With the butter fully melted, you begin mixing in the sugar, beating the mixture until it becomes light and fluffy. The repetitive motion of stirring is almost meditative, and for a brief moment. “Baking is rather calming, i should've tried it before.”
Marina chuckled softly at your admission, a knowing smile on her face. "Yes, baking can be quite therapeutic," she stated, watching as you mixed the sugar and butter together. "I've found that working with your hands, especially when it involves creating something good to eat, is a great way to clear your mind," she continued, adding chocolate to the bowl.
You had both finished combining the ingredients, and the room was now filled with the warm, comforting fragrance of cookie dough. Marina stood beside you, watching as you shaped the dough into small balls and placed them on a baking tray. As you finished placing the last cookie onto the tray, you and Marina stood together, admiring the array of small, round cookies waiting to be baked in the oven.
The sounds of the gates opening is what catches your attention next, making you stand up from your chair to immediately abandon the kitchen and rush towards the entrance, your eyes searches him when you reach the front door, and surely enough, your husband has arrived.
He looked almost disheveled, tired, yet he still held a straight posture.
Capitano's weary eyes widened behind his helmet as you rushed into his arms, his body stiffening as if caught off guard by your sudden affection. But the tension in his form swiftly melted away as he wrapped his strong arms around you. His grip was tight, as he pulled you against his body. He was silent for a moment, his chin resting on the top of your head, his chest rising and falling with deep breaths as he held you.
“I…” you want to break the silence, you want to tell him how much you missed him. “I missed you.”
Capitano's grip intensified as your voice reached his ears, he was more than relieved to hear those words. To know that somone dear is waiting for him, someone as precious as you that he's willing to risk his life for.
He exhaled deeply, "I missed you too," he whispered, making sure the words only reached your ears. He pulled back slightly to look down at you, his gaze raking over you as if to confirm you were real and not a trick of his tired mind.
Capitano allowed you to lead him inside afterwards, his hand careful to be gentle when holding yours. The weariness in his body was evident as he stumbled a bit as you pulled him along. However, he matched your pace as best he could, following obediently as you guided him to your chambers.
Being greeted by the familiar room before him made his shoulders relax, the only place where he can be himself.
"How was is it? Being away from your wife for more than two weeks?" You ask while your hands started working on helping him out of the thick layers of his heavy, dirty clothing. Each layer you removed revealed more of his muscular, battle-worn physique, the scars and marks on his body a testament to the dangers he had faced.
He paused, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he noticed your pout. He reached out a calloused hand and gently tugged at your lip, "It was a long two weeks," he admitted gruffly. "I have missed you sorely.”
“I'm sure you did,” you hummed, walking towards the closest to grab a sweater for him. "Don't pout like that," he chided gently, "You're making me feel guilty.”
You try hiding your smile when you hand him his new warm clothes, your arms crossing next, “as you should.”
"I've missed that pout," his lowers his voice, "but I don't miss your little attitude.”
You shrug, “i don't know what you're talking about.” Capitano's gaze held yours unflinchingly, his eyes studying your expression. He knew you were baiting him, daring him to guess your reason for being upset.
"Let me see.." he started, his voice taking on a tone of mock contemplation. "Perhaps it's the fact that I was gone for more than two weeks and left you here all alone. That's a start, is it not?”
“maybe.”
"Or perhaps it's the fact that I didn't send you a letter everyday and left you wondering about whether I was alright or not. Hmm, that could be it, couldn't it?”
“Go on.” your raise your eyebrow while tapping your feet impatiently.
"Or maybe," he stepped closer, taking a few strands of your hair in between his fingers, "It's because I didn't come home and ravish you as soon as I returned, instead letting you pout and sulk and complain like a spoiled little thing.”
He could see right through you; the way you suddenly straightened your stance and tried to act nonchalant only confirmed his suspicions.
You gasp, ”whaaaat? Nonsense.”
"Is that so?" he drawled, his hands now taking your upper arms, his thumb thumbs rubbing circles around your skin "i will make it up to you, my wife.”
Despite his promise that you could do later, you wanted him to rest more than anything, so you make him sit down on the bed while you leave to get the cookies you baked together with Marina.
“You have to tell me your opinion.” you hand him one of the chocolate chip cookies. Capitano let the taste of the chocolate chips and the buttery cookie dough settle on his tongue for a moment. He swallowed, his gaze still fixed on you, before giving his verdict.
"They're good," he admitted, "Better than good, actually. Well done.”
Praise kink goes crazy huh? Your smile widens, and it makes you feel all giddy, as you took a bite of the cookies as well.
He leaned back against the plush bedding of the bed, his strong arms resting on his lap as he observed you. "You've been busy while I was away, hm?"
“Not really, more bored than busy.”
“… i am sorry. I do not mean to leave you alone.”
You scoot closer to him once you see how guilty he looks, you sit next to him, your head resting on his shoulder. “When do you have to leave again?”
Capitano's silence spoke volumes, pausing before answering, "My duties are unpredictable, and there's no telling when the Tsaritsa will call for me again. I cannot give you an exact timeline, and that is the reality of what I do. I am a warrior first, a husband second.”
Ouch, that's fine. Totally fine.
You knew what you were getting into when you married him, after all. Still, a part of you couldn't help but wish for more. The thought kind of makes you sick… quite literally.
“I think the cookies had too much sugar.” You put the dessert back on the plate before standing up from the bed. “Shall i go get you wate—”
“no, thank you. I can do it.”
—
You were rotting in bed. From the morning, and now it's afternoon. It makes you feel useless since you barely did anything.
Capitano left before you woke up, even though he promised to return later today.
You felt miserable, your body weak and your spirits low. It was a mixture of loneliness, hormones, and the unease bubbling in your stomach. Capitano's absence only made it worse, adding to the feeling of helplessness that had settled upon you.
You tossed and turned in the bed, the plush sheets tangling up around you as you tried to find a comfortable position. But no matter how much you shifted, the discomfort in your stomach remained, persistent and nagging.
“Make the pain go please, I'll take any disgusting medicine,” you tell Marina weakly as you look up at her while she sat on the wooden stool next to you.
"I can give you some ginger root. It might help soothe your stomach.” she offered gently, handing you the ginger root she prepared just for you.
“… i lied i can't take anything disgusting.”
Marina chuckled softly at your admission, "I thought so," she said, setting aside the ginger root. “Have you considered telling Lord Capitano?”
You shake your head, “not that he's here. It's not that important.” you cover half of your face with the blanket, “why though? Isn't it just a normal cold from the change of weather?”
It was clear that you were trying to downplay the severity of your symptoms, perhaps not wanting to worry anyone or admit that something might be seriously wrong.
"Dearest, it's not just a cold," she chided gently, "the symptoms you're describing are not typical of a mere cold.”
You frown, “is it not?”
She shook her head, her voice soft but serious. "No, it's not. The nausea, the fatigue, the changes in appetite...these are all common symptoms of something else." Shee paused for a moment, "my lady, have you considered the possibility that you might be... Pregnant?”
You immediately rise from the bed, sitting down with eyes wide to stare at her, "what? Pregnant?” you ask in shock.
"I shall ask for a healer right away, my lady.”
—
You stare outside the window at the dark skies, although your eyes fixated on the gates opening, indicating his arrival.
You almost flinch when he dashes inside your shared chambers, taking his helmet off but not bothering to take the rest off before he's gently grabbing you by your arms.
“where?” He asks urgently, “where are you injured? Who did it? Do not hesitate to tell me.” He says in a dangerously sharp tone, his eyes searching for even a single scratch on your body.
“what… are you talking about?” You raise an eyebrow, and your unbothered state made him confused. “the healers were here, yet you're not injured?” he blinked before sighing, his hands caressing your arms instead, “then why? Are you sick?”
“Sick… no not sick.” You tell him, your hands ever so gentle taking a hold of his face, “… but pregnant. I'm pregnant.”
You both stare at eachother, both of you holding your breaths. You have never seen him so distracted, like he didn't hear you the first time.
Does he hate it? You never thought of the possibility.
“Capit—” before you could continue, he's down in one knee and you're bewildered, unsure of what to do.
“you're carrying our child.” he utters out so softly that you think you might tear up—and you really are in the verge of tears. He takes your hand, he's held your hand many times, but this time it feels different, he holds you like you're glass, he's so careful with it.
“I swear to protect you both, and put you both first. Should anyone hurt you, i will not hesitate to draw my sword, if i ever hurt you��� then you should not hesitate to draw your sword on me.” his words hung in the air like a sacred vow.
You tried to speak, to respond, but only a soft gasp escaped your lips. Tears welled in your eyes, and you could only stare at him, utterly overwhelmed.
Capitano's gaze softened even more as he saw the tears falling down your face. He rose to his feet in one fluid motion, his hand still holding yours in a gentle but firm grip, he reached out with the other hand, his large palm cupping your cheek to brush your tears away. “Don't cry, I'm here.”
His embrace, so warm, so protective around you that it eases every single thought in your head.
Everything is going to be okay. With him, it will.
—
Months passed in a blur of morning sickness, cravings, and blossoming excitement for the new life growing inside you. Capitano, as promised, was by your side through it all and he went away for more than a week.
He attended to your every need, from getting up in the middle of the night to find the most ridiculous late-night snack, to comforting you on days when you felt overwhelmed by the changes happening to your body.
You rest back against the bed’s headboard while tracing random shapes on the skin of your swollen belly, a hum of some sort of song followed after. You stop once you hear the sound of slow footsteps, catching your husband freeze.
“I'm sorry, i didn't mean to stalk you like that—”
“you're so silly. Come here, honey.” You pat on your empty side with a smile, inviting him to share this moment you.
Capitano took his place next to you then continued watching as you gently caressed your belly, tracing over the stretch marks with your fingers.
“They're beautiful, you know.” he speaks first, as if sensing what you were about to say. “Beautiful?” You repeat. He lifted your hand to his lips, gently pressing a kiss on your knuckles before he replied, his voice a soft murmur. "Yes, beautiful. They're a sign of life growing within you. A sign of strength. Of creation. That's beautiful.” he continues his trail of kisses to your arm up to your shoulder, “I want to kiss every inch of you, stretch mark or not.”
You've come so far with him that it feels surreal, it feels right, “i love you.” You whisper to him, turning your attention to him again. “I love you.” he doesn't hesitate to say it back, the declaration coming out of his tongue smoothly like it was meant to be.
His hand then moved to your growing bump, "and I love this," he added. “This?” You giggle.
"Mhm," Capitano confirmed, his hand now rubbing your belly in slow, soothing circles. "This. Our baby." His eyes flickered up to yours, "We created this," he continued, his voice with pride and awe. "Our love made this.”
Love.
—
Were toddlers always this fast? Because one second he keeps an eye on her then the next he looks around before she's gone right from infront of him.
He was supposed to play tea party, but a little butterfly flying creature must've caught her attention.
Capitano, despite his size and strength, found himself struggling to keep up with your energetic three-year-old daughter.
He chuckled as he chased her around the garden, his large frame a stark contrast to her small, fleeting form. As she ran past you, you couldn't help but burst into laughter at the sight of your husband's face, "almost got her," he panted out, his hand on his knee as he attempted to catch his breath.
“You got this old man!” You decide to tease him from behind, laughing endlessly from the sight. Though he shot you a mock glare through his labored breaths, “old man, huh?" he grumbled, straightening up and crossing his arms over his chest. "You think I'm old now, do you?" he continued, raising an eyebrow playfully. "I'll show you 'old,' darling." With that, he took a step further to sweep you off your feet, carrying you effortlessly in his arms, and your smile only widens.
“Me!” Your little girl raises both of her arms at her father, and he kneels down to carry her in his other arm. Now carrying you both in each arm.
“Oh, how strong.” You tease, poking at his bicep and he shakes his head almost shyly, “papa, butterfly.” Your daughter proceeds to show you both the butterfly she caught, the little creature doesn't seem scared of her as it rests on her tiny fingers.
“Looks pretty,” Capitano smiled, his expression amused as your daughter leaned toward the butterfly, attempting to kiss it. "Careful now," he warned gently. "Don't scare it away." He watched as the butterfly fluttered its delicate wings at her attempt and she giggles.
"You have to be gentle," he told her, his voice soft. "Just like how you handle the kittens.”
She gasps, suddenly remembering the cat that's half asleep on the grass with the three of you. “Kitty!” She shouts at the cat, jumping off Capitano’s arm so suddenly that it makes him gasp, worried that she might’ve injured herself.
“she's fine.” You pat your husband's chest and just like that, he's relaxed again. “i think our cat is tired of her sometimes.” You get down as well, watching how your daughter carried the lazy cat in her arms to run in circles with her. The cat that grew within these years, from a mere kitten to a big cat now.
"I think we should just be glad the cat hasn't hissed at her or swatted her yet," he sighed, and you hum in reply, “i don't think it ever will. That cat has been clinging to my belly ever since i was pregnant. Kept me warm i must admit.”
You grin when your daughter runs back to both of you, carrying the cat in the air, it's eyes almost closed, unbothered, "meow."
Tags: @duchessofherself @itsjustnikkixoxo @erasme143 @yvesswoo @mooshbb @bigboygoose
#il capitano x reader#capitano#capitano x reader#il capitano#genshin impact#genshin impact capitano#genshin impact x reader#genshin#capitano x you#il capitano x you#fatui harbingers#fatui harbingers x reader#genshin impact fatui#genshin impact fluff#capitano genshin impact
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The Promise (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)
A/N: Short and sweet...or rather...incredibly spicy. Here's the *Logan catches you...touching yourself* fic. Couldn't think of a song until the end of writing this one. Went with "The Promise" by When in Rome. Also, if I'm messing up with the tag list I am so sorry. Anyway, ENJOY!
Summary: You want to relax after a long day, so you decide to let off some steam alone in your room. But, you're not as alone as you think. Logan can hear you loud and clear...and he's happy to help.
Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI!!!! SMUT!!! Masturbation (f!), oral (f!receiving), fingering, Unprotected PIV (wrap it up!), porn with NO PLOT, softdom!Logan, cocky!Logan, Logan is def not respecting personal space here, friends to lovers, feelings, afab!reader/fem!reader, cursing, prob some grammatical errors, I think that's it.
Word Count: 2,588 this is the dirtiest thing I've ever written
Finally. You’re in your room. Alone. Today had been exhausting. It was drill after drill, class after class, until your eyes stung and your muscles were beyond sore. But now, all there is to worry about is the mattress at your back and the blankets you’ve pulled up to your chin…
…Save for that itch, that ache growing between your legs. You had been able to ignore it before, when Logan had you pinned to the wall during one of your drills in the danger room. He caged you in, arms above your head. Gotcha, princess, he whispered, and walked away. You tried to brush off the way your heart fluttered in your chest, tried to shove down the ache that was building in your belly. Logan was your friend—nothing more.
But now that you’re finally alone, it’s too much. You let your hand trail down your body, pushing past the waistband of your shorts and inside your panties. You close your eyes and think of Logan as your fingertips brush your clit. You picture him standing at the edge of your bed, climbing on top of you.
“F-fuck,” you stutter, working your clit, drawing tight circles, imagining it’s Logan’s hand instead—exploring your folds, spreading your slick, dipping his fingers into your entrance. You whisper his name as you think of him crawling down your body and settling in between your thighs, burying his face into your cunt.
You imagine what his tongue feels like, lapping at you, flicking your clit. “Logan,” you moan, louder this time, thinking no one can hear you.
Logan walks down the hall. He can hear your voice, soft and small through the slight crack in your door. You must’ve forgotten to close it all the way. It almost sounds like you’re singing, and his heart squeezes in his chest at the thought.
But then he hears his name.
“Logan.” It’s a whisper, a faint call. He thinks maybe you can hear him down the hall—that maybe you need help, maybe something’s wrong. He steps towards your room, furrowing his brows as he listens carefully, using his heightened senses.
“Logan,” you moan again. And he hears it all this time—hears your breathy whines, your legs pushing against the mattress. And fuck, he can smell you. Wet. Aching. His cock hardens at the thought of you getting off to him, his erection straining against his jeans. He walks closer to your door, his steps tentative and quiet.
Your door is almost closed—the latch just touching the frame. The light from your room casts a thin line across the darkened hallway. It’s warm and glowy, and Logan can feel it pulling him in—can feel it begging him to push the door open and head inside. He holds himself back, resigning himself to listening to your soft murmurs and drunken mumbles.
But then you’re calling his name again.
“Logan,” you whimper, your circles quickening, your walls fluttering around nothing. You imagine him fucking into you, spreading you out and stretching you open. You wish he’d come in here and touch you, take you, make you feel good.
Logan’s cock throbs, his jeans suddenly far too tight. He can tell you’re getting closer, your breathing becoming short and frantic. He knows he shouldn’t, but he pushes the door open just a touch more. You’re in the center of the bed, eyes shut tight, head thrown back, hand underneath the blanket and stuffed inside your panties.
“N-need you,” you stutter. You need him to really touch you—need to feel his body against yours. Need to—
You suddenly hear your door shut, and your eyes fly open.
Logan is at the edge of your bed, his hands pressing into the mattress, white-knuckling the sheets as he looks up at you under half-lidded eyes.
“How long were you—” “I heard everything, pretty girl,” Logan growls, his shoulders tight, his brows furrowed. He’s holding back, restraining himself. “Heard you calling my name.” “I-I…” You trail off, heat spreading across your chest. You don’t know what to say, or how to get yourself out of this.
“You what, princess?” Logan teases, climbing onto the mattress. “You want me that bad?” He slowly pulls the covers down, revealing your bare thighs. “Want me so bad you’re thinking about me when you touch yourself? Saying my name even when I’m not around?”
He tugs the blanket down farther, your legs on full display for him. “Logan,” you choke, catching your breath. “I didn’t mean to—”
But he’s crawling up your body, grabbing your legs, and tugging you down the mattress. “Don’t worry, darlin’,” he soothes, his big hands pushing apart your legs, his palms splaying on the inside of your thighs. “I want you too.” His hands trail up to the waistband of your shorts, his fingers hooking inside. “You want me to take care of you?”
You swallow harshly. “Y-yes,” you stammer. “Please.”
He strips your shorts and panties from your legs, casting them to the floor. “What were you thinking about when you were touching yourself, hm?” He asks, settling in between your thighs. He brings an arm up and over your hips, gluing your lower half to the mattress.
“You,” you mumble.
Logan cocks his head to the side and smirks. “I know that pretty girl,” he husks, his free hand sliding towards your core. “But what were you thinking about?” His thumb finally finds your clit and strokes lightly.
“Th-that,” you moan as he draws tight circles around the bud.
“Just this?” He asks teasingly, holding you down as you squirm involuntarily underneath him.
“More…” You trail off, your eyes fluttering closed as Logan’s circles become faster.
“Eyes on me, pretty girl,” Logan demands, his touch slipping away. Your eyes flutter back open, and Logan’s thumb finds your clit again. “Now tell me what you want.”
You swallow harshly, waves of pleasure rippling through your body. You need more, and you’ll take anything he’s willing to give you. “W-want your tongue,” you finally choke out.
“Yeah?” Logan teases, bringing his face down to your heat. “This what you wanted?” He licks a long stripe through your folds and up to your clit. “That feel good?” He’s lapping at you, his tongue dragging through your slit, flicking your bud and drawing tight circles.
“Yes,” you pant, struggling to keep your eyes open. His face is buried inside your cunt, eating you out like a starved man. The sight is unseemly: his disheveled hair, the way he’s swallowing you whole. “Feels so good, Logan.”
He smirks against you. “Such a good pussy,” he mutters, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking. “Tastes so fucking good.” His fingers trail up your inner thigh, climbing higher, finding your folds.
“Please,” you beg, his gaze meeting yours.
“Please what, princess?” He asks, looking deeply into your eyes as he sucks on your clit again, rougher this time. Your eyes flutter shut. “Thought I told you to keep those pretty eyes open,” he commands, and you listen.
“W-want your fingers,” you moan, forcing your eyes to stay open as Logan mercilessly flicks your clit with his tongue.
And then he’s thrusting two long fingers deep inside you. You curse under your breath as he stretches you out. “So wet,” Logan growls against your core, pulling out only to shove his fingers back in—somehow deeper this time. “So beautiful like this, always so beautiful.”
Your walls flutter around him, his words weakening your resolve. He pumps in and out of you, his fingers scissoring deep inside. He takes your clit back between his lips and sucks long and hard, his teeth grazing your bud as he latches on and lets go. It’s overwhelming—the way he fucks into you, the way he laps at you, his eyes never leaving yours.
“Lo,” you whine, clenching down on his fingers as he sinks deeper inside you. His pumps become faster, his fingers shoving in and out again and again.
“That’s it, pretty girl,” he soothes, the flick of his tongue goading you along. “Could smell how much you needed me from the hallway,” he says between laps. “Know you’re getting close for me, sweetheart.”
“Fuck, Logan,” you whimper, his words driving you closer to the edge. It’s all too much. Him, suddenly being here, with you. Devouring you. Wanting you. Needing you. Yes, that’s it. Need. His face buried between your legs; his nose pressed just above your clit. His fingers dragging along your walls. He’s consuming you. Dying to be inside you—to be as close as he can possibly get.
“That’s it, darlin’. Let go.”
And then you’re coming undone, pleasure wracking through your body, fire lighting down your spine. Everything is dizzying and warm, white-hot heat flooding your vision, stars dancing before your eyes.
“Fuck,” Logan grunts against you, lapping up your juices. “So fucking good. Did so good for me.” His fingers slow inside you and gently pull out, but his tongue is still working at you. He pushes through your folds, savoring the taste of you.
“Lo,” you groan, squirming underneath him. “Need you now.”
“You have me,” he mutters against you, the vibrations of his voice wracking your already overstimulated clit.
“But…” you trail off, the tension building back up between your legs. “N-need you. Please.”
He licks one more long stripe through your folds and looks up at you. “Say it,” he demands, your release glistening on his chin. “Tell me exactly what you need.” He climbs up your body. “Go on,” he teases, hiking your shirt up your stomach, pushing it over your tits. He smirks when he sees that you have no bra on—your breasts bare before him. His hands trail up to your chest, massaging gently, pinching your nipples.
You curse under your breath, instinctually spreading your legs. “Need you to fuck me,” you whisper, and Logan grins.
His touch disappears from your body, his hands finding the hem of his beater as he sits back on his knees. He tugs his shirt up and over his head, throwing it to the floor. He’s perfect, his muscles flexing and contracting as he moves. “Need my cock, pretty girl?” He chides, working at his belt next, tossing it to the side.
“Yes,” you pant, watching as he undoes his button and his zipper, yanking his jeans and boxers down his legs. His erection springs free, and he’s so much bigger than you had anticipated. You bite your lips nervously at the sight.
Logan lowers himself down over you, balancing on his forearm as his free hand comes down to stroke your hip comfortingly. “Gonna take care of you, sweetheart,” Logan soothes, pressing his forehead to yours. His hand leaves your hip and wraps around the base of his cock, guiding himself to your entrance.
You shiver as his tip slides through your folds. He’s so close, his breath fanning across your face. He teases your slit, spreading your slick, nudging against your clit, and slides back down to your entrance.
His lips finally find yours, swallowing your moans as he shoves himself deep inside you, down to the hilt with one thrust. “Fuck,” he grunts, his hand slipping between your bodies to find your clit. “Tight little pussy.” He slides out and plunges back in, drawing circles around your bud. “So fucking warm, so perfect,” he whispers against your lips, pressing another kiss as he sets his pace.
He starts out slow, his hips rhythmically rocking against yours. He’s filling you up, splitting you open with every pump. You curse under your breath as his cock drags along your walls. “Feels so good, Lo,” you moan.
His thumb strokes your clit as he fucks into you, faster now. He’s hitting that sweet spot deep inside with every thrust. “Is this what you were thinking about when you were getting yourself off, pretty girl?” Logan grunts, slamming into you. “Thinking about me fucking you just like this?”
“Yes,” you cry out, your muscles contracting around him. “Always thinking about you.”
Logan smiles against your lips, his eyes dark with lust as he pumps in and out. “Bet you wanted me to hear you,” he huffs, his thumb pressing harder against your clit, his circles becoming rapid and frantic. “Bet you left that door open on purpose.”
You whine a yes as he pounds into you, his lips trailing down your jaw to your neck, biting your pulse point and kissing away the sting his teeth leave behind. You can feel yourself getting closer, already fucked out beyond all thought. All you can think about is Logan and the way he’s stuffing himself inside you, pushing deeper and deeper.
“Needed you too, beautiful,” Logan whispers at the shell of your ear, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing against the walls of your room. “Needed you this whole time.”
You wrap your legs around his waist, giving him more leverage to sink deeper inside you. Your arms find purchase around his back, your nails digging into his bare skin. Logan pinches your clit roughly in between his tight, rapid circles, and you moan his name.
“I know, darlin’,” he soothes, his hips bucking, his cock twitching inside you. “Can feel you squeezing me, know you’re already close.”
“Just feels so good,” you moan as he drills into you relentlessly. “Don’t want you to stop.”
Logan chuckles darkly, flicking your clit. “Don’t think I can, pretty girl.” He twitches inside you again, and you know he’s close too. He throbs against your walls, pulling out and thrusting all the way back in.
“Such a good fucking girl,” he praises. He’s still stretching you out with every pump, splitting you open. “Wanna feel you come on my cock, sweetheart. Can you do that for me?”
“Y-yes,” you stutter, your walls fluttering around him. You can feel yourself slipping, letting go as he slams into you.
“That’s it, I’ve got you,” he coos, circling your clit. “Come on my cock, just like that.”
Logan thrusts into you again, bottoming out, and the tension snaps. Everything is bliss and searing pleasure. Hazy and blurred. It’s all too much, your eyes welling up as your orgasm rips through you. You blink back your tears. Logan kisses your forehead, his pace faltering as you come undone around him.
“Wanted you this whole time,” he groans, his hips stuttering. “So fucking beautiful,” he husks. “So perfect.” You pull him closer as he comes inside you, filling you up and painting your walls. Logan moans your name, looking deep into your eyes as he finishes.
His hips stall inside you, his thumb stroking your clit gently, riding out your orgasms, letting you down easy from your high.
He notices the single tear sliding down your cheek and brings his hand up from your clit to wipe it away. “You okay?” He asks, concern painted across his face. He presses a chaste kiss to your forehead, his arm wrapping around your back to pull you into his chest.
“Yeah,” you whisper, your eyes fluttering closed. “M’perfect,” you mumble, burying your face into the center of Logan’s chest. He rolls you onto your side, tugging you closer, his cock still half-hard inside you. “Can you stay with me?” You ask, your voice small and quiet, nervous that he might say no.
“Not going anywhere, pretty girl,” Logan reassures, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “I promise.”
tags: @thatonegirlwiththebeanie367 @xlocalxpunkx @cervvsq @white-wolf-buckaroo @just-a-nightdreamer @wildfloweroutlaw @starfleetteddybear @prettyseaveins @silversprings-mp3 @spiderset @figsnpassionfruits @wittyjasontodd @ilysmdovie12 @theasiaabattoir @movhoney @fanfic-writing-barbie @manipulatour @pedrohoe04 @derbygracie @honeyfewr @cosmiccandydreamer
#Logan Howlett x reader#Wolverine x reader#James Logan Howlett x reader#Logan Howlett smut#Wolverine smut#Logan Howlett x reader smut#Wolverine x reader smut#James Logan Howlett x reader smut#James Logan Howlett smut#Logan Howlett x you#Wolverine x you#James Logan Howlett x you#Logan Howlett x you smut#Wolverine x you smut#James Logan Howlett x you smut#Logan Howlett imagine#Wolverine imagine#James Logan Howlett imagine
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Hi Dove!!! Can I request headcanons of Vil with a reader who decided not to act on their feelings for him (he found out some other way) because they were worried he would brush off their confession as a shallow celebrity crush?
hehe I love a little drama
*ੈ✩‧₊˚ starstruck
type of post: short fic characters: vil additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, not proofread
Vil had seen that look on your face from the moment your eyes met.
It was flattering. Knowing that he was an ethereal beauty in this world and yours was a compliment you hadn't even known you'd given him.
You were special. In your own right, and to him. You weren't like the others, whose love of him began and ended with his fame. You were his friend. Your love held weight.
Perhaps he had teased you about being starstruck one too many times...
"...I see," he says, fingers curling around the thin piece of notebook paper, as if it was trying to get away from him.
Vil had never looked so... so...
...His look was intense, the corners of his eyes crinkled in thought, his other hand covering the scowl on his perfect lips.
It's your handwriting. There's no doubt about that. For the first time in what feels like an eternity, he tears his eyes away from the paper.
"Why did you bring me this?"
Silver looks almost... uncomfortable, out of place, standing in the Pomefiore lounge.
"I... just thought..." he mutters. "...I just thought I was helping."
You are, Vil thinks. More than you know.
"You are dismissed. Send my regards to Malleus. And tell him he has a fine underclassman on his hands,"
Silver's eyes widen, but he doesn't ask about the unexpected praise. He leaves Vil alone with the note, the note in your handwriting. The confession.
How stupid of you, he thinks. How could you think that he wouldn't feel the same...?
The note feels heavier than it should, your words leadened on the delicate paper.
I know you won't reciprocate, it says, I don't expect you to, but I don't want you to think that this is just some celebrity crush...
The rest of the confession is scribbled out, either from frustration, or embarrassment, or...
And it was left in a bin by the stables, where Sebek found it, who gave it to Silver, who gave it to Vil.
Who, now, can't seem to let it go.
.
Vil can't confront you about it like some... boy.
You need delicacy. You need assurance. He's not going to force the confession out of your throat. He doesn't need to.
This isn't about him. Or his ego.
"I'm happy you could find the time to see me. It's been ages since we've gotten together," he says, smoothing the face mask over your cheeks.
"You said you had something important to tell me,"
You speak rather bluntly. He chuckles. He can't tell if that's your nerves, or eagerness, or curiosity. But it's cute.
"I did," he says, and nothing more.
You blink. "...Did something happen?"
Yes, he thinks. "No,"
"...Are you going to tell me?"
"I am. Patience," he says, adding the final touches on your personalized face mask. A formula he made himself.
"Don't talk, or you'll crack it. Five minutes."
You nod, and once he's sure the mask has set, ensuring he'll talk without interruption, he begins.
"I first want you to know that there is nothing you could do that I would resent you for,"
You look like you want to say something, and he tsks, reminding you of the mask.
"...It's true that you annoy me, sometimes, but you should know by now that I find that quite endearing. We've become quite close. Closer than I would have thought. And I could never see you as nothing but a fan. You know you're more than that to me,"
You almost open your mouth, and he holds a finger to your lips with a gentle smile.
"And I have a feeling that I am more to you than a celebrity," he says. "Perhaps even more than a friend."
Finally, you're speechless. His features soften.
"And perhaps I think the same of you... but all I will say, for now, is that if there were anything you wanted to say... well, I've always got a spot open in my schedule for you. Understood?"
After a long moment of silence and staring, you nod. Vil smiles back.
"Good. Time's up. And then it'll be your turn to talk, and mine to listen,"
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.⋆。🍓࿔˚what their kisses taste like...⊹ ࣪˖🍰˚⊹♡ w/ wind breaker boys
✿ featuring: ren kaji, haruka sakura, hajime umemiya, hayato suo, jo togame, mitsuki kiryu ✿ contains: fluffy fluff fluff, looots of kissing, descriptions of the way they taste ✿ a/n: i honestly think they would all taste really good (•ᴗ<˶)✧₊ ⊹ that's it, that's the post i guess! happy reading, cuties! ♥︎ ✿ wc: 1.5k
ʚɞ kaji -
kaji asked you to hold his lollipop for him, entrusting you with his half-eaten candy in your hands while he went to buy a drink from the vending machine.
you pop the sweet sucker into your mouth, an unconscious habit. ever since you two got together you've always shared everything with kaji, so sharing his lollipop should be no exception, right?
"that's mine." his eyes are now fixated on your mouth, where his lollipop stick hangs out of, and he can't help but think about how it's just been in his mouth about ten seconds ago, and he wondered if you could taste him on it too.
"i'll buy you some more tomorrow." you told him, with no intention of giving back his lollipop at all.
"it's okay. i don't mind sharing with you." kaji takes out the lollipop from your mouth and gives you a taste of his own lips instead, pressing it against yours fervently.
oh, so that's what he meant by sharing.
notes of peach faintly made its way onto your lips, and transferring over to his as well. "this is mine, too." he declares, once again staking his claim on your mouth, which tasted just as sweet as the lollipop he just had, maybe even sweeter.
kissing you left such a nice taste, fueling kaji's desire for more, so much so that it made him contemplate about the thought of replacing his lollipops with your lips instead.
ʚɞ sakura -
sakura is still so, so blushy around you, even though you two have spent multiple nights together, his face still flushes scarlet whenever you did your nightly self-care routine, your shoulder touching his while he was brushing his teeth over the sink. he finished up and rinsed off, while you waited for him with a huge, proud smile on your face.
"good job, baby!" you peck his lips, obsessed with the way he adorably heats up every time you praise him, this time it was for not forgetting to brush before bedtime.
"wh-what are you doing!?" he jumps up after he felt your lips on his, which tasted of spearmint from the toothpaste he had just used.
"giving you your goodnight kiss!" you replied, with a matter-of-factly tone.
the next night, sakura brushed his teeth again in your shared bathroom while you hovered over the sink, your cleanser in hand. after rinsing his mouth, he just stood there expectantly, as if waiting for you to do something.
he stared at you with a blush sprawled across his face. "y-you're forgetting something!" he blurted out. you shot him a puzzled look. "am i?"
sakura's eyes darted down to your lips, giving you a hint of just what he needed from you. "oh, your goodnight kiss? if you liked it so much, you should have said so!" you giggled, smooching sakura's lips like there's no tomorrow.
ʚɞ suo -
to say that suo is playful would be an understatement. underneath that sweet, smiling face, lies beneath a naughty guy who has an obsession with the way you taste.
"you have a little teacake at the corner of your mouth." suo, feigning concern, points to the space beside your lips.
"where?" you ask as you try to search for it with your fingertips, to no avail. your eyes brought itself back to suo's scarlet ones, now inches away from your face.
his lips captures yours in an unexpected kiss, and suo's tongue darts out to lick off the little crumb of teacake at the corner of your mouth. "there, all gone!" he hums happily, a grin on his face, drinking his tea as if his mouth was not latched on to yours just two seconds ago.
now you know why you barely ever get to see suo eat, it's because he'll only eat if it tastes like you.
ʚɞ umemiya -
you were supposed to wake umemiya up from his nap on the hammock five minutes ago, but how could you?
his eyes were fluttered shut, hair down and relaxed, umemiya's chest heaving softly, looking like he was so at peace. you hoped he had been dreaming about you, which he probably was, judging from the way a content smile made its way across his lips.
you just couldn't help yourself as you angled down and gave him a quick little kiss. you giggled to yourself as you caught the aroma of fresh herbs from kissing him, he was probably picking and sampling them and decided to take a little nap afterwards.
umemiya's eyes slowly opened to the sight of you, him immediately wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into the hammock with him. "i didn't even feel that, can you give me one more? pleeeease?" he pleaded, nuzzling his head on your shoulder.
you complied, giving him another kiss, and he went to deepen it by pulling you even closer. "can you wake me up like this all the time?" umemiya could definitely see himself quickly becoming addicted to your kisses.
you sighed and giggled, tightly embracing him. how could you ever say no to this man?
ʚɞ togame -
togame was definitely tall, no doubt about it. of course it has its perks and advantages too, like he can reach things for you really easily, he gave the greatest piggyback rides, he was your human furnace during cold nights, and the likes.
but one thing his height got in the way of was kissing. particularly whenever you wanted to kiss him.
you tugged on togame's robe in a futile attempt to pull him down closer to you. a "hmm?" escaping togame's lips, as a little smile made its way across. he continued drinking his ramune while his eyes made its way to your form.
"you're too tall, jo." you sighed. even on your tiptoes, you failed to bring his face down to your level so you could kiss him.
"that so?" he let out a slight chuckle. togame eventually lends you a little help as he leans down until his face was directly in front of yours.
"you could've kissed me if you tried just a little harder, angel." he caresses your cheek, lightly teasing you, his lips capturing yours in a long, slow and passionate kiss.
"i wanted to kiss you properly." a pout present on your lips. togame loved your cute little pout, it made him want to kiss you more and more.
"don't worry, we can do it again and again until you are satisfied."
jo togame was insatiable for you, loving the way you taste, always hungry for more.
ʚɞ kiryu -
you have been crushing on kiryu for quite a while now, him being 'totally your type', as you talked about him on and on to your friends, them eagerly listening to you gushing about kiryu's pretty pink hair, soft gentle eyes, beautiful piercings, cat-like smile and not to mention his silly hotdog phone case.
your friends told you to just go for it, be bold and just ask him if he was dating someone already so that you could cease daydreaming about him occupying your thoughts all day and night, preventing you from getting a proper good night's sleep.
"kiryu, is there a girl you like?" you nervously ask him.
"there is, actually." he replies. "would you like to see her? i can show you."
oh. so he had someone he liked already.
the way he smiled as he gave you a direct answer made you want to bury yourself in the ground and never come out.
"y-yeah, sure! i want to see. is she pretty?" you tried to hide the discouraged tone in your voice, thinking about how kiryu's thoughts are probably filled to the brim with his crush, like what you had with him.
"she is! super pretty! this is her." he picks up his phone and flashes the screen in front of you. half of you did not want to see the object of kiryu's desires, but you were curious and the urge to peek won over you.
on his phone was a picture of none other than you.
it was a zoomed in photo of you, smiling and laughing while you talked with your friends, and it seemed to be taken after you had just waved "hi" to kiryu. it took a while for you to comprehend that what he meant was that the girl he liked all this time was actually you.
"she likes you too, kiryu." your cheeks were tinged as pink as his hair, and as pink as kiryu's kissable lips.
speaking of kiryu's kissable lips, they were making their way onto yours now, brushing against yours, as you felt the cold metal of his labret piercing touch the bottom of your lip. his lips were so soft and warm in contrast to his piercing.
"i've wanted to do that for a long time now." the corners of his mouth turning upwards in a sweet smile. little did kiryu know, you wanted his strawberry chapstick flavored kisses just as much, and maybe even longer.
© kajibunny 2024 / all rights reserved
#wind breaker x reader#wind breaker#kaji ren x reader#kaji x reader#kaji#sakura haruka x reader#sakura x reader#windbreaker x reader#umemiya x reader#hayato suo x reader#suo x reader#togame jo x reader#togame#togame x reader#mitsuki kiryu x reader#kiryu x reader#windbreaker headcanons#kiryu#umemiya hajime x reader#wind breaker hcs#wb x reader#wind breaker x you#wind breaker scenarios#wind breaker fluff#wind breaker x y/n#wind breaker (satoru nii)#bofurin x reader#shishitoren x reader#wind breaker various x reader
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Lavender
A date that unfortunately doesn't go as planned. (autistic!reader - angst -> fluff)
Reverie series here as always! A verrrry real experience depicted in this one, with some amazing help from @pickledwoso that i am very grateful for, thank youuu <3
“Engel, are you ready to leave?” Alexia sang as she headed out of the bedroom towards where you were at the door rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet, waiting for her.
“Yes, you fool, I've been ready for the past half hour.” You rolled your eyes at her teasingly, laughing when she lightly pawed at your side where she knew you were ticklish. “Come on! You're taking all day.”
“Ay, it is our day-off, I can take my time for once. No rushing, just calm, and me and you.” She gave an alluring smile, sliding her hand down your arm until she intertwined your fingers, then leaned forwards to kiss your forehead. “Are you excited?”
“Very. I love when we do this.” You told her with a squeeze of her hand. The girl grinned, her eyes brimming with excitement and complete happiness seeping from her pores, like the prospect of visiting a farmer's market with her girlfriend was as exciting as a third Ballon d’Or.
“Me too.” She gently knocked your chin up and pecked your lips before brushing back a strand of hair behind your ear. “Now, are we ready, mi vida?”
“For the love of god, yes!”
Any time the club issued some days-off, one of the things highest on the list for yourself and Alexia was visiting the local farmer’s market. You’d buy the best of the best fresh organic products and cook together a dish of food that, combined with the quality time you'd spend with each other, would make for a night-in together that was so much better than going out somewhere.
These days had become somewhat of a tradition, and with it being the penultimate day of the short summer break after the tournament Alexia had gone to, it was absolute perfection. The last day had no plans apart from relaxing and spending time together before the season started again. You couldn't think of a better way to spend the last bit of time off than a date to a familiar, easy place with Alexia that was sure to give way for a fun afternoon and evening.
With it being the height of summer, Barcelona was especially warm, which was perhaps the first warning sign of the day.
“Ale, you really need to get your car in the garage, your AC sucks.” You groaned, the vents on full blast yet hardly doing a thing to cool you down against the 35 degree air outside. Your window was open and your head rested against the door dramatically, Alexia couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight even if she did feel a little bad about it.
“It’s got a service next week, they will fix it then. Sorry.” She winced, hardly breaking a sweat in the weather she was more than acclimated to whilst you seemed to be struggling before the pair of you had even left the car.
You shrugged her off because it's not exactly her fault her car's AC has been faulty since the spring, and focused all your attention on the life-saving breeze hitting your face as Alexia maneuvered through some tame midday traffic. Hot weather wasn't one of your favourite things in the world, as a matter of fact much more comfortable in minus degree weather with tiny icicles on your eyelashes, but a year into living under the blaze of the Barna sun you had no choice but to put up with it.
Though, your patience with the heat wore off quick. And in its wake, a simmering feeling of restlessness, which should have been yet another warning sign. But you were too deep in your determination for this to be a good day for anything to write you off.
The market was only a short drive away, the two of you having opted out of walking because, well, duh, the weather, and just as the sweat that found its place on your nose no more than five minutes after stepping out of your ice cold shower finally began to evaporate, it came crawling right back the second you got out of the car. Alexia was starting to feel uneasy about the day's plans, and, really, so were you, but you were set on pushing through the constrictive feeling that had settled in your bones when the first bit of heat came your way after leaving your flat. There wouldn't be much time in the coming weeks for a day like this with your girlfriend, you weren't about to wreck it for the both of you.
From where the car was parked to the entrance of the market, you walked in silence, hand in hand across slightly worn stone tiles until the rusted old gates of the park stood before you. Over the threshold of the entrance, paved tiles turning to cobble, you knew the chaos the market had in store for you. You didn’t know if you could handle it. The writing on the wall was in the prickly sensation in your skin that was all too familiar, as was the way every nerve in your body screamed in discomfort, almost like your soul was desperately trying to find a way out of your body.
You ignored it, and headed towards the stalls before Alexia could ask how you were.
This place was familiar; you knew the ins and outs of each stall, you knew where to go, you knew how long it took to get around. It shouldn’t be too hard, right?
You loved this place, of course it’d be fine. It beamed with energy, with good vibes, with good people. With its colourful displays of the finest fruit and vegetables, it was more than just a market; it was the heartbeat of the surrounding neigbourhoods.
All kinds of scents and aromas swirled around each corner, weaving themselves into the fabrics of people’s clothes and lingering long after they’d left. They were intoxicatingly good, and it was evident in the looks of wonder on everybody’s face, old or young, experienced shopper or recent newcomer. Vendors positioned at every stall or tattered wagon called out their offerings in a chaotic yet melodic mix of Spanish and Catalan, grabbing the nearest fruit or veg to wave around like an auctioneer with a hammer, the only use for it being to wave off the flies dancing tauntingly around their goods.
Locals haggled over prices with the farmers they’d come to know just as well as their own family; their loud and boisterous back-and-forth banter may have sounded like arguing to unknowing tourists, but to everyone else it was understood as just some good-humoured ribbing that they all delighted in. It was more of a shuffle than a walk throughout the place thanks to the tourists that seemed to stop in the middle of the aisles every second, clearly oblivious to the well-practiced dance of the locals. Elderly ladies pulled their clueless esposos around with one arm whilst they carried their wicker basket in the other, the woven willow groaning under the weight of the countless ingredients to be used in that night’s meal.
For a moment, as you paused off to the side whilst Alexia caught up with one of the stall owners, a fisherman with his catches of the week proudly on display, which you knew your girlfriend would end the conversation by buying enough fish meat to feed the five thousand, you took a moment to breathe. Everybody seemed relieved of their life’s burdens here, gathered closely in one space that was steeped in the essence of the world’s simplest pleasures; flavour, tradition, and community. Only, the smile that was usually imprinted on your face whenever you came was no more than a distant memory.
Despite the fairly shadowed area, considering the park was fenced in by sporadic trees that skimmed the roofs of buildings that showed off the city’s beautiful architecture, it was still insufferably hot. It radiated off of the ground, rebounded off the buildings around, and the flurry of structures meant there was no wind breaking through to give a cool Mediterranean breeze like you had before.
Alexia seemed none the wiser, enraptured by the surroundings like it was her first time there, her head on a swivel and marveling at the mouth-wateringly exceptional variety of things to choose from. You hadn’t really been taking it in, your eyes stuck to the back of her head as you followed her through, waiting on shaking legs whenever she laughed and joked with each worker she bought from.
This labyrinth of every cook’s dream was well and truly alive, but you weren’t. You couldn’t absorb the intense feeling of belonging and sonder you got whenever you came here. It was too much. The thought ate away at you, as with every fly that landed on your skin or every person that brushed against you, you became more and more on edge.
All the different smells, the different sounds, the crowd of people, they didn’t spark those usual feelings of contentment and peace that transpired for you normally. Instead, they felt oppressive, like they were attacking your senses.
The concoction of aromas forced themselves inside your nose and overloaded you completely, the squeamish smell of fish and the fiery linger of hundreds of kinds of herbs and spices bringing on a pounding headache. Every squeak of a wicker basket as the willow was put under more pressure could have been a gunshot for all you knew, the way it echoed around the tunnels of your ears. Anytime someone briefly put a hand on you as they moved past had you flinching, hating the unexpected contact as it was the last thing you needed in such a situation.
You didn’t find any comfort whatsoever in how Alexia’s hand never left yours for more than a minute, when normally it was something that grounded you. Her usually funny comments and little facts and point-outs of detail about her ‘second home’ (the name she had given it as she’d been coming here since she was young) didn’t make you feel any brighter, in fact you were pretty sure you missed most of them.
And as every minute passed, it appeared to get busier and busier, until it started to feel like you were in some kind of mosh pit, people bouncing off of you with every turn only for the next one to come along no more than a second later. You couldn’t hear a word Alexia was speaking, the once calming mix of languages turned into a booming echo of voices that were so close they seemed to be knocking on the bone of your skull, yet too distant for you to make out what anyone was saying, making it all so. much. worse.
Every voice, every footstep, every hearty laughter and every scrape of wood along the floor grated against your ears, all noises around amplified to immeasurable heights. The space was far too loud and far too crowded – each sensation you felt blurred into the next until it became impossible to separate from one another. But you did feel how each individual muscle tensed, from your legs to your shoulders, as Alexia continued to pull you through the market.
You were hyperaware of everything around you and it soon became unbearable. But Alexia was happy, she chatted away like nothing was happening, comfortable and content as her canvas bag brimmed with stuff you didn’t even realise she had bought. You soldiered on, or at least tried to.
Until, your breathing began to quicken, your lungs unable to take in any of the stuffy air you walked through, your chest tightening in a way that only caused you to panic impossibly more. Each piece of fabric from your clothes grazed against your skin like a hundred scratches in a single second, your shirt and shorts beginning to feel like they were getting tighter with each step you took. And when the claustrophobia, the feeling like there was no escape at all, began to really set in, the day was over.
Your resolve had completely eroded. You tried to focus on grounding yourself — reminding yourself this was a safe space, but that was an empty claim to make to your shredded composure. You tried convincing your mind that Alexia’s hand in yours was comforting, when it only felt constrictive, her hand wholly enveloping yours like a snake, leaving no room to breathe. You clenched and unclenched your fist in time with your breaths, but you couldn't even inhale for a second before your mind went into overdrive. All the tools you relied on before were inadequate in that moment. The rational part of your brain slipped away, instead replaced by an instinctive need to escape.
Surges of anger, panic, anxiety, fear, they all rose uncontrollably at once. Your jaw clenched, your free hand curled into a tight fist, and your vision turned hazy as your world dissolved into one indistinct blur.
The snapping point came abruptly. Perhaps it was a shrill laugh nearby, the clatter of a crate being dropped, or an impatient shove from someone trying to pass by. It was the smallest thing, but it tipped the scale far out of anybody’s control. You were alone in that moment. Trapped completely in your mind.
You missed how Alexia called your name over and over, how her hand nudged yours to desperately try to grasp your attention. It was only when her hands grabbed both your forearms that you were brought back down, but only for half a millisecond, before it all went south.
“What?!” You snapped at her, jumping back out of her touch.
As a result, there were about thirty pairs of eyes on you. Everybody around paused, your sharp shout cutting through the buzz of the market, and it went so quiet that every flutter of a fly’s wing and every creek of wood could be heard.
You took another step back when Alexia came towards you, a worrisome look on her face with her hands out in front of her like she was trying to not spook an untrusting animal in front of her. She rushed out some words of reassurance that fell into the background with all the other noises around that had picked up again, the market-goers losing interest in a seemingly harmless situation. They didn’t register within you, nor did her intentions. Your mind was far too good at playing tricks on you, convincing you of things that were far from the truth but in the moment felt like gospel.
There was no way out of where you were, both in the physical and the mental sense, and that was the main factor in the eruption that had just happened. With so many emotions coursing through you, there was an intense itch to find a release from them all. So before you realised, your arms crossed over your chest, hands on your upper arms just above your elbow, and you began to roughly palm, rub, grab at the skin there, needing a distraction from the volume of your mind and the world, whilst also desperately trying to get the movement to act as a release of the crushing press of the feelings inside of you.
If you were alone at that time, god only knows what would have happened. Fortunately you weren’t.
The next time Alexia touched you was the featherlight weight of her hand on your lower back, the minor contact enough to lead you through the winding paths of the market. Your legs ran on autopilot, but you stumbled with every few steps, eyes too blurry to see the bumps and dips in the cobbles underneath your feet. There were probably tears down your face, though you’d reached such a broken point that your body was just… numb. You weren’t in control of anything anymore, hadn’t been for a while, but this was a new extremity. You weren’t even present in your own mind. Just an innocent, unknowing passenger in the car crash that had come out of nowhere.
Somehow, with her own hands trembling from concern, Alexia managed to lead you out of the chaos of the market to those same rusted, paint-chipped gates from earlier— the entrance of the park area. She was lost on what to do or say, but rationally she knew the only thing that would work for you right now was getting you home.
“I will drive us back to your flat, back home, okay?”
You gave her no indication that you heard her, which she was expecting, though you had heard the one word you were in dire need of and it was the first thing so far that managed to break through into your overwhelmed mind. Your hands were still moving roughly against the skin of your arms, sure to leave marks afterwards, but Alexia knew if she attempted to stop you, it’d only make matters worse. She had to get you home. Seeing you like this was breaking her.
It took a concerningly small amount of effort to guide you to the car; you were pliant and mindless, the exhaustion having fully taken over the minute you left the crowded space. She opened the door for you, helped you into the seat, and put the belt on. You leaned your head back against the seat rest and stared straight ahead. Whether it’d help or not, Alexia wasn’t sure. But she had to do one thing, more for the sake of her sanity than yours. With a quiet call of your name, she gently put a hand under your chin and turned you so you faced her.
“I’ll take you home and look after you. You will be okay.” She whispered, tentatively brushing away some of the tears still on your cheeks with her thumb. Her words were a sentiment for her as much as they were for you. “You’ll be okay soon.”
—
Next thing you knew, you were in your bed, lay on your side with your weighted blanket over you and Alexia nowhere to be seen.
It was definitely the calm after the storm. The room was mostly dark apart from the light that bled through the curtains which were closed, you could hear the quiet whir of the AC as well as the dull hum of traffic on the street below, but that was about it. It was a stark contrast to how things were before.
You don’t exactly remember getting home after what happened after the market, but what you did know was that though Alexia wasn’t in the room, she had been at some point, because you felt her love in the way she made sure everything was properly set up for you. The AC hadn’t been on before you left earlier and it only could have come back on by someone turning it on. The curtains were open that morning, whereas now they were drawn. And last time you checked, your blanket was still in the dryer, waiting to be taken out when you got back.
Everything you felt earlier still echoed faintly inside your head and chest, but the weighted blanket over you helped to anchor you back to your life again, rather than the chaos you were drowning in not so long ago. Your mind was convoluted, thoughts jumbled, and you flitted from one shattered fragment of insecurity to the other. You were simply too exhausted to hold onto any of them, emotionally and mentally drained. Though, you still tried to identify what you were feeling— was it anger? Shame? Embarrassment? You couldn’t put a finger on it.
Your hands still shook, your chest still shuddered with every breath. Your clothes still felt scratchy and overbearing, just less so now that you lay in the aftermath of it all. Instead of focusing on that, you drifted your attention to the feeling of the blanket on you; you focused on its texture, its softness, the heaviness of it and how it draped over you and helped to extinguish the flame that was overstimulation and overwhelm. These small but familiar details offered a tiny foothold in the mirror maze of your mind that you were still trying to escape from, only for the ruined reflection of you at the market to be shown back to you.
The longer you spent in that position, a deep, bone-level weariness quietly consumed you, like every aspect of you right down to your soul had been drained. But even still, your mind continued its hyperactive ways, replaying the day’s events over and over like a faulty film reel. The memory of it isn’t the slightest bit cohesive, it was just flashes of moments— the suffocating press of people from every direction, clamour of voices, the overloading mixture of scents. You alternated between frustration and exasperation, wanting to desperately forget what happened whilst not being able to move on from the embarrassment of it.
However, the strain of it slowly began to dissipate with each minute you spent back at home in bed, a safe space where there were no expectations, where time was temporarily unimportant, and where there were no watchful eyes or scathing glares at the disruption you’d caused. And eventually, you felt like you had gained back control of your mind again. It was quieter then; the world felt muted, less aggressive, though you could feel that you were still wary of your surroundings because of how everything ambushed you earlier.
You weren’t fully recovered, you still felt heavy and your body ached due to the tension in your muscles and joints when it all came falling down, and you weren’t sure how much time had passed but the sun sat a little lower on the horizon when you finally felt able to get out of bed. The desire for time alone had gone, you needed something else then, and at this point of the relationship you felt comfortable enough to seek exactly what you needed without giving it a second thought.
The door to your room creaked like it always did when you opened it, your apartment mostly silent save for the occasional huff from the kitchen as the person you were looking for busied herself with any chore she could think of as she waited patiently for you.
You didn’t quite know what to say, but one of the best things about your relationship was that often in times like this, words weren’t a necessity. So you bypassed her and headed straight for the sofa, sitting in the corner and curling your feet underneath you, almost like you were making yourself as small as possible. And, just as you expected, not a minute went by before the blonde headed over, trying to disguise the worry she felt by giving a tight-lipped smile that was more on the amusing side than the reassuring one.
When she sat down, however, she left a gap between you both and perched only on the edge, which wasn’t what you wanted. One shared glance later and Alexia was smiling properly this time, shuffling to sit back against the cushions and beckoning you over with a small wave of her hand. With a sheepish but slightly triumphant look on your face, you moved along the couch and chose to sit sideways on her lap, one of her arms immediately wrapping around your waist as the hand of the other landed just above your knee. She pulled you close to her, and you settled into her with a relieved sigh, indescribably glad to have the final piece of the puzzle to self-regulation in your possession.
For some time, the pair of you didn’t speak, only relishing in the comfort you both needed after the day that had been had. At some point, Alexia noticed the redness to your skin from earlier and subconsciously brought a hand up to one of your arms, her thumb gently tracing over them with a frown on her face. She felt compelled to speak then.
“Please, engel, don’t put yourself through uncomfortable situations just to make me happy. If you asked me to, I would have taken you home earlier in a heartbeat.” The midfielder said carefully, panicking a little when she heard you sigh before calming when you buried your face in her neck.
“I didn’t really know it was going to be uncomfortable until it was already happening.” You told her in a mumbled, downbeat tone that made her hug you tighter against her. She contemplated her next words, wondering whether it was wise to voice them or not, before deciding that you’d hate it if you found out she’d kept her feelings from you.
“I’ve never seen you like that before.” Her fear and sadness was evident when she spoke, matching the frown still on her face and the furrow to her brow. You pressed your lips to the skin of her jaw in a somewhat apologetic gesture, which made her feel a little bad. “We’re both okay though, mi amor. I love you and we’re okay. I’m not mad or anything, this isn’t your fault. I don’t want you to feel guilty. It’s over now, it’s in the past, and we’re here together now.”
It might have been a minor reminder, but it relieved a lot of the remaining anxieties and insecurities you had. Even though she made sure you knew she never judged you for anything, you were only human, and sometimes the devil on your shoulder got the best of you. So, to hear her say she knew it wasn’t your fault and that she wasn’t angry, it was… very needed.
The mix of physical touch and words of affirmation never failed to work wonders for you. The period of time after an event like earlier was a delicate time to say the least, where your mind and your self-esteem was easily swayed by whatever reaction waited for you afterwards. Having Alexia be so welcoming, non-judgemental, caring and adoring even after what she’d witnessed made a world of a difference.
“Better day tomorrow?” You said shyly after moving back to look at her. She shook her head at first, which greatly confused you, before she smiled brightly, softly, reassuringly, and leaned forwards to kiss your temple.
“Better evening tonight after a bad day. And then a very good day tomorrow.” Her words were a little skewed, probably lost in translation, but you understand what she was getting at and it warmed your heart all the same.
It was important to you then, that you voiced your thoughts from just a moment ago. She had to know how important she was to you.
“Thank you, Ale. For everything.” You started, laughing quietly at the puzzled expression on her face. “You always know what to do, what to say. You always make me feel better after a day like this and I don’t know how you do it but… you changed my life.”
Her reaction was the sweetest. Her cheeks blushed red and she turned away for a moment with a tiny disbelieving shake of her head.
“I don’t know about that, cariño.” She murmured, but you weren’t having it. You put a hand on her cheek and turned her face back to you, ensuring she met your gaze before you spoke again.
“You did. I really mean it. I think about it a lot, how you’ve changed me, how I see myself because of you and how you treat me.” You paused for a moment, smiling up at her as her eyes silently urged you to continue. “I… value myself more because of how you value me. I don’t tell you enough how grateful I am for you and what you really mean to me. You’re the greatest person I have ever met.”
The normally sure and confident captain was rendered speechless in that moment, completely caught off guard and lost for words. How she could ever match the gravity and beauty of your words, she didn’t know. But they meant so much more to her than she knew she could ever express.
Ale ducked her head down for a moment as she really took in your words, before she lifted it back up again a moment later, with tears in her eyes.
If only you knew how much you meant to her too.
“You’re my favourite person in the world, you know that?” She said with a pointed look and a raised eyebrow, almost accusing you of foolishly being uncertain about the fact that she stated so definitively. You knew she only did that to deflect the softness of her words a little. So, you just smiled, and tucked your head back into her neck and closed your eyes, completely at peace. “My favourite person in the whole world. You changed my life too.”
—
i really really tried my best to encapsulate the autistic experience of being overstimulated and overwhelmed in such a place here but i have no idea how well it comes across to a large audience. but for me and probably others, this is the reality, no matter how much you can plan and prepare and be excited for something, it can spiral out of your control so quickly and it's definitely a downer when it happens. hope this is somewhat understandable, im gonna go hibernate out of fear now, thank you v much for reading :)
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pillow talk - spencer reid x fem!reader
a night well spent fizzles out into soft words exchanged in pink sheets.
genre: fluff wc: 1019 warnings: mentioned sex, their first time together, casual nudity, inexperienced reader, insecurities, reassurance
It was soft, comforting even. Of course intense because how else could your first time together be? It was him, after all. As you lay, heavy pants finally returning to normal, steady breaths, a hand comes up to smooth down your hair and a kiss is gently pressed to your head.
"How do you feel?" Spencer asks, his voice barely above a whisper.
It proves to be a difficult question. A response seems counterintuitive, like it would demean the moment into something that has to be assessed. An answer has to come, nonetheless.
"I don't know." And it's the truth.
He hums thoughtfully and nods, running a hand down your shoulder. "Good or bad?"
"Good... like my brain's empty. If that makes sense," you answer.
Your head, on Spencer's bare chest, does, in fact, feel foggy. Before today, you were both too scared of the intimacy. Something changed the moment you felt him move his grip from your hip to your waist, like he was worried that he might make you uncomfortable. You didn't want that. It happened only after convincing him that you wanted to go further than the usual groping and hand stuff. Now you're unsure how you feel. Having someone you've been seeing for a while suddenly inside you is bizarre and always will be. You also can't seem to shake that voice that sounds a lot like your friends, telling you that he'll leave after he gets what he wants. Your mind is simply a flurry of everything that anyone has ever told you about intimacy. With Spencer, it was different, though.
Your hand finds his and you mindlessly toy with his fingers as you murmur, "you've done this more than me, correct?"
"Correct."
"How do people usually feel?" you ask softly.
"Everybody's different. You don't need to feel good." He takes a breath and explains in a matter-of-fact tone, his hand lifting above your shoulder to gesture while he talks, "the rush of serotonin and dopamine into our system can leave some people feeling sad or tired once those neurotransmitters decrease."
You nod, finding yourself understanding. It has been a while since you've engaged in any form of intimacy.
"That makes sense."
He nods as his fingers drop to continue the irregular patterns on your arm. His chin rests on your head. "So? How do you feel?"
Again, there's no correct answer to his question. It's a complicated experience with complicated feelings attached. But one thing is for sure, "I'm happy."
"I'm glad. I am, too," he hums.
A smile floats over your lips before a thought occurs and you have an inkling as to how he'll choose to reply to it. Your head lifts and you turn so you're now partly on your side, giving you a perfect view of his face in the soft glow of the afternoon. With the curtains closed, his skin was basked in pale yellow light, the pink of your sheets contrasting the pink of his cheeks.
"Did I do good?" you grin.
He finds you gorgeous, your sickeningly sweet smile making him gaze down at you in pure awe. It's the complete and utter truth when he responds with, "very."
You can't help but tease, "best you've ever had?"
"Yes. I don't think you could've fumbled that badge of honour if you tried," he smiles, his hand gently cupping your cheek, a rough thumb wiping away invisible tears.
Something about the sentiment gets to you. After all, you're nothing but a hopeful romantic. But you're also just a girl.
"So, even if I was bad, you'd still lie and say I wasn't?" you raise your eyebrows and bat your eyelashes.
His eyes narrow but the smile on his face shows you that he's not really upset. "No... I meant that I think I like you too much to not enjoy everything you do."
"Oh," you flush. Why does he have to be so perfect?
The hand on your cheek moves up to brush some of your hair back. "Yeah, oh."
Spencer's different than the guys you've interacted with. He's everything that little girls everywhere dream of. He's Prince Charming. That's why when your lips meet his and the sheet falls back, his eyes never once glance down. Perhaps he's an agent and an individual with three PhDs but he's a gentleman above all else. He never once wants to make you feel like he's not here for you.
When your lips break apart with happy smiles on both of your faces, you take in just how silly he looks. His hair is messy from your fingers, his cheeks are flushed and—your favourite of all—he's covered up to his stomach in pink sheets. The giggle that leaves you is unnecessary and unasked for.
He can't help the smile that comes from hearing your laugh. "What?" he mutters, brows furrowed.
"You just look... so very silly in my bed," you explain, a lovesick grin on your face.
"Oh. Well, I can't help what you choose as interior design."
You sigh dramatically, shaking your head like a disappointed teacher, "I suppose you can't."
The smile on his lips only grows as you act your ass off to seem sad by his comment.
"Perhaps I should also purchase pink sheets?" he suggests jokingly, tucking yet another stray strand behind your ear.
"I really think you should. It would complement your room and it would make you think of me so that's a bonus," you nod. You're unable to stay serious, though, the corners of your mouth lifting despite your efforts.
Spencer nods back, his bottom lip pushing up as he hums decisively. "I'm sold, let's go to the store," he says with an impressively straight face.
You laugh hard, beaming up at him with nothing but pure joy. You find his commitment to the bit amusing and, honestly, endearing. He points his thumb towards the bedroom door with his eyebrows raised in a silent question. Playfully, your eyes roll and rest your face in the crook of his neck.
"I'll get pink sheets if you want me to," Spencer softly mutters.
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid one shot#criminal minds
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