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ma1dita · 10 months ago

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anything you want

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 1.6k

summary: (pre-established relationship) The one where you and him have your first kiss. It’s just Luke. He’ll do anything you tell him to, even if you talk too much. Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader

a/n: trouble is a yapper yall should know that by now. happy first kiss to you and luke!

(posted 1/25/24 unbetad)

—

“Come on, Castellan, we’re gonna be late if you don’t hurry!”

Your foot taps steadily on the forest floor, waiting for Luke to finish his demonstration of how to slay a chimera, and at the sound of your voice, he sheathes his sword and claps Chris on the back to finish up the workshop.

“Where you off to, man?”

“Gotta help our favorite head counselor set up for Greek Legends & Theatrics,” he says matter-of-factly, setting his battle armor to the side and making the walk up the steep hill towards the amphitheater to meet you like he’s following a siren call.

“Simp,” Chris mutters before his best friend slaps him across the head and jogs away.

“My hands are full, Rodriguez!”

“You wish!” Chris calls out as he picks up his sword, watching the slight blush rise on Luke’s pale cheeks as he almost trips over his own feet.

“Shut the fuck up!”

“Watch your fucking language,” you say sternly, which makes the both of you laugh when he finally meets you at the top of the hill. Instantly, you’re relinquishing everything in your hands: your water jug, the bag of costumes, a binder of scripts, and a ukelele. Luke’s juggling everything as best he can with no complaints, following your footsteps as he bumps the body of the uke against his hip to get a better grasp as he marvels at your excitement for your little drama club.

“What’re you teaching today, Trouble?”

“Orpheus and Eurydice, and it’s gonna be great! One of my personal favorites! The kids should be ready for the performance at the end of the month,” you grin, walking backward as you descend the stone steps of the amphitheater.

You’ve both grown into your roles here at camp, finding places you shine and excel at and together you bridge what the kids, your kids, are lacking. But he can see how you let yourself thrive here, being the operative heart of Camp Half Blood, and you’re radiating as you beckon him to follow you.

Following you around has become a habit as of late, one that he’s only recently made himself aware of. Sure, he’s always loved annoying you and doing something stupid to get a reaction, whether it be a snide remark or a smile, but something in your dynamic has changed. You’re head counselor after all, and even though he’s only in charge of busy cabin 11, his hand is always extended to whatever you have to offer. Quite simply, he loves it when you look for him, there’s no other explanation for it.

You’ve always troubled him, his thoughts, his life— but Luke can’t define it, or deem it something he can live without. It doesn’t make sense, and now he often finds himself wondering what it would be like to be more than whatever you are; not enemies, not necessarily friends, but perhaps a secret third thing, something he admittedly holds sacred.

Luke trusts you with his life, but wouldn’t choose you to be his quest companion again he thinks, not after the scar only you deem pretty is an evident sign of his personal transgression. He stares at you for a second too long while you ramble, organizing your thoughts out loud that he doesn’t notice any of the actual words falling from your lips because he’s entranced by them. Slight worry crosses his sharp features as he realizes he could kill someone if you got hurt.

Fuck.

There’s a space he’s carved out for you in his heart that he reminds himself not to name yet and now you’re looking for him again, turning to him when you realize he hasn’t followed.

When did you get so close to him?

“Luke!” you exclaim, nibbling on your bottom lip as you snap your fingers in his face.

“Are you even listening to me? I need an extra hand setting up smores stuff for the bonfire later if you’re free, and then we have night shift after…” You’re leaning against the table with a delicate smile on your face and in moments like these where you rattle off your routine that he gladly picks apart— Luke feels a sort of elation better than any quest or glory he can achieve. Only you can make unpaid labor sound like Elysium.

He nods absentmindedly, eyes flickering to your lips as you continue to speak, and he can’t help but admire how the way the sun filters through your hair…

Maybe Chris was onto something…

“You okay? If you need a break you can sit and watch us, the kids should be coming soon to start.”

Your fingers graze his bicep, and he blinks at you, your eyes wide with curiosity and a fire that can’t be tamed. You drive him crazy. He probably looks like a lunatic, frozen in place as he stares at you, so he shakes his head lightly, albeit unconsciously as he furrows his eyebrows, scar crinkling with his eyes as he smiles at you.

What a dork.

“Why’re you looking at me like that?” you laugh, your head falling onto your shoulder as you look at him sideways. You’ve noticed Luke is softer with you nowadays, hands always full when you keep him busy, and unlike the other cabin counselors, seldom does he fight you about camp duties. He’ll fight you about anything else though, just to get the last swipe at your attention, to make sure your eyes are on him.

And they always are, whether you can help it or not.

Luke steps forward, duffel bag still in hand and ukelele at his other side and suddenly he looks like he’s on a mission, his signature smirk stealing the air from your lungs as you forget what you’re saying.

“Like what, Trouble?”

Nervous laughter bubbles from you at the increasing proximity. It’s the first time he’s spoken since you got down here. His cargos brush against the smooth skin of your legs as you nestle your hips against the table, and the smell of sweat, musk, and citrus infiltrates your nostrils with a shaky breath.

“Like you’re about to make a mess of something. I can’t really tell,” you whisper. Why are you whispering? There’s no one here but you two and the sound of birds in the spring air.

It’s just Luke. Luke Castellan, who you glitter bombed when you were 14, who shoves you around every chance he gets, and steals food off your plate at every meal.

“I might. Not sure yet,” he swallows as he looms over you, the bag in his grasp falling to the side and the ukelele making a dissonant noise as he sets it on the table.

When did you let him past your defenses? The wall around your heart was well protected after years of whims of what you thought was love felt like running headfirst into concrete.

But Luke’s always been there, watching.

Though as a son of Hermes, sneaking in without a sound is what he does best. Perhaps a little too well, the both of you not noticing it for what it was until this moment.

“What are we doing?” you ask, and his reply is to pull you in by the belt loop of your denim shorts, snatching you closer with a curl of his fingers.

“You talk too much, you know that?”

Then suddenly, finally—his lips descend onto yours stealing your breath away like it's second nature, almost thoughtless and without anymore questions. There's a moment where you both sigh as if it was a relief to finally be touched like this, no hidden meanings, no ulterior motives, and nothing else makes sense but to be here kissing him.

Luke’s calloused hand weaves under your jaw and into your hair, propping you up as your knees buckle slightly, so intense and gentle at the same time, lips forging the undeniable connection between you that’s gone unspoken for so long. His hands are full of you, and he tastes like the strawberries you snuck onto his plate at lunch.

Your hands slide up the front of his shirt, a featherlike touch to confirm that he’s there though the feel of his tongue slipping in makes you wonder how much time you’ve wasted arguing with him when you could’ve been doing this.

Everything about this kiss feels familiar in a way you can’t describe, but this embrace lets you learn about him what you thought you were already so sure of. It makes you wonder if you’ve been here before in a different life, and then you remember who’s in front of you.

It’s Luke, who likes it when he gets to fall asleep to the sound of your voice telling a bedtime story, follows you around even if his siblings tease him, and never ridicules you for your innate madness.

Perhaps he’s just as mad as you.

Your eyes flutter open, and he’s already walking away, nervously chuckling like he didn’t give you a life-altering kiss. When your heart finally feels like it’s in your chest again, you grumble loudly, shaking your head with his name still caught between your teeth—

“LUKE CASTELLAN! Don't you dare run away from me!”

He's quite sure he hasn't sprinted away faster in his life. But as he runs up the steps of the ampitheater to try and clear his head, he stumbles when he looks at you, turning around every few paces until he finally catches the unmistakeable smile on your face. Luke eats shit at the top, falling against a tree and he hears the sound of your laughter.

He thinks he’ll spend the rest of his life running away if it means he can look back and see if you’ll follow.

—

“I don’t know how it is you are so familiar to me—or why it feels like I am getting to know you and more as though I am remembering who you are. How every smile, every whisper brings me closer to the impossible conclusion that I have known you before, I have loved you before—in another time, a different place—some other existence.”

-Lang Leav

ask to be put on general/luke taglists!

luke taglist (some won't let me tag, turn on my post notifs?): @kissingyourgrl l @dorcas4meadowes @lorarri @andrewgarfldsgf @noodlesketchbook @10ava01 @poppysrin @ashisabitgay @timhalamet @liv1104 @leeknows-wife @mxtokko @bugcuti3 @luvvfromme @midmourn @2hiigh2cry @yuminako @niktwazny303 @lukecastellandefender @intergalactic-padawan @iliketopgun @annybah @dangelnleif @thegrinningghost @alyssajunelle @obxstiles @m00ng4z3r @visndcaitswhore @b0ok-lover @elegant-face-tree @this-barbie-is-having-breakdowns @amortencjja @idonevenknow1359 @maliaaaa @targaryenluvs @sakyira @dhdjdjjdhsjdiri @number-onekidqueen @nininehaaa @bradynoonswife @stevenknightmarc @hoodedhavok @happy-mushrooms @homebyeleven @anotherblackreader @too-deviant @liviessun @lilacspider @theadventuresofanartist @sucker4seresin @simpforsunwoo @zanzie @starrystormwritings

#luke castellan x reader fanfic #luke castellan x dionysus!reader #luke castellan x reader #pjo show imagine #percy jackon and the olympians #made by ma1dita ♥︎#trouble!verse #luke castellan fluff #thank you for reading my love ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

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rootedinrevisions · 20 days ago

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Everything to Me (Kinktober 2024: Day 25)

KINK: Mirror Sex

WARNINGS: 18+ MINORS DNI. SMUT (Fingering)

WORD COUNT: 4.4k

TAG LIST: SEE COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists or be tagged for a specific character please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! Below are the fandoms I currently write for.

Glen Powell (himself and the characters he's played)

Twisters (Mostly Tyler right now, but possibly others soon)

Top Gun: Maverick (Hangman, Rooster, possibly others soon)

Marvel / MCU (Bucky Barnes as of now, but possibly others soon)

WWE / Wrestling

Jake’s been waiting at the airport for what feels like hours, even though your flight only landed a few minutes ago. He’s standing near the arrivals gate, leaning casually against a pillar but fidgeting with his phone, checking the time every few seconds. His excitement to see you is palpable, and when he finally spots you coming down the corridor, everything else fades away. There you are, wheeling your suitcase behind you, looking around for him. The moment your eyes meet, Jake’s grin lights up the entire terminal.

Without hesitation, he bolts toward you, weaving between people, his duffle bag bouncing against his side. The second he’s close enough, you drop your suitcase and run straight into his arms. Jake lifts you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist as you hold on tight. It’s like time stops, and the rest of the world disappears. The kiss comes naturally—deep, emotional, and long overdue.

“God, I missed you,” Jake mumbles against your lips before kissing you again.

His hands hold you firmly against him, like he’s afraid to let go. You pull back just enough to see his face, his eyes filled with nothing but love and relief.

“I missed you too,” you say softly, your forehead resting against his.

He grins again, his signature cocky smile making its appearance, but there’s a tenderness behind it, a vulnerability that only shows up when he’s with you. “You’re a sight for sore eyes, darlin’.”

He reluctantly sets you down, but not before stealing another quick kiss. You gather your things, Jake's arm instantly wrapping around your waist as he guides you toward the exit. The buzz of the airport surrounds you, but you feel nothing but warmth and safety in Jake’s presence. As you walk through the doors to the bright San Diego sunshine, it hits you—you’re finally here, with him, and for the next few days, it’s just the two of you.

* * * *

After collecting your luggage from the airport, you fully expect Jake to take you straight to his place. You’re more than ready for some alone time after the long flight, but instead, Jake flashes you one of his charming grins as he swings your suitcase into the back of his truck.

“So, I figured we’d make a little pit stop before heading home,” he says casually, leaning against the open door as if this is no big deal. “The team’s dying to meet you.”

You raise an eyebrow, tilting your head at him. “The team? I thought we were going home.”

He winks, that mischievous glint in his eyes making your heart skip. “Oh, don’t worry, darlin’. We’ll definitely get some alone time tonight.” He leans in, brushing a kiss to your temple before adding, “I just want to show you off a little first. Promise it’ll only be an hour or two.”

You try to hide your smile, but it’s impossible around Jake. He’s clearly excited for you to meet his squad, and the way he’s looking at you makes it hard to say no. “Alright, fine,” you agree, rolling your eyes playfully. “But you owe me later.”

His grin widens, and he gives you a playful smack on the rear as you hop into the passenger seat. “Deal.”

The Hard Deck is buzzing when you arrive, full of laughter, music, and the clinking of bottles and glasses. As soon as you walk through the door, you feel Jake’s hand slide possessively around your waist, guiding you through the crowd. You’ve been here before on previous trips, but there’s something different about being here with Jake tonight. Maybe it’s the way he keeps sneaking glances at you, unable to hide his excitement, or the fact that you’ve both been apart for too long.

Jake spots his crew near the pool tables, and you can already feel the warmth of their welcome before you even get close. Phoenix is the first to greet you, her face breaking into a wide smile as she approaches. “So you’re the girl who’s been keeping Hangman out of trouble,” she teases, offering a quick hug.

Rooster gives you an equally friendly grin, and Bob, though quieter, seems genuinely happy to meet you as well. “It’s about time we got to meet you,” Rooster says, shaking your hand.

Before you can respond, Coyote comes over, clapping Jake on the shoulder. “Good to see you again!” he says, his eyes sparkling with familiarity. “It’s been a while since we were stationed together.”

Jake introduces you to the rest of the group, and it’s not long before you settle in with them. The banter flows easily, and the atmosphere is relaxed. Jake keeps you close, his arm around your shoulders or waist at all times, pulling you in for kisses whenever the mood strikes him. He’s not holding back on the PDA, and honestly, you don’t mind. After months apart, it feels good to be in his arms, to steal these moments together. Between games of pool and darts, Jake’s touch never leaves you, a subtle but constant reminder that he’s missed you.

Every now and then, you catch Phoenix watching you two with a smirk, clearly amused by Jake’s inability to keep his hands off you. “I’ve never seen him like this,” she comments at one point, making you blush. “He’s a lucky guy.”

You smile and squeeze Jake’s hand as he leans down to plant another kiss on your lips. He chuckles softly. “What can I say? I’m not wasting a second.”

The night’s still young, but as Jake promised, he’s got every intention of taking you home soon. For now, though, you’re enjoying the easy camaraderie of his squad and the way Jake keeps making it clear just how happy he is to have you by his side.

After settling in with the team, laughter and conversation fill the air as the night drifts on. You’re still feeling the warmth of Jake’s arm around your waist, his frequent kisses to your temple making you smile.

Eventually, you offer to grab another round of drinks. Jake grins, pressing one more kiss to your cheek as you head toward the bar. As you approach the counter, Penny gives you a welcoming nod, already busy filling orders. You lean against the wooden bar, taking in the lively atmosphere when you notice a woman standing next to you, her eyes lingering on you just a little too long. She’s dressed sharply, her Navy uniform crisp and her expression unreadable. After a moment, she turns toward you with a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Hey there,” she says, her tone friendly but laced with something sharper. “I’m a friend of Jake’s.”

You return the smile, even if something feels off. “It’s nice to meet you,” you say politely. “I’m just grabbing drinks for us.”

She raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “I’ve never seen you in here before.”

You nod, keeping your tone casual. “I’m in town visiting Jake. Thought I’d surprise him for the weekend.”

There’s a flicker in her expression, something that makes your instincts tingle. She gives you a slow once-over, her gaze subtly scrutinizing. “Oh,” she says, her voice dropping slightly. “Didn’t think you’d be his type.”

The words hang in the air, and though she says it lightly, you can feel the slight jab. You pause, keeping your smile, but something twists inside you. “We’ve been together for a while now,” you respond calmly, hoping to let it slide.

She arches an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at her lips as she leans in a little closer. “Really? Because I know Jake doesn’t usually do long-term relationships. Just thought you should know.” Her words are casual, like she’s discussing the weather, but the meaning behind them sinks in like a stone.

You hold her gaze for a moment, feeling the urge to defend what you know about Jake, but instead, you calmly lift your hand and flash the ring on your finger. The diamond catches the light, glinting as you meet her eyes again.

“I’m not worried about his ability to commit.”

The smirk falters, and for a split second, you see the frustration in her expression before she smooths it over. Before she can say anything else, Penny sets the two beers in front of you, her presence almost a relief.

You smile warmly at Penny, taking the drinks. “Thanks, Penny.”

Without another glance at the woman, you turn and make your way back over to Jake, your mind buzzing. You try to push the encounter out of your head, but the way she said it keeps echoing: Didn’t think you’d be his type. It shouldn’t bother you, but as you walk back to your fiancé, your soon-to-be husband, you can’t help but wonder… was she right?

Jake’s smile lights up as he sees you coming back, but you find yourself questioning—why would a man like him want someone like you when he could have anyone he wanted? You take a deep breath, willing yourself to shake it off. You’ve been together long enough to know better than to let someone like that get to you.

But the seeds of doubt are planted now, and despite your best efforts, they begin to take root.

As the night wears on, the laughter and warmth of being surrounded by Jake’s friends should be enough to drown out the doubts, but it isn’t. The woman’s words cling to you, refusing to loosen their grip. You try to stay engaged, smiling at Phoenix’s jokes and Rooster’s playful banter, but every time Jake’s arm slips around your waist, or he presses a kiss to your temple, you can’t shake the feeling that maybe… maybe she was right. Why would someone like him choose someone like you when he could have anyone he wanted? Your thoughts spiral, and before you realize it, you’re barely paying attention to the conversation around you.

Jake notices, squeezing your side and asking if you’re alright. You nod and force a smile, but the unease gnaws at you.

After a while, you can’t take it anymore. Leaning into Jake’s side, you look up at him, your voice a little quieter than usual. “Hey, can we leave?”

Jake turns to you, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Already? It’s still early.”

You bite your lip, trying to keep your expression neutral even though your mind is racing. “Yeah, I just… I think I’m ready to go home.”

He watches you for a beat, searching your face for something he can’t quite put his finger on. You know he senses that something’s off, but he doesn’t push. With a nod, he turns to his friends.

“We’re gonna head out,” he announces, slapping Rooster’s back and giving Phoenix a quick hug. There are a few protests, but Jake waves them off with a laugh, making his goodbyes brief.

Soon, he’s leading you out of the bar, his hand resting protectively on the small of your back as you make your way to the car. The cool night air does little to settle your swirling thoughts, and by the time you’re both seated, Jake’s watching you carefully again, his hand resting on your thigh as he starts the engine.

The car hums to life, but instead of pulling out right away, he glances over at you.

“You sure you’re alright?” he asks, his voice softer now, laced with concern.

You nod quickly, looking out the window as you respond. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired, I guess.”

Jake doesn’t buy it. You can feel the weight of his gaze, his eyes still on you as the car pulls onto the road.

“Right,” he says slowly, his tone skeptical. He’s not going to push—he never does when he knows you’re not ready to talk—but you know him well enough to realize he’s not letting it go, either.

The drive back to his place is quiet, the hum of the car and the distant sounds of the city filling the silence between you. Jake’s hand stays on your thigh, his thumb occasionally brushing against your skin, but he doesn’t say anything else.

You keep your gaze fixed out the window, willing yourself to push the doubt aside. Jake loves you—you know that. You wouldn’t be here if he didn’t. But that woman’s words, the way she looked at you like you weren’t good enough for him, keep echoing in your mind. I didn’t think you’d be his type. It shouldn’t bother you, but it does.

By the time you pull into the driveway, your chest feels tight with a mixture of frustration and insecurity. Jake parks the car and turns to you again, but you quickly unbuckle your seatbelt, giving him another quick smile.

“I’m fine,” you say before he can even ask. “Let’s just go inside.”

He nods, though you know he’s not convinced. He’ll give you your space for now, but you can feel it in the way he’s watching you—he’s going to figure out what’s going on whether you’re ready to tell him or not.

As soon as you step inside Jake’s place, you make a beeline for the bedroom, your mind still reeling from the woman’s comments. You need to shake off this feeling, the doubt gnawing at you, and the only way you know how is to escape into the comfort of Jake’s oversized clothes and familiar warmth.

You peel off your outfit from the night, letting it fall to the floor without a second thought, and grab one of Jake’s t-shirts from the drawer. It’s soft, well-worn, and it smells like him—a mixture of cedarwood and something distinctly Jake. You tug it on, the fabric hanging loose on your frame, and follow it up with a pair of your own sweatpants.

As you’re standing in front of the mirror, running your hands through your hair and trying to make yourself feel more like you again, you feel Jake’s presence behind you.

You turn, catching sight of him in the doorway, and for a second, everything else melts away. He’s standing there in nothing but a pair of gray sweatpants, slung low on his hips, his arms folded across his chest. His hair’s tousled, and his eyes are soft, but there’s an edge of concern in the way he’s looking at you. He’s watching you closely, trying to read your thoughts without having to ask the question he’s been holding back all night.

“What happened?” he asks gently, his voice low as he finally breaks the silence.

You shrug, attempting to brush it off like it’s nothing. “It’s nothing, Jake. I’m just tired.”

But Jake doesn’t buy it. He never does when you try to sidestep your feelings. He uncrosses his arms and steps into the room, making his way across the small space to stand in front of you. His hand reaches out, gently taking yours, and he pulls you toward him. You feel the warmth of his fingers wrapping around yours, his thumb brushing softly over your knuckles.

“Talk to me,” he coaxes, his voice so soft and steady that it breaks through your defenses. “I know something’s up. You’ve been off since we left the bar.”

You sigh, feeling your walls start to crumble under his gentle persistence. He’s always been able to get you to open up, even when you don’t want to.

“There was this girl…” you start, hesitating as you glance up at him.

Jake’s brow furrows as he listens, his eyes locked on yours. “A girl?”

You nod. “Yeah, she came up to me at the bar when I was getting drinks. Said she knew you. She introduced herself as your friend.”

The confusion on Jake’s face deepens, but he doesn’t interrupt. He lets you continue.

“She, uh… she made a comment about me not being your type,” you admit, the words tasting bitter as they leave your lips. “And then she said something about how you don’t really do long-term relationships.”

Jake’s jaw tightens slightly, but his gaze remains soft as he watches you, waiting for more.

“I didn’t let it get to me at first, but the more I thought about it…” you trail off, shaking your head. “I don’t know, Jake. She was looking at me like I wasn’t good enough for you. Like she couldn’t understand what you see in me.”

You’re surprised by how much admitting it stings. Saying it out loud only makes the insecurity feel more real.

Jake’s eyes darken slightly, but not with anger toward you—more like irritation at the situation. He lets out a sigh and shakes his head, rolling his eyes in disbelief.

“Babe, you know who she is?” he asks, his voice exasperated but gentle. “She’s been trying to hook up with every Top Gun pilot since she got stationed here. And none of us have taken the bait.”

He steps closer, taking both of your hands in his now, his touch reassuring and steady. “I’ve told her at least a dozen times that I’m not interested. I have you.”

You feel a flicker of relief at his words, but the nagging doubt still lingers.

“She probably just didn’t like that I didn’t give her the attention she wanted,” Jake continues, his thumb brushing the back of your hand. “But trust me, she’s nothing to worry about.”

He pauses, his gaze softening as he reaches for your left hand, lifting it to his lips. He presses a slow, lingering kiss to your engagement ring, the diamond catching the light as he lowers your hand and meets your eyes again.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he murmurs, his voice sincere and warm. “And I’m the luckiest guy in the world to have you.”

His words melt the last of the doubt, but it’s the look in his eyes, the absolute certainty and love, that fully quiets the storm in your chest.

Jake smiles, his thumb brushing along your ring finger as he holds your hand between both of his. His voice is warm and full of pride as he murmurs, “You’re beautiful, Mrs. Seresin.”

You manage a small laugh, shaking your head. “I’m not Mrs. Seresin yet,” you tease. “You still have time to change your mind.”

Jake pauses, his expression softening as he studies your face. Then, he gives you a look of utter disbelief, and there’s an intensity in his eyes that makes your heart skip.

“Why would I want to do something like that?” he asks softly, his voice filled with conviction. “I’ve got the most beautiful, stunning, gorgeous, sexy woman on the planet right here. I’d be out of my mind to want anything else.”

He leans in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips, and then another, as if to drive the words home. When he finally pulls back, he’s still close, his lips hovering just inches from yours as he grins.

“If you don’t believe me,” he murmurs, his voice low, “I’ll take you to the courthouse first thing Monday morning. You can be Mrs. Seresin before noon.”

You laugh, feeling your doubts vanish under the warmth of his gaze, and shake your head again. “Jake, you’re ridiculous.”

“Maybe, but I’m yours,” he says, his tone turning serious, his hand coming up to cradle your face. “You’re all I want. And you’re all I’ll ever want.”

The intensity in his voice leaves no room for doubt. His gaze is so steady, so certain, that you know, without a shadow of a doubt, he means every single word. You feel yourself melt a little more in his arms, and this time, when he leans in, you let yourself fall completely into his kiss.

Jake presses another gentle kiss to your forehead and pulls back just enough to meet your eyes. "Feeling better?" he asks softly, his thumb brushing along your cheek.

You hum a quiet "yes" and nod, leaning into his touch. A smile tugs at the corner of his lips, warm and full of that familiar affection that makes your heart flutter.

"Good," he murmurs.

His hands slowly slide down your sides, slipping under the fabric of the oversized shirt you're wearing. His fingers splay across your bare skin, and you shiver at the warmth of his touch.

As his hands explore the curves of your body, he leans in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he whispers, "You really are the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen. Do you know that?"

You get quiet again, your insecurities bubbling up in the silence. Jake’s question lingers in the air, and when you don’t respond, he doesn’t push. Instead, he shifts his approach.

"Maybe I need to show you," he whispers, a mischievous edge to his voice. His hands move with deliberate care, his fingers gripping the hem of the shirt. In one smooth motion, he slides it up and off, leaving your chest and stomach exposed to the cool air of the room. You feel vulnerable, standing there in nothing but your sweatpants, but Jake’s gaze is so tender, so full of reverence, that it quiets the anxious thoughts threatening to rise again.

He tucks his fingers into the waistband of your pants and underwear, pulling them down in one slow motion until they pool at your feet, leaving you completely naked. He turns you gently by the shoulders until you’re facing the mirror above the vanity, the reflection of your bare form standing in front of him.

Jake steps closer, his chest pressing against your back as he pulls you flush against him. His hands settle at your hips, then slide up your stomach and over the swell of your breasts, his touch reverent, slow. His eyes meet yours in the reflection, filled with an unwavering adoration that takes your breath away.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he whispers, his lips ghosting over your shoulder as his hands continue their slow, deliberate exploration of your body. He’s not rushed, not hurried—he’s savoring every inch of you, as if to memorize the feel of your skin beneath his hands.

He points to your collarbone, brushing his thumb across the delicate bone. “I love this,” he murmurs. “The way your skin feels soft here, how it catches the light.”

His hands slide lower, tracing the curve of your waist. “And here... the way you fit perfectly in my hands.”

His fingers skim your thighs next, gentle but firm. “The way your legs wrap around me when we’re close,” he says softly, his breath warm against your neck.

Jake continues, his voice low and steady, as he points out every detail he adores, from the curve of your hips to the softness of your stomach, to the way your hair falls over your shoulders. Every word, every caress is full of love, his tone steady as he dismantles your insecurities, piece by piece.

“You’re perfect,” he says, his voice barely more than a whisper now. “Just the way you are.”

His words sink in, slowly dissolving the doubts you’ve carried, and when you meet his eyes again in the mirror, you see what he sees—a woman adored, cherished, and deeply loved. He kisses your neck softly, his lips lingering as he whispers against your skin, “Do you see it now? How beautiful you are?”

You nod quietly, your gaze still locked with his in the mirror. A small, satisfied smile tugs at the corner of Jake’s lips, and you can see the hint of a smirk forming.

"Do you want to know what I find most sexy about you?" he asks, his voice low, teasing.

Curiosity flickers in your eyes, and you can’t help but ask, "What is it?"

His smirk widens just a little, and you feel his fingers begin to trail down your stomach, slow and deliberate, until they reach the sensitive spot between your legs. His touch is gentle at first, but enough to send a shiver through you.

His breath tickles your ear as he leans in close, his voice a seductive whisper. “It’s the way you look when I’m making you feel good,” he murmurs, the heat in his words sending a flush through your entire body.

Your breath catches in your throat as your eyes flutter closed, instinctively leaning back into the warmth of his body. But just as you start to lose yourself in the moment, Jake’s hand pauses, his other arm wrapping firmly around your waist, holding you steady.

“Uh-uh,” he whispers against your ear, his tone commanding but gentle. “Open your eyes, baby.”

Reluctantly, you do as he says, your eyes flicking back open to meet his in the mirror. He shifts his body slightly, positioning himself so you can see every detail of his touch, every reaction your body gives under his fingers.

“Look at how beautiful you are,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with adoration.

His hand resumes its slow, deliberate movements, his fingers teasing you in ways that make your breath hitch. But his eyes—those piercing, sea-green eyes—never leave yours in the reflection. You can see the intensity in his gaze, the way he’s watching every little gasp, every shiver you give, as if he’s drawing power from your reactions.

“Do you see it?” Jake’s voice is hushed, his lips brushing your ear. “Do you see how incredible you are when you’re lost in this?”

Your body responds to him before your mind even catches up. A quiet moan escapes your lips, and you press your thighs together, but Jake is relentless in keeping you focused on the mirror, on yourself.

“Don’t look away,” he whispers, his fingers moving with more precision now, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through you. “I want you to see what I see. How gorgeous you are when you’re like this.”

You bite your lip, your breathing quickening as the pleasure builds, but his steady gaze and firm touch keep you tethered to the moment. There’s something deeply intimate about it, the way he’s not just touching you but guiding you to see yourself through his eyes, with a reverence that makes your heart pound in your chest.

Jake's lips trail soft kisses along the side of your neck, his free hand coming up to cup your breast, adding to the overwhelming sensations running through you. You meet his gaze again in the mirror, and there’s no mistaking the desire and love in his eyes, the way he’s savoring every second of this moment with you.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible over the rush of your own heartbeat. “You’re everything, baby. Everything.”

Jake’s touch remains steady and deliberate, each movement sending waves of pleasure surging through you. His fingers move with a slow, practiced rhythm, teasing you closer to the edge. The heat of his body against yours and the intensity of his gaze in the mirror makes the moment even more overwhelming.

As the pleasure builds, your breath becomes shallow, your body instinctively leaning back against him, seeking his warmth and support. His other arm wraps securely around your waist, holding you close, his touch grounding you as the sensations spiral higher. The feel of his fingers on your skin, the soft brush of his lips against your neck, and the way he whispers your name between each pulse of pleasure—it’s all consuming.

“Come on, baby,” Jake murmurs against your ear, his voice low and coaxing. “Let go for me.”

Your body tenses, the pleasure cresting and crashing over you in a powerful wave. A soft moan escapes your lips, your head falling back against his shoulder as the climax washes through you. Jake holds you close, supporting you as he works you through it, his fingers slowing but never stopping, guiding you down gently from the high.

“There you go,” he whispers, his breath hot against your skin. His arm tightens around you, keeping you steady as your legs tremble, the intensity of the moment leaving you breathless. “That’s my girl.”

His words settle over you like a soft blanket, his quiet pride and possessiveness making your heart swell. You meet his gaze again in the mirror, your chest still rising and falling rapidly as you try to catch your breath. He’s watching you with that same adoring look, his eyes soft, but filled with unmistakable love.

Jake presses a kiss to the side of your neck, lingering for a moment before he slowly removes his fingers, letting you relax fully into him. He’s gentle as ever, taking his time as he slides his shirt back over your body, covering your bare skin with the familiar warmth of his scent. Then, with the same care, he pulls your underwear back up, smoothing his hands over your hips as he does.

“There,” he whispers, his voice soft and reassuring. “My girl's all taken care of.”

Before you can say anything, he scoops you into his arms with ease, cradling you against his chest. You can’t help but smile at the feeling of being wrapped up in him, safe and secure.

“Let’s get you to bed,” he says, his voice low and affectionate.

Jake carries you effortlessly across the room, his steps slow and deliberate, as if savoring every moment of holding you close. He gently lays you down on the bed, brushing a few strands of hair away from your face before sliding in beside you.

As you curl up against him, his arms wrap around you once more, pulling you into the warmth of his body.

He presses a soft kiss to your forehead, whispering, “You’re everything to me. You know that, right?”

You nod, the weight of his words settling in your heart, as you relax fully into the comfort of his embrace. The night is quiet, but the connection between you and Jake feels stronger than ever, his love and devotion wrapping around you like a protective shield.

#Top Gun Hangman #Top Gun Hangman Fanfiction #Top Gun Hangman Fanfic #Jake Seresin #Jake Seresin Fanfiction #Jake Seresin Fanfic #Jake Hangman Seresin #Jake Seresin x reader #Hangman x reader #Jake Seresin Smut #Hangman Jake Seresin Smut

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blckbrrybasket · 19 days ago

Text

25. “Hell And You”

Stu Macher x Fem!Reader

꒰Mask Kink + Knife Kink꒱ - 1k

• consensual object penetration, consent check

kinktober m.list

Okay, if one of your friends came to you saying they were dating one of the infamous Ghostfaces that ran around killing people you would tell them to run the other way. What sensible person would date somebody like that? Well, you, obviously. You knew it was wrong, but it wasn’t your fault Stu was hot!

It also wasn’t your fault that the Ghostface signature mask turned you on. Did that make you fucked up, sure, but it was worth it when Stu fucked you in it. It wasn’t your safest decision, but you were already here and it would be fine. Stu would never let anything happen to you.

His gloved hand held the blade of the knife while he prepped it. Every few seconds he’d look over and scan your body admiringly, eyes hidden behind the mask. You could only tell of his gaze by the way his head would tilt, what it meant was imperceptible. Truthfully, it was a wonder how Stu had been patient thus far.

He tended to be impulsive and rush into things, but he was taking his time now, watching your body from where he sat. Stu finished cleaning the knife properly, any germs long gone. Two of his leather cover fingers smeared lube over the handle, blade fully covered by his other hand.

Once it was thoroughly covered, his head turned to look down at you sitting on the bed. The cloak brushed against your legs when he leaned forward to guide you back to prop yourself on your elbows. While holding the bolster of the knife under his fingers he pressed just the tip against your skin and gently trailed it down your body.

He had full control over the movement of the hunting knife. Once the tip reached your underwear Stu glanced up at you. “Open,” he said, one of the first words he’d spoken since he’d ‘gotten into character’. Stu shuffled back again to sit somewhat comfortably on his knees in front of the bed.

Your legs followed his command, opening obediently as you looked down at him. Ghostface on his knees shouldn’t be such a sight, but it was and it was beautiful. The white of the mask shone in contrast to the completely black material he wore everywhere else. Even more enticing was the glint of the knife when the light hit it.

The permanently opened mouth on the mask pressed to the junction of your knee in a mock kiss. You couldn’t tell if Stu was looking up at you, unable to see, but you could feel his eyes on you when he dragged the mouth up to your inner thigh. You were unsure what he was doing until you heard his deep inhale.

He was savoring you, breathing you in. However, his nature got the best of him being this close to your cunt. Stu grew too excited per usual, and hooked the tip of the knife on the hem of your underwear. The sharpness caught on the flimsy material, pushing up through it with a riiip.

You gasped, hearing his distorted chuckle at your reaction. “What’s the matter, baby?” His head tilted, mask looking back up at you. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Stu hooked the knife up, pulling to cut away the rest of the fabric. He let it fall open, haphazardly shoving it down the leg it limply hung onto.

Looking at your pretty pussy like he won the lottery, Stu had to stop himself from yanking the mask off and delving into you. Behind the mask he silently licked his lips, view locked on your sex. His free hand slid up the bed, making its way to your cunt. The pads of his rough gloves made contact with your skin, your shiver making Stu more excited, tapping the tip of the knife against your thigh with his occupied hand.

Stu pressed one fingertip to your clit and let it sit there before sliding it down. He softly rubbed in between your wet folds, separating them. His thumb joined his index finger to keep your lips spread, watching you pulse and leak onto the fabric of the blankets.

“Hiding all this from me?” Stu nudged forward and sighed heavily. You tensed, bracing for his breath to hit you, when you realized it wouldn’t. The plastic prevented him from breathing on you, but he’d gotten the reaction he had wanted, being able to see your pussy clench close up.

He glanced back up for a second, studying your antsy expression. Mistaking it for second thoughts, he checked in. “You still want this?” He would have sounded irritated to anyone else, but you knew he was checking on you even as he played it up. Your eyes were completely locked on the mask, his voice breaking you from your trance.

You nodded, speechless from his act. “Words, baby.” He grunted and you could imagine the way his eyes narrowed. “Yes…yes sir.” Stu smiled, satisfied, and looked back down at your soaked cunt. At the confirmation, Stu turned the knife over in his hand, once again covering the blade with his hand entirely.

He teased your swollen folds by running the hilt of the knife up and down, teasing your entrance with the curve. Slowly, he circled your pussy with the cooled handle. When you clenched down around nothing, he laughed. “Oh, you like that?” He asked with a small smirk.

Stu kept moving it in slow circles, working you up and rubbing your arousal around. You whined when your warm walls fluttered around nothing for what seemed to be the millionth time. He seemed to finally take mercy, or pity, on you and he notched the curve in your entrance, turning the hilt to trace the very inside of your pussy.

The arousal he had made you build up made it easier for him to inch the handle into you, his gloves shielding the blade from causing any harm. This wasn’t about actually harming you, but you couldn’t lie and say the danger isn’t making you clench down harder.

Your moans were quiet, increasing in volume as he faintly thrust the knife in and out. “You like being fucked by my knife, knowing what it’s done to people? …What it can do to you.” You groaned, tossing your head back as the cool metal drug along the walls of your cunt. You did. You fucking loved it.

tags: @babybatlover, @starrgurl46, @wowzers-07, @nenukkjhj, @morgan0lw21, @kinokomoonshine, @slut4ddn, @adventures-of-impala, @dreamerjj

#stu macher #stu macher x reader #stu macher x you #stu macher smut #stu macher scream #stu macher fanfiction #stu macher oneshot #ghostface x you #ghostface x reader #ghostface smut #ghostface fanfiction #ghostface oneshot #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #horror x reader #kinktober #kinktober 2024

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daddyfordaeddy · 9 months ago

Text

Pairing: San x f! Reader

Word Count: 2269

Warnings: cursing, talks of insecurity about your nether regions, too much league of legends talk, none otherwise (smut warnings under cut)

Genre: smut, fluff, rated M for mature, established relationship au

Summary: You lost a bet to San, and now he gets to do whatever he wants

Smut warnings: fingering, oral (male & female receiving, fem focused), blindfold, dirty talk, spit play, light bondage (yn's tied to a chair), multiple orgasms

I’m only doing a couple of the February Filth Fest, and this is day/track 25! free use/spit play, and i chose the latter (once more)! i know almost nothing about spit play so i hope its good!

And if you want to know what other days I’m doing? You’ll just have to wait and see ;) This is the second to last one!

“Baby, can you come here for a minute?” Your boyfriend, San, calls for you and your head pops up from the book you were reading. It wasn’t very interesting anyway, something you had to read for class, so you have no qualms about putting it down and seeing what San needs. He’s currently in the computer room, waiting for you with a large and mischievous grin on his face.

“What’s that look for,” you laugh, approaching him and leaning down to peck his lips. “You look like a cat who swallowed a bird.” San pouts at the analogy but he can’t really fight it.

San sighs, his eyes crinkling with a smile and you can’t help but kiss him again at the adorable sight. “I just had an idea. Hear me out, okay?”

You laugh but plop into your chair next to him. “Shoot.”

“So.” San seems almost embarrassed but the smile on your face doesn’t waver and he squares his shoulders. “I was wondering if you’d be willing to bet with me. You know how you’ve been playing league pretty competitively lately?”

You nod. Your friends roped you into playing ranked games with them and you’ve somehow made your way as a platinum player. Every so often, San would join you and your friends in playing games and every time he does, you’re reminded of how he used to be a diamond level. “Yeah, why? You wanna play again?”

San chuckles. “Kind of. I don’t want to go the competitive route again, but I want to play one game with you.”

You narrow your eyes playfully. You may be good now, but you’re pretty sure San has been practising behind your back. “What do I get if I win?”

San’s smile grows wider. “You can do whatever you want with me in bed. But the same goes for me if I win. Deal?”

You hum. “Sure, but we get to pick each other’s champions.”

Without another word, San holds out his hand and you give it a firm shake. “I’ll have you play Neeko.”

You snort. “Well, you picked so nicely you can play Akali. I’d let you be Graves but I’ve never played against one.” San leans over to smack your leg but you dodge it with a giggle.

San sighs but his eyes are full of fondness. “Of course, so kind. Now, I hope you’re ready to get your ass beat.” His words are tender but he’s not playing around. He’s both competitive and horny and he’ll do whatever to win. And you won’t lie, you’re enjoying the idea of it too.

“I think you might be talking to yourself, Sannie,” you wink. “I hope you like getting pegged.”

The beginning of the match was fairly easy. The bots, of course, were evenly matched and you and San were fairly even. Although you tend to scale more late-game and San does best in mid-game, you were playing it safe.

“Ah, fuck!” You squawk when the opposing top just shows up, stunning you and San lands his first kill. “That was so mean,” you complain and San chuckles, leaning past his computer screen to pat your knee.

“Sorry, baby, that’s the game,” he hums before narrowing his eyes to reconcentrate. You find it hotter than you should. Unfortunately, after your death, San got a leg up and it’s hard to pick up the slack. And with how close the two of you were in skill, that small difference turned into a big difference. In no time whatsoever, your nexus is already on the brink of death and no matter how hard you try, you end up losing.

“Fuck,” you whine, pulling off your headphones and slinging them around your neck. “That was so close I could almost imagine my victory.”

San snickers, rolling his chair over to practically flop onto your body. “Sorry, baby, but it looks like I’m the winner here.”

You pout playfully, carding your fingers through his soft hair. “Fine, fine. What do you wanna do,” you concede, bending down to kiss his temple.

San hums but you know he’s not really thinking about it. You’ve known him long enough that you can tell that he had been planning this for a while. “I wanna eat you out.”

His words cause you to stiffen and turn your eyes away. You’ve always disliked the idea of you receiving oral. Not because you find it gross, of course. You like sucking dick, what difference is there? Your past boyfriends offered before, you just didn’t take them up on it and they didn’t press the issue. It just stems from your insecurities about your vagina, you suppose.

In your eyes, it’s too weird-looking. And you know San is just happy to do whatever but you can’t get over your mental block. But as San stares up at you, you sigh. You’re too prideful to back out. It’s not like it’s the worst thing San could’ve chosen. You just don’t like it. It’d be like if you won and wanted to peg him.

“You don’t have to if you don’t–” San tries to help you when it takes you a tad too long to respond but you shake your head.

“It’s okay. You can.”

San’s eyes brighten and his lips twitch but he sits up, a little more serious. “Are you absolutely sure? I don’t want to make you feel like you had to.” And your heart blooms with appreciation for his words. And it only makes you want to trust him more.

“I am.”

—

Your body is stiff in the chair you’re tied loosely to as you anticipate what's to come. A blindfold rests over your eyes and it's almost barely see-through so you can see the shadows moving around you but not what it is. You're not quite sure what you expect but the unsurety of it all makes your thighs clench.

“You're so tense,” San's voice floats towards you and you can almost feel his presence as he comes to stand in front of you. “Are you ready?”

At your nod, his hand comes to rest on your bare thigh, nothing covering your lower half except the hem of your shirt. “Don't worry, I'll make you feel good, baby.”

Before you can even respond, his breath ghosts over your cunt and your breath stops in your throat. He giggles at how stiff you're holding yourself before he presses a soft kiss to the junction of your inner thigh. And another. And another.

“Hurry up already,” you groan. “Can't get this over with if you take five years–” Your words are cut off as soon as San places a kiss to your clit, pleasure shooting up your spine. Your teeth sink into your bottom lip as your hips jerk at the sensation.

“Come on, don’t be shy. I want to hear all your pretty moans,” San hums, pressing another kiss to your clit as his tongue darts out to flick at it. “Taste so good baby, can’t believe I finally get to do this. Been dreaming about eating you for dessert and now I finally get to. So perfect for me.”

Your thighs are so tense, both from your nerves and from the feeling of his tongue pressing against your folds. “San–” you groan, clenching so hard you feel you may get a cramp in your hip, but San’s having none of that. His thumbs press into the junction connecting your thighs and torso, and you hiss at the pressure. “Fuck,” you groan.

You can hear the slick sounds of San lapping at your pussy, his nose pressing into your clit so perfectly you fear you may come already. His fingers are pressing slowly into you as he licks around them. “Fuck, you’re squeezing around me so well,” he groans. “So needy, look at you.”

Without warning, he spits on your pussy, and you gasp at the sensation of his saliva dripping down your heated skin. “San!” You don’t know how to react and your boyfriend chuckles at your astonishment. He bends down, licking at the mixture of your slick and his spit, kissing your clit again as he bites at the flesh.

A high-pitched whine escapes your throat as his teeth scrape against your folds and your hips kick up as you reach your high, coming with a groan. It feels like you’re about to pee, just so much more intense, and your core clenches as your head is thrown back in bliss. San’s tongue leaves your folds although his fingers are still pumping inside of you.

“Fuck, babe, I didn’t know you could squirt,” he says, voice filled with awe. “Fuck.” He spits again on your pussy, flattening his tongue to lick a long stripe up it and your breath catches at the feeling.

“Oh God,” you groan, eyes fluttering shut as your teeth work into your spit-covered lower lip. “Fuck, it’s so much, Sannie.”

San hums, mouth still pressed against your sopping cunt and if you think hard enough, you can just imagine how shiny his face must be after eating you out for what seems like hours. “You’re just so perfect, how could I stop?” he groans, the vibrations in your cunt making you twitch. “Colour?”

“Fuck– green,” you cry, trying to grind down on the chair, and San chuckles, puffing his warm breath onto your nether regions. “Sannie, please–”

Without another word, he spits onto his free hand, pressing his palm onto your clit and rubbing it in small circles. You can’t help but arch your back, whimpers and gasps leaving your lips like you’re getting paid for every sound you make. The light filtering through your blindfold is suddenly covered, and before you can even register what’s happening, San’s lips press against yours and you eagerly accept his kiss.

You can taste yourself in his mouth as you lick into it, mouth falling open as San spits in it. “Swallow,” he commands, and you rush to do so, eyes rolling back in your head as his fingers pump inside of you and the hand that was rubbing your clit moves up to pinch and knead your breast.

“Nng, San, I’m close again,” you warn, and San laughs, kissing down your neck and biting at your shoulder.

“Ah, again? So needy, begging for me,” he hums, mouth travelling down to suck at your other boob, his teeth scraping over your nipple. “You’re so pretty, (Y/N), taste so good, I could eat you up for hours.”

And, true to his word, he presses his tongue against your flushed skin, dragging it down to taste the mixture of sweat and come until it reaches your clit again. With a groan, he slurps at your sensitive bud, nipping at it.

“Shit–” you cry out, legs jerking. San laughs, drawing his fingers out of your cunt and away from your chest as he pins your legs down to have uninterrupted access. The hot muscle of his tongue slowly presses into you, flicking at your convulsing flesh so perfectly. With so many sensations overcoming your body, you feel like you might die as you reach your second orgasm of the night.

It washes over you wave after wave, and San’s tongue won’t stop pushing in and out of you at a slowing speed. “So perfect for me,” he repeats himself as he sighs against your quivering pussy. “You’re dripping so much for me. Eat you so well you can’t stop, hmm?”

“Fuck off,” you gasp, although there’s not much bite to your words. Not when San spreads your lower lips and presses his tongue impossibly further into your wet heat. “Ah, shit.”

As much as he likes to tease you, San doesn’t want to overwhelm you and he slows down, letting you come down from your high without too much overstimulation. Your body feels limp on the chair, your legs jello. You feel San’s breath on your temple right before he kisses it as he unties your wrists and pulls off your blindfold.

You blink blearily up at him, a smile forming at the sight of how wrecked he looks just as much as you. His hair is a mess and his crooked grin is shining with his spit and your slick. You grab his collar, unable to resist pulling him for another kiss as your hand wanders down to press against the obvious bulge in his slacks.

“Ah–” San sighs at the pressure, just letting you unzip his pants and pull out his thick cock, your thumb rubbing the head of it. “You don’t have–”

You interrupt him by leaning down and pressing your lips against the tip, letting your spit dribble down the length of it before enveloping half of it in your mouth. As you reach down to fondle his balls, you keep his dick resting in your mouth, spit pooling and sliding down the veins.

San looks ready to blow already, his eyes squeezed shut and his hand gripping your hair. It makes your heart and cunt throb at how beautiful he looks and you scrape your teeth gently against him. With an almost pained groan, he comes into your mouth and you swallow the bitter taste with a sigh and hum.

The hold he has on your hair loosens and his hand falls to cup your face to bring you back up to him for another long kiss. “Thanks for letting me do this,” San smiles against your lips and you tug him closer by his belt loops.

“Thanks for doing this,” you smile right back. “Next time, I’ll win.”

#cultofdionysusnet #kvanity #pirateeznet #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #ateez smut #ateez x reader #san fanfiction #ateez san #san x reader #san smut #san fanfic #joongfryefff24 #smut

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basset-babe · 5 months ago

Text

five times: the third.

pairing: benedict bridgerton x fem!reader

warnings: cursing, drinking, anger, disgust, hurtful words, self-doubt / sabotage

word count: 5.1k+

a/n: honestly felt like i bit more off than i can chew but i do relish a challenge! also, my apologies for the prolonged delay of my postings, dearests. life has been life-ing recently lol anywho, here is the ever-challenging third! opening with a whistledown aND y'all know what we do when gossip arrives, we gossip! ciao amo! (dates included do not mean anything nor is accurate to any timeline)

five times series: the first. the one point five. the second. the third. the three point five. the fourth . at last.

trees and skies banner from @cottage-writings, pattern banner from @cafekitsune thank you!

Lady Whistledown's Society Papers

March 25, 18XX

Dearest readers,

The season is in full swing, and the social whirl is abuzz with the latest happenings. None have captured our collective curiosity quite like the endless stream of callers at the Y/L/N residence, all vying for the favor of the season's paragon, Miss Y/N Y/L/N. With suitors from the finest families presenting gifts and performances, it is no surprise that Miss Y/L/N has been the object of much admiration.

However, keen observers might have noted a particular favorite among the throng. Yes, dear readers, the second Bridgerton son, Mr. Benedict Bridgerton, has made a notable impression on the lovely Miss Y/N. Their promenades and conversations have not gone unnoticed, with many speculating that he holds a special place in her affections. However, as ever in the delicate dance of courtship, it is not without its complications.

Whispers have reached this author's ears that Mr. Bridgerton has been seen in the company of Lady Tilley Arnold—a widow of the late Lord Arnold and esteemed patroness of the sciences. Their encounters, whispered about in the most fashionable circles, suggest more than mere friendship.

Do hold your gasps, for the intrigue does not end there. No, for as Lady Arnold bid adieu to the shadows and prepared to depart, a most shocking revelation transpired. Witnesses, whose lips dare not speak aloud but whose eyes betray their secrets, observed a clandestine exchange between the widow and Mr. Bridgerton— a kiss, dear readers, of the most scandalous variety! The timing, dear readers, is most curious as Lady Arnold was on the verge of departing London, which only adds to the enigma of this nocturnal visit.

What, pray tell, does this clandestine encounter signify, one might wonder? Is there more to the attention of Mr. Bridgerton, that his affections may be wavering, or has Lady Arnold, with her enigmatic charm, ensnared him in her web of intrigue? Such a late-night rendezvous, particularly with a lady of Lady Arnold's standing, is certain to raise eyebrows and incite much speculation.

The ton will surely surmise whether this encounter was a fleeting indiscretion or the beginning of a more complicated entanglement. What could this mean for Mr. Bridgerton and Miss Y/N? Will their courtship withstand the weight of this scandal, or will it crumble under the pressure of whispered gossip and innuendo? Can Miss Y/N overlook this transgression and hold fast to her affection for Mr. Bridgerton, or will she be swayed by the lure of a less tarnished suitor?

One thing is certain, dear reader: the social season has become infinitely more intriguing with this latest development. Rest assured, I will be watching with keen interest as the drama unfolds.

Yours Truly,

Lady Whistledown

third time.

"Good afternoon, sister," Benedict greeted Eloise, who was standing in the middle of the house's foyer with her hands conspicuously behind her back.

"Ah! Brother, afternoon," Eloise replied cautiously, attempting to hide the gossip sheet behind her gown skirts. "Where were you?" she asked, her tone tinged with curiosity.

"Nowhere of particular interest. What are you reading?" Benedict inquired, his eyes narrowing as he pointed to her hidden arm.

"Nothing," Eloise replied hastily, but Benedict knew better. He raised an eyebrow and extended his hand, motioning for her to hand over whatever she was concealing.

Eloise hesitated for a moment, then reluctantly produced the crumpled gossip sheet from behind her back, placing it in Benedict's outstretched hand. "Whistledown," she muttered, avoiding his gaze. "You are mentioned."

Benedict unfolded the paper and began to read. His typically affable expression turning stoic as he saw his own name linked with both Miss Y/N and Lady Tilley Arnold. His jaw tightened, and he placed the scandal sheet on the table. Eloise cleared her throat and asked. "How are you?"

"Quite the scandal, it seems," he remarked, his tone betraying a hint of indifference. "And here I thought I could keep my affairs private. What truly vexes me is not the content concerning myself, it's how she drags in the names of Miss Y/N and Lady Arnold, implying something as if curious but ruinous as she almost did you last season. Heavens be damned, if I ever discover her true identity, I will ensure it is her life that is ruined."

"The lady has declined visits... for today, Sir. I ask... kindly, that you leave the premises," the lady's maid informed as Benedict sat astride his horse, a sketchpad clutched tightly in his hand.

His heart sank at the lady's maid's words, a heavy weight settling in the pit of his stomach. He had ridden with fervent determination, his thoughts consumed by the desire to see Y/N, to seek solace in her presence after the scandalous sheet had been released. But now, faced with the reality of her refusal, he felt an overwhelming sense of restlessness wash over him.

He had hoped to find refuge in her company this late afternoon, to find comfort in the warmth of her smile and the gentleness of her touch. Yet, it seemed that even she was now beyond his reach, her doors closed to him in the wake of the damning gossip that had tainted his name.

"Could you try again, please?" Benedict implored, desperation lacing his words. "I just need to speak to her, to explain myself."

But the maid remained resolute, her expression unyielding, her features softened by a touch of sympathy for Benedict's plight. "I'm sorry, Sir," she repeated, her voice a gentle murmur, "but the lady's wishes are clear. I cannot go against her instructions."

Feeling the weight of disappointment settle upon him like a heavy cloak, Benedict offered a resigned nod to the maid, acknowledging her adherence to propriety even as his heart ached with longing. With a heavy sigh, he turned away from the imposing facade of Y/N's residence, his footsteps heavy with the burden of unspoken words and unresolved emotions.

As he urged the horse forward, the rhythmic beat of hoofbeats echoed through the quiet streets of London, a steady cadence that mirrored the tumultuous thoughts racing through Benedict's mind. With each passing moment, he felt the weight of the recent scandal pressing down upon him, its suffocating grip tightening with each breath he took. People who walked the pathways murmuring as he passed them. Almost as if they'd point and had been meaning to ask of the truth in the latest Whistledown.

But Benedict was not one to be deterred by adversity, nor to allow his spirits to be dampened by the trials of the heart. With a determined set to his jaw and a fire burning in his eyes, he urged his horse onward, his destination clear in his mind.

Arriving at the gentlemen's club, Benedict dismounted his horse with practiced grace, the cool night air stirring the tendrils of his hair as he strode purposefully towards the grand entrance. The club stood as a bastion of camaraderie and respite amidst the chaos of London society, its hallowed halls a sanctuary for men of wit and refinement.

He'd rode to the club where his brothers were spending the early evening. The ambiance was one of refined indulgence, with the soft glow of candlelight casting a warm hue over the rich mahogany furnishings and plush velvet upholstery. He found Anthony and Colin lounging in a corner, their laughter echoing through the room like the lively notes of a well-played sonata.

"Well, if it isn't our solemn Benedict," Anthony teased, clapping him on the back as he approached. His voice carried the joviality of a man accustomed to commanding attention, resonating amidst the club's genteel chatter.

Benedict managed a half-hearted chuckle, sinking into a nearby chair. His usually composed demeanor was tinged with a hint of melancholy, though he tried to play off his turmoil with a forced smile that did little to mask the weight of his troubles.

Colin, with his mischievous blue eyes and rakish grin, raised an eyebrow inquisitively. "Drama? Pray, do tell. Have you found yourself embroiled in a scandalous Whistledown-written affair, dear brother?" His tone was light, yet there lingered a genuine curiosity, as if he relished the prospect of a juicy tale.

Benedict rolled his eyes, though a flicker of amusement danced in their depths. "Nothing so melodramatic, I assure you," he quipped, his voice a melodious baritone that resonated with the refined elegance befitting a man of his stature. "Just a bit of trouble with a certain someone who shall remain nameless."

Anthony leaned forward, his interest piqued like a hound on the scent of a tantalizing mystery. "Ah, a mystery woman! Do tell us more. Is she a diamond of the first water? A rose amongst thorns? A season's paragon?" His knowing words were infused with a playful charm, his aristocratic features softened by the warmth of his smile.

Benedict couldn't help but laugh at his brother's theatrics, the sound echoing through the room like the pealing of church bells on a crisp autumn morning. "More like a thorn stuck on my rose, if you ask me," he replied wryly, his lips quirking into a rueful smile. "But alas, the sheet seems to have taken interest in me. Thus, I've offended the lady at my latest misstep."

Colin exchanged a knowing glance with Anthony, their eyes sparkling with mischief like stars in the night sky. "Ah, love can be a treacherous game, my dear brother," he remarked with a wistful sigh, his voice tinged with the bittersweet nostalgia of past dalliances.

With a resigned sigh, Benedict brough out the paper, his fingers trembling ever so slightly as he unfolded it to reveal the damning headlines. His eyes scanned the page again, each word striking like a blow to his already wounded pride.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" Anthony quipped, leaning in to peer over Benedict's shoulder with a devilish grin. "It seems our dear Benedict has captured the attention of Lady Whistledown herself. Tell me, is there any truth to this gossip?"

Benedict felt a flush of embarrassment creep up his neck as he struggled to find the words to explain himself, "There is a sliver of truth. Lady Arnold did visit, and yes, there was a kiss. But it was far from the scandalous affair Whistledown implies. We aren't anything but naught, I tell you." He answered at almost a whisper. Benedict knew that the contents of the scandal sheet would be the subject of much speculation and gossip, his reputation hanging precariously in the balance.

"And what of Miss Y/L/N, whom you are so ardently courting? How does she figure into this little drama?" Anthony asked, concerned of his brother's standing.

Benedict sighed, his concern evident as he expressed his worries to his brothers. "That is precisely my concern. I have been nothing but sincerity in my courtship of Miss Y/L/N. She deserves better than to be dragged into this mess."

Colin leaned forward, sensing the gravity of the situation. "So, what will you do? Surely you cannot let Whistledown's prattle jeopardize your relationship with Miss Y/N."

Benedict's expression phased into determination. "I intend to speak with Miss Y/N directly. She deserves to hear the truth from me, not the twisted version Whistledown has concocted. That if she allows an audience with me. And as for Lady Arnold, I shall ensure our interactions are far more circumspect if not, naught in all aspects she may bring up on me, when she does return and does whatever near."

Anthony nodded in agreement, his gaze softening with genuine affection as he clapped Benedict on the back. "Let us not dwell on the past now, brother, but instead focus on the future—on what you can do. Whatever Lady Whistledown may have to say, we shall weather the storm together, as we always have."

Colin, then, raised his glass, a gleam of mischief in his eyes as he played along with his brother's jest. "To no longer saving face, my dear Colin! For love, for honor, and for the sake of our brother's bruised ego!" His words were punctuated by a hearty laugh that resonated through the room like the rumble of thunder on a stormy night. This is going to be quite the arduous courtship.

The grand lobby of the Londinium Opera House was a scene of opulence and refinement, an exquisite embodiment of sophistication. As the setting sun cast a warm, golden glow through the tall, arched windows, the room seemed to shimmer with the promise of an enchanting evening ahead. The marble floors gleamed underfoot, polished to such perfection that they reflected the twinkling crystal chandeliers overhead. These chandeliers, with their countless prisms, scattered light like a thousand tiny stars, illuminating the elegant assembly below.

The air was a heady blend of perfumes and colognes, mingling with the faint, tantalizing scent of fresh flowers arranged in lavish bouquets atop mahogany tables. The flowers, a riot of colors and species, were chosen to reflect the season, adding a touch of nature’s beauty to the man-made splendor of the opera house.

"This is definitely too stuffy for my nose." Eloise brushed her finger by her nose as she and Benedict passed through a sea of dressed up ton amidst tonight's opera.

As the two navigated through the ton at the opera's lobby, their steps softened by the plush carpeting beneath them, Eloise couldn't help but wrinkle her nose discreetly once more. "I agree," Benedict murmured to Eloise, his voice barely audible over the gentle murmur of conversations and the distant strains of prelude music.

"It's like drowning in a sea of perfume and pomposity. How long will the show take?" Eloise asks.

Benedict chuckled softly, his eyes scanning the crowd with a bemused expression. "Indeed, it seems we've stumbled into a gathering of the city's most refined noses and airs. But I fear, it'd be almost four more hours but there must be a few souls yearning for a breath of fresh air."

Eloise grinned, her spirits lifting at Benedict's playful remark. "That'd probably be us, brother," she replied, her gaze sweeping the room in search of kindred spirits amidst the sea of finery. "But until then, I'd die of ennui from this whole bonanza of a show."

"Not if I escape it," Benedict remarked in jest as he wiggled his eyebrows at Eloise. "But, of course, I'm taking you with me."

"You are absolutely my favorite brother." And the two, laughing at their antics, sneaked out of the opera house where their carriage is waiting to flee the night.

The carriage ride through the moonlit streets of London was a serene affair, with only the rhythmic clip-clop of the horses' hooves and the soft creaking of the carriage wheels breaking the stillness of the night. Benedict sat in quiet contemplation, his gaze occasionally drifting to the window where the city's twinkling lights danced like distant stars against the dark canvas of the night sky. He had set upon to spend the night on the invite of a fellow painter, Lord Granville. The address card nestled in his pockets.

He knocked on the carriage roof and said, "We are to drop off Eloise at home first." Eloise shot her brother with a knowing look, "So, you do have plans for the night, Ben. Interesting." She nodded teasingly.

"What? Can't I spend my night on my own concurs?" He said, feigning defense on whatever his sister may be implying. The carriage stops and the footman opens the door. Eloise turns to her brother as she went down the carriage steps and says, "Amidst your Whistledown scrape, you seem to be taking this very light. Oh, to be a man this easy!"

Benedict shakes his head as he laughs at his sister's comment. He has been taking this all seriously, has he? It's not like he hasn't been doing amends. The gossip sheet only had been spread this morning. Surely, damages are still reversible? As the carriage turned out their street, Benedict's thoughts turned to the ramble of his mind. All his thoughts are loud of Y/N, her voice ringing in his head. He'd imagined their time in her garden. How she simply tells stories and facts of botany; or the time she'd nestled by the tree, her cheeks flushed with the lingering laughs they'd shared moments ago, and he couldn't help but smile at the thought of her. And as quickly as the smile drew on, it dissipated recalling that she had not allowed him audience this morning.

The carriage came to a gentle halt in front of a townhouse's doorstep, and Benedict stepped out onto the cobblestone path of 5th avenue, the cool night air washing over him like a soothing balm. He turned to the carriage driver, a silent acknowledgment passing between them before the driver urged the horses forward once more, disappearing into the darkness beyond.

Benedict delicately clutched the card bearing Lord Granville's prestigious name, ensuring he stood before the correct abode. With an air of refined assurance, he gently rapped the door knocker twice, whereupon Lord Granville himself promptly emerged to greet him.

Lord Granville, sporting a relaxed ensemble, greeted Benedict with a gracious nod, his demeanor exuding an aura of aristocratic charm. "Ah, Mr. Bridgerton, how delightful of you to join us," he intoned, his voice carrying a hint of cultured refinement. "Please, do come in. The evening promises to be most engaging."

With a gracious gesture, Lord Granville ushered Benedict into the dimly lit foyer, where the scent of beeswax candles mingled with the earthy aroma of oil paints. The sound of lively conversation and the occasional strumming of a lute drifted through the air, creating an atmosphere of artistic fervor.

As Benedict crossed the threshold, he felt a sense of excitement building within him, eager to immerse himself in the vibrant energy of the bohemian salon and the company of fellow artists and free spirits. Tonight promised to be a celebration of creativity and expression, a refuge from the stifling conventions of society, and Benedict couldn't wait to grasp his wash in of it.

The house was a riot of color and creativity, with tapestries adorned with vibrant hues lining the walls and eclectic artwork displayed on every available surface. Easels dotted the room, each showcasing works in progress, while clusters of artists and poets engaged in spirited discussions about philosophy, politics, and the latest artistic movements.

Benedict found himself swept up in the lively atmosphere, drawn to a group of painters huddled on their own canvases, their brushes dancing across the surface with frenetic energy. Where in the middle, nude women posed as muses and artist drew of their perspectives. Nearby, a poet recited verses of love and longing, his words weaving a tapestry of emotion that hung heavy in the air. Lord Granville now swept in his own circle.

In a secluded corner of the salon, hidden away from the prying eyes of the crowd, Benedict stumbled upon a private room adorned with tapestries of rich, jewel-toned hues and plush velvet cushions strewn about in haphazard arrangements. The flickering glow of candlelight cast dancing shadows across the walls, creating an atmosphere of intimacy and secrecy.

There, amidst the opulent surroundings, Benedict spotted Y/N, her laughter ringing out like a melody amidst the soft hum of conversation. She sat perched on a velvet chaise, a paintbrush in hand, her eyes alight with passion as she leaned over a canvas, her movements fluid and graceful.

Surrounded by fellow artists, including Lady Granville and Genevieve Delacroix, the ton's most favored seamstress, Y/N appeared completely at ease, her quick wit and sharp intellect evident as she engaged in spirited conversation, her laughter mingling with the clink of glasses and the rustle of paintbrushes.

As Benedict watched from the doorway, a pang of longing pierced his heart, the sight of Y/N's radiant smile and infectious energy stirring emotions he had long tried to suppress. He yearned to join her, to bask in her warmth and revel in the shared joy of creation, but the weight of their unresolved conflict hung heavy between them like a barrier, casting a shadow over their once vibrant connection.

Summoning his courage, Benedict stepped forward, his footsteps echoing softly against the polished floorboards. "Y/N," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, but before he could say another word, Lady Granville intercepted him, her gaze cold and calculating.

"Mr. Bridgerton," Madame Delacroix greeted with a disdainful tilt of her chin, her French slurred tone laced with thinly veiled contempt. "What brings you to our little gathering? Surely you don't expect to find yourself welcome here after what Whistledown's latest sheet has revealed."

Benedict's heart sank at the mention of Lady Whistledown's scandalous gossip, the weight of the accusations pressing down on him like a suffocating blanket. "Y/N, please," he implored, his voice tinged with desperation, but Lady Granville merely raised an imperious eyebrow, her disdain palpable.

"Ladies, could you please give us the room," Y/N interjected firmly, her voice carrying a steely edge that brooked no argument. Madame Delacroix shot her a questioning look, to which the lady nodded reluctantly. With a series of subtle glances directed at Benedict, the women filed out of the room, their gazes lingering on him with thinly veiled curiosity.

As the door closed behind them, a heavy silence settled over the room, the air thick with tension and unspoken words. Y/N turned to face Benedict, her features hardened with a mixture of anger and hurt.

As Benedict and Y/N unexpectedly found themselves face to face amidst the opulent surroundings of the Granville party, the atmosphere seemed to crackle with tension, the air heavy with the weight of unspoken words and unresolved emotions. Y/N's eyes, usually warm and inviting, now bore a glint of guarded skepticism as she regarded Benedict, her gaze piercing through the facade of polite decorum.

The room seemed to shrink around them, the murmurs of conversation fading into a distant hum as they stood locked in a silent standoff, each grappling with their own tumultuous thoughts and feelings. The flickering glow of candlelight cast eerie shadows across their features, adding to the sense of unease that hung between them like a tangible force.

"Benedict," Y/N's voice broke through the suffocating silence, her tone edged with a hint of surprise and resentment, "What brings you here? I didn't expect to see you at this gathering."

Benedict's features tightened with unease, his eyes darting nervously as he struggled to find the right words. The grandeur of the room seemed to mock his discomfort, its lavish decor serving as a stark reminder of the gaping divide that had grown between them.

"I...I could ask you the same," Benedict replied tentatively, his voice betraying his inner turmoil. The weight of Y/N's gaze bore down on him like a heavy burden, and he shifted uncomfortably under her scrutiny.

Y/N's lips formed a thin line, a flicker of frustration flashing in her eyes as she absorbed Benedict's response. The tension between them crackled in the air, suffusing the room with an almost palpable energy as they stood locked in a silent standoff.

"I am here with friends," Y/N explained tersely, her tone tinged with defensiveness. "I didn't anticipate running into...you."

Benedict felt a pang of remorse at the coldness in her tone, the realization of the pain he had caused her weighing heavily on his conscience. The warmth of the room seemed to dissipate, leaving behind a chilling emptiness that mirrored the growing distance between them.

"Y/N," he implored, his tone tinged with worry. "There's something I need to ask you. Why did you deny me an audience earlier this morning? I sought you out, but I was turned away without explanation. Please, Y/N, I need to understand."

Y/N paused in her tracks, her hand hovering over the couch arm as she hesitated. The weight of Benedict's words hung heavy in the air between them, the tension palpable as they stood on the precipice of an unspoken truth.

Slowly, Y/N turned to face him, her expression guarded as she met his gaze with a mixture of sorrow and resignation. "I couldn't face anyone— even you, Benedict," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "Not after... Whistledown that's happened. I needed time to gather my thoughts, to come to terms with the depth of my pain and my reputation."

Benedict's heart sank at her words, the realization of the pain he had caused her weighing heavily on his conscience. "Y/N, I had no idea," he murmured, his voice laced with regret. "If I had known, I would have respected your wishes. I never meant to add to your suffering."

"I know, Benedict," she firmly said, but her voice betraying her, tinged with sadness. "But some wounds run deeper than others, and time alone cannot heal them. I need space, time to find my own path forward."

"Y/N, please," Benedict pleaded, his voice tinged with desperation, "Let me explain. I never meant to—"

Y/N's eyes flashed with anger, her frustration boiling over as she confronted him with the pain he had caused. "Explain what, Benedict?" she demanded, her voice rising with each word. "Your absence? Your silence? Or perhaps the fact that I'm possibly nothing more than mere amusement to you, a prim and proper distraction from your rakish pursuits?"

Benedict recoiled at her words, the sting of her accusations piercing through his defenses like a dagger to his heart. "No, Y/N, you know that's not true," he protested, but she cut him off with a bitter laugh.

"Do I?" she spat, her voice dripping with contempt. "How can I be sure of anything when you've left me to face the whispers and the gossip alone? When you've abandoned me to doubt and humiliation?" Tears welled in Y/N's eyes as she spoke, the pain of betrayal etched deeply into her features.

Benedict felt the weight of her accusations like a sword to his heart, his chest tightening with the agony of her words. "Y/N, please, you must understand," he implored, his voice trembling with emotion. "I never intended for any of this to happen. My absence, my silence—it was never a reflection of how I feel about you. I've been grappling with my own inner turmoil, responsibilities and fears that have nothing to do with you."

Benedict's admission hung heavy in the air between them, his confession like a dagger to Y/N's heart. Her anger, fueled by betrayal and hurt, threatened to consume her as she struggled to process his words.

Y/N's eyes blazed with fury, her anger fueling her resolve as she confronted him head-on. "And what of the whispers about you and Lady Arnold?" she challenged, her voice dripping with scorn. "Are you telling me you had no part in fueling those rumors? That you never kissed her?"

Benedict recoiled at the accusation, the shame of his actions burning like a branding iron against his conscience. "No, Y/N, I swear it wasn't like that," he admitted, his voice laced with desperation. "There was a moment…" He paused, contemplating confession and it's consequences. He closed his eyes wincing at what he's about to say, "We did kiss, but it meant nothing. It was a mistake, a lapse in judgment that I deeply regret."

"A mistake?" she repeated incredulously, her voice tinged with disbelief. "A lapse in judgment? Do you expect me to believe that, Benedict? Do you expect me to simply forgive and forget?"

Benedict's eyes pleaded with her, his desperation palpable as he reached out to grasp her hand. "Y/N, please, I know I've made a terrible mistake," he implored, his voice trembling with remorse. "But I swear to you, it meant nothing. I assure you, it was inconsequential. You are the one I am committed to, the one I wish to be with. Lady Arnold made advances, and I rejected them. It was a momentary lapse in which I failed to uphold my commitment to you."

Y/N's shoulders slumped with the weight of Benedict's words, her resolve crumbling beneath the weight of his confession. She sank down onto a nearby chair, her breath hitching as tears welled in her eyes, cascading down her cheeks in silent rivulets. With trembling hands, she buried her face in her palms, the anguish of betrayal and heartache washing over her in relentless waves.

The room seemed to blur around her, the vibrant colors of the decor fading into a haze as she struggled to come to terms with the devastation of Benedict's admission. His words echoed in her mind, each syllable a painful reminder of the trust that had been shattered beyond repair.

How could she believe him? How could she trust that his words held any semblance of truth when his actions had spoken so loudly against him? The image of Benedict with Lady Arnold haunted her, a specter of doubt and uncertainty that threatened to consume her from within.

But amidst the turmoil of her emotions, a glimmer of resolve flickered deep within Y/N's heart. She may have been broken, battered by the storm of betrayal, but she refused to let Benedict's actions define her worth. With a steadying breath, she lifted her head, her tear-stained cheeks glistening in the soft glow of candlelight.

"I thought you were different, Benedict," she whispered, her voice barely above a whisper, "But I... I don't know if I can forgive you. The pain you've caused runs deep, and I fear that trust may never be fully restored."

Benedict's heart shattered at the sight of Y/N's tears, his own anguish mirrored in her sorrowful expression. Without hesitation, he sank to his knees beside her, his hand reaching out tentatively to brush against her trembling shoulder.

"Y/N, please," he pleaded, his voice thick with emotion. "I understand if you can't forgive me, if you can't find it in your heart to trust me again. But I swear to you, with every fiber of my being, I love you. I would give anything to make things right between us, to earn back your trust and your love."

His words hung in the air, a fragile plea borne of remorse and desperation. He longed to take her in his arms, to hold her close and shield her from the pain he had caused. But he knew that he had to respect her boundaries, to give her the space she needed to process her emotions and come to her own decision.

Y/N's shoulders trembled beneath his touch, her tears flowing unabated as she struggled to find the strength to meet his gaze. The weight of his words pressed down upon her, a bittersweet reminder of the love they had shared and the trust that had been so brutally betrayed.

For a moment, it seemed as though Y/N might succumb to Benedict's heartfelt plea. Her eyes softened, her resolve wavering in the face of his earnest confession. But then, with a trembling breath, she pulled away from his touch, her tears still glistening in the dim light of the room.

"I... I need some air," she choked out, her voice thick with emotion. Without another word, she stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor in a jarring echo of their fractured connection.

With a determined tilt of her chin, Y/N lifted the glass to her lips, downing the remaining contents in one swift motion. The bitter taste of the alcohol burned her throat, a sharp contrast to the ache in her heart as she turned away from Benedict, her steps heavy with the weight of her decision.

Benedict watched helplessly as she made her way to the door, his heart breaking with each retreating footfall. He longed to call out to her, to beg her to stay, but he knew that it was futile. The damage had been done, the rift between them too deep to bridge in a single moment of remorse.

As Y/N disappeared through the doorway, leaving him alone amidst the wreckage of their shattered relationship, Benedict felt a hollow emptiness settle in the pit of his stomach. He knew that he had lost her, perhaps forever, condemned to a lifetime of regret for the pain he had inflicted upon the woman he loved. And as he sank to the chair, his heart heavy with sorrow, he prayed for a chance at redemption, a glimmer of hope amidst the ruins of their once bright future.

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unabashegirl · 3 months ago

Text

Different 6 | College HS

Harry's quiet, routine-driven life changes one weekend when he meets Y/N through a mutual friend at her party. She comes from a superficial, materialistic world with absent parents who believe money solves everything. Despite their differences, something clicks that night, and Y/N can't stop thinking about him.

Author's note: hello everyone! I hope you are all doing well. Here is a new chapter I hope you enjoy!

check out my patreon (starting at $2) and get full access to all 25 chapters, various one shots and much more :)

warnings: smut

masterlist

She walked upstairs with a stripped towel tightly wrapped around her body. Harry could still sense that she was still cold. They stopped outside her bedroom One in front of the other, but neither of them said anything to the other. They just looked into each other’s eyes as they tried to decipher what the other wanted without having to utter a single word.

“Are you going to sleep? She pushed a strand of her wet hair behind her ear.

He shook his head, too nervous and scared to say anything that could mess up what they had. She proceeded to open the door and gestured for him to follow her in, and so he silently did.

“Have you ever been with a girl, Harry? Y/N bluntly asked as she dropped her towel, allowing it to pool around her feet. He simply shook his head after sitting by the edge of the bed. “Have you ever touched one?” She slightly pushed him further into the bed with one hand on his chest.

“N-no” he shut his eyes wanting to smack himself for stuttering at such an inappropriate time. Although, Y/N found it very adorable and charming. She placed one of her legs on either side of him. Essentially, straddling him. Harry leaned back on his arms for leverage, even though they felt like noodles.

“Why not?

“J-just never had the chance” He shrugged, “I-I guess”. She wasted no time in connecting their lips.

He could never get used to the sensation of her lips against his. It was all too satisfying. It was urgent, hungry, and desperate. He could feel his heart rate increase by the second. It was as if they only had a few seconds to show each other how much they meant to one another. It was everything and more than Harry had imagined. Harry felt like she washed over him like a heatwave. His entire body tingled from just having her that close. She pushed his chest back until his back was pressed against the mattress.

Y/N pulled away from him momentarily. She left open-mouthed kisses on his jaw and neck. The tender brush of her plump lips against his skin left a burning path.

Harry built up the courage to touch her, and so he gripped her hips as she continued her abuse of his neck.

“Are you okay?” She asked him when she reached his collarbone. She kissed the tip of his nose in reassurance.

“Yeh” he breathlessly said, staring at her. Harry wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer, enjoying her touch and kisses. Her hair was still wet, and it kept dripping water over their chest. His hands softly caressed her body. They came upon the strings of her bikini top. He fiddled with them not wanting to go any further without her consent.

“Take it off,” Y/N said between kisses

“Sure?” She bit her lip, nodding vigorously. Harry exhaled as his trembling hands reached out behind her and tried his best to unknot it. He sighed loudly and pulled his hands away, completely defeated and frustrated with himself. Y/N threw her head back and released a whole hearty laugh, provoking Harry one too. The entire scene was comical, but it was enough to relax Harry and made him feel more comfortable.

“I’ll help you” She reached back and easily untangled the mess that he had created. He inhaled one last time, preparing himself to get a glimpse of her naked breasts. Y/N pushed her hair back and finally tore her top off.

There she was, exposed to his eyes only. It was a privilege for him. Her body was a temple, and she was allowing him to glimpse it. They were perfect. Her breasts were incredibly smooth, slightly paler than the rest of her skin and a tiny mole sat on the upper outer half of her right breast. It was peculiar but he found it irresistible. Her skin screamed to be touched and loved on.

“Touch me, H” she whimpered, looking straight into his eyes with hooded eyes. Her smaller hands gripped his wrists and brought them up to her breast, encouraging him to have his way with her.

“Is this alright?” He ached for her, but he only wanted to make her feel good before anything else. Her cheeks had gotten slightly rosy, her hair was half-dried, and she had her lip tucked between her teeth.

“Just like that” Y/N breathed as her hands continued gripping his wrist. He filled himself with courage and leaned in. A small whimper left her lips as he kissed the newly exposed skin. Her soft moans only encouraged him to continue worshiping her body. That was until a different sensation ran through him when she moved her hips against his.

“Oh fuck” his whole composure was out of the window. She confidently smiled, satisfied with his reaction. She wasn’t going to miss the opportunity. Therefore, she began moving her hips in circles and back and forth. They moaned enjoying the friction against one another.

Harry gripped her hips tighter. His body felt hot like it was on fire. She pushed her hair back and pressed her hands against his chest for support. Her eyes were slightly shut, and her mouth slightly opened as she enjoyed the way she was making them feel. The thought of only the thin material of their bathing suits separating them from having sex was driving Harry crazy. He had never felt his pants tighter. It was even starting to hurt, but it was so worth it.

He ran a hand through his hair, slightly frustrated. He wanted more. He wanted to ravage her. The rhythm that she had kept was incredibly slow, but it was delicious. He could tell that she was coming undone, by how flushed she was and the grip she had on his chest.

“So fuckin’ beautiful” he grunted as he caressed her thighs. She leaned down and kissed his neck, slightly changing the position and causing Harry to come undone. She followed shortly after, giving him the opportunity to gawk at her.

Y/N rolled off him and lay beside him as she tried to catch her breath. Harry couldn’t believe it. He had just had dry sex with her, and he still craved her badly. He wanted more of her. He was excessively addicted to her.

None of them said anything for a few minutes, but they shared a comfortable silence. That was until she turned her body to her side and faced him. He turned his head towards her and caught her smiling.

She softly pecked his lips and pushed some of his hair back.

“Do you think this might work?” She rolled her body over his again, in search of some warmth. She laid her head in the crook of his neck and places a soft kiss on his jaw.

“I do” she responded, “You don’t?”

“I think…’ he paused for a moment as he gathered his thoughts. “I think it’s up to us. We just got to work for it” She agreed, slightly nodding. “I am willing to. If I get to be with you at the end of the day”.

“You are one of a kind, Harry Styles” she whispered after kissing him.

“Where are you going?” He asked, watching her get up from bed still very topless.

“Shower” she smiled, opening the bathroom door. “I would ask you to join me, but I know you won’t” She pouted, crossing her arms across her chest only making her breast more prominent. “Eyes up here, Styles”.

“Y-yeah” Y/N didn’t feel rejected, but it was still weird for her to get a no. Either way, she disappeared into the bathroom and took a ridiculously hot shower.

Meanwhile, he wrapped a towel around his hips and sat by the end of the bed, but not after checking the comforter for any wet spots. He could hear her signing which warmed his heart. It was cute. She came out, dripping water on the hardwood floors. She was never good at drying herself. Her cheeks were red, giving him flashbacks from earlier.

“Are you taking a shower? She asked, making her way into her closet. “Go ahead. I’ll just look for some clothes” Harry then walked into the already steamy bathroom. The shower was huge, enough to fit twenty people if she wanted. He took off his bathing suit and stepped in. He decided to take a cold shower instead. His mind kept drifting to the memory of her moving her hips.

“Babe?” She startled him, walking into the bathroom. He kept his back turned towards her. The pet name made him smile and feel giddy as if he were back in middle school, holding hands for the very first time.

“I found a plain t-shirt and some shorts. I hope they work. I’ll leave them on the counter” Her sweet voice echoed, over the running water.

“Alright”

“Cute ass” He heard her giggle and then heard the door shut. Harry chuckled and tried his best not to feel ashamed or embarrassed by his nakedness. He spent a few more minutes overanalyzing everything that had come out of his mouth before closing the faucet and heading out. He dressed in what she had left for him and went out to meet her, yet she was nowhere to be seen.

“Hi” she smiled as she shuffled into the bedroom in her slippers and holding a glass of icy water. She wore a shirt too big for her body and height. It was black with the logo of a famous back stamped on it. “Would you like some?” Y/N offered him some of the water that she had just gone to fetch. He drank the entire glass without hesitation. She pouted, “We were meant to share it”.

“I’ll go get you some more” He smiled at her, but not before gripping her chin and pulling her into a soft kiss.

“It’s okay. Let’s just go to bed” Harry waited until she got under the covers on her preferred side of the bed before getting in. She shut the lights as he tried to get comfortable. The sky was lighter, and the sun was starting to rise. The sheets were cold, making him quietly groan with satisfaction. There was no better feeling. He heard her moving around, followed by a click.

“What?” He whispered, watching the lightness of the sky disappear behind the automated curtains that quietly descended. He heard her move and instantly felt her soft, warm legs against his. He could smell the scent of her coconut and vanilla shampoo.

“Goodnight” she whispered after tangling herself with him.

“Goodnight” he whispered back, but not before giving her forehead a kiss.

For the first time, he felt genuinely content with the direction that his life was heading, and it was all thanks to her.

chapter 7

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cheeeeseburger · 5 months ago

Text

I'm an Aston Martin

Fernando Alonso x Reader

Masterlist

A/N: English is not my first language, apologies for the mistakes. Enjoy!

Even at 25, crossing the street was scary. People were driving so damn fast these days. Most drivers didn’t stop to let go you anyway. You were getting impatient, waiting on the corner in your short dress, all dolled up for a fancy dinner. You had gotten a few wolf-whistles already, and a car even honked.

Finally, a very expensive looking car stopped for you. As you were walking, you looked to your left to wave to the nice driver as a thank you. You nearly stopped dead in your track. The driver was a fine ass man. He was handsome and he looked a lot older than you, which clearly shouldn’t have that much of an effect on you. He lowered his gaze to get a good look at you, and he gave you an appreciative nod. Maybe your had pre-drink a little too hard, because you blew him a kiss as you finally crossed the street. You smiled to yourself as you entered the restaurant. This small interaction definitely put you in a good mood.

This dinner was starting to get more and more fun. People were now leaving to go to the dancefloor, and you made your way to the bar to get a drink, just to let loose a little. You accidentally bumped into a wall, which was actually a very sturdy man.

“Oh, excuse me sir!” The man turned around. Holy shit. It was the attractive man for earlier, at the crosswalk.

“Don’t apologize, princesa.” He looked so much hotter now that he was close to you. He had to be at least 15 years older than you, which was a nice bonus.

“It’s you!” was all you managed to reply. He smiled at you. The driver from earlier had an attractive face, and his suit made him look dashing.

“It’s me? Were you expecting me?” He flashed a cocky grin. This man was handsome, and he knew it. You blushed.

“You’re the guy who let me cross the street earlier! Thank you so much for being a gentleman.” You batted your eyelashes, going full-on flirty. This man was way too fine for you to resist the temptation.

He leaned in to whisper in your ear. “I only stop for pretty girls, princesa. But when they get to close, I stop being a gentleman.” You shivered. Goddamn. This was a thousand times better than your ex’s poor attempt at foreplay.

You managed to keep your cool, even though you were starting to get hot all over. “It’s okay, gentlemen are overrated anyway.” You put your hand on his arm. He stared at your eyes for a few seconds, clearly in a fight with himself.

“How kind of you to entertain an old man like me, princesa. Let me buy you a drink as a thank you.” His words made your heart drop in your chest. Did he really think you weren’t attracted to him?

“I assure you, sir, that you’re the one doing me a favour. Being here with a man as attractive as you, talking and laughing is doing wonders for my ego.” It was you turn to whisper in his ear: “Talking with you is also great for my daddy issues. Imagine what sleeping together could do to me, huh? It would be better than therapy.” He flushed. Okay, was this a new version of yourself? Were you finally able to talk seductively to a man you found attractive and not make a fool of yourself, for once?

“Princesa, this is all very flattering, but you’re way too young for me.” You didn’t even know his name, but you were already falling for this man who clearly needed to take a good look at himself in the mirror.

“It’s funny, I think I’m perfect for you, actually.” He laughed at that, and you flashed him your best smile. A connection was definitely forming, because it seemed as if the world stopped. There was only you, him, and something else that was just starting to blossom.

“Why don’t I buy you a drink and I let you go after, huh?” Feeling bold, you put your hand on his cheek.

“Oh baby, you’re never going to want to let me go.” He chuckled and put his hand on the small of your back to lead you to the bar.

(He in fact never let you, and he even put a ring on it to make sure you stay. But you didn’t know that at the time.)

“Tell me, princesa, what’s your drink of choice?” Fernando asked you. People around you were staring at the pair you were forming. Was this guy famous or something?

“I like an Amaretto sour!” He ordered one as well as a whiskey for himself. He paid, and you kissed his cheek as a thank you, letting your lips linger to the corner of his mouth.

“Interesting choice, hermosa. You seem so sweet, not sour at all.” You took a sip of your cocktail, and his eyes did not leave your lips for a second. “Don’t worry, handsome. I can still be very sweet. I just need to balance that sweetness.” You winked at him. This time, it was your turn to stare as he drank his whiskey. He was throwing his head back a little, and it made your imagination run wild with fantasies. You wanted to lock your arms behind his strong neck, and maybe leave a few hickeys there, too.

He laughed. “I like you, princesa. It’s scary because I don’t know anything about you.” His gaze lingered on your body, trying to gather information on you. The only thing he knew for sure was that you were the most stunning woman he had ever seen. And also, the youngest woman he had flirted with in a long, long time.

You felt butterflies all over your stomach when he mentioned liking you. This man was doing something to you. You answered: “Don’t be scared, lover boy. I feel the same, and I don’t even know your name. And I need to know so I can scream it later, when you take me in your bed.” You let your hand run all over his arm.

He looked up at the ceiling and started praying quietly. “Dios mio, hermosa.” He seemed to have trouble breathing. “You were right, I don’t know how I’m going to let you go.”

“How about you start you start by telling me your name, huh?” You squeezed his hand in yours and you gave him a reassuring smile.

“Okay. My name is Fernando Alonso. What’s yours, princesa?” Even his name was sexy. Alonso? That rung a bell. Didn’t that Charli xcx song mention that name?

“Fernando. Fernando. Fernando,” you repeated, liking the way his name rolled of your tongue. Apparently, he liked it too, a little too much. His eyes were full of desire.

“Stop that. It sounds too good. Tell me yours.” His knuckles were white. It was fun to see how much power you had over this near stranger.

“I won’t tell you, Fernando, because I’m afraid you’ll stop calling me princesa. I happen to like the nickname very much, Fernando,” you replied, making sure to insist on every syllable in his name. He raised an eyebrow, and he grabbed your arm and held it tight.

“I see what you’re doing, little girl. But this isn’t a game anymore” He put his hand around your waist and pulled you close. “I understand now why you’re attracted to me. You need someone older, someone to guide you. I could help you with that.” You felt heat rise everywhere in your body, his dominant words and his touch making your toes curl in your high heels. You had never felt his lips on yours, yet you were craving them. This man was driving you crazy, and nothing not PG rated had happened… yet.

With difficulties, you replied: “Then do it, please. You can do anything you want to do to me.” It was like something switched in his brain. All the restraint he had left his body. Fernando grabbed your arm and lead you all the way to a darkened corner. You were immediately against the wall, and his lips crashed against yours. You didn’t care that this was in public, and that this man was getting stares everywhere he went. Right now, the attraction between you two was the only thing on your mind.

Your fingers were twirling his hair to get a better grip on him. He put your leg around his waist, and you arched your back against him. You felt a bulge against your thigh, and that sent heat to your core. Were you really busy making out in public with a hot older man? If this was a dream, it was a damn good one, and you didn’t want to wake up.

“I’m going to take care of you, princesa.” Your moans replaced words. “Such a good girl, responding to my touch.” You nodded, and he wiped the lipstick off your swollen lips. Your legs were already shaking. You unbuttoned the first few buttons of his dress shirt, then pulled him by the collar.

“Fernando, please. I need you so bad, that I don’t even care if you take me right here, right now.” You had never wanted anyone else so badly. There was something special between you two, because otherwise you would have never felt so strongly about someone you just met. You started to leave little love bites all over his neck and jaw, practically begging him to fuck you.

He grunted at your words. “I would love to have you in front of everyone, but I don’t like to share. But I can’t wait, either.” You shivered. You didn’t know you had a thing for exhibitionism. He started to palm your body, and it felt like your skin was on fire every time he touched it. Fernando bit the strap of your dress and pulled it aside with his teeth to suck on that spot.

Thinking was hard. Replying was even harder. “Then fuck me in your car, where it all started.” He stopped what he was doing to immediately lead you out of the room. “That’s a great idea, princesa. Such a smart girl. I’m going to be very good to you. Keep it up.” You practically glowed at his praise. You felt special, because everyone was looking at the famous driver escaping the party with a pretty girl on his arm. Your dishevel hair was a pretty good clue as to what you were doing.

“Are you famous or something?” you asked.

He walked faster. “Don’t worry about it, hermosa.” A secretive man. Umm. He grabbed his keys from the valet, not bothering to get him to bring up his car.

Fernando was practically running in the parking lot to get to his Aston Martin, and you were following him, laughing. It was a very romantic moment. Somehow, it felt natural, casual even. There was a familiarity with Fernando that you had never observed with anyone else before. Your little walk was sometimes interrupted by him stopping in his tracks to stun you with kisses.

Finally, you got to his car. “Oh god. This is it. This is where I first saw you, and where I first noticed you were hot as fuck.” He laughed and pushed you against the hood.

“Don’t worry, princesa. I noticed you too. I saw how beautiful you were. I’m glad that I stopped for you, but I’m also mad, because every other car had to stop, and they all had the time to admire you while you crossed the street. I want to keep you for myself.” Fernando kissed the spot on your shoulder where the strap had fallen.

“Are you this possessive of every woman you just met?” You felt like the siren statues on ship, except that you were on a very expensive car. Just like a mermaid, you had lured him. Just like a sailor, you were drunk, but it wasn’t the alcohol that made you lose all your senses, it was him.

He chuckled and his large hands grabbed your waist. “Just with beautiful ones.” A wave of jealousy suddenly hit you. Had he done this before?

Fernando moved his attention to your neck, on which he left a trail of kisses and hickeys all the way to your jawline. He really was a possessive man, marking you as his. You balanced yourself on the hood of the car because you weren’t sure if your legs would be able to hold you any longer.

“I hope I’m the most beautiful of them all, then.” It was your turn to get possessive, which was crazy because three hours ago, you had never seen the man in question. You wrapped one leg around his waist to pull him forward. You felt his bulge, but there was too much fabric between you two, and you desperately rubbed yourself on him to try and get some friction to ease the heat between your legs. Fernando held your chin in his hands and put his thumb on your lower lip, forcing you to look at him.

“Of course you are. No one compares to you, princesa.” Oh, his words were too good, and you started to suck on his thumb.

“You’re too nice. Let me get you a treat, in exchange. Give me your jacket.” Confused, Fernando took of his suit jacket and gave it to you. With the jacket in your hand, you switched sides so he was the one resting against the hood.

You felt the fabric between your thumbs and winced when you saw that it was high quality. “I hope it wasn’t too expensive, because it might be ruined after this.” You put the jacket on the ground, and you went down on your knees.

“Dios mio, hermosa. Are you really going to do this here, outside?” You looked up at him and smirked. “Are you shy? Afraid of moaning too loudly, of everybody hearing you screaming?” You palmed him over the fabric of his pants and unzipped them.

In response, he pulled your hair and brought your head closer to his bulge. “Careful. You asked for it.” He removed his dick from his pants, and you started to suck on it.

Goddamn. You had enough material to suck on for days. You used your hands for the base, and you took as much as you could in your mouth. Fernando gripped your hair to push you forward. He was right, you had asked for it. Tears were stinging your eyes, but you didn’t mind them at all. The only thing you were focused on were his words of praise.

“You’re doing so good, princesa.” You heard a car door closing somewhere in the parking lot. You gasped and stopped what you were doing. “Don’t worry about it, hermosa. Keep it up, you’re doing so well.” He tilted your head, and you continued sucking on his length, his praise only making you ache more to please him.

When he felt he was about to come, he pushed your head back, but you returned to your original position and swallowed every last drop, your hand going back and forth for good measure.

Still on your knees, you looked up at him and licked your lips: “Did I do good?” Fernando put his hand under your chin. “You were perfect, princesa.” He helped you get up, giving your ass a small slap when you bent to pick up his jacket. You really hoped there were no cameras in the parking lot, but you kind of wish there were at the same time. The thought of everyone seeing you sucking his dick made you feel something down there. It was the kind of video you would like to watch again and again.

“Now it’s my turn to give you something, sweet girl.” Fernando spun you so your back was once again against the hood of the Aston Martin. His lips were on yours in an instant, and his hands were busy palming up your whole body, giving special attention to your breasts. He pinched your hard nipples that were showing up underneath the fabric of your dress between two fingers. You were moaning so fucking loud; it was like you were paid to do it.

“Shhh, we don’t want to get caught,” Fernando said, placing one hand over your mouth. Your plea and your cries were muttered, but if they weren’t, the whole neighborhood would have heard you begging the hot Spaniard to please get inside of you. Even though this man was a near stranger, you two understood each other perfectly, it was like you were in synch. “Now, princesa. Do you want to do this right here, or inside the car?”

You didn’t hesitate for a second: “Here. I can’t wait. Please, please, please, Fernando. You have to get inside of me.” He grunted at your eagerness, then took both of your arms and raised them over your head to pin them on the hood, near the windshield. You were on display on the hood, a dessert for him to enjoy, a sweet treat for him to devour.

“You want this so badly, little girl. After what you did for me, it’s only fair that I give back to you.” Fernando went down to your jaw and left a trail of kisses all the way to your cleavage, where he pushed aside the fabric of your dress to give you hickeys in the valley between your breasts. You wished you were in front of a mirror to get a better view of him savouring you.

His hands were busy lifting the hem of your dress and drawing circles higher and higher each time on your thighs. When you felt his fingers through the thin fabric of your underwear, you let out a moan that was good enough for a porn movie. You were holding on to the hood for dear life when he put one finger inside of you, then two.

“Oh my god, Fernando, oh my god!” you nearly shouted, panting. You must have done something good recently because you had never experienced anything as good before.

“If you keep it up, princesa, the whole fucking parking lot will hear you. So be a good girl and keep quiet.” Anything for you, hot stranger.

“I just need to have your dick in me so bad. I saw how big it was, and I need you to fill me up.” He shut you up with a kissing frenzy that left your lips swollen and your mind fuzzy.

“Who am I to refuse anything to such an angel?” He parted your legs and removed your underwear, letting it fall on the ground. Somewhere in his pocket, he found a condom and rolled it on.

Just the tip was enough to make your eyes roll to the back of your head.

“Oh god. I don’t think it’s going to fit!” He laughed, but you heard him let out pained noises. You had just given him a massive ego boost. Slowly, inches by inches, he managed to make it fit.

You wanted to scream at each thrust, but he always kept you quiet with a kiss or his hand over your mouth. In the back of your mind, you were thinking about the huge risk you were taking, fucking a stranger in a public place and all, but all you could focus about was the way he felt inside of you. You were gripping hard on his shoulders and on the car to stay standing up, because your legs were oh so very weak.

“That’s it, take it all in, princesa. You’re so perfect, all put on display for me. Thank god I let you cross the street earlier.” He caressed your hair and whispered words of praise in your ear that you would think about every time you used your vibrator for at least the next 10 years.

You were about to give in to your orgasm. He had found the perfect pace for you. In fact, everything he did was perfect for you. It was sad to think you would never feel anything this good ever again.

When you came undone, your legs started to shake uncontrollably, and you slipped of the hood. Fernando held you in place as he did a few other sloppy thrusts as he was himself finishing.

You both stood there, panting, appreciating the beauty of what you just did.

"I think I know why you're famous. You must be a pornstar, because you sure fuck like one." He chuckled and his lips lightly brushed your bare shoulder. "Don't be silly, hermosa. I'm not in this business. But I do ride for a living." Ok, that just left you more confused. Fernando softly kissed you.

“Now, princesa, do you think you could give me your name?”

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fic #formula 1 #f1 #fernando alonso x reader #fernando alonso x you #fernando alonso

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blackdollette · 3 months ago

Text

"says it feels like heaven to him." | spencer reid

off to the races. - lana del rey.

⊹₊⋆ synopsis: "just the tip"...

fill out the taglist form! : @thirtyratsinasuit @auggiethecreator @oliviah-25 @sleepysongbirdsings @pleasantwitchgarden @emma-e-a @bellasprettywords @hiireadstuff

⊹₊⋆ pairing: bimbo!female!reader x spencer

⊹₊⋆ word count: 1.3k

⊹₊⋆ contents: cunnilingus, unprotected p in v (copulate wisely!), premature ejaculation, slight creampie, implied aftercare

notoriety was your specialty. you wore nonchalance and ignorance like the mascara and lipstick that always set so perfectly on your face. spencer would often confide in you on various topics surrounding his undesirable job, but how could you listen to any of his problems when he had a face like that? even now, you ignored spencer’s muffled groans and whimpers, your compact mirror sitting prettily in your hand as you sat prettily on his face.

“spencer! can you hold still? you made me mess up my makeup!” you hissed, looking down into his eyes. even with half his face buried deep in between your legs, you still couldn’t get him to be quiet. as usual, spencer had come to your place to “talk”, like he always did whenever he felt uneasy. but those talking sessions had always ended with his dick stained with your pretty lipstick.

you sighed, snapping the bejeweled mirror shut and lifting yourself slightly so you were hovering over his face, his lips connected to your dripping and puffy cunt by a few strings of saliva. “take a second. you sure look like you need it.”

spencer panted heavily, bringing his hand to his forehead to brush away his chestnut-brown locks of hair. he scooted himself out from underneath you, his hands finding your bare hips to latch onto for support. you looked down at him, an unamused expression manifesting on your face as you saw the man recollect himself as if he had run a marathon. and you hadn’t even touched him yet.

spencer had developed a taste for your eccentric and hypersexual antics, often finding himself wondering how it would feel to be balls deep in that unnaturally plump pussy of yours. what could he say? you had woven him into your definition of perfection, making him undeniably whipped.

he reached out to grab your discarded pair of hot-pink, leopard print panties from the carpet, using them to wipe away the sweat cascading down the back of his neck. he cleared his throat, meeting your eyes with a half-lidded gaze of his own.

“do you, uh, mind if we change positions or something..? my jaw is killing me…” spencer suggested sheepishly, knowing full well that you’d keep him there for as long as you pleased if you really wanted to. which is why he was mildly surprised when he saw you nod.

“...why not? i guess you’ve been deserving.” you smile, pressing a smooch to his forehead and leaving a hot-pink lipstick stain on the surface. a stupid grin spread across his face, his cheeks tinting with the same shade that you had applied on his forehead.

he backed up against the headboard of your bed, watching as you gave yourself one last look in your mirror.

with a satisfied hum, you crawled in between spencer’s slightly parted legs, a torturous and sticky tent in his office pants. this was the third pair you had indirectly ruined this week. you pressed a soft kiss to the clothed tip, making his hips jerk upward as a groan sounded from the back of his throat.

your manicured hands trailed up to his bulge, massaging the tense flesh tenderly as you slowly began to undo the zipper. you could sense his body reacting in more ways than one to your painfully slow pace, but you loved to torture him more than anything.

you swiftly undid the button and the zipper, silently commanding him to lift up his hips, which he did. you pulled the sodden pants halfway down his tights, his aching cock throbbing through his boxers.

spencer hated it when you teased him, but couldn’t deny how much he loved being the object of your affection. his eyes trailed down your face, studying each feature meticulously. his gaze went from your face to your body, admiring the way your tits practically begged to be let out of the fluorescent bra you had on. he was only snapped out of his lust-filled gaze when you crawled onto his lap, gripping his cock in your hand and lining it up with your entrance.

“h-hey, i thought we were going to use a condom.” he stammered, subconsciously bucking his hips in your grip.

“ran out.” you muttered, teasing your slit as you slid his tip along it, sealing your eyes shut as a moan spilled from your parted lips.

spencer’s morals were battling with him right then. “...i thought we were gonna play it safe. especially after what happened last time…”

you scoffed, rolling your eyes. “oh c’mon, spence. you’re being paranoid. it’s not my fault you couldn’t pull out.”

spencer’s cheeks reddened even further. any amount of stamina that he possessed was slashed in half whenever he was inside you.

you rested your hands on his shoulders, looking down at him. “and besides, we’ll be fine if you only put the tip in. then i won’t get pregnant.”

the confidence in your voice mixed with the simple fact that you were just plain wrong was enough to free a little laugh from him. “that isn’t how it works…”

you laughed with him, your naivety beginning to shine through. “oh sure it is. as long as you don’t get inside, you can’t get me knocked up.”

to you, your logic was flawless. spencer wouldn’t be able to cum if he couldn’t actually get inside, which eliminated all possible risks. right?

as much as spencer wanted to pull out the multitude of factoids he had on this topic, he had gotten lost in the way your pretty eyes gazed down at him. just the sight of you got his palms clammy, his head light, and his guts doing complicated twists.

your wet folds began to drink him in as you dipped the tip in. spencer’s eyebrows knitted together, his eyes locked on when your beautiful body and his were connected. it was euphoric being this close to you. being able to smell your alluring scent and feel your touch on the most intimate part of him.

his fingers dug deeper into the plush skin of your ass as he tried to push himself further into you, groaning more than he should’ve been at the minimal contact. a smile pulled at his lips as he heard the sweet noises that came out of you, familiar buzzing sensations firing throughout him.

he knew this feeling all too well. his gut coiling, his balls tightening, and the sight of everything fading into a blur except you. the grinding motion of spencer’s hips came to a halt as his head tilted back, a deep groan coming from him as his release began to ooze from his tip. his hips rutted upward until he was fully inside you, filling up your tight hole with his cum.

“spencer!” your voice snapped him out of his sneak peak of paradise, his eyes opening quickly as he looked down and saw his cum waterfalling down his rod. his eyes widened at the sight of his release seeping out of your hole.

“...oh jeez… not again.” he muttered, his voice raspy and thick with the lingering pleasure of his orgasm.

“i can’t believe you, i didn’t even put it in!” you gave him a light swat on the chest.

“s-sorry, baby. y-you’re just so…” his voice trailed off as he looked down your body, swallowing hard.

you raised an eyebrow, putting your hands on your hips. “i’m just so what?”

he smiled, letting his gaze wander freely. “you’re so beautiful…” he whispered, tightening his grip on you slightly.

you couldn’t fight the grin that threatened to appear on your face. “you’re not too bad yourself…” you stood up from the bed, looking at the trail of moisture that you had left behind. you sighed, looking at the pile of discarded clothing on the ground. “let’s get cleaned up. i got this new bath soap that is to die for.”

spencer laughed softly, pulling his pants back up and standing next to you. “right. lead the way.” he said as you began to walk in front of him, not being able to help stealing a few glances at you from behind along the way.

author's note: not my best work but this was so much fun to write omg

#criminal minds fanfiction #bau team #dr spencer reid #doctor spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid smut #dr spencer reid smut #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler smut #smut #lana del rey #444rockstargf

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smoooothoperator · 1 month ago

Text

What Was I Made For?

25: Love Of My Life

childhood enemies, forced proximity, accidental pregnancy, enemies to lovers (👀)

Warnings: fluuuuuff, birth, happiness. Third person pov.

a/n: LAST CHAPTER! WOW! I really can't believe this is the end (unofficially, because there's an epilogue and then if you want I can write extra things). I loved every minute I created this story, and I hope all of you loved reading about them❤️

if you want to play a game and ask things about Dafne

Masterlist

previous part | epilogue

If you want to be tagged don't forget to message me!

Every way of feedback is very welcomed

Monaco is always sunny. And in the first weeks of June, the warmth of the sun bathes the streets from morning to evening.

Charles finally ended the triple header, with the last race in his hometown where his family and girlfriend were.

When his girlfriend told him that she wanted to be in Monaco to deliver their baby surrounded by their family and friends, he had a mixture of feelings going around his mind. He was happy that she decided to be in Monaco, so their son Dorian would be born where he was born. But at the same time he felt anxious, not knowing if he would miss the birth of his first son or even not knowing how Dafne was dealing with the last weeks of pregnancy.

The moment he had the last brief meeting with his team after the Monaco Grand Prix, he asked his boss to give him time to be with his family, asking to stay out of the races for what was left of the first half of the season. And just with the nod of his head and a small smile, he knew that his boss was already thinking about it even before he asked about it.

Charles pushed open the door to his Monaco apartment, the familiar sound of the soft click as it closed behind him was barely loud. His body ached because of the time spent in the car during the week, with the adrenaline still running through his veins. The roar of the crowd and the car speeding through the city streets echoed in his mind. Now, standing in the quiet hallway, it all seemed a world away.

He slipped off his shoes, exhaustion starting to creep in. The apartment didn’t have any light turned on, the evening sun casting golden light across the floor. He walked towards the living room and looked around, smiling when he saw the blue yoga ball in the balcony, and his mind created images of how she would have watched the race while doing those exercises the doctor told her, moving in circles on top of that ball.

“Dafne?” he called her, leaving his backpack on the table.

He walked further into the apartment, and that’s when he saw her, in the kitchen with her back to him, humming softly to herself. She was dressed comfortably, her hair loosely tied back, a hand occasionally resting on her swollen belly as she mixed the contents of a pot.

He leaned against the doorway for a moment, simply watching her. There was something peaceful about the scene, with the soft hum of the kitchen, and Dafne standing there, so full of life and beauty. For a second, he wondered how he got so lucky.

“You’re going to burn holes into my back if you keep staring like that” Dafne’s voice broke the silence, teasing but warm. She didn’t even turn around, but Charles could see the smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “You came earlier than I thought”

“Can you blame me?” he chuckled, pushing off the doorway and walking up behind her. He slipped his arms around her waist carefully, his hands resting on her belly as he leaned down to kiss her cheek. “Look at what I’m coming home to”

Dafne turned in his arms, her hands resting on his chest as she looked up at him. Her eyes softened at the sight of him. He looked tired, his hair a mess from the helmet and sweat, but there was a tenderness in his gaze that always made her heart flutter.

“You did an amazing race today, my winner” she smiled softly. “When will they give you the trophy?”

“Maybe in a few days” he sighed, kissing her forehead. “Now I have time for you, let’s stop talking about racing. I missed you”

“I missed you too” she smiled, closing her eyes when she felt his lips on her skin. “Even if you stayed here with me during this week we barely had time for ourselves”

“Now we will have all the time in the world, then” he smiled. “I won’t race for the rest of the first half of the season”

“I’m glad” she nodded.

Charles smiled looking at her, pressing a kiss on her lips. His hands lingered on her belly as they kissed, feeling the slight movements of their baby beneath his fingers. When they pulled apart, Charles let out a soft chuckle, glancing down at her stomach.

“How’s our little one? He’s been treating you well?” he asked.

“He’s been restless. Kicking like crazy today, especially when I started cooking. I think he’s hungry” Dafne smiled, brushing a hand through Charles' messy hair.

“Well, let’s not keep him waiting” Charles laughed.

“What about you?” she asked, pulling back to look at him more closely. “You look exhausted. Go shower, and dinner will be ready when you’re done”

“You’re the best, you know that?” he chuckled, kissing her once more.

“Of course I am” she smirked, laughing softly.

He laughed and shook his head playfully, walking through the corridors of the apartment and going to his bedroom, grabbing fresh clothes to be comfortable and then slipping to the bathroom, taking a fast shower, not wanting to make Dafne wait too much.

A few minutes later, Charles returned, freshly showered, his hair damp and skin glowing from the warmth of the water. He looked more relaxed now, his usual grin playing on his lips as he walked back into the kitchen. Dafne was just finishing plating the food, moving a little slower than usual, but determined to carry on as normal despite her growing belly.

“Sit down, silly” Charles said, taking the plates from her hands and guiding her to the dining table. “You’ve done enough today.”

Dafne chuckled but didn’t argue, lowering herself carefully into the chair. Charles set the plates down, pouring two glasses of water before sitting across from her. For a moment, they both just sat there, a quiet sense of calm filling the space between them.

“Thank you for this” Charles said, taking a bite of the pasta. “It’s exactly what I needed.”

“I thought you might appreciate a home cooked meal” Dafne smiled, taking a bite herself.

He laughed softly and started eating, moaning softly with a wide smile while he ate what Dafne cooked. They started talking about the race, about the previous ones and how the team was working. And after that, they couldn’t help it and started talking about what is coming next.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, his fingers tracing small circles on her hand. “We’re so close now”

“I’m tired, I won’t lie. My back hurts, my feet are swollen, and I can barely sleep. But…” she smiled, glancing down at her belly. “Every time I feel him move, it’s like all of that doesn’t matter. We’re so close to meeting him. I can’t wait”

“I can’t wait either” he whispered. His voice was soft, full of emotion. “I still can’t believe it sometimes. That we’re going to be parents. That we are together. I can’t imagine how the six years old Charles is feeling now”

“I think reality will hit when you’re changing his diapers at 3 a.m.” Dafne laughed.

“Bring it on. I’m ready for all of it” he laughed, so carefree.

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, the weight of the moment settling over them. Outside, the soft sounds of Monaco drifted in through the open window of the kitchen: the distant hum of the sea, the occasional car passing by, the quiet murmur of life carrying on below them.

“I’m glad we’re here. It feels like the right place for him to be born. Our family’s here, and…” she smiled, looking at Charles with a softness in her eyes. “And you’re here.”

“I wouldn’t miss this for anything” he said, squeezing her hand softly. “You know, these next few weeks are going to be the best part. Just us, waiting for him. I’ll be here, every step of the way.”

“I know. And I wouldn’t want it any other way” she sighed, smiling wider.

“We’ve got this” he nodded.

“Yeah, we’ve got this” she repeated softly.

dafnemorelli

liked by charles_leclerc, pierregasly and 629.517 others

dafnemorelli Last weeks! Can't wait to meet you❤️

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charles_leclerc ❤️

scuderiaferrari Can't wait to see baby Dorian

charles_leclerc

liked by dafnemorelli, pierregasly and 719.317 others

charles_leclerc Last weeks until we meet our son. Can't wait to have him with us🥹❤️

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sharlesperceval Remember when we used to watch how those to argue? And when they had to do the challenges and sponsors meetings and they were all the time throwing beef?

dafneismymom And now they are having a son and they are so in love 🥹

The sun was just beginning to dip toward the horizon, casting a warm golden light over the backyard of Dafne’s parents’ house. Balloons in soft shades of blue, cream, and white floated around the space, with more things with the same shades of blue.

Laughter and conversation filled the air as friends and family gathered around, celebrating the soon-to-arrive baby. Long tables were covered with food and drinks, with a special cake shaped like a race car sitting at the center, a playful nod to Charles' career.

Charles was near the table, laughing with his brothers and some of his friends, while Dafne was seated on a cozy outdoor sofa, her hands resting on her swollen belly talking with her sisters and friends while she opened the gifts all of the guests came with: adorable baby clothes, plush toys, and tiny shoes.

“You’re going to spoil him before he’s even born” Dafne laughed as she thanked Arhtur.

“We’re just getting started” he joked, winking at her playfully.

The afternoon was a mix of joy and excitement, with everyone catching up, sharing stories, and playing baby shower games. The most popular one seemed to be “Guess the Baby’s Birth Date,” with people writing down their predictions on a chalkboard set up near the gift table.

At one point, Dafne glanced across the terrace and spotted her best friend Oscar and his girlfriend Lily, standing by the edge, chatting and laughing with a group of mutual friends. Oscar, as always, looked effortlessly relaxed, his arm slung around Lily’s shoulders.

Dafne smiled to herself, feeling a wave of warmth wash over her. She knew what she had to do. This was the moment she had been waiting for.

“Charles” Dafne murmured. “I’m going to go talk to Oscar and Lily for a minute.”

“Are you going to ask them now?” he smiled excitedly.

She nodded, her heart racing with excitement and a touch of nerves.

Dafne made her way over to Oscar and Lily, her steps slower than usual but filled with purpose. When they noticed her approaching, Oscar immediately stepped forward, grinning widely.

“Look at you!” he exclaimed, his voice teasing but affectionate. “You’re glowing!”

“And also moving slower than a snail” Lily added with a playful smirk, though her eyes were filled with warmth.

“Trust me, I feel like a penguin” Dafne laughed, placing a hand on her belly as Dorian gave a little kick in response.

“Can we feel him?” Lily asked softly, her face lighting up with excitement.

“Of course” Dafne said, guiding Lily’s hand to her belly.

“That’s amazing,” she whispered, feeling the little movements beneath her hand. Oscar placed his hand beside hers, his smile widening as he felt the soft kicks.

“Dorian’s already practicing for his debut” Oscar joked, looking up at Dafne with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

Dafne chuckled, then took a deep breath, gathering her courage. This was it.

“Hey” she started softly, her voice suddenly more serious but filled with affection. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask both of you.”

Oscar and Lily exchanged a curious glance before focusing back on Dafne, waiting expectantly.

“You two have been such an important part of my life” she smiled, glancing back at Charles, who was watching them from afar with a soft smile. “You’ve been there for me through everything, the good and the bad, and I can’t imagine our baby growing up without the two of you being a huge part of his life.”

Lily’s smile softened, her eyes already filled with emotion, while Oscar looked at Dafne with a mixture of surprise and curiosity, sensing where this conversation was going.

“So… I was wondering if you would do me the honor of being Dorian’s godparents?”

For a brief second, there was stunned silence. Oscar and Lily stared at her, wide eyed, as if trying to process the enormity of the question.

Then, all at once, their faces lit up with pure joy.

“Are you serious?” Oscar asked, his voice filled with disbelief, though the grin spreading across his face made it clear he was over the moon.

“Of course, I’m serious” Dafne said, her own eyes filling with tears. “You’re family to me, Oscar. Both of you are. The moment I came to Prema and you started to talk to me, I felt like you were a brother to me. And… Somehow I want you to be in my family, being Dorian’s godfather”

“You have no idea how much this means to us” he smiled, holding her hand and wrapping his arms around her tightly. “Thank you.”

When they finally pulled back, Lily stepped forward, hugging Dafne tightly. Both girls chuckled softly, hugging each other while moving side to side softly.

“We promise we’ll be there for him and for you, always” Lily smiled.

“I know you will” Dafne whispered, her voice thick with emotion as she held Lily close.

Just then, Charles appeared at Dafne’s side, smiling warmly at the scene. He stood next to Oscar and both of them hugged tightly for some seconds.

“So, what’s the verdict?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

“We’re in” Oscar said with a laugh, clapping him on the back. . “You couldn’t have picked better.”

“Welcome to the family, then” he smiled. “This time officially”

The sun streamed through the large windows of their Monaco apartment, the weather of June already making them use summer clothes. Charles was sitting on the couch, his feet propped up on the coffee table, watching a Netflix show on the TV. Dafne sat on the yoga ball beside him, looking at the baby clothes that were on top of the table, folding and sorting them with a content smile.

“Look at this one!” Dafne exclaimed, holding up a tiny onesie with a little Ferrari logo stitched on the front. She laughed, imagining their baby in it. “I can already see him driving his own little car.”

“He’ll be a natural. Maybe he’ll win the Monaco Grand Prix one day. Just like his dad” he smiled proudly.

They laughed together, the warmth of the moment wrapping around them like a comforting blanket. It felt like a perfect day, one filled with simple joys and the promise of their future.

But then, just as Dafne reached for another outfit, a sudden sharp pain shot through her abdomen. She froze, her breath hitching slightly.

“Dafne?” Charles asked immediately, worried. “Are you okay?”

“I think so… It was just a little cramp” she smiled, shaking her head softly.

“Are you sure? Should I get you some water?” He was already moving, ready to spring into action, the instinct to care for her taking over.

“I’m fine” she promised him, waving him off. “Just… a little uncomfortable”

But as she spoke, another wave of pain rolled through her, more intense than the first. This one took her breath away, and she clutched her belly, the sudden realization hitting her.

“Charles!” Her voice trembled, eyes wide.

“What?” he frowned confused, already kneeling in front of her.

"I think…" she trailed off, pressing her lips together as she tried to breathe through the discomfort.

Her mind raced, trying to make sense of the sensation. She had felt Braxton Hicks contractions before, but this… this felt different. Stronger. More insistent.

"I think it’s starting" she whispered, her eyes widening as the realization washed over her. "Charles, I think these are real contractions."

Charles’ heart skipped a beat. His calm demeanor faltered for just a moment before he pulled himself together, taking a deep breath and holding Dafne’s hands tightly.

"Okay, okay. Don’t panic" he said, though he could feel the adrenaline already starting to pump through his veins. "We’ve got this. We’re prepared"

Dafne nodded, but her breathing had quickened. She placed both hands on her belly, wincing slightly as another wave of discomfort rolled through her.

"Let’s time them, yeah?" Charles suggested, pulling out his phone. "Just to see how far apart they are."

Dafne nodded, trying to relax into the ball, though her body felt tense, her muscles reacting to the new intensity of the contractions. Charles took her hand, his thumb brushing over her knuckles as they waited together in silence. After a minute, another contraction hit, stronger than the last, causing her to grip his hand tightly.

"Breathe, love" he whispered softly. "In and out. I’m right here."

Dafne did as he said, focusing on her breath, even though the pain was starting to grow more intense. She knew what was happening, this was the real deal, but it still felt surreal. They had been enjoying such a calm, peaceful day, and now, just like that, everything was shifting.

After a few minutes, another contraction hit, and Charles stopped the timer, taking a deep breath while he kissed Dafne’s forehead.

"They’re about ten minutes apart" he said, his voice steady. "I think we need to get ready."

“The hospital bag is next to the door” she said, groaning softly as she stood up slowly.

He stood quickly, moving with a sense of purpose as he grabbed the hospital bag they had packed a month ago, along with a few extra things he thought she might need. Dafne slowly eased herself out of the ball, standing up with some difficulty as another contraction hit, her breath coming in short bursts.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice filled with concern, though he was trying to stay as calm as possible for her.

"I’m okay" she nodded, though her face tightened. "It’s just… intense."

"I’ve got you" he whispered, helping her to the door. "We’re going to the hospital now, okay? Just hang in there."

Dafne took a deep breath, focusing on the sound of his voice. The contractions were coming faster now, each one stronger than the last, but with Charles by her side, she felt steadier. She knew they were ready for this moment, even if it had come sooner than expected.

As they stepped out of the apartment, Charles paused for a second, looking down at her, his eyes softening despite the rush.

"We’re about to meet him" he whispered, his voice filled with wonder and excitement.

Dafne smiled through the pain, her hand gripping his tightly.

"Yeah" she breathed. "We’re going to meet our son."

The drive to the hospital felt endless. The contractions had come closer and stronger as Charles drove through the streets of Monaco, his eyes flicking to Dafne every few seconds to make sure she was okay. Her grip was firm on his hand, her breathing uneven but steady as she focused on getting through each wave of pain.

“Almost there, love” he whispered, his voice tight with a mixture of worry and excitement. The adrenaline was pumping through his veins, but he stayed as calm as he could, trying to keep her grounded.

When they finally pulled into the hospital parking lot, the moment felt surreal. Charles hurried out of the car, rushing to Dafne’s side as she stepped out slowly, clutching her belly. The pain was now constant, waves of pressure rolling through her body one after another.

“We’re here” Charles said as he helped her into the hospital.

He could see the tension in her face, the way she was gripping his arm, but he wasn’t about to let her go through this alone. He was right there beside her, guiding her with every step.

As they entered the hospital, a nurse quickly approached them, guiding them towards the maternity floor. Charles was barely able to keep up, his mind racing as the reality of the situation hit him all at once. They were about to have their baby.

By the time they reached the delivery room, Dafne was trembling, but she was still breathing through the contractions, and Charles remained by her side, holding her hand and offering words of encouragement.

“You’re doing really well, Dafne” the doctor said with a reassuring smile. “It’s almost time to meet your baby. We have to wait until you are fully dilated, okay?”

Dafne’s breath hitched at the mention of the baby, her eyes widening as another powerful contraction gripped her body. She clutched Charles’s hand so hard her knuckles turned white.

“Charles” she whimpered, her voice trembling. “I can’t… I really can’t do this.”

“You can” he said, leaning in close, his voice soft but firm. “You’ve been strong the entire time. You’re almost there. Dorian’s almost here.”

She nodded, but the fear in her eyes was still there. She squeezed her eyes shut as the pain began to build again, her body arching with the force of it. The nurse was already getting ready for the birth, setting up the instruments, while the doctor prepared herself.

“You’ve got this. I’m right here with you. You’re not alone” Charles whispered, wiping away the drops of sweat that were running down her temple.

Dafne nodded again, her breathing slowing a little as she focused on his voice, letting it anchor her through the next few contractions. She gripped his hand tighter, her nails digging into his skin, but he didn’t flinch. He knew she needed him to stay strong.

And then, the moment came.

“Dafne, it’s time to push” the doctor said, her voice calm but filled with urgency.

“It hurts too much” Dafne mumbled, taking a deep breath.

“I know” the doctor said firmly. “You’re fully dilated. You just need to push, love.”

The first push was slow, but the pain pushed her past the fear, and she did it again, harder this time. Charles’s hand was holding hers, his voice murmuring calming words in her ear.

“That’s it, love. Just a little more. You’re so close” he said softly, his face inches from hers, watching with a mixture of awe and concern.

She pushed again, feeling the pressure building, the pain unbearable yet urging her to keep going.

“This is your fucking fault!” she exclaimed through the pain. “If you just used a condom… Fucking asshole!”

“I know, love. I know” he chuckled, knowing that she didn’t mean none of that, not anymore. “Come on, push more, he’s coming”

And in that moment, the world seemed to stop.

The room was filled with the sound of a newborn’s cry, loud and sharp as the doctor gently held Dorian up. Charles, with tears in his eyes, could barely believe what he was seeing. The tiny, perfect baby they had created together, finally here.

“Dorian” Dafne whispered through her tears, her voice full of pure adoration. She watched as the nurse quickly cleaned him up, and Charles moved to stand beside her, his hands shaking with excitement.

“He’s… he’s perfect” Charles whispered, his voice choking with emotion as he leaned down to kiss Dafne’s forehead, his hand gently caressing her face. “We did it. God, you are so strong, my love. Thank you, thank you…”

Dafne looked up at him, her heart swelling with love and exhaustion. Dorian’s cry softened as the nurse wrapped him up in a small, white blanket and handed him to Dafne, her arms already reaching for him instinctively. Charles, with his own tears now falling freely, leaned in close, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

“Our son” he whispered, watching as Dafne held the tiny, fragile life between them.

“He’s ours” she whispered, her voice cracking with emotion. Dafne’s eyes were wide as she stared down at their baby. His tiny face, his little fingers, his perfect little features.

Charles kissed her once more, his hand resting on her shoulder as they both looked down at their newborn son, their hearts swelling with love and relief.

“Welcome to the world, Dorian Jules Hervé Leclerc” Dafne whispered softly to him, her voice full of wonder and joy.

And in that moment, the world outside the hospital seemed to fade away. Everything was quiet. Just them. Their new family.

charles_lelcerc

liked by carlossainz55, oscarpiastri and 819.571 others

charles_leclerc This morning, Dafne and I were joking about me buying her sushi the day Dorian arrives.

Now, I'm posting this while I go back to the hospital after we just welcomed our son to the world.

Dorian Jules Hervé Leclerc was born today, 17th of June of 2025. He's healthy and beautiful, and Dafne is recovering too. The birth was incrediblly quick, it took us by surprise and we rushed immediately to the hospital.

The fact that our son was born today, day 17, feels like a signal that our beloved Jules is blessing us.

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scuderiaferrari Welcome to the world Dorian!

oscarpiastri Lily and I are on our way to meet our godson

landonorris There's no way he's the godfather. What about me?

pierregasly What about you? What about me????

charles_leclerc pierregasly don't worry, you'll be the next one

dafnemorelli charles_leclerc go to hell if you are already planning the next baby. If you give birth to it then we can negotiate it. Bring the sushi. I'm hungry.

charles_leclerc of course, my love❤️

carlossainz55 Congratulations mate! You deserve it so much!

f1academy ❤️❤️❤️

dafnemorelli

liked by charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri and 927.518 others

dafnemorelli I can't believe that you are finally here. Now that I have you in my arms, holding you close to my heart, I can say that I'm a mother, a proud mom.

I love you, Dorian. I will protect you and keep you safe.

Dorian Jules Hervé Leclerc. 17 of June of 2025.

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soleil_morelli Can't wait to meet him

ericamorelli God he's so beautiful!

f1 Dorian is so beautiful. We're so happy you two are alright! Can't be prouder❤️

fewawifan OMG BABY DORIAN! HE'S SO BEAUTIFUL! 😭😭

dafneismymom I should change my user name?

dafnemorelli dafneismymom nah, makes me feel more milf than I already am

fewawifan omfg 😂😂

charles_leclerc I agree. You are a milf.

charles_leclerc I love you, Dafne. You are the love of my life, can't wait to see how our story continues❤️

taglist

@elisysd @alltoomaples @ssprayberrythings @rach3164 @yvonne-dump @deliciousfestsalad @janeh22 @hc-dutch @ninifee1802 @kakorrhaphiphobia @ssararuffoni @itsjustkhaos @scaramou @tapedeck-hearts @sltwins @glitterquadricorn @ladystardust05 @theseerbetweenus @vizzzashley @auawdo @leah-also-known-as-creatoronwp @leptitlu @green-thots @caterinemirandax_ @mid5nights @harrysdimple05 @nofingjustaninchident @mendes-bae

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hornyhornyhimbos · 16 days ago

Text

"One Of Me Is Cute... But Two Though?" ~ L. Alvez

Summary: When Reader spots her pregnant friend at a Halloween party, the wheels start to turn in her head. If Luke really loves her, won't he love having a second Reader even more?

Pairing: Luke Alvez x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1,664

Content Warning: MINORS DNI (18+ content) unprotected piv sex, couch activities, breeding kink, Luke is kind of a mean!dom oops, nicknames (baby, brat; Luke is called daddy once), sorta implied drinking since they take an Uber home but not really, explicit language, lowk this fic was kinda rushed sorry, fic title is of course from "Juno" by Sabrina Carpenter, lmk if i missed anything!

Extra Notes: so sorry this was not posted on time 😭 hope you guys still enjoy though!

Originally Written: 10/25/2024 through 10/27/2024

criminal minds masterlist can be found here!

halloweek masterlist can be found here!

Ever since you'd gotten in the Uber, you'd been sulking. You refused to even look at Luke, your hands staying planted in your lap instead of reaching over to hold his like they normally would. It wasn't his fault—really, no one was at fault—but you couldn't seem to help your pouty nature.

Every so often, Luke would meet you with a pout of his own, his eyes sad as he tried to figure out what exactly was the matter with you. “Baby, please talk to me,” he'd say every few minutes, and every time, you just kept on silently moping.

As you walked into your shared home, his hands landed on your hips. A soft pair of lips peppered kisses along your exposed shoulder, Luke’s silent way of trying to get you to talk to him.

Still, you weren't giving in that easily. You simply let out an annoyed huff, moving away from him and sitting down on the couch.

Hot on your trail, Luke followed, squatting in front of you and reaching to undo your strappy heels. “Okay, you gotta tell me what's going on,” he said, clearly put out despite his calm tone. “I can't fix the problem if you don't tell me what's going on.”

“Doesn't matter if I tell you,” you grumbled, nearly under your breath. “You won't fix the problem anyway.”

His eyebrows raised, his expression somewhere between serious and shocked as he registered what you'd just said. “You wanna try that again?”

A tingle shot to your core as his dominant side started to show. You couldn't deny how much it turned you on when he was mad, so you decided to press a little more. “You heard me,” you said, lips still turned downward in a bratty pout.

Luke stood back up to his full height, practically towering over you as he placed his hands on his hips. Despite his dorky mailman costume, he managed to look sexy in those mid-thigh shorts and navy baseball cap. “I know what I heard,” he said, his words still sounding calm even though his expression told a different story. “I'm giving you a chance to fix it before you earn yourself a little punishment.”

The word punishment sent heat straight through you. You frowned again, not saying anything else on the current topic as you crossed your arms over your chest.

Luke huffed, his anger finally starting to show just a little. “Do I need to fuck a confession out of you?”

Despite how tempting that was, you finally gave in, figuring you should at least try to have a civil conversation about what was bothering you. “I want a baby.”

Luke's mouth dropped open in shock, his eyes widening a little. He didn't say anything, waiting for you to continue.

“Didn't Hannah look so cute in her costume tonight?” you asked with pleading eyes. “Don't you want that to be us next Halloween?”

Some might have found your college roommate's costume a little silly. She'd somehow turned an old cardboard box into an oven and painted a cinnamon roll over her six-month pregnant belly, effectively turning her stomach into “a bun in the oven.” Hannah's husband had his oven mitt-covered hands on her the whole night, proclaiming he was the proudest baker that had ever existed.

However, something about your friend (and her slightly possessive husband) made your baby fever kick in. The thought of Luke knocking you up, the thought of him being absolutely primal with you, sent your head spiraling.

The sound of Luke's deepening voice brought you out of your thoughts and back to reality. “So you thought the best course of action would be to act like a brat until I gave you your way?”

You couldn't help the slight blush that crept its way onto your cheeks. You stayed silent, knowing whatever you said next would probably get you in worse trouble.

He knelt in front of you again, his hands slipping under your dress, fingertips dancing along the expanse of your thighs. “You know, you really don't deserve anything tonight. Acting like I've never taught you any manners.”

With a smirk, you replied, “Maybe you should teach me again.”

Luke’s lips turned upward into a smirk of his own, dragging a finger slowly over your covered core. “You really are a little brat,” he scoffed. Still, his hands slid your dress upward until your thighs were uncovered, revealing the wet spot starting to form on your cherry red panties. “I rest my case,” he said with an eye roll.

“Come on,” you said, puckering your lips outward and giving him puppy eyes. “Can't you give in just a little?”

A low chuckle rumbled through him as he grabbed your legs and pulled you forward. “C'mere, my sexy little love letter.”

Teeth grazed your thigh as his hand pulled at the waistband of your underwear, sliding them off agonizingly slowly. In an instant, his mouth was on your core, attacking you with kitten licks and dirty kisses.

Your legs instinctively tightened around his head, practically holding his face to your center. Though your hands were practically shaking at the pleasure he was already providing you with, you managed to turn his cap around backwards. Instantly, he was diving even further into your center, groaning at the easier access.

A finger replaced his tongue, slipping inside of you and curving exactly the way you needed. You couldn't help the moan that fell from your lips as his mouth joined back in, desperately tonguing at your sensitive bud. “You feel so fucking good,” he groaned as a second finger joined in, the words a low rumble against your center.

“Luke,” you sighed, his tongue leaving precise licks along your clit. Despite how good his ministrations felt, it simply wasn't enough for you. “You're never gonna get me knocked up if you don't fuck me.”

He scoffed, the hot air of his breath heavenly against your cunt. His fingers stayed inside you despite his mouth leaving your clit, his eyebrows raised as he met your gaze. “You're being a greedy brat right now.”

You started to reply, but the words were cut off as he flexed the digits inside you again, fingertips brushing over that perfect spot it seemed only he could reach. Your hands grasped at the couch cushions, trying to steady yourself in any way you could.

“You want me to knock you up?” Luke asked, his voice practically a growl. He tore his hands away from you, leaving you feeling absolutely empty as he worked on the fastening of his shorts. As he realized your eyes were fully focused on his hard-on, he demanded, “Answer when you're spoken to.”

“Yes,” you managed, nearly salivating as he pulled his cock out of those tiny khaki shorts.

He chuckled, the sound making your pussy ache more, if it was even possible. “Be careful what you wish for, baby.”

Without warning, he was shoving his length into you, giving you no time to adjust. His movements were quick, hips snapping into yours greedily. This was about him now, about teaching you a lesson and getting his own way.

“You want a baby?” he asked rhetorically, cock slamming into you as he practically held you down to the couch. “Fine. I'll give you a baby.”

Pleased whines slipped between your lips as he practically bullied your cunt. Every ridge and vein slid in and out of you, the friction absolutely delicious and exactly what you needed.

One of his hands met your center again, rubbing fast circles over your bundle of nerves, his eyes still on you to see your reaction to the pleasure. “Gotta cum first if you want me to fill you up,” he instructed, toying with your clit a little harder. “Gotta earn it.”

His filthy words and commands had you keening, your back arching off the sofa. You couldn't form words at this point, only noises that showed him how desperate you truly were. The sound of your bodies moving against each other filled the air, the scent of sex heavy in the air as skin slapped against skin.

You were close, so close to your release. The coil in your stomach burned as you inched closer to your climax, hands meeting Luke's hips and pulling him impossibly closer. “Please, Daddy. Make me cum,” you begged, your head falling back against the couch.

Luke only sped up at that, his dick hitting your sweet spot over and over. His eyes closed in pleasure, and you could tell from his expression that he was close too. He pulled your pelvis closer to his, his movements shoving you further into the couch. Hips grinded against hips, perfectly in time with the circles he continued to place on your clit.

The new angle was just what you needed to fall over the edge, your orgasm burning through you. Your veins were practically on fire as he fucked you through it, now searching for his own release.

The tiny noises of pleasure coming from you as he fucked you into overstimulation was what he needed to reach his own release. Hot spurts of his seed filled what felt like every inch of you as he finally started to slow his movements.

After a moment of you both catching your breath, Luke lifted you by the waist, holding your body close to his as he headed for the bedroom.

“What are you doing?” you managed to ask, the sound close to a confused giggle, before kissing at the small sliver of his neck you had access to.

With a smirk, he answered, “Gotta make sure it sticks, right? You want a baby or not?”

Your head fell back in a laugh, though you couldn't argue. You were both in for a long night, but you couldn't seem to bring yourself to care. You just kept on kissing his neck as he laid you down on the mattress.

-> taglist: @reidsbookclub @dungeons-are-too-cold @ptrckjcne @longlivejemily @staley83

-> icon in collage by @lilacprentiss

-> dividers and support banner by @saradika-graphics

-> bun in oven costume idea by @dungeons-are-too-cold bc we are both lil freaks

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ktownshizzle · 20 days ago

Text

Terms & Conditions | Chapter 5 Teaser

Pairing: Min Yoongi x female reader

Summary: Managing Min Yoongi as one of your encoders during his alternative military service should’ve been simple. He is quiet, punctual—and can apparently type as fast as he can rap! Not to mention the fact that he is easy on the eyes and keeps wanting to help you. You’ve signed an iron-clad NDA, detailing the full terms and conditions of his temporary employment, so you’re supposed to keep things professional, but what happens if neither of you wants to?

Genre: Fluff, eventual smut, co-workers to lovers, office romance, idol!au

Warnings: Purely speculative regarding Yoongi’s alternative military service and how this is really done in SK, I might include scootergate in a future chapter but please know it will be written sensibly imo and with so much love for our Yoongi (I just wanna protecc him at all costs even thru this silly story!), some cursing, boss/employee relationship sorta but there's no power play involved, reader and Yoongi are within the same age range

Chapter Warnings: office foreplay, lil bit of fingering, lil bit of spanking, lil bit of nipple play, may cause delusion and I’m not liable for it don't @ me, literally a teaser so don’t expect to finish lmao

Word count: 1k ish haha

Posting date: October 25, 2024

Notes: Now listen. I know I said no updates for three weeks, but here we are. This may not be the final version so I may still make some changes when the full chapter drops.

This teaser has been unlocked through this ask game. Congrats to @kam9404 and @jadestonedaeho7 for guessing correctly. Manbun Yoongi is my husband (real) and I will have his babies. Thanks also to @bangtannkook for guessing Ginger Yoongi, the only man I will leave Manbun Yoongi for.

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Masterlist

The office has that late afternoon hush, when most people are too buried in their work to notice anything else. It’s just you and Yoongi, tucked away in the back office closet, a space that smells like old paper and dust. You’ve been here before of course—sorting files, you know, actual work—but today, when you enter, you only have one mission: you and Yoongi are about to defile the file closet.

Yoongi stands so close you can feel his breath on your neck, his hands resting just above your hips, pressing you lightly against the Ikea file cabinet you both put together weeks ago.

“Alone at fuckin’ last,” he murmurs.

“C’mere baby,” you whisper, arms slipping around his neck. His gaze darkens, and for a moment, everything else fades.

He leans in, kissing you slow—so slow you think you might combust. You push your tongue against the seam of his lips, a little insistent, because you really can’t take your sweet time in this ancient closet. Honestly, it could be a health hazard.

Yoongi’s fingers start working the buttons of your blouse, one by one. The way his eyes trace your skin makes every hair on your body stand to attention.

But just as his hand slips inside your blouse, the door rattles.

You both freeze. Heart in your goddamn throat.

“Yoongi, you in here?” Hyun-woo’s voice pierces through the thick air. The panic kicks in fast, adrenaline flooding your veins.

Yoongi pulls back, completely calm while adjusting his eyeglasses on the bridge of his nose. How the fuck is he always so calm? He reaches out, smoothing your hair, checking that you've properly buttoned up your blouse, as if he’s done this a hundred times before. The tenderness in the gesture only makes your heart pound harder.

“Yeah, I’m here,” he calls out, voice steady, like he isn’t seconds away from getting caught with his hand halfway inside your fuckin’ blouse. “Just organizing files.”

Hyun-woo opens the door, peering in, eyes narrowing slightly.

You flash a too-bright smile. “Hi, Hyun-woo! Just teaching Yoongi with the filing. Total disaster in here.”

Hyun-woo doesn’t buy it, not completely, but the suspicion in his eyes fades as quickly as it appeared. “Right. Well, don’t take too long. That room always triggers my claustrophobia.” He pulls the neck of his shirt forward.

Yoongi replies, giving him that practiced, unbothered nod. “Just finishing up.”

As the main door to your office clicks shut, you let out a breath you’ve been holding for far too long.

“That was way too close,” you whisper, your pulse still racing.

Yoongi grins, closing the closet door again with a nudge of his foot. “Too close,” he agrees, voice low and teasing, as he leans in to steal a quick kiss. “But I’m not done yet.”

“Wha—” The question barely leaves your mouth before Yoongi’s hands are on your shoulders, turning you smoothly so that you’re facing the file cabinet.

“Remember when we were building this very cabinet?” His voice has dropped even lower now, sending a shiver down your spine.

You blink, thrown by the sudden shift. “Yeah?” Your hands are guided to grip the top corners of the cabinet, and your breath catches. What is he doing?

Yoongi doesn’t give you time to process. His voice slides closer, warm against the back of your neck. “What were you doing then?”

You frown slightly, the question catching you off guard. “Nothing?” you say, but it comes out uncertain, more like a question than an answer.

Without warning, his palm connects with your ass—firm, but playful. You gasp, more out of surprise than pain, and turn your head to find him wearing that lopsided grin that drives you crazy.

“Ddaeng,” he chimes, the word rolling off his tongue with a playful edge. “Try again.”

“I was—I was helping you,” you say, though your voice is wavering.

“Ddaeng,” he says again, the second slap sharper this time. “You did jack shit. C’mon, jagi, use your pretty little brain…”

“Fuck,” you mutter, feeling your face flush. “I was… I was looking at your hands.”

Yoongi nods approvingly, his grin deepening. “And why were you doing that, hmm?”

You hesitate, your heart thumping harder, not from nerves, but from the way he’s pushing you. You know the answer.

“Because…” You swallow the admission heavy on your tongue, deciding to go the other way instead. “You were taking too long to build it.”

SLAP! “Ddaeng,” the third is much more deliciously painful now, your bum soothed by his large palms. “Huh, I think my jagi enjoys being spanked.” He licks the shell of your ear, making your knees buckle, and his voice comes through in a suspiciously calm tone, “lie to me again and I’m going to step out this door and leave you here dripping. I bet you’re already wet.”

“Dry as the sahara.” You jest, even as your lips tremble.

You squirm as he pins you against the cabinet, his hand making quick work of the top button of your linen pants. Things are happening so fast. His hand disappears inside, hooks your panties to the side and dips one finger shallowly at your entrance. God you wanna scream.

You squirm some more, but he’s got you pressed up, not enough to hurt you, but enough to limit your movements.

“Liar,” he chuckles darkly. In one quick motion his hand flies out of your pants and goes into his mouth, tasting you. You can literally smell the heady scent of your arousal filling the tiny space, making you needy for some relief.

“Yoongi,” you whine, trying to push your ass back against his crotch. “Baby, please…”

“Why were you looking at my hands…” he jerks back, not giving you the satisfaction, and asks again. “What do you want me to do with them?”

“I want you to put them inside me.”

“Hmm, what else…” he starts to unbutton your blouse again, not all the way, but so he can yank one of the cups of your bra to tease a nipple.

A flick from his moist finger and you’re already writhing in desperation.

“I want them stuffed in my mouth, and—shit—my pussy. I want them… choking me.”

“Naughty girl,” he tsks, pinching your nipple between his deft fingers, eliciting a moan from you. You feel his warm breath against your ear, teasing you. “Be quiet, baby. I thought we were gonna keep things professional.”

A/N: i better see y’all in the comments hahahaha ~k

Taglist: @glossdebut @kam9404 @mar-lo-pap @nnybtitts08 @granataepfelchen

@perfectiondazesworld @wobblewobble822 @yoongznme @caressesurloceanlove @rinkud

@kayleefriedchicken @jajabro @tinytan-gerine @xxbibin1208 @forevercarpediem227

@yoongicatagenda @someshinesomedont @marnz1990 @iheartshopping @confidentjus

@queenbloody @whydoeyecare @sadroses98 @curlyquennn

@sexytholland @kiki-zb @hiddlestandom @babyarmybabbles

So sorry if I forgot to tag you, please remind me again in the comments or thru an ask! :)

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