#apart from that in the last year he started to get very political in the show
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The amount of hate David is receiving on X is horrible to read regarding the Baftas and NG/Good Omens. I’m glad he doesn’t use Social Media so he can’t read the horrible things said about him but i feel so sorry for him. I’ve been a fan of him since he started Doctor Who in 2004/5 and it’s upsetting to read how nasty people are. If people don’t agree with his views, that’s fine we’re entitled to an opinion but there’s no need to use such harsh words against him. It’s sad to read.
Hi, Anon. I agree with you that the hateful comments made against David since hosting the BAFTAs last weekend have been horrific. As I've alluded to previously, I don't think it's that David doesn't use social media at all, but rather that he has private accounts that are not for public consumption. Either way, I am also hoping he has not read (or had someone read to him) the nasty things that people have said.
So many of the attacks--largely in response to the Trump-related jokes that David made, but as you said, related to Good Omens/NG too--have been personal and veered hard into homophobic and transphobic rhetoric. Guilt by association as well--as if David himself wasn't horrifically betrayed and used by Neil. Because these days, and especially on social media, it doesn't seem like it's enough to just disagree with someone's views or have a differing opinion. It's now become necessary to tear someone apart completely--to dehumanize them, to twist and distort the truth for the sake of turning them into the "other" as a justification for lying and saying those nasty things in the first place.
I know this might not be much comfort, but another thing that I hope is helpful is to remember that X is an absolute cesspool at this point. It has now become a haven for the worst of the very worst, and so on that site, those voices are the ones most amplified. But just because they are the loudest, it does not mean they are the majority. Because David is receiving twice as much love and positivity on any number of other sites (Bluesky, Tumblr), and that more than counts for something.
The other thing is that David is 53 years old, and much of this has arisen from him deciding to speak up and stand for something. Something that, given the current political climate, has an enormous potential for backlash. But I think it's incredibly admirable and commendable that David has become so vocal over the last few years, regardless of the consequences. So as upsetting as the hate he's getting is, it's also encouraging, because it means that even in the face of such an onslaught, David is not backing down or apologizing for what he believes in. And that makes my respect for him grow immeasurably.
I hope this helps you to feel better, Anon. Remember, too, that David has a PR team and family and friends who love him, so he is very much not fighting this alone. So that is something we can certainly be glad for...
#anonymous#reply post#david tennant#BAFTAs 2025#good omens#the whole thing with Neil is so complicated#but social media turns everything into black and white#and unfortunately said nasty people have used that against him#but i think David is louder now because he knows who he is#love seeing him become so much more comfortable in his own skin#that feeling of courage that Crowley has given to so many people to be who they are#and maybe Crowley has given that courage to David too#to speak up and to be bold#a talented actor and a wonderful human being#thoughts#discourse
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idk if it's because my mum worked in a tv magazine or what but all the media wars and backstabbing and stuff happening behind the cameras is so so interesting to me
#just saw what happened yesterday in la revuelta ojalá se muera el enano pelirrojo#so for non-spaniards here's a crash course on the situation (i could do a post about media groups in spain cause it's a lot)#there's this one late night show that's been on air for about 15 years called el hormiguero#it started fine (i used to watch it with my family when it started)#but soon there were some issues that people were seeing#especially concerning the presenter (who's also the head ofthe show) pablo motos#and his attitude with female guests he'd interview#basically being very weird and gross around them#apart from that in the last year he started to get very political in the show#he invited right and far right leaders while refusing to do so with the left wing#started making monologues at the beginning of each show critizising stuff the left had done or said#and finally included a debate segment in the show in which he invited liked-minded people to discuss politics#this has directly affected his audience. my dad is a fan of el hormoguero and i've seen him turn more right wing every year#so. last summer RTVE (national broadcast company) announced they were gonna do a late night show presented by david broncano#it's hard to describe everything here but basically broncano already had a late show called la resistencia in a streaming platform#it has always been very popular with young people and it is quite left wing#the new program made by RTVE was called la revuelta. it is exactly the same as la resistencia#before it started airing people were sceptic that broncano would be able to defeat motos' hegemony#BUT. ever since it started aiting in september it has consistently been getting more audience than el hormiguero#who would've known people were tired of the redhead bastard#anyways. apart from this. different celebrities on ppdcasts have been saying that in order to promote their product they are forced to go#to el hormiguero even of they didn't want to#there's also rumours of pablo motos blackmailing people (mostly comedians) who make fun of him#and now to what happened last night. i don't watch tv so i just saw it on twitter#broncano opened the show saying that they were sorty but they had no guest tonight#they had this one person but 30 minutes before shooting the people from el hormiguero had called him#he was originally going to go both to la revuelta and el hormiguero#but the guys from el hormiguero called him to tell him that if he went to la revuelta he couldn't go to el hormiguero#el hormiguero is bigger than la revuelta so. he had to cancel#broncano went on to say this had happened before and that's why he was talking about it
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~ Vlogger!Reader and Future yandere!Batfamily Part: 2 ~
Warning: This is where some yandere stuff shows up.
🦇 It was another normal day at Wayne Manor. Tim was walking to the kitchen to get one, or maybe the fourth, cup of coffee;
🦇 He arrived in the kitchen and noticed the absence of the butler Alfred, as well as an old notebook on top of the kitchen island. curious, he turns on the notebook and an email addressed to Alfred appears on the screen;
-dear Alf... It's been two years since we've seen each other in person, two years since our last book club meeting and without your wonderful tea. I came here to say that everything is going well with my studies and I am adapting well in (city of your choice). and I continue to post my videos, I know you watch them, but anyway, I hope you come visit me one day. a big hug, {You}
🦇 Tim read the email again and again.... "who are {you}?" he asked himself as he went to his room. Once there he started going through the files and even found his college's files;
🦇 Tim was so immersed in taking in every piece of information that he didn't notice that someone was at the door watching him;
🦇 it was Bruce... they started talking and Tim asked incessant questions about you, but Bruce had no answer. soon Alfred appears, he accompanies Tim to your old room, with a mournful Bruce behind;
🦇 When they got to their old room, the walls were your favorite color but in a more worn tone and an old computer on the desk. Tim quickly stops the computer to search it;
🦇 while Bruce looked around the room in a daze, how he forgot about you, and soon he started searching the closet and with an Alfred watching;
🦇 At dinner, Tim was very focused on watching his videos, which he discovered by searching the room's computer. Dick asked him what he was watching and Tim started pouring information about you, sparking curiosity in the others, except Alfred;
🦇 Dick started watching all the videos almost religiously and he always comments on all the videos. If you have a public mailbox on your social network, it will certainly send Nightwing merchandise;
🦇Jason, I would read any book you recommended or appear reading in a photo or video... perhaps you noticed that classic books and a box set of Jane Austen's works mysteriously appeared in your apartment;
🦇Tim has scoured every corner of the Internet looking for information about you, from your Amazon account to an old social media account you no longer use. Maybe he hacked your phone and cameras from places you frequent;
🦇 Barbara would be a little like Tim, but in a milder way. if you have a disability of any kind, you can be sure that she would have researched it, perhaps she would have become a little more protective;
🦇 Cass was happy to be able to watch your videos, she even started to have some of her quirks that she sees in the videos. If you practice some dance, she will definitely improve in that dance while dreaming of doing a ballet duet with you;
🦇 Stephanie is so excited to have someone to share trends and memes with. if you are part of a specific fashion style or subculture, she will research everything about it, from the clothes to the political or historical views of it;
🦇 Duke is surprised how the others didn't notice you, he watches your video game reviews and plays them from start to finish. I hope you notice your energy bill dropping suddenly;
🦇 Now there is a very thoughtful Damian, how could you hide from him for so long. he wonders if you would like to paint with him or if you have a pet, he would love to introduce you to his clan of animals;
🦇 Bruce pondered many things. he really loves you, don't get him wrong but his duties as Batman were a property and he wasn't sure how to approach a civilian like you, his beloved daughter. but rest assured that he will protect you... so don't worry that he has researched everything about your friends and girlfriend, after all it is for your safety;
🦇Alfred is pleased, they finally noticed the amazing girl he created and maybe you'll come home;
-Don't worry Young Miss, soon everyone will be paying attention to you like you always dreamed of.
----------------------------------------------------------
This is chapter 2, I hope you all like it. And yes, my Barbara have a wheelchair. kisses
part 1:
#female reader#reader insert#neglected reader#yandere batfam#yandere batfamily#yandere dc#platonic batfam#platonic yandere
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how t some of the bakusquad boys initiate 👀
Bakugo katsuki x reader, eijiro kirishima x reader, Denki kaminari x reader
warnings: mentions of sex, more sexual stuff. No real sex tho Dw reader is mentioned to have a pussy but that’s the one gender mention
sorry I didn’t write sero I don’t have a good idea on his character
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.
ALL AGED UP TO 18 AND IN 3RD YEAR
Katsuki bakugo
Bakugo either starts off subtly or straight up, no In between. He’s especially rough when he’s had a bad day
you roll over onto your side, typing to Mina about drama from class 3B (1B)When bakugo bursts open the door and slams it closed, practically making the door frame shake. “Had a bad day?” You asked him, still distracted on your phone and tapping away. Bakugo lets out a groan “I FUCKING-“ “inside voice.” You interrupted “I had a fucking ass day.” He still yelled as he threw his hero shirt and mask onto the floor, stomping over to you in bed. You peered over your shoulder and looked him up and down, noticing how dirty his boots are “bakugo take your boots off! Your filthy!!” You sat up and looked him up and down again. the blonde rolls his eyes and takes off his black and orange dirt stained boots, chucking them to the door. “There, better?” He grumbled, climbing into bed with you. “Yeah.. that’s better” you said as you rolled onto your back, bakugo sat up and pulled your legs apart and laying down on your chest. You could feel his length begin to grow harder and harder underneath you, he sat up and slowly began to rock his hips against yours. “shit- can we fuck?”
eijiro kirishima
sweet boy asks, and he’s so polite about it too! He wants to be a chivalrous hero and a great boyfriend in general to you. So of course he asks so politely:(((
you were washing some dishes in the common room, you and tsu had some noodles for lunch and you were just cleaning up the bowls from the food. Humming and dancing to yourself, kirishima watched from afar. You looked so pretty when you were happy like that, how could he not wanna fuck you? As you put away the last fork you suddenly felt a pair of very strong and solid arms wrap around you “hi baby!” You giggle and kiss his cheek, kirishima gives you a toothy grin and kisses your neck gently “hey sweetheart.. you look so pretty today” he tells you as he rubs your size “you wouldn’t possibly be in the mood would you?” He asks with his cheeks turning red “are you asking for sex?” You grinned to him and he nodded “yeah alright baby cmon”
Denki kaminari
My bro begs, like HE BEGS And not in a cute little submissive way I’m talking like really annoying “PLEASEEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASE” while on his knees shuffling around to follow you
You were busy trying to clean out your dorm, preparing for graduation in the next few weeks. The task was already challenging, but it became nearly impossible with an electric blonde following you around on his knees, begging for you to let him fuck you
“PLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASE, ILL BE QUICK!”
You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore him as you sorted through a pile of textbooks. "Denki, I really need to get this done. Graduation is right around the corner, and I can't leave my dorm looking like a disaster zone." He shuffled closer, still on his knees, and clasped his hands together dramatically. "But I need you more than your dorm does!” You turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow “oh really?” You leaned your weight to one hip, Denki rolled his eyes then stood up, mild carpet burn on his knees from following you around “BRO YES? YOUVE GOT LIKE, A 10/10 PU-” “ DONT DAY THAT SO LOUD!” You covered his mouth then sighed “you know what… I could use the break” denkis face lit up “so… I can fuck you?” He asked with his face practically glowing as you nodded
I said I’d tag u next time I wrote for Denki kaminari so here! I hope it was as accurate as last time @b0o0o
#bakugo#bakugo smut#bakugou katsuki x reader#katsuki bakugo#katsuki#mha#bnha#katsuki bakugou#my hero academia#bakugou katsuki#katsuki bakugo x reader#bnha bakugo katsuki#katsuki bakugo mha#kacchan#bakugo katsuki smut#bakugo katsuki#bakugo katuski x reader#kirishima eijiro x reader#eijiro kirishima#eijiro x reader#eijiro x katsuki#eijiro kirishima x reader#eijirou kirishima x reader#kirishima eijirou#kirishima fanfic#kirishima x reader#mha kirishima#kirishima smut#boku no academia#bnha eijiro kirishima
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i don't wanna break the heart of any other man (but you)
johnny (soap) mactavish x fem!reader, brother's best friend au. cw dub-con
read on ao3 here, originally based off of the very talented @ceilidho 's ask here
--
It starts with a ribbon in your hair, neat and pink, ripped out by Johnny’s hand. He laughs in your face, all gummy smile at the age of eight, grinning as you cry and try to get it back.
You are seven-years-old, and you don’t know why your brother hangs out with this bully. Even worse, the inaction. Your perfect big brother, reduced to a faceless bystander.
Lungs catch and then stutter, devastation as you learn and relearn the same lesson until it sticks. A boy can treat you how he wants, as long as he minds his ps and qs about it.
The world around you is defined in the short-term - the sky is blue, your mary-janes have a scuff on them that your mother is worried people are going to notice, and you hate Johnny Mactavish.
He becomes friends with your brother and steals him away from you. Best friends once, you and your brother. Now you've been replaced by some snotty little boy who is constantly yanking on your pigtails. In your own living room, your brother is silent when you run from the room crying.
He's your bully, a twist in your stomach when no one seems to understand this. You sit on the back step, hiccuping tears as you listen to Johnny and your brother have fun in the living room. Only Johnny seems to notice your tears when you come back in and sit, sullen, in the corner. His gaze is a living thing that crawls over you, something alive that shudders like a second skin over yours.
The defining story of your childhood is told like this, after the fact: Johnny keeps picking on you, one day he steals your ribbon and you cry. He keeps the ribbon to this day. Cue the hand on the heart and the coos from the audience. A hit every time, an instant classic.
(One part of the story that is always missed out when this is told and retold again and again is how you actually swing at him. The last time you’re on an even playing field because he unwillingly takes it on the chin.)
Respective parents swoop in, fussing and pulling the two of you apart. Injustice doled out swiftly as Johnny clings to that ribbon, as no one takes it off of him.
“Oh, honey, boys do that when they like you,” your mum coos at you. It's a pathetic attempt to comfort you, leaving you confused more than anything. Here is the sharp reality, your perfect hair undone and mussed. Here is the crack that distorts the image, smoothing over the edges and makes it more palatable.
Johnny catches this, mouth agape as he takes it in. There’s a red mark on his chin from your hand, blue eyes wide and watery.
You wonder if Johnny remembers this. You can see the exact moment that this registers with him, as if he had never considered the ‘why’ of what he was doing to you. And here was the reason, delivered to him from the woman who always gives him an extra cookie when he comes over to play. A click, the universe has righted itself. Something slotting into place according to some higher power. Path set, direction coordinated. Your ribbon clenched in his fist. Meaning applied, after the fact.
It matters to you, you suppose. A politically incorrect statement that alters the start of your life, for all intents and purposes. Here is the centre of it, tattered ribbon and throbbing knuckles, and a lie that is swallowed and turned into truth. Johnny probably doesn’t care. The centre of his entire infatuation does not matter as much as the gulf of the rest of it. Who cares about him snapping your training bra, what matters is the image of his fingers as they wriggle under the strap, the warmth of skin before the snap of plastic. Johnny’s vision of you seems to be half-eclipsed by what he does to you.
It’s a bitter pill to swallow, but Johnny is a lesson that the bitterness is quickly forgotten once the pill hits the bottom of your stomach. Well, then there’s just the acceptance of how things are meant to be, right?
//
What starts off as the play fighting of a rough child in puppy love becomes the earnest approaches of a lovesick teenager. Supposedly.
Before, maybe someone would have eventually stepped in. Maybe there is a finite number of times that a girl can come home crying after having her hair pulled before someone does start to get concerned. Maybe you were a few hundred short when puberty hits and Johnny makes a sharp pivot.
Gone are the shoves, Johnny sticking his foot out to trip you up. Pulling your hair and dashing away, as if unable to stand being near you. His attention is an ugly thing that sits between you. Even he doesn't seem equipped to handle it, breath always coming a little bit too sharp when he steals your teddy, eyes on your reaction even as he tries to dart away.
Now, Johnny is always near. He doesn’t shove anymore, just stands, always too close. You start wearing a training bra and he is a bit too focused about it. Asks you how it feels, gaze hot on your face, like he wants you to say something hot. (You know it doesn’t matter what you say, he’ll likely think that anyway). Petty at the age of 13, you spit into his drink to try and gross him out and he downs it like he had been waiting for it.
Years are not defined by time passing, but rather Johnny and his relationship to you. Years pass with the deterioration of the two of you, scratches in the wall to track the history of how bad everything spirals out of control.
You’re thirteen, and Johnny is pinging your bra strap. He's fourteen, and now he's a few inches taller which he starts using to his advantage, leaning over you when you try to get by him.
You're fourteen, and Johnny is telling you that he jerked off to the thought of you last night before smiling at your mother while you scoff in disgust. He's fifteen, and deciding he wants to start heavy-lifting, wanting to get in shape for you.
You're fifteen, and Johnny is begging you to come swimming with them, hands smoothing over your hips while you try to shove him off. He's sixteen, and he’s holding an enlistment pamphlet and asking how much you would miss him if he went.
You’re sixteen, and Johnny is yanking up your jumper and his breath comes out as a wheeze when he sees the light blue cups that he is convinced match his eyes. He’s seventeen, and trying to get you to drink with him, pupils blown as he tilts the bottle to your mouth and some of it spills over your bottom lip.
You’re seventeen, and Johnny is shoving his hand down the front of your panties, won’t you let him see his favourite girl before he leaves? You don’t know if he’s even really referring to you anymore. He’s eighteen, and he’s almost gone. The weight on your shoulders is heavier, the way it must be before it’s lifted. Almost out, the crack of light in a tomb, mouth watering for it.
He’s trying to be gentle with you, he explains, nights before he leaves. Your nipples are raw under your shirt from where he had yanked your shirt up and ducked down to bite them with a groan. You scowl.
Sitting in your room, your family downstairs. He had asked for a moment with you, for the third time that day and your mother had been charmed. She had been blubbering since she found out that he enlisted, back bowing as you seem to lift higher with each hour that passes.
He needs to make you understand what is going on between the two of you. Needs to make it clear to you before he goes. “We’re meant to be,” he says, patient, even as his hands flex, smoothing over your knees. A creak of bone against muscle, seconds away from wrenching your thighs open and taking what he believes he is owed.
It seems like some kind of stupid honour code. You’re too wriggly. He can have his pound of flesh but he wants the full slab. Maybe he thinks he has to earn it, wants you to spread your legs and let him in.
Fat chance. You tell him as much, delighting for a moment at the way that dopey smile drops off his face. You imagine punching him now, wonder if you could break his nose this time, you think you have enough anger built up to really manage it.
Before you get a chance to really think it over, he grabs you, hands hard on your hips. Yanking your leggings down, and you think that you were wrong, if you didn’t bring over the full cow he was just going to and wrangle that fucker himself.
Minutes later and he’s puffing hot breath into the crook of your neck, the head of his cock between the gusset of your underwear and your pussy. He had gripped your hand and guided it around his dick, up and down. You would stop, but his hand is manacled around your wrist, palm hot against the pulse of your veins. Two layers of skin between your respective flesh, nothing really.
He whines when pre-cum aids the way, huffs a laugh when he nudges against your clit and you tremble. Barely any slick between your folds but he hones in on it like he does with everything to do with you. Dips the head of his cock further down to catch it, forehead thumping against your shoulder to watch as his cock shines with the slightest bit of your juices.
Here is the body’s natural reaction to stimulation. And here is Johnny taking the explanation that he has been waiting for.
“A knew it,” he mutters, feverish as his hips stutter, your hand tightening for a second as he nudges against your clit again. “Knew you were wantin’ it, lovey. But you had tae act like a right cow, eh?” He chuckles, dark before he yanks your chin up (you had been staring as well, you realise with a flush of shame), slants his mouth over yours.
He’s still angry, thumb digging into the soft flesh beneath your skin as he drags his tongue over yours, sucking it into his mouth until you hiccup.
He’s big like this, eighteen, and the puppy fat had shrank off years ago. Shoulders hunches to reach you, hand cradling your jaw in place, almost ear to ear.
He pulls back and you loll forward, pressure that had been holding you in place suddenly gone. You reel with it, almost falling forward before he nudges you back again. He huffs, a mean thing into your temple, hand sliding to the back of your neck. “Ye wantin’ it?” he asks. You wonder if he actually wants an answer, know that he already has his confirmation between your thighs.
His hand squeezes your wrist, and you clumsily twist your palm when you reach the top of his shaft, morbidly curious. He told you how he liked to jerk off two New Years ago, did it how he thought you would do it for him. Prophesied.
His shoulders shake, moaning wantonly as if you aren’t in your bedroom with your parents watching TV just downstairs. “Fuck,” he hisses, eyes on how your hand barely covers half of his cock as you stroke him. His hand thumps into the wall beside your shoulder, other hand flexing with his thumb on your wrist bone.
“Ah, fuck, dae that again,” he huffs until you do, again and again until he whines, head back into the crook of your neck as he drools into the collar of your shirt.
Both his hands are on your arse now, squeezing and kneading as he humps like a misbehaved dog into your hand. “I know you didnae mean it,” he mutters, pulling the spit soaked collar of your shirt down to kiss and lick and bite your collarbone. “You were jus’ missin’ me already, eh? A know, lovey, a know, there we are, just havtae show you the way sometimes, my poor wee angel, a forgive ye, a dae, a swear.”
He grips the backs of your thighs and squeezes when he comes, pushing until the head of his cocks kicks up near the entrance of your cunt, whining and shuddering through it. He pants as he comes back down, cock jerking idly in your now loose grasp, red hot against where you are now wet. Probably, mostly with Johnny’s cum.
He gives a heaving sigh, pushes his palms against the wall to look down at you. He likes what he sees - spit slick mouth, red neck, bare pussy with his cum staining you and your underwear.
“A willnae be gone long,” he says, as if you had been mid conversation. “A will come back f’ you, angel,” he promises, gaze hot on the crux of your legs.
You stare up at him, hand still loose around his shaft before you let go. A curdled desire settles in your stomach. Always for Johnny, and always half ruined at inception because it’s for Johnny.
Hours later and he’s gone. You sit at the breakfast table, your mother fussing in her upset about him being gone. Your brother is quiet as always, gives you a strange look. Johnny’s cum is dried out in your favourite pair of panties upstairs. You bite into a piece of toast, feel each crumb as it digs into your gums and dirties you.
//
It gets worse again after he officially enlists in the army. Before Johnny is the cute teenager that trails after your every move, intent and so so sweet.
Now he is Johnny, the childhood sweetheart. Before both of your parents had viewed you as scorning a poor lovesick puppy. Now you are a couple, constantly bickering about something or other. You insist that he is not your boyfriend, and are met with rolled eyes and knowing looks.
Johnny’s mother confesses that half of his calls to her are asking for you. You briefly consider moving to another country.
He sends pictures of his cock while he is away, the head red and you hate that you know how hot it would be to the touch. You reply and tell him to cut it off and he tells you that you’re the one.
Your mum doesn’t understand when you complain so heavily about him. Every complaint is met with a rebuttal, as if Johnny’s hand is at the back of everyone’s throat, puppeting everything that they say.
He’s too touchy. Because he loves you sweetheart, my god, I wish someone would want me that much.
He’s too close. God forbid someone enjoy your company.
Don’t you think he’s a little bit strange? He’s in the army, you dick, don’t you think you could be just a little bit nicer about it?
You feel half insane, the only one protesting the way that he treats you, the way he has always treated you. The capacity for cruelty has just shifted. Johnny has always worked within the parameters that were available to him. Sure, he can’t get away with yanking on your pigtails anymore, but biting a bit too hard at your neck has the same result. Tears in your eyes, and everyone tells you that this is how Johnny shows you he likes you.
After his first deployment, he gets so close to fucking you that you get spooked. Eighteen now, and suddenly ten years younger, Johnny taking something that doesn’t belong to him. You let him fuck up the length of your cunt, let him lick his cum off of you. He keeps his head between your thighs, eats you out like a man starved until you shake, tears in the corners of your eyes. Shame again, at how sloppy he is, spit and slick and cum everywhere. He likes it, likes how shameful you get about it. Laps that up too, tongue buried in you like he wants to get to the back of your throat. He always wants more of you than you think you have to begin with.
He lies back, barely sated but will at least lie still now and pulls you over to drape over his chest. He’s getting bigger, you think. Maybe he’s taking parts of you, squirreling them away in himself, until you don’t know you unless you find it in him.
You curve one hand over his barrel chest, barely any give in the muscle. He hums, a booming noise beneath your ear. “Tha’s all it took,” he murmurs, hand smoothing over your head like you’re a cat. “A bit ae missin’ me and yer as sweet as a kitten.”
You’re too tired to give a snarky response, though you briefly wonder if you can get away with pinching his side a bit too hard in retribution.
You know he’s going to be even more pent up the next time he gets back, that he’s going to think he’s owed your virginity. You refuse to give him another reason to tie the two of you together indefinitely. You think he’ll propose if he does, he has already been messaging you about it, asking when the two of you were finally going to walk down that aisle that he’s been building around you for years.
You go to a pub the next time he leaves, ignore his messages to call because he misses you so much. Sit at the counter until some sleazy guy who looks double your age saunters up and offers to buy you a drink. You shouldn’t, it is so dangerous. You barely have to cut your eyes towards him before he’s taking this as forwardness. Offers to take you home and immediately starts pawing at you in his truck.
You let him bend you over, the clink of a belt and its all over. You rock with each thrust, hating yourself for catching sight of the man’s hand on yours and knowing that Johnny’s is bigger.
You bring a hand down to rub along your clit, but the first whine that leaves your mouth brings the entire show to a close and you stand up, furious. The man wheezes in the seat as you barely say goodbye, wrenching your panties up and storming home.
Johnny’s been calling you, must be on whatever type of break he gets wherever he is, and you answer after the third missed call. Low timber floods your ear and warms your bones.
He’s so excited he caught you, been missing you so much, baby. Thinking about you all the time, he got in trouble for not being able to focus. Asks if you’ve been taking care of his pretty girl for him?
You let him yap in your ear the whole way home, wanting desperately for your vibrator. “You missin’ me too, baby?” Johnny huffs in your ear. You hum, absentmindedly in response. He’s on it, scenting blood.”Aye? Tell me, how much, eh? You been petting yourself thinking of me?”
You’re home, Johnny still trying to goad you on over the phone, the connection is bad but he seems to overcome it. Hulking, even over a wire to get to you. Maybe you could get him to talk through getting yourself off. It’s disgusting, but maybe you could give yourself a pass this one time. He’s allowed to do whatever he wants, where are your allowances? Johnny gets to hop back and forth over the line of propriety, you’re allowed one slip up before you return to your factory settings.
Your vibrator, hidden in the back of your bedside table, gone. You know it was him, know he binned it. Know he probably didn’t want anything getting you off except him.
You stare at the empty space in the back of your drawer, cold water down your spine that douses any flames of arousal you think you have ever felt and maybe will ever feel again. Anger is back, and so beautifully familiar. Johnny is still droning on, something about letting him see a picture of how much you’re missing him.
“I fucked someone else,” you say, voice gritty.
The line goes quiet. Small buzzes that make up the distance between the two of you, the call dropping and reconnecting. Universe bringing you back together again.
“That’s not fucking funny,” Johnny says, voice low in a way that you don’t think that you’ve heard before.
“Good thing I’m not joking,” you snap back. You feel frightened, eyes darting to the window as if he is about to start running in your direction, all the way across the globe. You wouldn’t put it past him. But never let it be said that you wouldn’t put your hand to the snapping teeth of a rabid dog.
He’s silent, breath heaving before the line goes dead.
You drop your phone to the floor and stand in the quiet of your room. A bird chirps in the distance, life reinstating itself even in the absence of Johnny. You crawl into bed and refuse to get off tonight. A competition where you are the only participant and the only loser too. Fitting.
//
You don’t see Johnny for months after that. Which makes sense, because he is across the globe. But the silence feels eerie, the way you imagine it might be for him. The thunder of a gun and the shutter after. Silence ringing, not due to quiet but because of the absence of sound.
He doesn’t message you at all during this period. Clearly he says something to his mother, because she gives you a frown at church that Sunday. “You must’ve done something,” your mum hisses at you, embarrassed that the story of childhood sweethearts that she gave birth to has become a story of a surly woman who cannot appreciate the man who loves her as he risks his life for his country.
You don’t bother replying. There’s no point, really. Everything has been set in motion and everyone had climbed on board. You were the one that derailed the track and upset everything.
You refuse to admit that you miss Johnny. That your phone buzzes and there is a moment where you think it could be him. For months, it isn’t. You feel like you’re floating out in orbit and your lifeline has gone silent on you. Drifting, the cold slowly creeping in, nothing around to propel yourself off of. Gain some momentum, do something.
You sit and wait for Johnny’s judgement day.
He gets back on a Friday, and he doesn’t come to see you. You know he’s back, because you can hear your brother on the phone to him, asking if he got back alright. You skulk around the corner, waiting for any mention of your name. If there is any, you don’t hear it.
You sit in your room, uncertain. The thing that you hadn’t considered is that while you had been complaining about how you and Johnny had been set up in the direction that you were going in, you hadn’t thought about what you would do if you weren’t doing this. You have derailed the train now, but you don’t remember when you got on, or how to get back there.
You mull this over, legs tucked to the side as you lean into the large bear on your bed. Won for you, by Johnny of course, at some fair when you were kids. Maybe you could leave. Nothing as drastic as another country, but another town maybe, escape the suffocation that comes with being here and everyone knowing you as Johnny’s girl.
Daydreaming, imagining yourself in a place where no one knows who you are, you are startled out of your thoughts when your window slams open. Soap hoists himself up and into your room, with an ease you imagine he must not have had before.
You blink at him as he stands next to your open window, gaze hot on you without saying a word. You shuffle a little, uncertain, refusing to speak first. You feel bizarrely guilty, as if you have done something wrong. Even though you know you haven’t. Just because a man decides he is owed your virginity, doesn’t mean you’re in the wrong for not giving it to him.
Still, you swallow an apology on the back of your tongue and it tastes like ash.
Johnny quietly reaches over and slams your window shut, making you jump.
“Y’know, a went around town and tried to figure out who ye cheated on me wae,” he says, at last, face darker than you have ever seen it. His hair is slightly grown out along the sides, mohawk less stark like this. Hair like he had when he was ten, almost.
“I didn’t cheat on you -” You try to interject, remembering your indignation more than anything.
Johnny lunges for you, hand hot around your ankle as he yanks you down the bed. “Who fuckin’ was it, huh? Y’ know, ave been tryin’ so hard wae you, thinkin’ that you’ve been missin’ me just as much as a have you, but instead you’ve been tryin’ tae hurt me, whorin yourself fae anyone -”
You reel your arm back to punch him in the face, and he catches your wrist just before you can make contact with his jaw. “I didn’t fucking whore myself out, I’m sorry that you’re fucking delusional -”
A hand in the length of your hair and he wrenches your head back, slamming his mouth against yours. It’s sore, all teeth as you both hiss and spit at each other. It feels like an even playing field again, even though you feel swallowed up in his bulk. His hand leaves your hair and grips you everywhere he can, like everything belongs to him already.
You feel white hot, letting him lick across the back of your teeth like he doesn’t want any part of you untouched by him. You hold onto his shoulders, letting him pull you all over, leans back and hooks a finger over your jaw. Pulls your mouth open. You realise what he’s going to do a moment before he does it, spit landing on your tongue. Instinctive to swallow it.
He moans wantonly at the sight, a sound that flushes you in embarrassment. For god’s sake, you’re in your mother’s house. He’s licking into your mouth, spit everywhere and making you feel sticky.
His hand slides between your thighs and you feel the moment that he finds out how wet you are, his hips stuttering a quick grind against your hip. “Jus’ for me, huh?” he asks, feverishly hot. He pulls back as he yanks your shorts off, panties dragged along with. Groans at the sight of you, wet and swollen between your legs. “Eh? Is this what ye did wae that fuckin’ boy?”
Your thighs shake, hands trying to catch his wrist as he slides two fingers into you, thumb mean against your clit. “What?” you croak, blinking up at him.
“Whatever loser you took home with you,” Johnny asks, hawk-like focus on your face. Strange for him, when your pussy is on show. “You take him back here and did ye let him dae this tae y’? Ye think aboot me when he brought his small dick oot?”
You don’t respond and he pinches your clit until you squeak, trying to buck away from him.
“I’m sorry, angel,” he coos suddenly, eyes no longer on your face but between your legs. “My pretty girl, you just need someone to show you, right?”
He fingers you, thumb intent on your clit until you start to shake, voice getting higher, Then he stops, fingers slipping out of you (when did it become three?), with a wet noise that if you were more in your mind, you would flush about.
You start to whine, and he flips you over onto your front, hikes your ass in the air and coos of the sight of your cunt throbbing at the injustice of it all. “A know, angel, A know. A want to give ye what yer wantin, but a don’t know if you deserve it,” he hums. Fucking liar, if the clink of his belt is anything to go by, then the hot stroke of his cock between your sticky folds that has you arching your back like a cat in heat. He’s trying to be teasing, but his voice shakes, restraint held together by a thin chain and he is a big man.
He holds you still with a hand on your hip, the heat of it sinking into your skin. You can hear him beating off, using your slick to aide the way as he stares at your holes. You feel like you want to cry, sitting on display for him to get off on. You do, but it also makes you feel piping hot all over. There’s a sickness in him and he’s been dosing you up on it for years. Viral disease, his spit in your mouth until it clogs the back of your throat and finally takes root in your bloodstream.
“Was thinking about this so much,” he murmurs, as if caught up in a dream. “Wanted tae be the one to make y’ a woman - “
“It was bad,” you manage, throat dry, gaze on the opposite wall. The slick noise behind you stops and you can only hear the sound of his breathing. His scrutiny of you on the back of your skull pulling you down. You don’t know why you’re saying this. There is a cliff edge and you want to say you stepped off of it with your next words, but you’re already freefalling, and you’re hoping for the crash into him rather than the cold dirt. “I didn’t know him, I didn’t get off, and I thought about you and how good that you would have made me - “
Half a sentence in and he sinks in, cock splitting you open. He groans, loud and shameful as you whine, thigh kicking until he stills it, pushing down to get further into you, It may as well have been your first time, it takes a few shallow thrusts and Johnny reaching down to rub at your clit to ease the way before he manages to get balls deep into you.
“Oh fuck,” you wheeze, full. At capacity. You can’t think beyond the stretch of yourself around Johnny, air knocked out as he pushes more weight onto you.
“Fuck, this fuckin’ cunt,” he groans. Hands smooth over your arse, spreading your cheeks to better view what he’s doing to you. “Knew ye would be so good, dreamed ae this - ah - you just wanted tae deny yerself. Don’t worry, angel, I’ll give ye what ye need.”
Then it starts, the pulling out just bottom out again, fast and hard and any air you manage to suck in is immediately shot out.
Your head lolls to the side, you think you might be drooling onto your sheets, but can barely find it in you to care. His balls slap against your swollen clit, so loud and yet you cannot remember why you should care about that beyond getting him to keep doing that. You realise that your muttering please, over and over again, not even aware of it.
He shifts to the side, and suddenly his thrusts are deliberate, and you tense up even more. No pause, no grinding out, you come and he keeps going, grunts as you tighten up and spasm, sobbing into your sheets.
It’s like a point is being hammered into you. You suspect if you hadn’t admitted that you didn’t come with the other guy, then Johnny wouldn’t have given a shit. But this is purposeful, a lesson being taught until only the whites of your eyes are showing. It always did so many times for you to take a telling, Johnny coos in your ear. Thank god he’s here, he’s got you.
He comes with a groan, mouth hot against the back of your neck as he mouths at your nape, teeth a little bit too sharp for your liking. Damning, feeling his cum in you. No part of you, untouched.
//
You want to say it gets worse from this point again. You think that it has actually just always been the same level of awful, the scale has just broadened.
Johnny tells everyone that you’re engaged after you let him cum in you again. There’s not even an engagement ring. Spitting in anger at your future being decided for you again, Johnny interprets this as you being upset he didn’t take you ring shopping. Drags you to the bathroom and fucks you on the sink with your ankles over his shoulders.
It’s relentless. There is a hairline fracture along the tender tissue of your brain and Johnny has pried it open to fit himself, crawled in and made himself at home.
He tells you that you were made for him. That he had came first, that he had wished for you and you were delivered to him. Guides your hand to his ribcage, tells you there is one missing. “Would give that an’ mare,” he vows, hands swallowing up the arch of your torso, a perfect ring made with the circle of his hands.
He’ll probably marry you the next time he’s back. He can barely be held back from it just now, that leash he places in your hand even if he yanks so hard that the control is all just for show. Just another link between the two of you, his neck yanked back to you up at you.
He sleeps in your childhood bed, muscular arm a band around your waist. There’s a version of you in the corner. She’s still weeping and now only you know. A tear against Johnny’s shoulder and he shuffles closer, tucking you under his chin. “Ave got ye, angel,” he slurs, half-asleep.
You feel restricted, unable to move. And it soothes you to sleep.
//
(Johnny begs you to suck him off just before he leaves for his next deployment. His come tastes bitter as you swallow. Go figure.)
#johnny mactavish x reader#johnny soap mactavish x reader#johnny soap mactavish#cod x reader#nic writes#johnny mactavish#cw dub con#definitely could have been more catholic. an improvement for next time haah#let me know ur thoughts !
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Ok so we have all seen those posts talking about Bruce looking at his kids and still seeing them as his precious babies even though they are towering muscular adults right?
Well I raise you clark seeing them the same way but through step dad vision. Cause honestly he didn't come into Bruce's life until a bit later and by then he already had Robin by their first meeting. Of course Bruce didn't trust clark to even be in his city let alone around his kid but any chance he was in Gotham for any reason Dick was asking to use him as a "super jungle gym" and was dangling off his limbs.
Now don't get clark wrong he likes kids! But kids actually make him nervous. Not only did he grow up on a farm pretty isolated in a small town that didn't have many people so not like he was a baby sitter. But also...batman makes him nervous and for good reason to.
But the closer he got to him the more he was allowed around the kids especially (depending on what universe your shoving these characters into but this is my version) after he saved Jason from getting killed by the joker and he batman started to trust him a lot more. Jason was in awe but is definitely a wonder women fan. Which is fine because Clark is also a fan of hers and have written many articles about her as a hero. Jason always found a way at any gala or event to fallow clark around and pretend to also be a journalist and ask people questions. But he did them way more accusing and got several people to whisper. Bruce was amused but also just tired of his kids wanting to be around clark. The man was a goody two shoes.
When Steph comes around and eventually Barbara and even Cassie they ask a LOT of questions and not the kind of ones like Tim (who upon their first meeting tore off his glasses and asked him why he uses them as a disguise when it doesn't even work) *note they work very well at disguising him Tim just doesn't understand how other people just CANNOT see superman when looking at him*
Duke had to be the most tamed out of every. Single. One. Of Bruce's kids. He was polite and even shook his hand. He was expecting questions or insults of some sort but when none came he was shocked to say the least. He didn't sleep for days afterwards.
The next and last was Damian who after years of experience with Bruce's kids he believed he was ready....he was in fact not ready. Damian not only insulted him, threatened, and snuck into his apartment to "scope out the enemies territory" really he was in trouble and didn't like Bruce grounding him so he went over there to pick a fight.
In all reality dealing with thr kids for so long ended him and Bruce becoming closer and closer and eventually getting together and tying the knot. Now that they are all grown adults he just CANNOT see them as such.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Damin at the ripe age of 22: Die alien!!
Clark *holding back tears*: you used to say that when you were 13
~~~~~~~~~~
The batkids *arguing*
Clark *Looking at them. Just to see a bunch of teenagers and children*: you see it to right?
Bruce *taking a sip from his mug*: it never changed
#batman#they are so silly#dc comics#teach me how to dougie#superbat#superman#batman x superman#no objecting in the court of krypton#ao3 writer#ao3#batman is just so awkward#batfam#batfamily#superhero#stray kids
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CL16 x Reader [the Golden Boy]
before reading: This one is a bit long, since I wanted to do a lot of teasing and slight tension. The intention behind this one is to make it feel sort of like a trashy romcom but in a good way, if you know what I mean? I hope I managed to do that, let me know your thoughts. As always, requests are open and ready for y'all. Happy reading!
summary: You were an anonymous journalist, trying to bring down one of Monaco's biggest illegal organisations. But once its head figured out that you were the one behind the mocking articles, he felt something other than hate.
content warnings: morality is out of question here, a lot of money talk, weird comparisons I guess?, eating out, sex, dom!Charles, no protection implied (wrap it before you tap it obvi), nonproofread
word count: 3943
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"The golden boy of the House of Leclerc amazes the public once more with his ignorance and disregard towards the middle class," you observed in satisfaction as the paper's redactor read the article's title out loud.
You took pride in your work, as it was completely unrelated to making money. If anything, you put money into it, reassuring the small local paper's office that you would be more than happy to provide for them if things went sideways due to your articles.
Although you were certainly a part of the upper class, you made no move to get even richer, instead choosing to use your resources in the scheme you had planned out in the last year.
The plan was to bring down the House of Leclerc, possibly the most prosperous criminal organisation in Monaco, covered up as a fashion brand. You knew all about them from your old man, an eccentric millionaire who had information on pretty much anyone in Monaco and beyond.
You felt completely safe in this line of work; you wrote provocative articles that left the public fuming, slowly bringing down the golden boy—Charles Leclerc. Your articles were published anonymously and were the reason for the recent growth of the small paper.
The money they made off selling it went to them alone, as you did not need it. It helped with the anonymity, as you couldn't be traced by the money transfers.
And during your father's parties and dinners, you could watch the golden boy's face as his advisor walked up to him and reported that another article about his sketchy business had just come up.It was a thing you enjoyed immensely, seeing his polite, slightly amused expression shift into a subtle frown.
It's a good thing you avoided ever speaking with him directly and kept your distance; he might have noticed your little smirk otherwise.
"At this point I am surprised he did not pull some strings to get our office to shut down," the editor sighed, setting the manuscript on the table. "It's a good thing you have the money to fight it."
Yes, you fought money with money in a sense. Writing these articles certainly would have been more noble if you were a part of the middle class, but you knew very well how that would go; you would have been silenced before people even started reading your work properly.
"Even if he were to do it, it would not escape the public's attention." You smiled, twirling a strand of your hair between your fingertips. "And if he were to stop me from writing the articles, he wouldn't just force the office to shut down. He'd focus on finding me alone."
"Well, I admire your courage." The editor sighed. "Though sometimes it is getting dangerously close to bordering on stupidity."
You rolled your eyes and smiled again before getting up and dusting your jeans off.
"The transfer came through in the morning, from a dummy account, like always. I will see you next week, yeah?"
And with that you left for your apartment to get ready for another one of your old man's dinners. It did not take too long; there have been heat waves in Monaco recently, making your clothing options quite limited. You settled for a sparkly golden dress, paired with gorgeous makeup.
You winked at yourself in the mirror before checking the time and heading out.It did not take you too long to get to the gathering, where most were already present. You were immediately pulled into hugs and showered with kisses on the cheek from the females present, who were very happy to see you.They all loved you; you were the apple in their eye. If only they knew who was behind the biting articles about them...
Your eyes wandered around the room, searching for your main target—Charles. You were surprised not to see him; the man was almost never late.With a shrug of your shoulders, you entered your father's villa, walking up the staircase and reaching your old bedroom to adjust your makeup a bit.
It was as beautiful and comfortable as you remembered, with little lights hanging down from the ceiling and the art you painted on your walls when you were a teenager. While searching for your highlighter in your bag, you sat down on the chair in front of your old vanity table, not noticing the quiet sound of a person entering the room.
You gazed in the mirror, applying some of the highlighter as an eyetopper, when a voice sounded from somewhere behind you.
"Hello, little writer." Charles spoke in a calm tone, taking a step closer to the light. "I liked your newest article."
You stopped in your tracks for a second, your hand freezing mid-air. You quickly gathered yourself and calmly continued applying your makeup.
"I am no writer," you responded, dabbing the glowy product into your face. "Unfortunately, I never possessed the ability to write proper pieces. You can ask my father, Mr..."
You paused, pretending to be clueless and not know his name, as you looked at him questioningly.
"Charles," he answered softly, looking at you with amusement, "If your father thinks you have no ability to write, then he is quite ignorant, miss (l/n)."
"Well then, I will entertain your theory, Charles." You spoke, turning around and getting up from the chair to face him. Charles checked you out conspicuously, not even trying to hide the way his eyes traced your every curve.
"How did you come up with the idea that I write articles?" you asked, controlling your body language to perfection. In order to appear less confident and intelligent than in reality, you put your hands behind your back instead of folding your arms on your chest.
He seemed to see right through your trick, seeing you for the way you were: smart and cunning.
"Well, there is someone who writes rather... bold articles in some small local newspaper, bringing a lot of attention to themselves," he spoke huskily, taking a step closer to you, "and I decided to investigate, tracing money transfers from a dummy account, observing the newspaper's office..."
Charles leaned towards you, bending down to whisper into your ear, as his warm breath brushed over your neck faintly.
"You should have picked a busier time to visit the office, little miss... Maybe it would have been easier to miss your pretty face on the camera footage."
You shivered slightly and pulled away to the side, giving him a cold look with your eyes narrowed.
"The next time you try to come into a room I'm in alone, without permission, I will be waiting. With a gun." You spoke coldly.
"Don't tempt me." Charles grinned, his eyes glued to yours. "There is one thing I am curious about."
"Why would a rich girl like you care about what I do, enough to risk her reputation and money, writing articles that mock me? You won't benefit financially... You don't have a business that could expand because of it... Oh, wait." He paused, leaning close to your ear again."Is it to get my attention?" He whispered, smirking at you.
"Did you think that way you would be different from all the other women who throw themselves at me?"
"It might be a shock to you, Leclerc, but not every woman out there dreams of seducing you." You rolled your eyes, folding your arms. While he was still a complete jerk, you appreciated that he did not try to put his hands on you during your first encounter, like entitled men who attended your father's gatherings would often do.
Before Charles had the chance to respond, you turned away and left the room. You did not really care what he would do once you left him on his own in your childhood bedroom. He would not dare to do anything in your father's house.
You quickly got back to the gathering and were immediately welcomed back by the group of women from before. You tried to forget about your encounter with the golden boy and the way his hot breath made your whole body shiver, even though he did not lay a single finger on you.
A girl that has been eyeing you all night had offered you a dance, which you gratefully accepted. You twirled around and had fun, the shiny pieces of your dress making you look ethereal in the warm light, as you continued to be watched by Charles, who got back to the party as well.
Just as you finished dancing with the girl and thanked her, a bit out of breath, another one came up to you giggling, telling you that Charles was talking to your father, asking whether he could dance with you.
Your eyes narrowed, and you looked in your old man's way to see him chatting with Leclerc while gesturing in a lively way. As Charles noticed you gazing at them, he gave you a small smirk and a wave before excusing himself and walking towards you.
"I am not dancing with you," you spoke bluntly, looking at him with disdain. Your words just made him smile and roll his eyes in response.
"Oh, but we wouldn't want to disappoint your papa, would we?" Charles spoke teasingly, "It would be very rude to deny a dance with me, don't you think?"
You bit your lip, knowing he was right. To make matters worse, a cheery Italian love song started playing. Your old man liked romcoms and love songs a bit too much for your liking; you had to talk to him about his Mamma Mia obsession at some point.
Charles raised his eyebrow and held out his hand towards you, just as the chorus of Sarà perché ti amo started playing. You gave him a subtle glare once more before placing your fingers on his warm hand. He smiled and pulled you closer to the centre of the room, leading the dance and twirling you around.
"You look gorgeous tonight, little miss," he whispered teasingly, as the crowd watched you dance. "Are you this beautiful even when mocking me in your writing, or did you simply dress up tonight?"
"Considering how you were busy watching me through the street cameras, I think you are well aware of how I look while working," you bit back through gritted teeth as you smiled at him charmingly to keep up appearances. He gave you an equally tender smile, faking it almost effortlessly, before spinning you around again.
"Oh, street cameras aren't the only thing I can use to watch you. I have eyes too, ma déesse," he whispered into your ear, just as the track ended, and he had to let you go. As you walked away from him, you glanced at your father and groaned at his beaming smile. You silently prayed that he wouldn't try to plan anything as a follow-up to your dance with one of his business partners.
Your prayers were not answered. The next evening you got a text from your father, happily informing you that Charles was absolutely enthralled by you and has asked for your number. (You would not be surprised if your father just came up to him after you two danced and forced him to write down your number in his phone.)
You were still seething as you made dinner in the quiet of your apartment when the doorbell rang. You did not expect any guests, so you raised your eyebrows in surprise and washed your hands before opening the door to see Charles standing behind them. A thought of simply shutting the door in his face ran through your head, but you doubted he would actually let you have your peace.
"Why are you here?" You asked, folding your arms while you looked at him questioningly.
"Maybe I wanted to see your pretty face again?" he suggested, a grin appearing on his face. You made a mental note to add "womaniser" to the long list of epithets you used in your articles.
"Bullshit," you said calmly, completely unfazed.
"I want answers, little miss." Charles finally replied, looking at you closely, "I want to know why the little rich girl who attends her daddy's parties every other week decided to mock me and make me her enemy when she would benefit so much more if I were her ally."
"It's fun," you replied. "I like it. Watching all the other rich people in town squirm once word about their little illegal businesses spreads. I liked seeing your expression, the perplexity in your eyes."
He kept observing you for a couple more seconds before he smirked again and started taking slow steps towards you. You instinctively started to retreat to your apartment, but it didn't make him stop. As he entered it, he closed the door behind him, his eyes never leaving yours.
"Are you going to grab a gun now?" Charles teased, referring to the threat you made the evening before. You stopped and overcame your unease. He was on your turf. And you weren't going to take his shit.
"My turn to ask the questions. Why didn't you try to shut me up earlier?"
"It's pretty simple." He responded, tilting his head slightly. "When you first started writing, I wanted nothing more than to find you and rip your head off. But with each little piece of yours, your gender became clear. It baffled me, since I have not crossed any women recently. It interested me, irked me."
Charles took another step towards you, slowly extending his hand, giving you time to retreat. But you did not, surprisingly letting him place his hand on your chin.
"I found out who you were a while ago. But I decided to watch and tried to see what your motive was. At first, I thought it was your father's idea, but I quickly came to the conclusion that he is a harmless old man. No, you came up with it all by yourself."
You remained silent, listening to his words, as his warm fingers traced your jawline and brushed against your neck, stroking your soft skin softly.
"I was completely sure you were a man pretending to be a woman before I discovered your identity." Charles chuckled.
"I did not understand why else you would watch me so closely, describing my every... evil move."His hand went slightly up once more, and he brushed the tip of his thumb against your peach-tinted lips.
"Otherwise... Why would someone want to bring me down? Without any gain from it..." his voice trailed off. "You are fascinating, little miss."
You let out a small, barely audible sigh at his faint touches, making his eyes glint with interest once more.
"Are you sure you still don't want a bit of my attention?" He murmured, bending down slightly, his head inching closer to your face as he spoke.
Of course you knew what kind of man he was. Filthy rich, attractive, and thought the world belonged to him. But could anyone fault you for finding him just a bit appealing?You tilted your head up to look at him properly. Thoughts were running in circles in your mind as you bit your lip, feeling conflicted. Charles could see your struggle, and he waited patiently for your response, not making any move to touch you more. He wanted your consent, for you to give in willingly.
"Maybe just a bit," you whispered, knowing damn well that there was no way that this would be a one-time thing. He smiled at your response, reaching his hand out again, brushing strands of your hair behind your ear, and leaning in to place a small peck on the side of your neck to test the waters. Seeing that you did not resist his affections, he moved closer, his body meeting yours. Charles took you in with his eyes, massaging your body through your clothes, taking his time with you.
"You really do look incredible regardless of the situation," he muttered, burying his face in your hair and inhaling your scent. "You are so interesting, little miss..."
His hands slipped under your shirt and kept massaging your body slowly, warming it up. You didn't really speak, still unsure how to respond to the situation. The man whose life you tried to ruin was in your apartment, being intimate with you, and you were... Well, you were a willing participant.
Charles roamed your body with his fingers, keeping it pretty civil for now, and you tilted your head up again, brushing your nose against his slightly, making him smile at you.
"I have to say, you were more fierce yesterday. This is not an unpleasant change," he whispered tenderly. "I suppose you can be quite nice if you want to."
You grabbed his wrists and slowly guided his hands to your breasts, placing them around the round tissue.
"Oh, generous even," he added, but he did not tease you further and kept massaging instead.
"Should I get this off?" Charles asked after a while, referring to the large shirt you were wearing. You nodded without hesitating much, making him take the shirt off your body with ease. His hands were immediately back on your skin, this time enveloping your hips with their warmth.You reached for his shirt, taking it off as well. He gently guided you to the couch, carefully pushing you on the soft cushions.
"You're a bit like a wild cat, ma déesse," he whispered with a hint of satisfaction. "It is very difficult to tame you, and even if one succeeds, you still remain wonderfully independent and fierce."
You rolled your eyes a bit at the compliment but did not stop him from undressing you further, giggling a bit as he struggled with taking his trousers off. Charles gave you a warning look, though he couldn't help but smirk as well.
"Watch out, little miss, or I might lose my temper," he whispered.
"Do you ever?" you asked, looking up at him, as he crawled on top of you. "Were those frowns every time you heard about a new article all feigned?"
"Oh, I was not frowning about the articles." Charles chuckled, pressing soft kisses on your neck. "I just think some of the... labels you gave me were a bit harsh. I don't think I'm a 'filthy lecher who feasts on the weak,' to be quite honest."
"Fine, maybe I am a bit... passionate at times." You admitted with a sigh, as he continued leaving gentle pecks on her body, trailing them down towards her chest, "...You're still a jerk."
"Sure I am." He beamed, his shiny eyes glancing up into yours, before he focused on cherishing you again. He was careful, almost as if he worried about damaging you. You took him for someone who liked it rough, yet right now it seemed like he was prioritising your pleasure over his.
You sighed again as his mouth started inching closer to your abdomen before passing in and hovering above her temple.
"Are you ready, little miss?" he asked, and without really waiting for a response, he leaned down, pressing his mouth directly to your clit. He wasn't hesitant; he dove right in, beginning to suck on your labia, eliciting soft moans from your mouth.
Charles took his time, licking and sucking on the outside, before slowly pushing his mouth further, penetrating your cunt with his tongue. The man had skill; he turned into a panting, whimpering mess in a matter of minutes.
Before he brought you to a climax, he pulled away carefully, glancing at you with a grin.
"It's okay, you can come over my face later," he whispered, massaging your hip, as you glanced down at him, your face flushed.
"Do you want to feel me inside, ma déesse?"
You nodded, almost squirming from the tension he built up in your body. He kept watching your expression as he positioned his hard shaft at your entrance, teasing it a little bit, before slowly but surely pushing it in.
You slowly got used to the sensation, letting out small moans and whimpers at the sensation. You closed your eyes, savouring the experience, before pulling him into your arms, making his dick go deeper and causing him to groan in pleasure.
He was so careful with you, as if afraid to break you, to damage you. You would never take him for someone gentle; you assumed he liked it rough. But right now, he seemed to be containing himself for you.
"You don't have to be gentle with me. I'm not made out of glass." you whispered, after letting out another moan. "I want to feel you everywhere."
At your words, his restraint seemed to weaken; his gentle strokes grew into desperate thrusts, the pace quickening significantly. You were now moaning at every move, your body responding to his affections perfectly.
You could not help but admire the way he looked, his brown hair illuminated by the warm light seeping from a lamp placed on the coffee table, his green eyes that usually resembled spring leaves, now looking more like a shadowy forest. Small beads formed on his forehead as he kept a quick pace, sliding his cock in and out of you.
Soon, he reached his high, painting your inner walls white, before sliding out of you, his dick now limp. He tried not to collapse on you, but you simply pulled him in, making him lie on top of your body. You both breathed heavily, spent after the intense sex.
Your mind was analysing the situation now. In the past hours, your opinion on Charles changed significantly. He was still a dick and a bad man, but you couldn't deny the want you felt for him. It might have transcended sexual desire alone.
Charles clearly felt something for you as well; he knew better than to hope that sleeping with you would make you stop writing about him. He was tender, affectionate... It was unclear what he wanted for you. But after a couple more moments of thinking, you decided to let it go for now, choosing to enjoy the presence of the man you seemed to hate just yesterday.
Suddenly, you giggled, making him look up at you questioningly.
"Did you really memorise every insult I have written about you?" you asked, looking at him tenderly. He smiled as well, nuzzling his face into your chest. It wasn't in a sexual way; it seemed that he was simply yearning to be close to you, to stay in this moment, in this apartment, for as long as possible.
"Maybe not every single one, but I remember most of them." Charles murmured, with his face buried in your chest.
You smiled again, deciding that talking about what this evening meant for you two could happen some other time. For now, you wanted to keep him in your arms for as long as possible.
...And maybe a few kisses, you thought, as you gently grabbed his chin and leaned in, kissing him on the lips. He reciprocated immediately, taking the lead and pouring his affection for you into the gesture, leaving you breathless.
"Do you want to stay for dinner?" You asked, making his eyes light up like a little child's.
"I would love to." Charles smiled genuinely. Yes, he was a bad man. But his presence was something you grew fond of. In a matter of a day, you found yourself infatuated with the golden boy that you mocked.
"Maybe I should have suggested breakfast as well," you spoke, pulling him in for another kiss.
#f1 imagines#f1 fanfic#f1 x reader#charles leclerc smut#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc fanfic
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bad idea right? – ln4
masterlist
Summary: The one where seeing Lando tonight is a bad idea, right?
Pairing: lando norris x ricciardo!reader
Word Count: 4.8k
Warnings: mentions of breakups and also fighting, cursing, kind of a toxic relationship?, allusion to smut, it's criminal how long it took me to finish this fic
Request: this wasn’t requested, but the idea is veeery loosely from this tiktok right here! (i might def write the scenario in the tiktok in the future though)
Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! it has officially been a month since i started my master's programme and i have to say it is absolutely kicking my ass, but thank you all for bearing with me while i adjust! this song has been stuck in my head for the last two-three (?) months and i really wanted to write a fic based on it. i also wanted to say that i've received all of your guys' requests, and i'm working on those, but it's harder for me to get out a request than a fic that just popped in my head because i tend to be more of a perfectionist with those - so, those are definitely on the way, don't worry! i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee
Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms.
It’s not that you don’t like spending time with your brother and his girlfriend – because you do, but considering the fact that spending a mere hour with them causes you to suddenly question your life choices (of being single), you are very eager to leave them alone for the night. Which brings us to the current situation, with you standing in front of your brother’s apartment complex in one of the hoodies you stole from the sample boxes, waiting for someone you should’ve never hit up in the first place. It was probably not your brightest idea to message Lando to ask him if he wants to go for a ride, especially because a) the last time you saw him a year ago the two of you were yelling and throwing things at each other and b) you’re definitely buzzed from the bottle of wine you hogged upstairs. But you know what they say; absence makes the heart go fonder, right?
So there you are with your phone in your hand, texting Lily in hopes of getting the tiniest bit of reassurance about your decision.
To lily m: i texted lando To lily m: he’s gonna pick me up From lily m: WHAT? NO To lily m: seeing him tonight To lily m: it’s a bad idea, right? From lily m: YES From lily m: DO NOT GET INTO THAT CAR To lily m: yes i know that he’s my ex, but can’t two people reconnect?
Fuck it, it’s fine, you decide as you quickly delete the last two messages. With a soft sigh, you wrap your arms around yourself to shield yourself from the cold air of the night. And while you could just wait for Lando inside the apartment building, you really don’t want to attract more attention to yourself. You can feel yourself getting more and more nervous as the minutes pass by, and you even contemplate cancelling the whole thing and going upstairs to sleep. Just as you’re about to give up on the whole thing, a car honk grabs your attention. When turn to look at the source of the sound, you see Lando’s unamused face through the open window.
He motions you to get in with his head, his voice as equally detached as he calls out, “Get in.”
Rolling your eyes at his behaviour, you do as your told. But you tell yourself that it’s not because he told you to, but because you’re cold. And so you get in the car making sure you slam the door as hard as you can, which makes him scowl as a small smile forms on your lips. “You know, you could really try on being more polite.”
“I’m picking you up in the middle of the night,” he points out as he puts the car on drive and starts driving off, “and put your damn seatbelt on.”
You give him a sideway glance as you put on your seatbelt, letting out a sigh, “Are you okay? I’m sensing some serious undertone.”
Lando doesn’t answer you, mainly because he is smarter than he looks and he knows you’re trying to goad him into another fight. That’s what the two of you had always done, not that he hated you or vice versa, but the two of you mainly got along in fights which ended up in both of you twisted between the sheets of the whatever hotel you were currently staying in. And it had worked for a while, until of course it didn’t, and Lando was mature enough to admit that he had a huge role in fucking up your relationship.
“You changed your car,” you point out.
“Thought you’d appreciate a roof over your head this time,” he replies.
The car is silent as Lando drives down the now empty streets of Monte Carlo, and you find yourself involuntarily checking out his side profile because well, he always looked so good while driving. You suppose it’s only one of the things that didn’t change with time.
“So,” his voice draws you out from your thoughts, “why’d you call me tonight? Are you drunk?”
“I am not drunk,” you scoff, crossing your arms across your chest, “if you don’t feel like being here Lando, I can just get off and go home.”
“Now I didn’t say that, I simply asked a question.” He steals another glance at you, but this time a little smirk forms on his lips when your eyes meet and he sees your scowl. “It was a harmless question, really.”
Your voice comes off as clipped as you answer, “I’m not drunk.”
“Your cheeks are red,” Lando points out but the playfulness from mere seconds ago is gone, in fact, he’s more serious than you’ve probably ever seen him, “you either had wine or your rosacea is acting up.”
It takes a moment for you to take in his words, and there is no humour in his voice or on his face when you look at him to see whether he’s joking or not. “I had some wine,” you confess, voice much lower than before as you add, “but I’m not drunk.” One of his eyebrows rise up, and you find yourself mumbling, “Fine maybe a little bit, but not a lot.”
His jaw ticks as he mumbles, “Okay, whatever you say.” And as you try to assess whether his voice is cold or not, you see his hands tightening around the steering wheel.
“What?” You ask, a bit quicker than necessary (in your opinion), “What did I say?”
Now it’s his turn for his voice to be clipped, and his eyebrows furrow as he asks, “Did you only call me because you’re drunk?”
“No,” your reply is truthful to some extent, you suppose, you would’ve texted him even if you had no alcohol in your system. “I wanted to see you.”
He lets out a hum, “Why?”
It’s a hard question, and you contemplate not being a hundred percent honest – but deep down you know he deserves better, even if you had your differences. So, to reveal the truth, you turn your face away from him to look outside the window, “I missed you.”
He doesn’t say anything, and you don’t turn to see what his reaction will be. Everything is peaceful for a moment.
He takes you to a hill, the very one he took you for your first date. Though, it doesn’t carry the same excitement this time around. The two of you remain in the car with the windows rolled down, but the colder air doesn’t make you chilly. It’s silent, but it’s not an uncomfortable one. Neither of you make the first move to start a conversation, and you don’t know if that’s because you’re both obstinate or he doesn’t want to be there. Though, you suspect he would’ve told you ‘no’ if he didn’t want to be there – not that he could ever tell you ‘no’.
It's unnaturally hard, you realise, not looking at him on purpose when he’s seated so close to you. Especially because you haven’t seen him in months. Not that you’d confess that to him, or let yourself have another weak moment where you say you missed him. Because you can’t. Because it’s not the way the two of you operate. Because he broke your heart but you’re not strong enough to let him go. With that last thought, you take a sharp breath, undo your seatbelt and get out of the car. You lean against the hood of the car and he soon follows suit. But where your hands are splayed behind your back, his arms are crossed over his chest.
“You’ve not been sleeping.” It’s not a question, it’s a statement. Because he is not dumb (or blind enough) to let the circles under your eyes slide.
And it’s a statement that might be true. You only give him half of a shrug, “So?”
“It means that something is bothering you.” You’re about to object, but he quickly shuts you down, “I once drove you around for four hours so you could sleep in my car, honey,” his fingers move to gently turn your chin towards him so he can look into your eyes, “and that was because you forgot to bring me back junk food from Australia.”
Even if you’re taken aback by his physical touch, you don’t show it as you stubbornly maintain your eye contact. “It’s the jet lag, I haven’t travelled in a while.” You gulp down a breath as you gently push his hand away, “And don’t call me that.”
“Why?” He turns his body to face you, “You’re just as sweet, aren’t you?”
“Lando,” you warn him, “don’t.”
He raises a brow, “Why not?”
“Because we’re friends,” your response comes off in an instant, “I only see you as a friend.” The biggest lie you’ve ever said.
“Friends,” he repeats, tests out the word, then shrugs, “sure. Now tell me what happened tonight that made you call me. Did you and Daniel fight?”
“What?” an involuntary laugh leaves your lips, and you catch the corner of his lips turning upwards just the smallest bit. “No, we didn’t, it’s not about Daniel. Can we just not talk about it, please?”
He gives you a firm nod, and you catch his grimace as he turns his attention back to the view in front of you. “You can tell me, you know,” he mumbles, “you used to.”
He’s right, you realise. You used to tell him all the little thought that popped into your head, whether it was nice or not, and he’d accommodated your thoughts. It was easier to talk to him, once upon a time, and you’re not really sure why it hurts so much right now that you can’t.
“Why do you care?” The question comes out quickly, and your voice is not as strong as you’d like it to be. “After everything, why do you care?”
“We’re friends, right?” The words tastes unbelievably sour in his mouth, and he has to restrain himself from making any sort of face, but it seems harder than it actually is for him to do and he questions whether it is worth it to
“Friends,” this time it’s your turn to test out the word, and it tastes as bitter as they come, “sure, can we ride around a bit more?”
“Fine,” he gives you a nod and motions you to get in the car, “but I have to get gas first.”
The fluorescent lighting of the gas station is definitely not the most flattering thing. So much so that you’re sure the unflattering light outside is exaggerating the bags under your eyes. But that situation of course doesn’t apply to Lando because even under the harsh lighting, he looks too pretty. And compared to earlier in the night, you don’t try to hide the way your eyes focus on him while he’s driving, though you hope you do a much better job at hiding the thoughts that come to your mind. Even after he’s parked the car in the nearest pump, you find yourself staring at his side profile a bit too long, which earns you a sideway smirk and you try your hardest not to react, but the smile you keep trying to fight is too strong and eventually you find yourself with the tiniest smile playing on your lips.
Lando turns towards you, meets your eyes and leans over the console, “Do you want anything from the shop?”
You blink once, trying to come up with anything, twice, then “Can you get me those gummy bears that I like?”
He gives you another nod, reaches into his pocket and then hand you his phone. Ignoring your questioning stare, he explains, “So that you can play music or something, the password is still the same.” Before he gets out of the car, he does the unexpected and leans in just a little bit more to press a feather-light kiss to your temple.
You watch him get out of the car and walk away from you with your mouth slightly hanging open. You contemplate trying to unlock the phone, because why would he tell you that his password is the same? And why would he trust you with his phone when the two of you have been broken up for over a year? With shaky hands, your fingers put in the password, calling Lando’s bluff. Oh shit, you think when the phone unlocks, now what? Throwing the phone out of your hands onto the driver seat, you grab your own and quickly type a new message to Kika, who of course got the news from Lily and has been blowing up your phone, while ignoring her dozen other messages who went unread in your text thread.
To kika: this was a bad idea kika Tokika: a very *very* bad idea From kika: please tell me you’re going home To kika: um… To kika: sure From kika: GET OUT OF THAT CAR AND GET YOUR ASS HOME From kika: NOW!!
Chewing on your lower lip, your eyes linger on the messages spamming your phone, and you contemplate just getting out of the car and trying to find your way back home. But you also can’t help yourself but think… what’s the worst that could happen if you stayed? Clicking the button on the side of your phone, you place it face down on your lap after making sure you silence it for the rest of the night. With the reminder of the abandoned phone on the seat next to yours, you open your window to let some of the night air in. As your phone keeps buzzing on your lap, your eyes focus on the figure that comes out of the convenience store – and by some grace of God, he doesn’t realise the way your eyes basically undress him as he approaches his McLaren.
There’s no smile on his face, in fact, if you didn’t know Lando, you’d say he looks like an asshole; not that he occasionally doesn’t act like one. He gives you that boyish smirk when he’s next to your window, signalling you to roll it down by tapping on it twice. Lando leans against the car, his eyes locked onto yours. “Got your gummy bears,” he says, holding up the package and handing it to you once you roll it down. “It was the last one too, you’re lucky.”
Giving a tight lipped smile to the man looking expectantly at you, you accept the packet of gummy bears. “Thank you, Lando,” the softening look in his eyes is, ironically, strong enough for you to choke on the next words that are on the tip of your tongue. “I–”
“I’m sorry to bother you, are you Lando Norris?” A third voice interrupts you, and you find yourself moving your gaze from Lando to the woman who’s excitedly waiting for a response.
“Yes,” he breathes out, and you can tell he’s trying to keep his voice polite but he’s also very annoyed at the same time – though the way he eyes up the stranger definitely makes your blood boil.
With his attention on the woman, you find yourself feel the tension in the air and quickly look down at the packet of gummy bears in your hands. You start absentmindedly picking at the wrapper, your mind racing with a mixture of emotions. As the conversation between Lando and the fan continues, you steal glances at them from the corner of your eye. She's gushing about a recent race, talking animatedly about the thrilling moments she witnessed. Lando, for his part, is gracious and engaged, taking the time to listen and respond. And despite the polite exchange, you can't help but feel a pang of jealousy. It's a reminder of the world he's a part of, a world where fans approach him with admiration and excitement. A world you used to share, but now only observe from the sidelines.
You watch the woman place her hand on Lando’s bicep, laughing at a (rather mediocre) joke he made about the understeer of the car. It’s not a funny joke by any means, and you are not scared to admit that the woman’s laugh that fills your ears makes your insides twist uncomfortably. You remind yourself that you're here by choice. You could have left at any moment. But there's something about this night, about being with Lando again, that you can't quite let go of. It's a confusing mix of nostalgia and longing, wrapped in a blanket of uncertainty.
The woman’s voice hits your ears as you hear her ask, “Do you want to come back to my place?”
Without letting them both know that you’re actively listening into their conversation, you attempt to subtly let out a warning cough, but Lando covertly smirks as he leans towards the car with his hand grabbing the lowered window – without caring about the possible finger prints he might leave behind, might you add. Without any hesitation, you let your fingers go of the packaging to thread your fingers with his.
While his thumb gently starts to draw circles on the knuckle of your thumb, he does his best to supress the chuckle building up in his throat. “That’s, um, very kind – but I’m with my girl, you see, and we are both pretty tired.”
Maybe you would’ve given her a friendly smile over a misunderstanding if you were in a better mood, but as the woman looks at you with wild eyes, all you can offer her is an annoyed pout, and soon after she leaves after apologising to you both for interrupting your plans. You watch her leave until there is a good enough distance for her to not hear you, and then turn to Lando and give him a glare as you hiss, “I am not ‘your girl’.”
He finally lets out the chuckle he’s been holding as he watches you letting go of his hand with an exaggerated push, and then diverts his amused eyes towards you, “Sure, whatever you say, jealous girl.”
“I am not– I wasn’t jealous!” you exclaim, eyes narrowed. When he starts walking towards the driver’s side, you can’t help but call out, “I’m not jealous!”
Lando is still chuckling to himself when he gets in the car, and even as he starts driving, completely ignoring your whining complaints. “That’s alright, honey,” he says, voice full of condescension, “it was very cute.”
“You are an ass.” You roll your eyes as you cross your arms across your chest. “Maybe I should’ve gotten off when I had the chance, that way you could’ve fucked her in the back seat.”
“Bold of you assume she’s the one I’d want to fuck in my back seat,” he raises an eyebrow, then shrugs “but sure.”
Your face scrunches up in disgust, “You’re, ugh, you’re just the worst, Lando.” Shaking your head in disbelief, you add, “I can’t believe I’m arguing with you over you fucking girls in your car.”
Lando manages to get out a disapproving tut, and then contends, “I never said I’d fuck girls in my car, I’d said I’d rather fuck you in my car.”
Completely baffled by this revelation, not that you should’ve been, you turn to him in disgust, “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” He shrugs again, noncommittally, and without paying you any mind continues to focus on the road.
“Well,” you laugh, breathlessly, “good thing that’s never happening.” Gently clearing your throat, you later can’t help yourself but add a silent, “Again.”
“If you’d rather a bed, that could also be arranged, honey.” Lando assures you, and you realise the little fucker has a smirk growing on his face.
“As if I’d sleep with you willingly,” you scoff.
A boisterous laugh is what you get from Lando, who tilts his head towards you, “Come on, I’m a good-looking bloke.”
“And I’m sure I’ve seen much hotter man,” you sing, but you just can’t remember when. So deciding to block out what Lando is rambling about, you pull out your phone to message someone who has the answer for you.
To lily m + kika: can you tell me someone who is hotter than lando? From lily m: alex From kika: pierre To lily m + kika: ew, be serious please From kika: what about the guy with the accent, from hungary? From lily m: the doctor? To lily m + kika: i think she meant the reporter From lily m: god no he was a creep From lily m: what about the surfer? From kika: oh yeah he was cute too To lily m + kika: i need someone hot, pleaseee From lily m: THE MODEL FROM MILAN From kika: WITH THE ABS From kika: and also porche From lily m: BUT ALSO THE ABS To lily m + kika: okay thanks To lily m + kika: love you guys
Getting lost in the conversation, with the aid of your ambition to prove yourself right and, naturally, Lando wrong, you don’t realise that he’s actually driven you back to his apartment instead of a bar or literally some other place that sells alcohol in that ungodly hour.
“This isn’t a bar.” You point out, eyebrows furrowed.
Lando dignifies your comment with a scoff, “Well aren’t you quite the detective?”
Crossing your arms across your chest, you basically hiss at him this time, “This is basically kidnapping.”
Lando glances at you, a playful glint in his eyes. “Kidnapping? Really? I thought we were just catching up.”
You shoot him a sarcastic look, but can't help the small smile that tugs at your lips. “Yeah, sure. Catching up in the middle of the night at your place.”
He parks the car and turns to face you, a smirk dancing on his lips. “Well, here’s my proposal. I’ll go to my apartment and you’re free to either join me or drive my car back to Daniel’s – I’ll come pick it up tomorrow.”
You hesitate for a moment, considering your options as you watch Lando give you an assuring smile and handing you the keys before getting out of the car. Going back to your brother's place doesn't sound all that appealing, and Lando's offer, as questionable and a bad idea as it may be, seems like the lesser of two evils. Though, there is also the reality that if when you go up to his apartment, you’re probably going to do something that either you or your friends will regret tomorrow morning. Watching Lando’s retreating figure move further into the apartment building, you think, fuck it, it’s fine.
So, you wait for a few minutes, anxiously twirling the car keys in your hand to make him wait – but you’re pretty sure it makes you suffer just as much. You take a deep breath, exhale slowly, and then climb out of the car. Locking it behind you, you follow Lando into the building. The familiar scent of his cologne hits you as you step into the elevator, and a wave of nostalgia washes over you. The elevator ride going up to the second floor is pure torture, and it leaves you squirming in your place the whole time. Basically throwing yourself out of the elevator once it lands on the second floor, you realise that Lando has been waiting for you, standing and smiling at his door.
He gives you a teasing look as you approach, clearly amused by your slightly dishevelled state. “Took you long enough,” he remarks, unlocking the door and holding it open for you. But instead of saying anything or retorting back, you quietly follow him inside his apartment. Lando closes the door behind you, the sound echoing through the quiet apartment. The dim lighting casts a soft glow, creating an intimate atmosphere. The first thing that catches your eye is the helmet collection he keeps in the living room. Without saying anything, you quickly make your way over to the shelves that display the helmets, trying your best to avoid his approaching footsteps behind you. The familiar design of a particular helmet has you instinctively tracing the number at the top, and the arms that hug your waist from behind makes you freeze for a moment. Lando's touch is both familiar and foreign, stirring up a mix of emotions you thought were long buried.
“That's from Monza, 2021,” he says, his voice close to your ear. The warmth of his breath sends a shiver down your spine.
You clear your throat, attempting to regain composure. “I remember,” you reply, your fingers still lingering on the helmet.
For a moment, neither of you speaks. The weight of the past and the uncertainty of the present hangs in the air. Lando breaks the silence, his voice low and measured. “I wasn't sure you'd actually come up.”
You turn to face him, meeting his gaze, but don’t attempt getting out of his arms. “I didn't think so either.”
Without breaking eye contact, he slowly leans in, his lips brushing against yours. It's a tentative touch, a testing of waters, and you find yourself responding to the familiarity of the kiss. The taste of the past lingers, and for a moment, it's as if the years haven't passed. But reality crashes back in, and you pull away, the distance now a necessary boundary. Lando looks at you, a mix of emotions playing on his face. There's longing, regret, and an unspoken acknowledgment of the complexities that bind you.
“I thought we could just catch up,” he says, his tone a mix of apology and yearning.
You turn in your place, facing him. “Catching up was never our strong suit, was it?”
“Not really,” Lando shakes his head, “no.”
You bite down on the corner of your lip, threading your fingers through his curls as you pull his face down to meet yours as you rise on your tiptoes, “It’s a bad idea, right?”
Lando lets out a supportive hum as he lets his lips softly brush against yours, “The worst.” And maybe he should have been the gentleman and pull away, but when he sees your eyes closing, he just leans in further to press his lips against yours – and the way you respond to his kiss? It's as if the world outside ceases to exist. The kiss deepens, each brush of his lips against yours reigniting a long-buried flame. Lando's hands find their way to the small of your back, pulling you closer, erasing the physical space between you.
You don’t complain as he pulls you towards his bedroom, or when he gently throws you on his bed, the anticipation hanging thick in the air. As he hovers over you, the weight of the past and the intensity of the present converge. His hands trace the contours of your face, memorizing every curve as if committing it to memory. And when the two of you get lost between each other within his sheets, the only thing that ends up coming from your mouth is either his name, or some sort of encouragement to keep him going. After he manages to wear you out, Lando decides that you’re definitely not going anywhere as he wraps you in his arms around you. The room is filled with the soft sounds of breaths syncing, hearts beating in tandem. Lando's fingers draw absent patterns on your skin while you check the messages that have accumulated in your phone. The glow of your phone illuminates the dim room, creating a subtle contrast to the warmth that envelops you. Lando's presence beside you adds an extra layer of comfort, a silent acknowledgment of the shared intimacy that unfolded moments ago.
From danny: please tell me you didn’t get kidnapped by the organ mafia From danny: wink twice if you’re alive From danny: this is not funny, where are you? From danny: fine i’ll ask alex to ask lily
Rolling your eyes before sending him a text to let your brother know you’re okay, you decide to turn your attention to the group chat with Lily and Kika.
From kika: did you get home safe? From lily m: daniel is pretty stressed about it From lily m: please for the love of god tell us you’re home and not with lando right now To lily m + kika: omg just calm down i’m in bed To lily m + kika: and i’m going to sleep To lily m + kika: love you guys
You catch a glimpse of Lando’s grin over your shoulder as you click your phone off, but he only chuckles as he buries his face into your neck as he leaves small kisses to the skin there. “Well, I’m not lying, I just didn’t specify where I was.”
“Or in whose sheets,” his laugher gets louder as you jokingly slap him on the arm, “go to sleep, honey, we’ll be tired in the morning.”
And it might’ve been a bad idea to message him in the first place, but it certainly doesn’t feel like one.
#monzabee#requests open#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 smut#formula 1#fanfic#f1 x reader#f1 x you#f1 x y/n#lando norris#lando norris x reader#lando norris imagine#imagine#fluff#angst#smut#lando norris smut#lando norris fluff
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Hi, I saw that you’re taking dbf requests for Hotch! Could I request a fic with dbf!Hotch where he finally makes a move on reader during a party being hosted by her dad? Also, I love your fics sm!!
Dress
It was your father’s appointment party as Chief Justice when lawyers and businessmen overtly offer their sons as your marriage prospects. All while Aaron Hotchner listened quietly beside you, you can tell that he’s not too happy about it.
Pairing: dbf!aaron hotchner x bfd!reader
Theme: spicy hotshot
Contents: age gap, making out, angry confession.
The decorous garden of your home residence was filled with a crowd of guests long before the party officially started. Prominent people of different names and titles— some of your father’s business partners and colleagues in the Supreme Court, and some family friends you barely recognize— draped in their finest garments and overtly high status in society.
Pleasantries and polite conversations were exchanged; and as your father greeted each one of his dear friends, you had no other choice but to stay beside him all the time and be on your best behavior.
“You have a very nice house here, Chief Justice,” Emilia Kane— one of your father’s business partners as you recalled— said with a dainty smile.
You mirrored her small nod when she glanced at you, smiling politely at the woman and the other two beside her. “Good evening, Ma’am.”
“Good evening, dear. You look absolutely gorgeous…” She took a sip of her champagne and raked your outfit subtly, a kind smile on her face. “What year are you in University now?”
“She just graduated a month ago, Emilia. She’s entering Harvard Law this fall, haven’t I told you yet?” Your father intercepted proudly, making you purse your lips as you initially intended to answer the question.
The woman beamed in amazement as she glanced at you. “Oh my, congratulations! I’m so sorry I didn’t know.”
“She graduated top of her class.”
You sighed lightly, glancing at your father. “Dad…”
“I’m sure you’ve seen the photos, Emilia. I posted everything on my social accounts...” Father dear went on, still smiling widely.
“Dad, please.”
“Oh, did you?” The woman said in awe, alternating her amused gaze between you and your father. “And did he get you a new car, dear? An apartment? What did he get you for your graduation?”
“I wanted to give her all thos—”
“No, dad…” You shook your head, chuckling.
“Well, I rented an entire villa in Mykonos for her and her friends. She just got back from Greece yesterday.”
“Dad!” Heat crept in your cheeks as he continued. This conversation is making you sound like a hopeless case of a spoiled brat when it wasn’t entirely true. You might appear spoiled for other people at times but not on a hopeless— certainly not on a spoiled brat level.
“Oh, dear, you’re fine…” The other woman chuckled sympathetically. “I bought my son a new Porsche just because he didn’t get himself kicked out of University. I’m sure your father’s just proud.”
You shyly darted your gaze at your dad as you felt his palm on your linked arms. “Why won’t I be? She’s my only daughter...”
The light conversation continued and was only interrupted when a couple of new guests approached your father. Several familiar faces of lawyers and judges; some from your father’s law firm and some from the Supreme Court. Over the past years, you got to know most of them, making you fix your posture and remind yourself to smile more pleasantly.
So you stood there prettily in silence, smiling, as you accepted their handshakes.
“You look beautiful, hija…”
You beamed at the compliment. “Thank you, attorney. Good evening.”
“Have you seen Marcus around? He told me he’d look for you.”
“Marcus?” You perked your eyebrows in curiosity. “Is he home already?”
The innocent question made your father chuckle a bit. “Yes, sweetie. I told you I played golf with them last week, remember?”
A bashful smile tugged at your lips as you looked at Attorney Jensen. They’re one of your closest family friends. His son, Marcus, is one of the kids you grew up hanging around with at law firm parties and at weekend golf clubs. He’s a nice kid... but everything turned weird when everyone started pairing you both as teenagers.
Your father must’ve told you about Marcus’ arrival but you’re sure you didn’t care enough the first time that you missed the entire story when he called.
“Well, I’m sure he’s just around...” You said with a sweet smile.
Minutes dragged by and their conversations continued. You stood beside your father in silence, occasionally engaging in the small talk. Some of the men asked about your education, your plan after law school, and your love life— all of which you answered as briefly and politely as possible.
“Sir, it’s time to prepare for your opening speech—” You turned in the organizer’s direction when you heard her voice.
You stared at your father expectantly. Well, it’s not like he would need your help in preparing for his speech. He’s a Chief Justice for heaven’s sake, surely he can do that alone. You just hope he’s not thinking of leaving you alone with these men.
“Thank you, Laura…” Your father turned to glance down at you. “Honey, would you mind staying here for a whi— never mind— Aaron!”
Your heart almost burst into ashes with the sudden cry of your father. You quickly followed his line of sight— immediately being greeted by the sight of your father’s dear best friend since University days.
Aaron Hotchner.
He’s in a well-polished suit. His dark hair was clean cut and even from afar, you can see the light stubble on his jaw. And Jesus Christ, how can someone look that good?
“Chief Justice,” He greeted your father with an equally wide yet endearing smile, deftly shaking hands while your father chuckled heartily.
Aaron turned to you with a timid smile, opening his arms as a little invitation. You noticed the hint of hesitation on his face with that. Yet still, you accepted the hug before placing a quick and delicate kiss on his cheek, your hands shaking as you perched both your palms on his arm.
“I’ll excuse myself for a while. Will you look after her, Aaron?” You heard your father say as you scrambled to step away from Aaron’s embrace.
He wetted his lower lip before nodding, not even daring to look at you. “Yeah, sure.”
Embarrassment licked your skin as you watched your unsuspecting father walk away. The moment he was completely out of sight, you felt Aaron’s gentle hand snaking at the low of your back, securing you from the waist— as if preventing you from running away from him.
Effortlessly, he engaged in conversations as he settled beside you. And just like earlier, you fell silent as everyone else was busy in their own conversations.
“How about you, are you planning to get married soon after graduating from Harvard Law?”
You smiled lightly as a couple of guests whirled their attention back to you. “I’m afraid I’ll have to look for a boyfriend first, attorney.”
Aaron’s thumb started rubbing soft strokes at your waist. He seemed to be doing that unconsciously because when you glanced at him, he was talking to another group of guests standing at his side.
“So you’re currently looking for a boyfriend?”
“Not really, no...” You chuckled awkwardly. “But if I meet a good one, why not?”
The older man took a huge swig of his brandy. “I have a son. He’s in DC. Surgeon.”
You nodded with an unsure smile. What do you even do with that kind of information?
“That’s impressive...” You said instead.
“He’s also looking for a girlfriend. I can hook you up if you like. I mean, he also graduated from Harvard—”
“That’s kind of you, attorney, but as I said I’m not really looking…”
“My son’s an architect. I believe your father mentioned you’re into art, is that correct?” Another man interrupted, taking an interest in the conversation.
“Yes, attorney…” You gave him a small smile.
Although this night wasn’t meant for you in any way, you’re aware that you are your father’s reflection to these people. You know how crucial it is that you remain polite as much as possible.
“Just a few dates, what do you say?” He offered with a humorous smile. “Come on, maybe we can merge our firms one day. You know, I don’t have any successor of my own. My son’s an architect.”
“It’s not her fault your son chose architecture,” Attorney Jensen cut off before you can reply for yourself. “Besides, my son has been courting her since they were young. He went home this year just to ask her out officially.”
Your breath hitched as you felt Aaron’s grip on your waist tighten. You glanced up at him in confusion, only to see that his usually kind eyes turned piercing, his eyebrows pulled into a tight frown. He seemed mad— furious. He looked furious at the incredulity he was hearing.
You glanced away, not sure what to make of that.
“I believe we need to go to our tables now...” Aaron said formally, his voice deep and serious. His eyes were pointed at his old colleagues and other businessmen.
You smiled at the waiting guests. “I believe I still want to hear what they’re saying...”
Aaron turned to you in disbelief, his scowl deepened.
“About?”
“About their sons.”
You watched Aaron with an innocent look, tilting your head a little, calming the rapid beating of your heart as you saw him let out a sigh of frustration.
Attorney Jensen chuckled at the sight. “Oh, come on now, Aaron. She’s a grown woman, plus it’s just a few dates. It won’t hurt surely.”
“Surely...” You nodded along, glancing at the other men. “It won’t hurt to try.”
You bit your lower lip as Aaron leaned into your ear. His hot breath fanned over your skin, his deep voice sending chills to trickle down your spine.
“Continue this conversation, young lady, and let’s see what will happen.”
The horrified look on your face drew laughter from the guests. They must’ve thought Aaron was threatening to tell this to your father. So you turned away, your smile dropping as you looked around apologetically.
Your father’s voice from the make-shift stage snatched everyone’s attention from you and the conversation. Some marshalls started ushering people to their seats to prepare for the opening speech of the Chief Justice. With small nods and smiles, they all marched toward their respective tables and left you on the spot with Aaron.
“Come with me.”
You staggered sidewards, looking around in slight panic. “The party’s starting.”
“We have to talk.”
“Aaron,” You sighed, eyeing the stage. “My father’s giving his speech…”
That only made him frown deeper. “You proofread that speech for him, you won’t miss anything.”
“So what if I did? I still want to listen.”
He wandered his gaze around the venue before guiding you away from the crowd. It was seldom that Aaron visited your home residence. When he and your father hang out, they usually visit bars, golf clubs, or shooting ranges. But he does know the basic layout of your house. And you know that he’s leading you inside your home this time.
Deep down, you feel like you know exactly where he wants to talk.
“What exactly do you think you’re doing?” He blurted out angrily the moment you stepped inside your room.
You whirled around to face him, crossing your arms across your chest as you heaved a tired sigh.
“What, Aaron?”
He took a step forward. “Is that your way of getting back at me?”
You shrugged, still confused about the point he was making. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You perfectly know what I’m talking about.”
A beat of silence.
Then realization dawned, making you smile in pure resignation.
Two months ago, you made up your mind and finally confessed to Aaron Hotchner. You’re already graduating from University. You will enter a Law School soon. What’s there to lose? Aaron had been showing the subtlest of signs that he likes you back: the way he looks at you, the way he makes you feel cared for and safe, the way— you mistook everything for a reciprocated love.
He cared for you, yes.
Simply because you are your father’s extension.
So what’s this? Why bother now?
“It was clear you didn’t like me,” You whispered quietly. “Which is fine, Aaron, really. I understand— I mean, I was hurt obviously. But… but I understand. I’ll just have to move on, right?”
“You’ve no idea what you’re saying…” He mumbled hoarsely, still piercing you with his darkened gaze. With quick steps, he bridged the gap between you and cupped your cheeks on both his hands.
You swallowed thickly, forcing yourself to meet his eyes. “Aaron…”
“How can I let you move on when that thought alone is killing me?”
Your breath hitched at his words. “W-what?”
“Fuck this,” He spat angrily before placing a chaste kiss on your lips. “You’re driving me mad, sweetheart.”
The sound of muffled laughter, distant conversations, and clinking glasses filtered in through the partially open window. You can barely hear a word of what your father was saying in his speech. All you are aware of is how Aaron desperately chased your lips with hungry and deep kisses, and how the weight of his body was forcing you to blindly take several steps back.
You melted into his sinful lips, your arms snaking around his neck and pulling him closer. You felt his hands move down to your waist, gripping tightly the thin fabric of your satin dress. The sound of ragged breathing mingled in the air as he walked you backward, backward until your back finally hit the wall.
His lips trailed down your neck, nipping and leaving a wet trail of heat in your wake.
You gasped, your fingers tangling in his hair as you arched into him. “Aaron…”
“God, I’ve wanted this for so long,” he murmured against your skin, his voice rough with desire. His big, calloused hands roamed over your body, exploring, familiarizing you.
“Aaron, what are you—” You rasped weakly as he broke another kiss, pressing his forehead against yours.
“Don’t do that again…” He whispered back, breathing heavily as he closed his eyes. “I’ll figure it out. I’ll think of something, I’ll do something just don’t—”
“Don’t what, Aaron?”
“You’ve no idea what you were saying. Your confession— how can you think that I don’t like you?”
“Well…” You blushed, still catching your breath. “You didn’t say anything after, then you sent me home. You didn’t attend my graduation. You didn’t reply to my texts or even congratulate me.”
“You told me I don’t have to say anything…”
“Well, technically, if you didn’t say anything then you don’t like me.”
“You really have no idea what you’re saying, darling.”
You shivered at his whispered words, feeling a surge of boldness. Your hands found the button of his shirt, eager to feel the warmth of his skin. You clumsily tugged on his tie and ripped his clothes off of him, tossing them aside.
Aaron Hotchner could only watch in anticipation as you let the strap of your dress fall on the soft curve of your shoulders... until all your clothes quickly became a forgotten pile on the floor, your moans intertwining like ropes in the party-stained air.
As always, any thoughts and reactions are highly appreciated. Plus, to anon who requested this, YOU ARE AN ANGEL. I loved crafting this with this plot, and hopefully, you liked it as much as I do! See you all on the next ones, we have a few other good requests!
#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner smut#aaron hotch fanfiction#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner x reader#dbf!aaron hotchner#dbf!hotch#rolipops requests#criminal minds fanfiction
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Kane & Jim #57: Indulgence
Chronological masterlist / Writing order masterlist
content: recovery, comfort, starvation, body image issues, fear of torture, whumper turned whumpee
sorry for the long wait! i really do want to write more this year :)
-
Before Kane could get a single word out, he was tackled.
He just barely managed to keep his balance and stop himself from toppling to the ground as Bellamy’s arms wrapped around him like a blanket, pulling him in warm and tight.
“You were dead.” His voice came out squeaky, thick with quick-forming tears. “There was that incident last month, but everyone thought that must have had to have been an impersonator. You’re truly here! Truly!”
“I’m here.” Kane hugged him back, but they only stayed like that a moment before Bellamy pulled back to see his face, still looking quite as though he couldn’t believe Kane were real.
“Where on Earth were you?” he asked, hands still clutching Kane’s arms with the grip of a man who imagined those arms would vanish if he let go.
“It’s a long story.” Kane took a deep breath. “Bellamy, I’ve wanted to say this for a long time. I’m so sorry for how I treated you. I know–”
“Oh, don’t worry about that right now,” Bellamy did free one hand then, requiring it to gesture flippantly and then wipe the tears from his face. “Appreciated, to be sure, but there will be plenty of time for that after more pressing matters. Please, do come in, darling.”
A soft smile grew on Kane’s face. Bellamy wasn’t angry with him, at least. “Thank you. I would love to.”
It was only after he’d crossed the threshold of the doorway that Bellamy dared to let go, though he didn’t let his eyes off Kane for a moment as he made his way to sit on a plush couch in the living room.
“Can I get you something to drink?” he asked, all politeness, though Kane knew exactly what he must look like. What Bellamy must see. Perhaps if Bellamy had seen him months earlier, he would have been unable to maintain such composure.
Not that Kane really minded at all. He was being offered food. “Yes, please.”
Before he knew it–Bellamy having dashed the whole way to the refrigerator and back–there was a pack of cold blood in his hands. “I’m able to warm it up for you, of course, but I do recall that when we were boys, you’d always said the pre-packaged never tastes as good reheated.”
“I don’t mind either way, nowadays.” Truthfully, Bellamy could have tripped and spilled the blood all over the floor and he would have gladly licked it up without much thought. He had before.
He bit into the soft plastic casing and drank. The cool blood was a bit stale, though nowhere approaching spoiled. He wouldn’t have cared if it was. It was delicious nonetheless, and after he’d exhausted what he could suck out through the holes, he tore the packaging apart and licked up every remaining drop clinging to the sides.
“It’s ethically-sourced,” Bellamy commented. “From free, willing, paid humans overseas.”
“It’s really good! Can I have another?” Kane asked before he could stop himself. He’d never been able to indulge before, not since his capture. He was grateful for what Jim had given him, of course. Grateful would be the understatement of the century. But Jim was one human, and he could only give so much at a time.
“Of course!” Bellamy clapped, just once, delighted. And when Bellamy returned, he had two.
Kane downed both, in the same manner as the first. Three meals, just like a human.
“I don’t mean to pry,” Bellamy started slowly, despite that it was very obvious he quite badly wanted to pry. His voice got a touch lower, gentler. “But Kane, my dear. Have you been… eating well?”
Kane crinkled the empty casings, something to do with his hands. He’d really been very proud of the progress he’d made. When he’d first seen himself in Jim’s bathroom mirror, he looked almost like a skeleton, every available bit of fat and muscle his body could spare cannibalized in its attempt to find something to keep him going, until there was nothing left.
He did look better now, after six months of regular meals. He was still far, far skinnier than he was before the hunters, but he had some meat on him now. His cheeks only sunk in a little bit. His collarbone jutted out in a way that just barely bordered ‘passably normal’. You could see the bones of his arms from the inner arm, but not the outer, so as long as he took care to hold his arms just so, no one could tell. Not that he ever really made an effort. His hair didn’t have bald patches anymore, didn’t shed every time he touched it. If he wore layers, which he always did–and not even for that reason–you couldn’t see his ribs. So long as one didn’t look too carefully, he could pass as a regular man.
But Bellamy always looked carefully.
Bellamy didn’t look starved at all. He didn’t have to try not to, of course. His skin was smooth and his face was full. His hair was thick and lucious and styled. He had the figure of a healthy man, one who had food available to him every single day of his life. He only wore one shirt and his abdomen didn’t fall inward from under his ribs like Kane’s did. He smelled like lavender cologne. He practically glowed.
“I… went through a period where I hadn’t been eating very well at all. But as of the past few months, I have,” he answered honestly.
Bellamy sat beside him. “Truth be told, I do mean to pry this time. On account of my increasing worry, you see. Where have you been all this time?”
“Human territory.” Kane looked down at the empty packaging in his hands. The label used the same phrasing Bellamy had–Free, willing humans! “I was captured by vampire hunters when I’d, I’d, ah, hunted f-for a new human. Things were not, um, good there. I wasn’t fed, as you’ve gathered. Then Jim, you remember Jim? He came and got me out. I’ve been living with him for the past seven months. Not owning him!” he clarified hastily, looking up then. “As roommates.”
“I see.” Bellamy’s eyebrows had slowly drawn together in concern more and more the longer Kane had talked. “Well, I’m certainly glad you’re out of there now, dear. I did always like that Jim boy.”
“And I’m sorry,” Kane tried again. “You were right about everything. About humans, about me, about our families, all of it. And I was a bad friend. Even before we parted ways, I always acted like I was better than you. I’ve had a lot of time to think about this. I really am sorry.” And then, before he could stop himself: “Do you think we could try again?”
Bellamy smiled. “Well, I really am right about everything,” he mused. “I’ll admit, it’s all true. It took me a time to see as well, that you really were dreadful, though I never imagined I’d hear an apology from you.”
Though Kane had expected worse to start, it still tore a hole in him to hear Bellamy call him dreadful. Even if he knew it was true.
“That said,” Bellamy continued, “We were children. I was never the one bearing the brunt of your wrongs, and you’ve clearly turned over a new leaf. If even Jim has forgiven you, I see no reason not to. Absolutely, we can rekindle a friendship.”
Jim has not forgiven him: he’d made that clear. But he moved forward anyway. Maybe he could do that himself, too.
“I would love that.” Kane let out a sigh he didn’t realize he was holding, like a weight had been lifted from him after a century. “Maybe–maybe you could visit sometime. If you want to. I’d have to get permission. Do you ever go to human territory? I mean, you shouldn’t, but if I got permission, Jim’s sister is a hunter, you see, so it should–”
“Oh, yes, the sister! Elizabeth, if I recall? Yes, I’ve spoken with her, though well over a decade ago,” Bellamy cut in. “I do imagine she’s quite pleased to have her brother returned.”
Kane blinked. “You know Liz?”
“Oh, Jim and Caroline had exchanged phone numbers that night we met, you see. Caroline and the young girl had had a few conversations, but the girl had stopped at some point when she’d realized we had no way to affect Jim’s situation. I do not mean to imply I know her, I’d merely answered the phone and handed it off to Caroline a time or two. She’d always sounded frightened when I’d been the one to answer, so I did not linger,” he explained. “My, she must be grown by now. How time flies!”
“Oh. That’s–she never mentioned,” Kane stammered. “Is Caroline still…?”
“Alive and well, I assure you, though she has moved on to greener pastures. She’s found love, you see. She lives with her boyfriend nowadays, though she’s over often enough that my kitchen is still stocked with human food.” Bellamy reached to collect Kane’s empty packages, which he reluctantly released.
“So she’s back in human territory?” he asked.
“No, just across town. Her boyfriend is no human.”
Kane’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh. Oh my.”
He supposed he shouldn’t be too scandalized by the thought of a human and a vampire together. Humans were people, he knew that now, he’d accepted it long ago. Still, it felt… odd, in a way he could not adequately explain.
Bellamy laughed. “You must get with the times, darling.”
-
They sat there chatting for hours, and Kane had almost never felt lighter. It was like he was someone else, a version of him he’d never been before, where he was not horrible to anyone and no one had ever been horrible to him. Bellamy didn’t know what happened, not really, and with him, it was like he could forget, too. Just for an evening.
Just until he happened to glance at Bellamy’s clock and notice the time.
He startled out of nowhere. “It’s late,” he gasped. “I’m not–am I going to be able to get home in time?”
“Well, I’m not sure, as I’ve no idea where you live,” Bellamy points out. “Will you?”
It was the wrong thing to say. Kane grabbed Bellamy’s sleeve, terror striking his heart. “Please don’t make me go out there,” he begged. “I can’t–please, Bellamy, please.”
“What?” Bellamy put his hand over Kane’s, though he made no effort to remove his hold. “Of course, dear. You may spend the day if you wish. Why on earth would I force you into the morning?”
It was all crumbling apart. Of course he couldn’t be normal.
“I’m sorry,” Kane squeaked out, tearing up, but before he could say more, he found himself enveloped in a hug.
“It’s alright.” Bellamy held him as he struggled to collect himself. “You needn’t explain. Or you can, if you’re ready, or once you’re ready.”
“Thank you,” Kane breathed.
It was silent, then. He didn’t want to explain. Not yet.
When he’d stopped crying–not that long after, by Kane’s standards, to his pride–Bellamy pulled back. “You know, I was wondering… how you’re getting blood? Is it still Jim?”
“Oh, yes,” Kane sniffled. “He’s very generous. But he’s actually just recently stopped, and I’m to provide my own from now on. I was meant to go to my parents and clear my status as deceased, but at the last second I decided to come here.”
“I’m flattered,” Bellamy said haughtily, a hand on his chest. “You’d mentioned my going to visit you. What if I were to bring you blood? The kind you’d ‘sampled’ tonight.”
“You’d really do that?” Kane asked. The idea was beyond tantalizing–he could have all the blood he wanted, and not have to run across human territory, even the part with friendly hunters.
“I do. I would so like a chance to visit human territory without scaring the locals, besides!” Bellamy enthused. “A win for us both!”
The next night, Kane returned home with a bag full of blood packs. For once, he could see a future for himself.
-
…
He reviewed the grainy VCR footage captured by the security cameras at the de Sang estate. It was the strangest thing: he just ran up to the gate, stood there for a moment, and ran away. And everyone else was ready to write it off as if it had never happened, all hush-hush. The boring lot of them.
Anton smiled. “Well, look who’s not dead.”
-
taglist in reblogs
#kane and jim#whump#my writing#vampire whumpee#vampire whump#recovery whump#comfort#starvation#whumper turned whumpee
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Too Sweet For Me
Summary: Seventeen year old Y/N isn't thrilled when she finds out her father is somehow Soldier Boy and she's now meant to live with him...
Pairing: Soldier Boy x daughter!reader
Word Count: 1,400ish
Warnings: language, minor fight
A/N #1: I noticed I've never done a Soldier Boy x daughter fic and decided to remedy that! This was meant to be a very short fic but it spiraled a bit. Not sure if there's any interest in this going forward but I have ideas for where it could go if I were to continue...
A/N #2: This diverges just a tad from The Boys. For the purposes of this story, imagine that Soldier Boy killed Homelander at the end of S3 and is now running The Seven. The reader is seventeen for this story...
________
You swallowed as the man that was apparently your father strode around the corner. He was tall and broad, the green fabric of his uniform stretched taut over his strong muscular form. All you’d wanted for years was to find him, have your birth dad miraculously come take you out of foster care so you could stop the constant moves, the constant disappointment.
At seventeen you knew better than to expect some instant connection. Mom hadn’t been shy about the fact he was an anonymous donor, even when you were little and asked who he was. You always figured he didn’t want you but after she died when you were eight, you hoped he’d show up somehow, like something out of Annie and you’d suddenly have a permanent family again.
Having Soldier Boy for a father wasn’t exactly filling you and the warm and fuzzies.
At least it explained the super strength when you hit puberty, a fact you’d kept hidden from everyone. Every foster parent, schoolmate, social services employee. You weren’t about to wind up in Red River and have your life destroyed before it even started.
“I’ll leave you two to get acquainted,” said Andrew, the brand new case worker assigned to you. You didn’t take you eyes off the man before you, green eyes watching you cautiously, as a door to the apartment in Vought tower closed behind you.
Soldier Boy’s gaze wandered lower, taking you in fully. Your fists clenched by your sides. You didn’t care what the news said about how he was the hero that took out Homelander. About how he was a war hero. About how somehow he got your mother pregnant after he supposedly died and that made no sense at all.
All you could think about was the gossip forums you scrolled through last year during your annual supe school project on him. Manipulative. Abuser. Sexist. Violent. Damn near sociopathic with how little he cared for the victims left in his wake.
Finally his gaze met yours again, his mouth curling up in a smile when you clenched so hard the whites of your knuckles showed through your skin.
“No need to be afraid of me, Y/N,” he said politely, taking a few steps forward but giving you plenty of space. “I know you’re confused and I’ll explain but I am your father. I wouldn’t harm you.”
“Funny. Didn’t you kill your last child six months ago? Homelander? Instilling me with a lot of confidence.” His eyebrows raised, his smile flashing a bit of surprise. “I’m not some delicate flower, old man.”
“Yes, you are,” he said, stepping right in front of you, staring you down as you failed to fight back a thick swallow. He gently wrapped his hand around your wrist, your breath hitching when he gave it a squeeze. “I’ll make you a deal.”
“Put your dick anywhere near me and I’ll rip it off.” His hand shot to your jaw, cradling it and forcing you to keep your head up, staring straight at his angry eyes.
“You’re sick in the head if you think I’d ever touch you. You’re my child for fucks sake and you will learn to watch your mouth.” You kneed him in the groin, Soldier Boy’s whole body jerking as his hands shot to his midsection, doubled over in pain.
“Don’t you confuse the fact that I’m a good person with weakness,” you spat back. He recovered quickly despite you putting all your force behind the hit. Shit. Just how strong was he? You backed up straight into the apartment door, Soldier Boy crowding in on your space. A tremble ran through your body. He’d killed Homelander and his grandson had disappeared off the face of the planet and they hadn’t even done anything to him.
Soldier Boy leaned down, his face barely more than an inch away from your own, his hands splayed out on either side of your head. You kept his gaze though, something flickering in his green eyes for the briefest of moments.
“Who would have thought my teenage daughter had a bigger set of balls than that psycho of a son ever did.” You didn’t move, didn’t dare suck in a breath as he sized you over again. Suddenly he straightened, staring over your head at the wood behind you. “I’m your father whether you like it or not and you’re under my care until you’re 18. You’ll want for nothing.”
“Nothing but an actual father,” you mumbled, wincing when you realized he had super hearing and stifled at the response. After a long beat, he strode away over to a liquor cart, carelessly pouring a large glass of whiskey for himself.
“Where’s my room?” you sighed, reaching to pick up your backpack and duffel from the foyer.
“Second floor, second door on the right,” he said, getting to the duffel before you could take it. He held it out for you, taking a long sip, the only indication that it burned the small hiss of air he let out.
You got one hand on the strap when he didn’t release it, your eyes narrowing.
“I used to look at my father like that you know.”
“Let me make something clear,” you said, yanking the bag away, Soldier Boy allowing you to take it. “I don’t know what this is but I’m not going to fall head over heels for you just because you’re my dad. You have to earn that and if you’re not going to try, then stay out of my way.”
He smirked, leaning back against the bar cart with. “What a big little girl you are with your ultimatums. You think a temper tantrum is how to get what you want?”
“All I want is you to not hurt me and for you to be nice. It’s a low fucking bar and until you can clear it, it’s better if you leave me alone.”
“You’re too sweet for me,” he said, throwing back the rest of his drink, pouring himself another. “A girl who writes a paper on how awful Soldier Boy is and how if he were a normal citizen would have been thrown in jail isn’t someone I would ever expect would give him a chance.”
You lifted your chin even as your heart rate picked up, Soldier Boy quickly by your side and leaning down to whisper in your ear.
“I’d expect a bit more ruthlessness from the girl that said I deserved the death penalty.” Your gaze fixated on the sleek wooden floors beneath you, his arm brushing yours. “It’s okay to admit you want a daddy, baby girl. I’m not a monster like you think.”
“It’s okay to admit you’re scared of being alone. Why else would you come and get me?” you said, his body tense beside you. You turned your head up, his gaze hard once more. You smiled. “I hit a nerve, old timer?”
“It’s cute that you think I give a shit about you.” You couldn’t hide the flash of pain on your face, his eyes narrowing. “Like I said, you’re too sweet. I can break you with just a few words.”
“Then why find me?” you asked as he shoved the whiskey in your hands and took the bags from them, storming off across the apartment for the stairs. “Why did you take me out of my foster home?”
“Because you’re mine whether I like it or not.” He looked over his shoulder. “And you will not fuck that up. Now drink that, calm the fuck down and get used to it or I’ll make sure you get tossed in Red River without a second thought.”
“Or you can just man the fuck up and say you’re scared because you’re alone and I’m all you got.” He stared you down, trying to intimidate you but you didn’t miss the way his eyes watered ever so slightly before he was gone around the corner.
You sighed, closing your eyes and breathing deeply. Okay, that could have gone worse. Much worse. While you weren’t exactly thrilled about how things had gone, at least you knew one thing.
Somewhere deep, deep down, that man cared about you, only so he wouldn’t be lonely. You wouldn’t trust that it was anything more than that. Those days were long gone, especially when Soldier Boy of all people was your father. It was far too dangerous to trust whatever act he put on once he decided to start playing nice.
You took a long sip of the whiskey, the fiery liquid burning down your throat, making you cough violently. You swore you heard the asshole laughing all the way from the living room.
_______________
A/N: If you'd like to read more of this story, please let me know in a comment, reblog or ask!
#soldier boy#soldier boy x daughter!reader#soldier boy fanfiction#soldier boy fanfic#the boys#the boys fanfic#the boys fanfiction
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Imagine being Loki and Thor's sister, very sheltered and destined to one day be sent away from Asgard for a political marriage of some sort. They've both always been a little miffed about this arrangement, but they cope by taking all of your 'firsts' before you go.
18+ Dark Content. big brother!Loki, big brother!Thor. tw incest, creampie, dirty talk, spit roast. Cuckolding.
You grew up to be the most delicate flower the kingdom had ever seen, beautiful, kind, sheltered, and protected by the royal guard and your brothers until you were dependent upon them for everything.
They didn't mind.
Thor would stop mid feast if you needed him to read you a bedtime story, and Loki used every ounce of magic he had to make illusions that made you giggle and laugh.
But the threat of your marriage hung over all over heads like a death sentence. Especially once they learned you'd be leaving Asgard for good once you were married.
"Father, you must reconsider. How is she to exist outside these walls without us, married to a brute?" Thor argued to the AllFather while you slept soundly a few nights before you were to be sent off. Your new husband had made no effort to hide that he only saw you as a way to have heirs from a powerful bloodline.
"Their family has old blood Thor, old enough even our family recognizes it. It is a good allyship and that's final." Odin stared down his son ominously, and Thor felt his blood boil.
"If I may, Father, at least allow us to escort her to her new home. Give her some comfort at least." Loki spoke quickly, knowing if he didn't there would be another eye lost and not from his father's face.
Odin considered, for a moment before nodding tightly.
"But this is the last I am to here of this matter."
~
"I don't want to go. I want to stay with you. I wish I were marrying you and Loki instead." You wailed, fully sobbing as your brothers held you close after telling you what your father had said.
"Don't cry, little one. Please don't cry," Thor begged as he rocked you.
"It'll be alright sister, I have my magic. No one will keep us from you no matter how far apart." Loki tried to convince you but it just made you cry harder, clinging to his hand as Thor cradled you against his broad chest.
"No, b-because he'll own me. I'll be h-his and he'll get to make me b-bear his children..." Thor's jaw clenched and he looked to Loki quietly. It was easy enough for Loki to guess his brother's thoughts after hundreds of years, but for once Loki was in complete agreement.
"What if we put a child in your belly first?" Loki murmured as he brushed his thumb over your knuckles. For the first time since they'd told your about Odin's words your crying died down a little.
"Really? You'd do that for me?" You looked between the two of them with wide hopeful eyes, squeezing Loki's hand tight.
"Of course we would. Your ours, always have been and always will be." Thor's deep voice was gentle but completely serious. You wiped your tears, sitting up a bit taller.
"I'd much rather have your babies than his. I love you both, so very much." It was simply the truth, one the three of you all knew.
"Then let us show you how much we love you, sister."
~
The hours had blurred. What had started with gentle kisses and soft touched had long since devolved in hazy, animalistic sex.
"Another." Thor's massive hand slapped down on the fat of your ass, his cock pounding into your gushing insides relentlessly. Loki was groaning as you practiced deep throating him for the second time that night.
"Good technique. I think dear sister, fuck that's good, we've made you into a whore." Loki sounded pleased, Thor only growled in warning. They'd had this argument several times as the night wore on.
"Am I too lewd brother?" You'd asked when you'd demanded they teach you how to make them cum with your mouth so they could use you at the same time.
"Not at all, I quite like knowing you have some whorishness in you. Just needed to be nurtured." Loki purred as he kissed you, deeper than before. You heard a loud CRACK! and looked up to find Thor breaking the arm of the chair he'd been resting in.
"If that man touches you like we have I'm killing him. Allyship, war, all of it be damned. If he touches you I'm burning his kingdom to the ground." It wasn't a bellow like his normal good natured threats, this was quiet and deadly serious.
"Yes, yes. Only for us. Or Thor will kill your future husband." Loki laughed as he tugged on your hair forcing you down the last few inches until your nose was buried in his pubes. When you merely blinked up at him all pretty and wet eyed he barely got out a warning before he was coming down your throat.
You gasped for air when your brother released you. You'd lost count of how many loads you'd taken from them both, but each one made you feel greedier. You wanted to drown from the inside until you were marked irrevocably and their claim on you was undeniable.
"Breathe love, Thor give her space-" Loki combed your hair away from your face, trying to look in your eyes and check that you're okay.
"No!" You moaned as you fucked yourself back on your brother's girth shamelessly. "M-more, don't want to stop. Not till it t-takes. Please? Please please please," You begged shamelessly as Thor groaned and fucked you through his orgasm, each spurt squelching out around his cock onto the drenched sheets.
"Shh love, you know how Loki worries. We won't stop until you're with child. We promised didn't we?" Thor kissed your shoulder as he reached around to tease your clit, his fingers growing slick the more he played with your nub. "Because the only children you'll be having are ours."
"Even-"
"Even after you're married to that oaf, you'll still be good for us won't you?" Loki placed two fingers under your chin to make you look at him, your eyes glazed over and adoring.
"Yes."
#thor x reader#thor x you#thor smut#loki laufeyson#thor odinson#thor odison x reader#loki x reader#loki x you#loki smut#loki ☆#thor ☆#asks ☆#request ☆#tw dark content#dark ☆#tw incest#incest ☆#f!reader#mina writes ☆
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hiii Dee!! for your holiday drabbles, maaayybeeee accidentally standing under mistletoe with Meian? 🤭
no questions asked 🎀 meian shugo x f!reader
Spending Christmas Eve with your cheating ex-fiancé is no longer an option, so a party at Atsumu's will just have to do.
1.3k — msby manager!reader, angst and fluff
It’s a little embarrassing—thinking about how you should be out for dinner with your fiancé and his parents right now.
How you should be planning a wedding that’ll take place in the new year.
How, instead, you’re standing in the middle of Miya Atsumu’s apartment wearing the same red dress you picked out for a very different occasion, ring finger now entirely devoid of a weight you were once familiar with for the past five months.
While the Black Jackals tried not to pry into the mortifying details of your breakup when you showed up for practice uncharacteristically late one morning two weeks ago with eyes ringed red after a sleepless night, Bokuto, Hinata, and Atsumu were all wholly insistent that their team manager couldn’t spend Christmas Eve alone.
(They’d let Coach Foster off easy when he politely declined the invite to tonight’s party, but you? Not so much.)
(Bokuto’s known you since your Fukurodani days, after all, since you were a year ahead of him on the girl’s volleyball team.)
Which now finds you here, leaning against the doorway that separates the living room from the kitchen, fingers curled loosely around the sweaty neck of a bottle of beer.
“I never liked him, ya know,” Atsumu’s voice interrupts your thoughts.
You turn to face the setter, brows raised in mock amusement. “Really? I couldn’t tell.”
You met Ren a year or so after you started working for MSBY, after you’d already grown close with the team, and he got down on one knee just over six months later.
And now—
“He never liked showin’ his face at games, that cheatin’ bastard. He probably knew we’d see it on his stupid face and pummel his ass.”
Sighing, you nod in a disconnected way, taking a swig from your bottle before placing it down on a table nearby.
You hadn’t gotten into the rest of the details—how the marketing executive had been sleeping with his eighteen-year-old intern for the entirety of your relationship.
How he was only proposing to you to appease his father for the sake of inheriting his company.
How everything was a lie—
How—
“Atsumu.”
Something prickles along the back of your neck at the sound of Meian’s voice, his tone stern as he approaches.
Atsumu perks up. “And I bet Meian woulda really loved to beat his—”
“Bokuto’s two seconds from puking on your bed,” Meian cuts him off brusquely, sliding into the spot where the blonde was standing as he scurries off, eyes going wide in concern.
You shake your head, offering a genuine smile to the team captain and trying to ignore the long-ignored warmth that rustles in your chest as he looks at you.
“Really?”
He shakes his head, the curve of his mouth matching your own. “Nah, but I know he gets annoying when he’s drunk. And I know that’s the last thing you want to talk about right now.”
Meian has always had a way of reading you, of knowing what you need.
And you know that, logically, it’s just something that comes naturally to him as a captain. He does it with his team all the time.
But it still does something odd to your fragile heart anyway—the way he notices you.
Bokuto’s sworn this secret (which you accidentally shared after too many drinks one night) to the grave, this stupid little crush that you have on the team captain. One that sprouted long before Ren came into the picture.
One that you were quick to pluck, to try digging out at the roots before it could blossom.
Part of you is loath to admit that you were inclined to reciprocate Ren’s advances solely in an effort to get over these feelings.
Feelings that came boiling right back to the surface the night after that teary-eyed practice when your phone lit up with a text from the captain.
MEIAN: I’m not going to ask about things you’re not ready to answer. MEIAN: But if you need help, a hand, or anything, let me know, and I’m there. MEIAN: No questions asked.
Meian stayed true to his word when you subsequently texted him an address and asked him to bring his pick up truck.
He didn’t dig for details when you swung open the door to your shared apartment with Ren and gestured at the boxes you’d packed.
Truthfully, you didn’t know who else to call.
You didn’t know who else would let you sniffle and struggle your way through it all without prying. Without pushing. Without batting an eye when you asked if he could grab things from the closet you couldn’t bear to look back into again.
Without asking for all of the sordid details of your fiancé’s affair that still find you dry heaving in the bathroom most nights.
You didn’t have much, the apartment and furniture was Ren’s to begin with.
He helped you move across town back to your parents place with the promise that he’d help again when you found an apartment.
“I’m not ready to talk about it yet,” you exhale, and Meian nods in understanding as you smooth your fingertips down the skirt of your dress. “But when I am…”
He waits patiently as you trail off, eyes offering a comfort that’s always been there, that feels like a balm now against the frayed edges of your rattled nerves.
“...I’d like to tell you,” you finish, nervously pinching the material’s hem.
Meian smiles. “I’ll be here.”
And it’s then that you feel something light hit your head, and you glance around to find a plastic sprig of mistletoe rolling away on the floor.
“Really?” you choke out a weak laugh.
You don’t immediately look up at Meian. Because while it feels almost childish, the back of your neck burns anyway with the implication behind the silly tradition.
It wouldn’t be the first time that you’ve found yourself wondering what his lips would feel like against your own. Wondering if he’d cup the back of your head or stroke your jaw. If he’d part the seam of your lips with his tongue and run his thumb against your chin as you melt into his touch.
Wondering what it would feel like to jump into his arms after a win, to wrap your legs around his waist, to drag your fingers through his sweaty, messy hair and laugh in a mess of tongue and teeth as someone tells you both to get a room while he presses you up against a wall—
You’re tugged away from that train of thought by the feeling of Meian’s large hand taking your own, and your eyes go wide as he lifts your knuckles to his lips and presses a chaste kiss to them.
“Rules are rules,” he shrugs, offering you a lopsided grin that has no right being that handsome under the multi-colored glow of string lights that adorns the living room.
Overcome by a fleeting surge of confidence as your heart flutters wildly in your chest, your fingers find a home curled in the collar of Meian’s button-down shirt before you can think better of it.
“Captain, I thought you followed rules to a T,” you tease in a voice that feels almost foreign on your lips.
But you’re too caught up in the moment to second guess yourself.
Meian leans in as you tug him closer, and you sway a little, steadied only by his hand as it comes to rest against your waist. Gently, featherlight—as if he’s still waiting for you to change your mind.
He quietly says, “You’re the manager here, maybe I need a refresher.”
His breath is hot as it curls against your lips in the scant space left between your faces.
Your mouth brushes against his, and you can feel him smile against your lips.
“Like this?” he murmurs, fingers curling and pressing the fabric of your dress.
“Yes,” you breathe out, and Meian’s other hand slides to the back of your head as he kisses you.
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Seventeen fic recs
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M=smut, F=fluff, A=angst
Choi Seungcheol
baby, it’s cold outside m @idyllic-ghost
synopsis: winter time is the perfect time for love to blossom, in the cold air you find yourself needing to be warmed up in the arms of someone new. this holiday season was something special, something magical. it all started with meeting an old friend in your very own bookstore. somehow, it ended with him in your bed. what once seemed buried started making its way up again, and the ice around your heart seemed to be thawing. can old love be renewed?
In the eye of the beholder m @cheolism
summary: when you don't like how you look in the mirror, your boyfriend decides to take it upon himself to worship you.
Possessive ends m @cheolism
summary: when seungcheol reacts a little too oddly at you calling him a posessive slut, you decide to take advantage of it
Yoon Jeonghan
Apartment 222 m @number1mingyustan
Rule number 1: don't show up drunk at your hot neighbor's apartment if it’s 2am
Holiday m f a @onlymingyus
synopsis: It's only for a week, he's doing you a favor, and he's your fake boyfriend. Why do you have to keep reminding yourself of that?
Sweater paws m f @duhnova
synopsis: your soft and cuddly virgin boyfriend isn’t so soft and innocent when he wakes up in the middle of the night from a wet dream.
Hong Jisoo
Challenge me chapter 1 m @seokgyuu
synopsis: you have never been a person who turns down a challenge, but when your best friend challenges you to hook up with 13 boys in one semester you kind of wish you were.
Mr. nice guy m @toruro
you thought your next-door neighbor was just being polite when he offered to help you carry in your boxes the first time you saw him, but as you adjust to your new home, you start to notice that joshua’s nice in other ways too: nice eyes, nice smile, nice arms, nice fingers, probably nice di—okay you get the point. but just how long can you go with lusting after your neighbor before giving in to your very much not-nice desires? well, lucky for you, joshua also isn’t nearly as much of a gentleman as he likes to let on.
Best friends brother m a @chocosvt
synopsis: joshua happens to be your best friend's older brother. he's pretty, and he's got a lot of cool details about him that you pay a concerning amount of attention to, but he’s just a friend (if you could even call it that). still, what does he think of you, anyway? that is—if he thinks of you.
Moon Junhui
sounds of the season f @junkissed
synopsis: when your university’s radio show hosts a matchmaking event to raise money, you figure, what have you got to lose? the question you should be asking is, what have you got to gain?
match of the season m f @1-800-hwahui
part 2 from sounds of the season
Something spicy, something sweet m f @onlyhuis
synopsis | the last few days you've been coming home from work exhausted, but now that you finally have a day off you have time for a little something sweet from your boyfriend.
Kwon Soonyoung
7pm ft. Seokmin, Seungkwan m f @onlymingyus
Four best friends, a sleepover, and drinks.
charity f*ck m @ncteez
Have you ever taken anyone’s virginity before? Well, yeah, your first time was both losing your own and taking someone else’s but, that was a long time ago. Have you ever taken the virginity of a twenty-six-year-old man who probably should have gotten laid by now anyway? Nope. Are you about to? Yep.
vowels and veracity m f a @hansolmates
summary: after a blind date that makes you feel like a giddy teenager all over again, you’re forced to grow up and take a chance when you realize that special someone is your daughter’s kindergarten teacher.
Jeon Wonwoo
Challenge me chapter 2 m @seokgyuu
synopsis: you have never been a person who turns down a challenge, but when your best friend challenges you to hook up with 13 boys in one semester you kind of wish you were.
the regular f @trblsvt
summary: wonwoo couldn't really recommend anything at the bakery he worked at, he couldn't even handle going in a couple days a week. that is until he found his new favorite customer.
Tell me m @fvllingflower
college!wonwoo, f!reader
Lee Jihoon
DON’T SWEAT IT m f @miraclewoozi
Today — the first time in a small forever that he forgot to check the battery on his earphones (and subsequently had them die on him mid-workout) — Jihoon is forced to notice you.
then you came f a @lovelywoos
in which you, the student council vice president, and lee jihoon, the quiet boy in the back of the class, fell in love despite your differences.
Mwah f @cheolism
summary: three times you said "mwah" at the end of a kiss and one time jihoon said it back
Xu minghao
Rush hour m @lovelyhan
summary: you used to be good friends with the newest dancer in your agency, but your competitiveness gets the better of you when he overtakes your spot as the top performer of the month—for three straight months.
Felix Felicis f a @blue-jisungs
summary. befriending minghao, the slytherin your friends (no one knows why) hated was horrifying at first. but after some time passed, you’d start wondering if it was some unknown side effects of felix felicis
Art project m f @1-800-hwahui
art major grad student bf!minghao x fem reader
Kim Mingyu
Champagne from your lips m @seokgyuu
You and Chan have been best friend for years. Little do you know he is incredibly attracted to you. When you tell him to help you bag him your dad's tennis instructor Chan only has one condition. He gets to join the fun.
the very first night m a @shuadrive
synopsis: the search for a new place to live takes a turn for the worse when the only person willing to split rent with you is your ex-boyfriend.
make yourself at home f a @celestiababie
Summary: After months of barely seeing your boyfriend, he offers a solution to a problem threatening the well-being of your relationship
Lee Seokmin
7pm ft. Soonyoung, Seungkwan m f @onlymingyus
Four best friends, a sleepover, and drinks.
I like you m f @seokgyuu
SYNOPSIS: After having a crush on Lee Seokmin for three years, he somehow ends up wanting to be your roommate. Instead of rejecting him, you decide to give him the vacant room - right after confessing your feelings for him.
Give & Take m @ncteez
It’s not weird that you and your roommate do certain things that others would consider, um, strange. It’s not weird because you don’t make it weird, and he certainly doesn’t go out of his way to make a big deal either. or the one where you and your roommate masturbate together casually until it becomes not so casual, and maybe neither of you can do it at this point without wanting more.
Boo Seungkwan
7pm ft. Soonyoung, seokmin m f @onlymingyus
Four best friends, a sleepover, and drinks.
you got it all wrong m f @seokgyuu
SYNOPSIS: One night of careless drinking with your 13 closest friends leads to Chan and Seungkwan finally finding out you have a crush on them. How lucky you are that the feelings are mutual and that they want to show you just how much they worship you.
his reward m f @cheolism
summary: after a long day, seungkwan decides to seek relief between your legs
Chwe Hansol
not a virgin m @ncteez
Vernon, a friend of your friend spills his spicy sex life and accidentally reveals to an entire group of near-strangers (including you) that he’s had sex one and a half times and that it was sick.
tangled in love f @starsstuddedsky
summary: there's nothing in the world that vernon loves more than cats. at least, that's what you think
Daybreak m @sluttyminghao
best friend!vernon
Lee Chan
Now spit, baby m @rubyreduji
summary: you accidently send a meme to the wrong person, fortunately for you it sparks a conversation
you got it all wrong m f @seokgyuu
SYNOPSIS: One night of careless drinking with your 13 closest friends leads to Chan and Seungkwan finally finding out you have a crush on them. How lucky you are that the feelings are mutual and that they want to show you just how much they worship you.
Champagne from your lips m @seokgyuu
You and Chan have been best friend for years. Little do you know he is incredibly attracted to you. When you tell him to help you bag him your dad's tennis instructor Chan only has one condition. He gets to join the fun.
@matchahyuck
#seventeen#seventeen smut#svt x reader#svt fic#scoups smut#scoups fic#jeonghan smut#jeonghan fic#joshua smut#joshua fic#jun smut#jun fic#hoshi smut#hoshi fic#wonwoo smut#wonwoo fic#woozi smut#woozi fic#minghao smut#minghao fic#mingyu smut#mingyu fic#dokyeom fic#dokyeom smut#seungkwan smut#seungkwan fic#vernon smut#vernon fic#dino smut#dino fic
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could you possibly do a kinda dark Charlie Kelly x female reader smut , where Charlie is obsessed with the reader like he was with the waitress and the reader feels bad for him and finally gives him a chance I could see him being really whiney and excited!!
PICKING UP A STRAY
summary: on your way home from work, you catch charlie outside your apartment complex in the rain. you don’t have the heart to tell him to go home.
pairing: charlie kelly x reader
cws: reader has a 9-5 job, reader is implied to be broke/struggling, afab terminology, reader has a bra, i imagined reader as a lady as per request but technically reader’s gender isn’t really specified, stalking, premature cumming, charlie unintentionally overstimulating himself, charlie is very unhygienic, bad sex but it’s okay reader fixes it, “making love,” charlie is a closet pervert, reader and charlie are both pathetic in their own ways, charlie is EXTRA pathetic though, panty sniffing, panty stealing, the year is ambiguous so you’re free to picture whatever season you want, excessive plot before porn, plot holes i’m sure but reader HAS to be insane for this to work, reader is bitchless, charlie is nervous and excited, unprotected sex (WRAP IT BEFORE YOU TAP IT), not really proof read
wc: about 6k
reblogs appreciated!
5:08 PM
ON A FRIDAY
the ten minute drive home from work was always a little depressing. you didn’t exactly live in a comfortable area in the city, and it only looked more gloomy in the dark, gloomy rain; the further you got from the bustling heart of the city and closer to your humble apartment, the more the reality of your life brought down your mood. the music humming in your car does it’s best to drown out the harsh patter of rain hitting your roof, but it wasn’t enough to truly distract you. you pull into your usual parking spot outside of your apartment building, aching to just get inside and rot inside your bed. at least you got to leave work a few minutes earlier than usual.
stepping out of your car, you grimace slightly as the rain waits no time in soaking you. you’re quick to slam your car door shut and lock the vehicle, before making haste to your apartment building. you wrap your arms around yourself, hoping your light jacket will spare you even just a little. you’re approaching your door when you see it — him, actually.
“charlie?” you stop, squinting. in contrast, he looks like a deer caught in headlights as he whips around; he stands straight, the bushes he stands in catching on his worn out jeans. even drenched in rain, you could recognize charlie a mile away — after all, he was your non-threatening stalker. it was a long story, really, but it’s important to recap. it’s important because, while he was non-threatening (for now), he was still stalking you. sometimes, you wouldn’t see him for weeks, and would almost forget the amount of times you’ve changed apartments.
it all started about two years ago. while you were working at an old service job, charlie was your customer. he was with two of his friends, and you were polite — that was your job. to be polite. a job that you really needed at the time, and so, you always did your best with customer service, no matter how rude or strange a customer was. maybe you were a little too good at it, because it had certainly left a lasting impression on charlie. he kept showing up by himself after that — most of the time, he wouldn’t actually order anything. he’d only linger, making various poor attempts at conversation with you; which, of course, since it was your job, you had to offer polite conversation back. people hitting on you at work is always an awkward situation, especially when the person doesn’t directly ask you out, leaving you unable to verbally reject them. maybe charlie knew you would, and so he never gave you the opportunity.
it went on like that for a couple of weeks. after that, you’d see him less and less. it didn’t stop, but it was no longer a daily occurrence. another few weeks went by before you started noticing some odd things — your hair was suddenly much nicer than usual, which was odd considering your cheap shampoo and conditioner. the outside of your car looked less and less dirty, as if you started regularly taking it to the cleaner — which you certainly did not do. you’d suddenly have extras of basic necessities laying around, ones that you swore you were running low on. maybe your memory was playing tricks on you, but you couldn’t help but feel weird about it.
you finally found out the reason behind these things one day while you were getting out of the shower. you had gone to your room to get dressed, only in a towel, when you saw a figure move down the hall in your small apartment. at first, you froze — then, you grabbed the nearest blunt force object available, and carefully tip toed towards the opening of the fall, which lead to the open concept entrance, living room and kitchen. there, you saw a disheveled figure struggling to prop open your kitchen window. you had yelled, with a shaky voice, for the person to freeze and turn around — what were you, a cop? no matter, when they had, you saw him. and that was when you discovered that charlie had been meddling with your life in secret. he argued that he was helping it, but you weren’t so sure you could get behind the idea.
after that, you moved out as quickly as you could. rent around city had gone up, unfortunately, leaving you with little options; you ended up somewhere shitty, and stayed like that until it started happening again. and the process repeated, until you eventually ended up where you lived now. why didn’t you go to the police? it was complicated — sure, charlie was bothersome and a delusional freak, but he really wasn’t violent. he was the most consistent part of your life the past two-ish years. you also didn’t technically have any proof, and people often ignore cases like this until it was too late. the police just felt like a waste of time. you really should have gone, though.
“uh—“ charlie’s squeaky voice brings you back to reality. what a strange reality you lived in. his stance was stiff and rigid, clearly uncomfortable. and likely from much more than just the rain. “you’re… home early.”
“what are you doing here?” you ask with a pinch between your brows. you already know the answer. well, you had a few guesses, anyways. he’ll spill his guys anyways. he had a bad habit of rambling when he’s caught.
“well, uh— i was just… stopping by. wanted to see if your new place was… safe.” he answers, awkwardly playing with his hands and adding on a fake, airy chuckle to the end of his words. that was another habit of his; downplaying what he was doing to a causal, chill explanation. you clearly don’t look impressed, and he falters. he looks like a kicked puppy. or, a drowned rat — he goes to speak again, but you cut him off.
“how long have you been out here, charlie?” you already feel cold, and you’ve only been in the rain a few moments. he looks like a complete mess. you knew charlie didn’t live lavishly — he didn’t have to tell you. if you couldn’t tell by his barely held together clothes, or the sickly complexion of his skin, you’d at least smell his ungodly odor. maybe him out in the rain was good. like a bath.
his eyes widen at your question. he looks aside for a moment, nervously chuckling. “ahh—“ he waves a dismissive hand; “don’t worry about it.” he says, because he thinks you’re creeped out by the prospect of him hanging around outside your windows. he hates to cut this short, because he really wanted to get to know your new place better, but he supposes it’ll just have to wait for another day. he would have just broken in like he usually did, but with all the rain and mud, he would have left too obvious of a trail. he had started to learn how to be real sneaky early on.
again, you stare at him with an unimpressed expression. he hates when you look at him like that. he misses that cute customer service smile you used to always flash at him. you were one of the only people that made him feel like an actual human being. in a poor attempt to save face, he goes to start again, and you once again cut him off.
“c’mon.” you grumble, nodding towards your apartment door. it’s rainy and cold and maybe it was messing with your judgement, because you’re inviting your stalker inside. he looks surprised, too, but he stumbles out of the bushes and follows you inside. you aren’t 100% sure why you’re inviting him in — he just looked so… pathetic. for some reason, you didn’t like seeing him look like that, and you certainly didn’t like the idea of him walking home in this weather. after all, you practically moved to the other side of the city where you first met him. you wanted to get away from him. and yet, you were letting him inside your home.
charlie clumsily reaches down to take off his beaten up sneakers after he watches you step out of your shoes. the rain outside clearly wasn’t a good enough bath, because now that you were inside with him, you could still smell… him. you try not to cringe, and he seems to not be self aware of his odor. he looks quite happy for a guy that was soaked to the bone. his gaze doesn’t stay on you for long, wandering instead to look around your apartment. it wasn’t very homey yet, as you moved recently, but anything that was yours he loved.
“do you want to take a shower?” you ask after a moment, trying to not be flat out rude, but also desperately needing the man to wash if he was going to stay until the rain passed. plus, you didn’t want him to get sick — maybe you can toss his clothes in the dryer? he perks up at your offer, and you can see the affection in his eyes. you weren’t sure what else to call it. any display of kindness you showed seemed to be just another nail to the coffin.
“really?” could this night get any better? when you tentatively nod, he grins — you lead him to the bathroom, and give him a general guide; letting him know any quirks of the shower, since it wasn’t exactly well kept before you had gotten there. you didn’t have very fancy products, but you got him a wash cloth he could use with the soap and such — there was already a few towels in there, and while you’d debate burning whichever ones he uses after, the premise of him not stinking up your apartment was enough to get by. you leave him to do his business, and you decide to get changed in your room. while you didn’t stay in the rain nearly as long as charlie did, you were still pretty wet. afterwards, you head to the kitchen — when you pass by the bathroom, you hear awful singing.
you remember that you were going to put his clothes in the dryer. right. you hesitate before knocking on the bathroom door — you hear nothing back, and sigh through your nose. of course, he didn’t lock the door, and so you were able to just open it. the shower curtain is thick, so you couldn’t see him, but a loud gasp pulls from him as if he could.
“just getting your clothes — i’m putting them in the dryer,” you say quickly, and grab the mentions items from ontop of the closed toilet lid; he lets out a little *oh, okay, * and you don’t stick around. you close the door behind you, and head over to the corner where you crammed your washing machine and dryer. since it’s only a few items, it shouldn’t take too long. you doubt his shower will be terribly long, either. still, you have time to kill; why not make supper?
you keep it simple, with a classic box mac and cheese, because fuck cooking after work. you take your time as you get plates and such together, before actually grabbing a box to cook up — it’s a few minutes later that you hear the bathroom door open.
coming down the hallway is a slightly wet, but surely cleaner charlie; he walks into the space with one of your towels messily wrapped around his waist. you can see some remaining droplets of water rolling down his abdomen, getting trapped in his poorly maintained happy trail, and —
“you’re cooking?” he sounds much jollier than he usually did. you blink, and quickly meet his gaze. there was no way you were just distracted by charlie — well, you haven’t been with anyone in… awhile, so, surely that explains it!
“y—yeah,” you clear your throat a little; “just mac and cheese. uh… your clothes will be dry soon, i think. sorry about…” you trail off, and gesture to the towel. “that.”
he glances down and chuckles. “nah, can’t complain.” his cheeks are a little flustered. “thanks for letting me shower.”
“no problem…” you almost mumble, bringing your attention back to the mac and cheese. you didn’t want to start ogling him again like a freak. were you really so lonely and starved of male attention that… *charlie * had you feel some type of way?
around when you finish up cooking, the dryer goes off. charlie snags his clothes, and heads to the bathroom to change. you can’t help but eye him as he walks down the hall. you were practically asking to be murdered, weren’t you? you take out two plates, serving food on both and placing them on your dainty kitchen table; charlie shouldn’t take too long, and so you decide to start without him.
“heyyy-yo!” charlie greets as he comes back in, now dressed in, not quite clean, but at least not soaked clothes. you swallow down the food in your mouth, perking up a little — you can’t help but look him over. you never thought charlie was particularly bad looking, only extraordinarily disheveled at all times; he didn’t clean up half bad.
“hi,” you eventually reply, and gesture to the seat in front of you. “i made mac and cheese.”
“holy shit, really?” his eyes light up and he makes his way over with haste. pulling out the chair across from you, he plops down and doesn’t really bother to tuck himself in under the table. he grabs a utensil with an overzealous carelessness, and you can’t help but wonder when the last time he ate was from how he starts to eat.
“uh… no one’s gonna take it away from you,” you try to joke, but your smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes, and there’s a pinch between your brows. from this close, you can see his still damp hair start to drip.
charlie looks up at you through his eyelashes and away from the food. an airy, small chuckle falls from his lips. “ah, yeah…” he seems almost self conscious, but he makes little effort to change, aside from straightening up a bit. “i just haven’t had a proper cooked meal in awhile.”
you blink, because your boxed mac and cheese was most certainly not a ‘proper cooked meal.’ you knew a lot of random trivia about charlie, from his early day visits. to keep conversation going, he would unpromptedly share facts about himself. they tended to be drawn out, poorly explained facts, though. you’re beginning to realize that, in the big picture, you don’t know much about his actual life.
“well…” you start again, unsure of what to say. “i’m glad you like it.”
“like it? i love it!” he compliments, taking a generous bite. “you’re a super amazing cook, i mean —“ he swallows; “seriously.”
you try to not notice his poor table manners, because it wasn’t like you were exactly classy yourself. you look down at yourself and your shitty work clothes. with a small, hardly audible sigh, you thank him and continue to eat. dinner carries on; charlie makes various attempts at conversation, and you do your best to keep up with his random thought process. it’s hard to not stare during his tangents — he was, admittedly, passionate. it was endearing, when it really shouldn’t have been.
as the pair of you finish up eating, you can still hear the rain tap against your windows. the realization that you may just be stuck with charlie all night is starting to sink in, and you still have no idea what your plan is. you had let charlie in on a sympathetic, impulsive whim. you didn’t exactly have a spare bedroom in your dingy apartment.
“thanks for the food,” he says, and if you didn’t know anything about his mother, it would seem uncharacteristically polite. you only nod, and awkwardly stand to grab his plate and yours. you can feel his eyes on you as you place them in the sink — you’ll clean those later, you think. you glance over your shoulder, and charlie only smiles. you try your best to offer one back.
“so…” you trail off, turning to face him and leaning back against the counter. he makes no attempt to add on, and can’t help but squint a little.
“wanna watch, like, tv or something?” you suggest, and his eyes widen.
“oh, shit, you got cable?” he grins, and you open your mouth to confirm, but he’s starting again; “yeah, yeah, we should watch tv!” he stands up from your table, and clumsily tucks it back in. you lead him to your living room, and the two of you do your best to get comfortable on your not so impressive couch.
this close, you can smell your shampoo on him. you can only imagine his body smells like your soap. blinking hard, you reach for the remote and flick through channels until you find some romcom that was in decent quality. throughout the movie, charlie makes some unfunny commentary, which you hardly have the energy to even fake laugh at. when the male lead finally works up the courage to kiss the female lead, there’s a sudden silence in the room. out of the corner of your eye, you can feel him staring — again. you glance over, and this time, he’s not smiling. he looks almost dazed.
“… charlie?” you question slowly, squinting and leaning back a little. you’re suddenly very aware of just how close you two are. he isn’t meeting your gaze, though — instead, it looks like he’s looking down at your lips, his own slightly parted. your brows furrow.
“char—” you start again, a little exasperated. he cuts you off, mirroring what he saw on screen moments ago. your eyes nearly pop out of your head as he presses his lips against your own. a vague noise of protest rumbles in your mouth, and he only takes the opportunity to, as best as you can put it, eat your face.
you promptly push him back, your hands planted firmly on his chest. he looks confuses, eyes wide and his brows stitched up and together. there’s a little bit of a rosy hue on his otherwise pale cheeks.
“what the fuck was that?” you ask, but your voice is much softer than you expected it to be. you should be angry — furious, really. you can feel your heart pound against your ribs, and in the dim lighting of the living room, you can’t help but notice how handsome he looks as he tentatively apologizes.
what the fuck were you thinking?! this is the guy who had been harassing you. sure, he argued he was making your life better, always looking out for you — something no other guy has ever really done. the dating scene in the city was six feet under, really. a guy even planning a date was a one in a million chance. your friends insisted guys were just intimidated by you, but the last couple of years had been notably lonely. other than…
something in you was changing, and you wish you could blame it on alcohol. the hands flared out on his chest, move to grip his shirt, and you tug him back in for another kiss. this time, it was his turn to make a sound of surprise, but he settles into the kiss much faster than you did.
the hands holding onto the fabric of his shirt move to the back of his neck, your fingers sliding into his still damp, dark hair. you can feel his hands grip your waist, and there’s an underlying uncertainty in the touch — you can tell he isn’t so sure about what was happening, but he’s kissing you all the same. you’re kissing him. he was most certainly not your ideal hookup candidate, but dick was dick and you were really struggling to remember the last time you got that.
“uh—“ you can feel his nervous chuckle against your lips as you start to climb into his lap. pulling back, you look at him — he looks at you like you put the each and every star in the sky, and you still aren’t entirely sure why.
“is… is this okay?” charlie asks, swallowing thickly. you squint a little, because you don’t want to talk about it. this has to be in your top five worst choices made — sleeping with your stalker? seriously?
so, instead, you just nod and lean back in to kiss him again. he seems more confident this time, practically hugging you closer; he’s surprisingly warm. your lips messily mesh against his — you don’t feel any need to impress him, which was … actually pretty nice. if anything, he should be trying to impress you!
he does — as you grind down against his crotch mid-makeout, he wraps an arm under you and flips the both of you. the kiss breaks as you lay back, eyes widening. he leans over you, your legs hooked over his hips. if the lighting was better, you’d see how blown out his pupils were.
charlie presses his lips against yours again, but it’s more like a peck. his lips wander, and he kisses along your cheek in haste as he shrugs off his jacket, letting it fall down besides the couch. you cringe a little as he sucks at the edge of your jaw, a little too close to your ear lobe. you can feel yourself start to grow wet nonetheless. a hefty sigh pushes through your nose at the feeling.
none the wiser, charlie mistakes your sigh for a sound of pleasure and smiles to himself. he can’t even remember the amount of times he’s jacked off to this idea — let alone to the lingering scent you left on your pillows when you weren’t around, the panties you left in your laundry bin, your used washcloth from the shower you had that morning — his pants feel awfully tight now.
“you…” he starts again, his voice a little breathy. “you — you do want this, right?” he asks, an excited undertone to his words. the hands on your waist inch down to the edge of your shirt, and you know he wants to take it off. so, you do it for him — you sit up a little, peel your shirt off, and let it fall by his jacket.
“yeah…” you practically mumble, and you aren’t sure if he’s really listening. he seems to have no shame as he stares at your bra-covered chest. you can’t help but raise your eyebrows. “hello?”
“oh, oh— yeah, yeah. yes?” he shakes his head, gaze flickering between your face and your breasts. his tongue darts out, swiping across his bottom lip, and you bite yours.
you feel his hands reach behind you, and they unclasp your bra. he doesn’t struggle with it as much as you’d expect. well, if you consider all the locks of yours he’s picked, maybe it makes a little more sense. he drops it to the growing pile of clothes.
he leans back on his knees as he looks down. “wow—“ you almost miss it with how quietly he mumbles, and his hands come to cup your breasts.
“hey—“ you distract him, and he looks at you. your hands tug at the bottom of his shirt. “come on.”
“oh, right, right. sorry,” he chuckles, reluctantly removing his hands from your chest to tug his shirt up and over his head. he smiles down at you, and you really notice his crows feet. he presses a kiss to your lips again, and then to your chin; the kisses are quick to trail down your neck, and then the valley between your breasts.
“i’ve waited so long for this—“ he confesses against your skin, as if you don’t know. you inhale softly as his lips stop at the top of your pants. he looks up at you through his lashes; “can i…?”
you nod, and he leans back on his knees. he unbuttons the button of your pants, and unzips them. tugging them down with an underlying desperation, he stares intently at your underwear while he tosses your pants aside. you feel almost insecure at his staring, but before you can comment, he moves.
charlie lowers himself, lower and lower, until he’s face to face with your clothed cunt. his nose, probably unknowingly, presses against your clit and he takes an excessively long inhale.
“charlie.*” you cringe, your hips involuntarily arching in an attempts to get away from his bizarrely embarrassing interest. he pulls back, looking up at you.
“sorry,” he says with a loose smile, and you can tell he doesn’t really know what it was he was even apologizing for. he leans back up to sit on his knees again, his fingers coming under your underwear to tug them down your leg. he shoves them in the back pocket of his pants, and starts to get his barely held together, worn jeans off. he’s a little clumsy, as he tries not to disturb your legs hanging on his hips, but you’re considerate enough to lift them while he shoves his pants down. his boxers look… well, they look. if you weren’t so focused on the tent in them, maybe you’d be a bit more concerned with the state of his underwear.
“so…” he swallows hard, and a hand combs through his slowly drying hair; he feels a little sweat building up in his hairline, and he hasn’t even put it in yet…!! sometimes, he wishes he was even half as ‘smooth’ or… what was that other word? sw-ouve? suave? as dennis… maybe he’ll have to get in his apartment and re-watch some of his sex tapes… but, the angle of them was so…
“i’m, uh, i’m good.” you say, noticing what looks to be charlie spacing out right before having sex with you. you try to not take offence. after all, you’re quite literally positive that he has even less luck in the love department than you.
“oh—“ charlie blinks hard, “yeah? yeah, okay, good. that’s good.” it feels like his heart was gonna jump out of his throat as he tugs his boxers down, but is too lazy to take them off all the way; his cock falls out, erect and already leaking pre-cum. you can’t help but stare at the hairy mess of his crotch.
charlie is staring at yours, too, but for different reasons. he’s looking at your little hole, biting his bottom lip — he really has waited so long for this. the gang was never going to believe this. maybe, after this… you guys can… hang out a little. you know… date!* and you can tell them yourself!! the thought makes his dick twitch. he grasps his length, and angles it so that it presses against your drooling cunt. you feel a spark of arousal zap you at the feeling of his tip against you, but you don’t get to really appreciate the feeling for long before he’s pushing inside you.
a little noise of discomfort hums in your mouth, your lips pressing together firmly; it wasn’t like a terrible rip inside you, but, you usually preferred a little more… prep? charlie stops half way in, looking up at you with wide eyes.
“are you okay?” he asks, voice breathy. you wave a dismissive hand, nodding.
“yeah, yeah— you’re fine, don’t worry,” you assure, and once the initial stretch settles, you finally feel full. even if you masturbated, your fingers couldn’t truly emulate the feeling of an actual cock inside of you. your face heats up as charlie pushes himself the rest of the way inside, and you can hear him let out a little groan.
there’s a pause, assumably to let the both of your adjust for a moment, before charlie is dragging his length against your velvety walls. he doesn’t pull all the way out, leaving most of his tip in before pushing back in; he works up a rhythm, even though it’s a little uncoordinated. he’s panting softly on top of you, and you struggle to hold back soft sounds of pleasure. he catches them, and his hands move from your hips to your hands — he intertwines your fingers, and your eyes widen. he leans over you, and you can’t help but squeeze his hands. he smiles at you, and squeezes back.
this pace lasts for about 30 seconds before his hips buck forward with more passion. he groans, and you can’t help the way your cunt tightens around him; a whine settles in his throat, and he feels too caught up in the feeling of your warm walls around him to realize he should back off before he —
you suddenly feel a thick, gooey substance inside you and your eyes widen. your back arches, and you feel grossly turned on — you just wish it didn’t end… so fast? you open your mouth to say something, but charlie is just as quick to apologize.
“sorry, sorry—“ his voice is even more pitchy than usual, and his hands grip yours like his life depended on it while his hips stay nestled against yours. he seems to struggle every time your walls contract around him. you kind of wished he pulled out, but… oh well? he will in a second, anyways.
to your surprise, he takes in a shaky breath before slowly starting again. a pinch forms between your brows, and a quiet moan gets caught up in your throat. you can hear a light squelching sound from between your legs, and your face burns. you feel hot and a little sweaty, and he looks… well, much worse. you’re surprised he’s even still hard, but… you know he tends to get hard around you most of the time. still, this must have been awfully overstimulating for the guy? the thought that he just wanted to fuck you so bad that he’d continue to, orgasm after orgasm…
one of your hands wiggle out of his grip and snake down your body. your fingers find your clit, and you softly rub it; your tummy tightens and so does your cunt. charlie whimpers on top of you, and he breathes out an i love you. you’re too focused on chasing your own high to fully process his words.
his thrusts start to smooth out a little, rolling his pelvis into yours — there’s still an obvious uncertainty to them, but your fingers speed up against your clit all the same. you pant, and the two of you make eye contact. his cheeks are flared, his lips are red from biting and kissing, his pupils were blown out; in the shitty lighting of your apartment, he looks so good like this. he feels so good inside of you. you can physically feel your distaste for the man melting away each time his cockhead plunges against that spot inside you.
an actual moan escapes you, and he refocuses. he leans does to press a sloppy kiss to your lips, while trying to hit that same spot inside you again. you can hardly kiss him back, jaw slacking — your fingers move furiously against your little button, and your legs cross behind him, desperate to feel him against you. the feeling begins to overwhelm you, and your tummy flips.
it isn’t much longer before that knot inside you snaps, and you cum around him. the pleasure washes through you, and your swear your foot just twitched. the hand that was messing with your clit comes up to push in the hair at the nape of his neck, gripping the strands there; charlie’s hips buck against you at the feeling, and he moans and whimpers into the kiss. he cums for the second time tonight with a whine, and he slows to a stop inside of you.
a few moments pass before he reluctantly pulls back. you look so beautiful like this — under him, panting softly, with parted lips and a notable slump. he had thought about this moment so many nights with his dick between his hand, and none of those scenarios ever compared to this.
charlie pulls his cock out of you, and some of his cum dribbles out of you. he doesn’t really notice, although you feel it. you let go of the hand that still held yours, and you almost cringe at how sweaty it feels.
“… hi,” he practically whispers with a little chuckle — reality was really starting to hit him now, and he can’t help but feel giddy. it makes your heart flutter.
“hi…” the hand at the back of his head comes forward, brushing his hair out of his face. you feel tired and a little spent. reality was hitting you, too, but you feel more weirded out than happy. charlie takes your hand and presses a playful kiss to it, and you realize that you’ve really made a mess of things.
“do you wanna… go to bed?” he suggests, his mind wandering. he imagines himself abandoning frank and coming to live with you. maybe he was just feeling romantic and impulsive, but he thinks he’d probably abandon everything for a chance to be with you.
“i think…” you slowly pull your hand away from him, and start to sit up. “i’m gonna go take a quick shower.”
“oh,” is all he says for a moment, but then he grins. “i’ll see you in bed, then?”
“uh, sure.” you nod, and you can still hear the rain outside. he nods too, and his grin stretches so wide it hurts his cheeks. he gathers up his clothes, putting his boxers back on and starts to head down the hall to your room. you watch him, and your mind wanders, too. you aren’t sure how you can ever hope to even possibly get rid of him, now.
#my work#it’s always sunny in philadelphia x reader#it’s always sunny x reader#it’s always sunny in philly#it’s always sunny in philadelphia#charlie kelly#charlie kelly x reader
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Possessive
Lando Norris x Reader x Oscar Piastri
Dialouge: "You are ours and ours only."
Summary: Oscar gets possessive during a night out.
Warnings: downright Filthy smut, marking, dom/sub, double penatration,
Notes: This is part of my 1000 follower celebration
Masterlist
Neither Lando nor Oscar would say they are possessive men. They love each other and their girlfriend, and they know she loves them. It's very difficult, however, to remain neutral while watching another man flirt with her.
He started a conversation while she was dancing with Lily and Carmen during their post race celebrations. She'd politely tried to get away from him but the man is annoyingly persistent.
"Should we help her?"
"Can we do it without punching him is the real question."
"But it would be so satisfying if we did."
"Osc, you scoop the spiders up and take them outside. There is no way you can punch that guy."
The Australian whips around to face Lando. A smug look plastered on his face. "Wanna bet?"
Lando, with no alcohol in his system since he Despises the stuff, agrees. The Brit would soon come to learn never to challenge Oscar again.
The woman in question still looks highly unlikely comfortable and getting more agitated by the second. Relief, however, hits her as Oscar appears behind the man pursuing her and taps him on the shoulder.
"Pretty sure she wants to be left alone." His arms cross over his chest but he still looks as unassuming as ever.
Most people would assume Oscar doesn't know the definition of the word violence. She knows better, though. Her and Oscar had been together before Lando. If it's in the name of defense, he won't hesitate to swing.
"I don't see a boyfriend anywhere. Maybe you should go where you are wanted." The stupid man who can't take a hint seethes.
Oscar takes a step closer, invading the others space. "Seeing as I am one of two boyfriends she has, I think you should step away."
There is silence on the other end. Then a brutal look of disgust. "Well if she's used goods then you can have her, pal."
The look she hasn't seen for years only appears on Oscar for a second. The one that has is inner demons raging. The unflappable, sweet, gentle Oscar is seeing Red.
Only a second before the Aussies fist collides with the other man's jaw, sending him reeling backwards. He's always had a nasty right hook.
She says nothing as Oscar promptly takes her hand and guide her to the entrance. Lando trailing them from where he was watching. The Brit looks a mixture of terror and turned on.
The car ride is silent apart from the loud expressions passed between her and Lando and Oscar's fingers wandering occasionally. The last time he was like this neither of them could walk the next day.
The thing about Oscar, the incredibly calm and unfazed Australian, is that he takes all those emotions and puts them elsewhere. Into sex, specifically. Lando learned this the hard way. His teasing went one toe over the line. He ran out Oscar's patience in a series of events over the course of a week to test the limits.
So Oscar likes control more then he shows. It gives him an outlet, per say. He times and calculates and gets some kind of high off it. Plus it resets him to where he can take whatever shit people throw his way without losing his mind.
Oscar doesn't let go even after they are saftley back in their flat. Instead her body is slammed into wall of the entry way.
"Why don't you tell her what you said Lando. What got you into this mess." The voice he pulls out is the condescending one. The one that makes her knees weak.
"I said you wouldn't punch the guy."
"And if I proved you wrong?"
Lando swallows hard enough for her to hear it. Probably see it also, but her eyes are stuck staring at brown ones that are eating her alive.
"That I would do whatever you wanted tonight. No questions asked."
Lando screwing himself is not shocking. Now, Lando actually doing what he's told? That is even more shocking then when he got drunk. Only once before he decided he hated it for sure.
"Then I want you stripped and on the floor in the bedroom." Silently, the Birt pads away to do as told. Oscar loosens his hold on her body and give her some space. "Seriously though, are you okay? We won't do this if you were any kind if put off by that."
"And miss this opportunity? Absolutely not. If anything to sight of you actually punching somebody has me feral."
"Good. Then let's go find Lando."
Lando, to his credit, is following through. He just looks wicked sad about it.
"Lando? You alright love?"
"Doing what you're told is much less fun."
Oscar rolls his eyes at the pouting boy on the floor.
She was going to ask for instructions. But as she opens her mouth she finds there is no need. Oscar is dragging her to bed. Her clothes are litterally (and unfortunately) ripped from her body. The room is cold without layers, but it won't be for long.
Oscar's lips are everywhere. He kisses, sucks, licks, and bites every inch of skin on her body. Every peice of her knows the feeling of the Aussies warm lips. Every kiss leaves her tingly and every bite leaves her wanting.
"Lando, come here. I think people need to be reminded that she is ours. Would you like that baby? Do you want people to know you are ours and only ours?"
Her brain is too far gone to respond coherently. Lando has already got to work, claiming her where Oscar hasn't already. The Australians voice is gentle, but it's demanding. There is a need burried within it that says he needs people to know she's taken.
"I swear you're just too pretty. Everybody wants you. I'm tired of them not knowing you're already spoken for." Oscar is the next to shed his clothes. Lando's hands have gone from stagnant to touching her like she is the air he breathes. Both males are staking their claim on her tonight. A shared feeling of want for people to know she chose them passes between the two.
Mumbled pleads escape her. Some kind of contact where she's sensitive needs to happen or she might combust.
"Think you can take both of us in the same hole love?" Back to gentle. His need to care for her outweighed the need and desire to have her like this. It makes her agree so fast she gets dizzy from nodding her head so much.
Lando gets to be underneath her. His lips are still attached to her skin. It muffled the moans and tiny whines he's letting out as she sinks down onto him.
"Yiu know, Lando. That guy said our girl is used goods. What do you think? Do you agree with him?"
Lando detaches, his mouth agape. "I can barely get into her mate. I don't know how you're going to. Feels good to me."
"But aren't I used?" She whimpers.
Lando's hand reaches around her front to play with her clit. His large nimble fingers send shockwaves through her body.
"You are not 'used goods' baby." Lando says into her skin. His warm breath sticks to her shoulder. "We love you. We're keeping you. Fuck anyone who says shot like that."
To say she's gushing at this point is an understatement, despite that fact Oscar decideds lube is a smart idea. Now she's even more wet and sticky that she was with just her own self made lubricant.
Oscar takes it incredibly slow. To slow for her liking. But the second he's sliding into her, the friction with Lando, the stretch and positioning of everything. Yeah - it hurts.
Her teeth sink into Oscar's shoulder. Lando's hand is caressing her cheek and wiping away the stray tears that slip down the sides of her face.
It is ridiculous, really, the situation she's in right now. But she can't think as Oscar is cooing praises in her ear and Lando is meticulously puting his hands on her.
They spiral quickly after that. The tension that was in Oscar's shoulders releases as he is finally able to take what he needs. Lando has decended into a mess of moans and thrusting hips.
She is completely at their mercy. A mess of movment. The symphonic melodies of their voices fill the space of the bedroom. Hot breaths stick to her skin over the already present layer of sweat.
The ache in her bones and coil in her stomach rapidly approach a breaking point. She can't even warn them as everything in her snaps and leave her body a flailing mess. The two boys stutter and sink further into the mattress.
Then a silence. An amazing thread connecting all three bodies together.
They stay like that for the next ten minutes. Unmoving. Listening to the sounds of breathing and heartbeats.
"That was eventful."
"No kidding."
"Sorry if I was to rough."
All of them laugh. "Maybe you should apoligize to the guy at the club."
Oscar pulls out slowly, and then Lando lifts her gently off him. Then they actually collapse. Arms outstretched to hold each other close. "We need to clean up."
"We also need to look at your knuckles, Osc."
"I still can't believe you punched him."
Oscar rolls his eyes. "Well it ended well didn't it? I don't hear you complaining."
"Remind me to never challenge you again."
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