#but even then when he speaks its always focused on what youre feeling and never what hes thinking :-( | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hirukochan · 1 year ago

Note

Can I please request a snape smut fic? The reader and him have been friends since school and she is in love with him only he does not know it or realize his feelings till Sirius is flirting with her and it leads to a fight between them leading to them confessing to their feelings. Maybe some dirty talk biting and rough smut

Sooo...I got a bit carried away with this...definetly not the roughest smut I've written, but I hope you like it anyway.

Severus and his sunshine

Pairing: Severus Snape x fem!reader

warnings: Smut, loss of virginity

Wordcount: 7402 (oops...)

Read on Ao3 or below the cut:

“To the youngest Professor in the history of Hogwarts!” You cheer and raise your glass clumsily into the air, spilling half your drink down your arm. “Oops-” You giggle.

It’s not the first drink of the evening and not the first time you toast to Severus’ new job - and certainly not the last. It bears repeating after all because how fucking awesome is this? You have always known that Severus is the most intelligent and brilliant and ingenious person you’d ever meet! It’s unfair - no, a bloody shame! - how many people never realised it just because Severus’ is a bit awkward and rude and- alright he’s a downright cunt sometimes but he has every bloody right to be with the road his life has taken so far! With a father like that and that awful Potter and his stupid goons!

“We need to cut you off.” He drawls, the corner of his lips curling, and tries to snatch your glass from you. You jump off the chair you're standing on and cradle your drink protectively to your chest, firewhiskey dripping down your arm.

“Try and I’ll bite your finger off!”

“You’re drunk.”

“No, I’m not.” Severus shakes his head but doesn’t try to get your drink again, instead focusing on his own (the second of the evening - what a bore). The pub is crowded and loud, nobody pays any attention to the two of you sitting at a table in the corner.

You plop back down on your chair and take a sip of your drink.

Severus’ eyes have gone distant again. That happens a lot lately. Like something is on his mind that he lacks the words to tell you. Social interactions aren’t his strong suit. You’re the ‘Severus-translator’ Lily used to joke when you three were still friends because you always knew what Severus wanted to say but couldn’t. You always made sure he was included in conversations, told others to shut up so he could speak or smooth over his rough edges whenever someone didn’t get Severus’ dry and dark sense of humour.

One look at him from across the Great Hall during breakfast and you knew whether he was in a good or bad mood. You knew when he had a nightmare the night before and needed a gentler touch or when to bluntly tell him he’s being a cunt.

This you can’t seem to figure out.

He smiles less these days. Even less than usual. The four years since you finished school have been hard, especially for him, especially with the war.

Emotions are not Severus’ thing.

His long black hair falls into his face, hiding his grave expression from the world and you. His face has lost its boyish features. His jaw is more prominent, complementing his high cheekbones. His hooked nose suits him. It’s something about the proportions or symmetry of his face - you can’t quite put your finger on it. Most people seem to be put off by his appearance, but to you he has always held something uniquely beautiful.

He taps his finger against his glass repeatedly. His fingernails are still painted black…You made him let you paint them last time he was at your flat. It suits him.

You place your hand over his, stopping his fidgeting. You wish you’d know what’s going on in his head, clearly whatever it is puts him on edge, but you trust he’ll talk to you when he is ready.

“You’ll be great.” You say. “I have no doubt. You’re a bloody genius, Severus! These kids are so lucky. They can learn so much from you!”

“I am certain they will share your attitude.” He says sardonically and you snort. Severus downs his drink and takes your empty glass to get another round (and probably a glass of water for you because he’s such a mum sometimes). You smirk as you watch him make his way through the crowd.

He sticks out like a sore thumb in these new robes he got, but you think they too suit him. It’s probably the first time he isn’t wearing hand-me-downs. He’s wearing all black of course. The most colour you ever saw him wear was at Hogwarts in the form of his emerald green school tie.

Severus looks intimidating. It makes him look older, stronger somehow. It’s such a stark difference to the beat up jeans, the The Cure bandshirt you gifted him one Christmas and the shabby leather jacket.

But not in a bad way.

He looks good.

Maybe it’s the fact he has grown taller since graduation. He’s a head taller than he used to be and shed his bend over posture. Escaping both Hogwarts and his recently deceased father agrees with him. That and your continued effort of forcing him to eat three whole meals a day, every day.

His wide shoulders and dark hair disappear behind people and you rip your eyes from the spot you last saw him.

So much has changed in the last four years but that little flutter in your heart whenever you look at him has not changed. When it first started in your fourth year you didn’t even realise what it was about. You’d start stammering around him, earning you silent glares and raised eyebrows from Severus at which you’d blush. After an embarrassingly long time you finally accepted that you had developed a crush on your best friend.

You’re too terrified of losing him as a friend to ever tell him though.

Severus isn’t good with feelings. They are too complicated. Too messy. He doesn’t need messy. His life is messy enough and so you swore to yourself to never tell him.

Your friendship was already a miracle. You are his polar opposite. You are outgoing and friendly, polite - too polite sometimes - bubbly and optimistic. Severus is - well Severus. He is grumpy and quiet and rude.

You decided to befriend him in your first year. You saw him during the sorting and something about him pulled you in. You really wanted to get to know him and when you heard him talk during your first potions class you made the decision to gain his friendship however long it would take.

You started by sitting at the table next to his in the library. You’d sit there everyday, quietly doing your homework and when he stopped shooting you irritated looks when he thought you weren’t looking, you moved to sitting at his table. You simply smiled at the befuddled Severus and did your work.

You approached befriending Severus like one might approach gaining the trust of a wild animal. Over the year a truce-kind-of study group had formed between you.

Towards the end of term he asked for your help collecting some things from the forbidden forest - Lily would never break school rules, but you are certain Severus didn’t actually need help, he just didn’t know how to tell you he wanted to spend time with you.

During the summer you send him letters, even after not receiving any back from him and when you saw him by himself in the Hogwarts Express in September you sat down next to him and you’ve been friends since.

You know a romance is even less likely than your friendship was.

“Merlin! I almost didn’t fucking recognise you!” A familiar voice says and you throw up a little in your mouth.

“Black.” You say monotonous. As if he owns the place Black sits down opposite of you on Severus’ currently empty chair.

“You’re hot! How come we never snogged in school?”

“Because whenever I am forced to face the fact that you exist I want to smash my head against a wall.” You say with a honey-sweet tone of voice at which Black’s grin only grows. He doesn’t get the hint.

“How come you’re drinking alone, gorgeous?” Black continues undeterred, a poised and arrogant grin on his lips.

“I’m not.” His grin wavers ever so slightly but Sirius Black has always believed himself so utterly irresistible that such small details don’t matter to him.

“I don’t see anyone.” He is wearing muggle clothes, trying just a tad too hard to look like a rockstar, but he talks and holds himself like a pureblood still. He might have run away from home but he is still living off of his family’s wealth and he hasn’t changed one bit since school.

Black is (as usual) utterly unaware that he isn’t welcome. Black’s eyes roam over your face and down to your chest like he is appraising you, determining how much effort you are worth putting into seducing you.

“I think it’s fate we meet like this! You look-” He licks his lips and a shiver of disgust rushes over your arms. “So different. Bet you cut loose that tosser Snivellus. He was clearly dragging you under. A frown on such a pretty face should be considered a fucking crime.” You clench your fists under the table. You have your wand in your boot. It would be so easy to hex him-

“Someone as stunning as you- Oi! I was about to head to this club in Dublin that recently opened to meet Moony and Wormtail - You should join me!” He winks.

“As I said - I am here with someone.”

“But you could be with me!” He laughs as if he just made a joke but you know he is dead serious. He thinks you’d gladly ditched whomever you are here with for the chance of spending time with him. “Bring her too - the more the merrier.” There is a not so subtle suggestive tone to his words and he wiggles his eyebrows. “Come on gorgeous! Someone as sexy as you should not be so uptight! Let’s have some fun, let loose a little - it’ll be worthwhile to you, I swear.”

“What a compelling offer.” Sneers Severus and your heart drops. Great. “I wonder how many you made that promise to, Black, and how many you left disappointed.” Black’s grin falters for a split second.

That’s right.

Severus is different.

He stands taller. He’s fierce and strong and you aren’t at Hogwarts anymore where it’s four against one with the teachers turning a blind eye. You have no doubt Severus would pull out his nastiest curses on Black given the chance.

“Let’s leave, Sev.”

“Come on, gorgeous!”

“That’s not her name, but one can hardly expect a simpleton like you to care for such fine details as names.”

“Sev.”

“No wonder she looked like somebody was fucking murdered in front of her eyes when I found her - how Lily could bear being close to you for so long I’ll never understand.” Black turns towards you. “Kick this dick to the curb - I’ll buy you a drink, gorgeous.”

“She does not need you for that-”

“I can buy my own drinks.” You hiss and when Severus still makes no move towards leaving, you grab your jacket and storm off. Let them duel like little children if they want, but you won’t get in the middle of that.

The cold hair of the night hits you while you run down the street. Tears sting in your eyes and you feel so stupid and pathetic for crying. Nothing even happened. You don’t know what’s going on- that’s a lie. Severus sounded like he was about to suggest you’re with him and therefore don’t need Black to buy you drinks which…it’s not wrong. You were at the pub with Severus and you were going to make him pay (he’s a Professor now after all and from what Sev let on the pay isn’t bad) but it wasn’t a date. And Severus suggesting or intending to suggest that hurts. You want it to be a date goddamn! You’ve wanted it for over eight years!

Severus calls your name but you just wrap your arms tighter around yourself and continue down the empty street on the outskirts of London.

“Just wait!” He catches up to you. “What a fucking wanker.” He huffs.

“Mh.”

“What did he say to you? I should have hexed him! I knew it!”

“Drop it.”

“No, I will not drop it! He made you cry- come on tell me what he said and I’ll-”

“What?!” Abruptly you stop walking and spin around to face Severus. He looks at you perplexed, his cloak billowing behind him in the breeze. “You’ll go and start a duel? Why? I told you to drop it.”

“He’s a fucking cavemen! Just the way he looked at you-” Severus grimaces. A muscle in his jaw tenses and he flexes his wand hand.

“Why the fuck do you suddenly feel the need to defend my honour?! You just ignored me in there- nevermind. I’m tired. I want to go home.”

“Don’t let Black ruin our night-”

“You ruined our night! I asked you to leave, you ignored me. I ask you to drop it, you ignore me. I don’t want you to fight Black! We aren’t at school anymore - you’ll get arrested!” Something you have never before seen crosses through Severus’ eyes. Something dark. A cold shiver runs down your spine and you take an involuntary step back.

“I wouldn’t be arrested, Sunshine.” He says, voice low, rumbling like thunder, a muttered promise of destruction and ruin and heat pools in your belly. That he called you by his nickname for you which he uses very sparingly, if ever, doesn’t help the matter. Severus takes a step forward. The heat morphs into a twisting, curling mass that takes your breath away. Severus looms over you, shadows dancing over his pale skin, drawing his cheekbones into an even sharper contrast and you gulp.

“You think Luci is going to come and rescue you?”

“Lucius? I don’t need Lucius for that.”

“Do you even fucking hear yourself?!” Your voice echoes through the empty streets, thrown back off the house.

“He made you cry!”

“Why does it matter?!”

“Because-” He clenches his jaw, his fists shake with suppressed rage. His nostrils flare and for a split second a tingling sensation winds around your heart at the expression in his eyes - the softness in the middle of a raging storm. A lone, untouched, unbothered island in the midst of a roaring ocean.

Severus exhales. Tension falls off his frame and the expression is gone.

“Fine.” He says quietly. “Let’s go then.” And he walks past you.

“No.” You can hear his steps stop behind you. Tears drip over your cheeks and you stubbornly wipe them away. “Say what you wanted to say.”

“I thought you’re tired.”

“Say it.”

“It’s- it doesn’t matter.”

“I’m not moving until you say it.” You cross your arms in front of your chest. Behind you Severus sighs and you can practically hear him pinch the bridge of his nose like he does whenever you annoy him.

“You sound like a spoiled child.”

“Good practice then. You’ll have to deal with a lot of those, Professor.”

“Are you- I have the feeling you’re angry with me.” You spin around and glare at Severus. He’s not good with emotions, sure - but now he’s just being dense.

“What made you think that?” You deadpan. He rolls his eyes and his disregard for your feelings drives you mad.

“Black’s a bastard-”

“This is Warren all over again!”

“Yeah and I was fucking right about Warren wasn’t I?” A vein on his forehead pulses, but you don’t give a shit. Warren was your first boyfriend and Severus behaved absolutely rotten towards you.

“Warren was a huge mistake, yes - but he was my mistake to make! What- do you actually fucking think I would ever fucking touch Black? Just the thought gives me an STD!” The barest flicker of amusement flashes over Severus’ features. “I just- I don’t get why you overreact like this everytime I talk to a guy. And it’s not like I was engaging Black there! The fucknugget is just to stupid to get a hint!”

“I-”

“There it is again! You did it again! What is it that you can’t tell me? Come on Sev! You can tell me everything. When did you start having secrets from me?” It’s a hit to your ego as much as you don’t like admitting it.

You have always been Severus’ safespace.

He told you things he never even told Lily! Something you didn’t know until third year when Lily asked whether Severus’ parents are ‘fighting again’ when you knew Tobias dickward Snape beat Sev with his belt the day before the Hogwarts Express left for the new term. You fucking healed him in you compartment because his ribs were broken and she asked whether they were fighting.

Why can’t he tell you this?

Another tear slips over your lower lid and slides down your check. Your bottom lip quivers. You suppress a sniffle and nod.

You have never felt further away from him than you do at this precise moment. It feels like Severus is sand slipping through your fingers and the harder you try to hold onto him, to the way it was before, the faster he slips away. Maybe too much has changed. Maybe he’s too different. Maybe this unlikely friendship was doomed from the beginning.

You know you’re about to start bawling and that’s the last you want Severus to see.

“Alright…I see.” You whisper. “Life’s different now. We’re keeping secrets now…”

“Sunshine-”

“No- no, ‘tis fine-” You roughly wipe your eyes. “See you- see you sometime….congratulations again.” You turn around to find a quiet alleyway to disapparate to your flat and break down there like a pathetic little teen that got her pathetic little heart broken without ever even working up the courage to confess her pathetic feelings.

Your steps sound horribly loud in the dark, cold night and with every step you take away from Severus you feel like you’re losing him more, every step is another crack, another break, another insurmountable obstacle between you. The cold wind cuts through your clothes with ease and you shiver.

“I love you.”

You stop dead in your tracks. Your heart skips a beat or two or maybe it forgets how to work entirely.

Severus’ voice is quiet, uncertain like it has not been since second year when he thought you didn’t want to be friends with him anymore after he lashed out at you.

“Sunshine- I knew Warren would only hurt you. That he’s not good enough for you. He bragged in the Slytherin common room that you showed him your boobs- He said all sorts of awful things and I- I just sat there. I should have said something, defended you, made him shut up but- Warren was two years above us and…” He takes a shuddering breath, dispelling old shame and insecurity from his voice. “Black’s just like that. He never cared for you before and now all of a sudden he is dying to go out with you? You don’t even realise it, Sunshine but- you- you are stunning. You have changed so much since school, you are- fuck I don’t know- words-” He sighs and rubs his hands over his face.

You feel numb and like you’re on fire at the same time. Of course you knew Warren spread some shit about you around, it’s why you broke up and broke his nose in the process for good measure, earning three weeks detention with McGonagall, but you wished you would have known sooner...

And- Severus loves you? No- that can’t be right- He’s in love with Lily- it’s always been Lily-

“You’re happier somehow- you- you’re radiant and beautiful and- you’ve grown up so much and- and- I love you. I’ve loved you for years- I want to protect you. I want to guard your happiness and yes I’d go back to knock out every single one of Black’s teeth for talking to you like that. You just have to say the word - sunshine - I’m pretty sure there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. And I know I’m not bloody good enough for you- I am rude and surly and miserable to be around - I don’t expect you to feel the same…I- fuck I don’t know-”

“You love me?”

“I love you.”

“I thought you love Lily.”

“Lily is- was- still is- I have no goddamn clue- she’s like a sister. I love her. And I think marrying Potter was a huge mistake and that she’ll divorce him in about three years - if she manages to stand him that long and when she does I hope- I hope we can mend our friendship…maybe- but- but I don’t love her like that. Not like I love you.”

Severus loves you.

Has loved you for years.

Severus loves you… You swirl around and before your anxiety can overpower your heart, screaming and aching and thrashing about in your chest you cup his face with your trembling hands and press your lips against his.

Severus stiffens. For a moment you just stand there, on your tiptoes to be able to reach him, holding onto him, feeling his heat against you, your lips exploding with electrifying tingling. Your stomach clenches and twists, flip flops and gives birth to a thousand erratic butterflies and all flutter around in a whirlwind of emotions that are too colourful, too many, too intense to ever find words worthy of describing the sensation.

Cautiously Severus puts his hands on your back and moves his lips against yours. You’re still crying, tears stream over your cheeks and run along the curves of your face to your lips.

As if woken from an enchanted slumber, Severus drags you against his chest and kisses you fiercely. One arm wrapped around your back and clutching at your waist, and one hand cradling the back of your head, long slender fingers threading through your hair. You grab the front of his robes and cling to him.

You both stumble a few steps and your back hits the brick wall of a house. Severus licks along the seam of your lips which you happily part for him. Your kiss grows sloppy and desperate. Your tongues meet gingerly at first but soon the slight air of discomfort and wariness at this development vanishes, flies away into the cool air of the night, gone and forgotten, as unimportant as your stupid fight.

Severus is kissing you. You are finally kissing Severus. He loves you. He has loved you for years.

Everything is good.

“Sev-” You whimper against his lips between two kisses. You try to break them, to wrench an inch of air between you but Severus is like a man dying of thirst that finally found a water source and is clenching his burning thirst. “Sev-” You push against his chest. Severus releases your lips, but doesn’t move away, doesn’t let go of you.

He leans his forehead against yours and blinks back at you, his dark eyes seemingly trying to pervade yours, to find a direct path to your deepest thoughts, a link between you and him that is untouchable by anybody else, that runs deeper than any other connection between two people.

“Don’t you want to invite me back to your place?” You murmur and tug playfully at the button just above his throat. Severus’ eyes darken. A muscle in his jaw jumps. Your cunt clenches around nothing. Needy, desperate, wanting.

He clears his throat and steps back. How the fuck does he still look put together? How can he manage to reign in that storm in his eyes so expertly, so fast and clean while you’re a panting, sweaty, needy mess after just a few damn kisses?

“You won’t like what I’d do then.” He says, voice heavy with what he leaves unsaid. You push yourself off the wall and wrap your arms around his shoulders. You trail a few chaste kisses up the side of his jaw and flick the tip of your tongue over his earlobe. Severus inhales sharply and flexes his hands again.

“I don’t break easy, Sev.” You whisper and press a kiss to his ear. “You should know that.” He takes another shuddering breath and just when you think you’ll have to deal with the aftermath of his kiss on your own while picturing him nestled between your thighs (once again), he pulls you against his chest and holds you in a bone-breaking grip. You feel the familiar pull of side-along apparition and in the next moment you smell the even more familiar, dusty scent of Severus’ house. The smell of books is new, added after Severus renovated the house enough to evict his father’s influences and put his own touch to it - namely by adding a shittone of books.

Severus doesn’t give you time to catch your breath. He grabs your hand and pulls you up the stairs. You giggle and run to keep up with him. He practically kicks the door to his old room open (you know for a fact he has not even touched the door to his parents room since his father died) and crushes his lips against yours as soon as he pulls you over the threshold.

The burn marks from where Severus used to zap flies with his wand are still on the ceiling. The little pencil sketches you made near the baseboards are as well. He replaced his bed though. A brand new double which you are being steered towards now.

“Severus-” You moan against his lips and tear at the buttons of his new robes.

“Is this real?” He whispers back and leans his forehead against yours again, watching you struggle with his clothes. “I’ve pictured this so many times- thought about how I would feel to have you here- is this happening? Or am I sleeping?”

“It’s real.” You say, lips against his recently freed throat. “I’m here.”

“You’re here…”

“Severus-” You hesitate and pause your quest of revealing Severus’ body to your eyes. “I’ve never done this-” Suddenly you feel shaky and overwhelmed.

“Warren-?”

“Is full of shit. He lied- about all of it. Have you-” He nods, but there’s a distant expression in his eyes that tells you it’s not something he wants to talk about. Probably something he’s ashamed of. You know the kind of company Lucius, Mulciber, Rosier and the other’s like to keep and don’t pry further.

“I’ll trust you then.” You murmur and sit down on the bed, pulling Severus down with you.

“I’d never want to hurt you, Sunshine.” You kiss and between kisses scoot up the bed until your head is resting on the soft pillows and Severus’ lean body between your thighs. “I’ll take care of you.” He mutters against the corner of your mouth and kisses your cheek. “Such good care.” He trails down your jaw. “Like Black or Warren never fucking could.”

“I never wanted them.” You moan. Your body moves on its own, knowing precisely what you want and need even if your mind has yet to catch up. Your legs wrap around his hips, your back arches, pressing your breasts to his chest. You thread your fingers through his silky hair. “Only you.”

“Me?”

“Only you. Always you. Whenever I thought about it…when I pictured how it would feel while touching myself I only ever pictured you.”

“Oh sunshine-” He groans and rolls his hips against you.

“Sev-” Severus draws his wand and mutters a quick spell. Something curls in your stomach, it’s the weirdest sensation and for a second you are utterly confused, but then your gaze meets Severus’ and you understand. Contraception spell. You didn’t even think of that. Of course Severus did. You smile.

He mutters another charm and your clothes vanish. You squeak, blush and hide your face behind your hands.

You can hear the clanking of wood hitting wood as Severus tosses his wand onto the nightstand.

“You- fuck…” Cautiously you peek between your fingers. A faint pink tinge has spread over Severus’ cheeks and nose, down to his now fully exposed neck. He looks cute. Adorable. You take a deep breath and drop your hands. This is Severus. Your Severus. There is nothing to be afraid of with him. “You put to shame all great beauties of the comprehensive history of this world.” His words brush over your skin like a tender caress and make you shiver and burn with embarrassed heat at the same time.

“Severus-”

“It’s true. The old greek masters wish they would have had a model like you sit for their marmour statues. Such beauty has to be preserved for the ages - but you…you are just mine.”

“Who are you and what have you done to my stammering, cute, insecure Severus?” You tease. Severus’ eyes are still pinned to your breasts. He visibly snaps out of his thoughts and looks up to you. There he is. Flashing through his impossibly dark eyes for the flicker of a second before they return to the heavy gaze, consumed by carnal desire that has been ignored for too long and has now broken free with demanding force.

“He knows he’s about to find out how you feel.”

“Come and find out then.” You shoot him a challenging grin. Severus kisses you in response. He kisses you and settles more of his weight on you. His very much hard cock presses against your exposed cunt. You gasp and clutch at Severus.

“Shit- Severus- that won’t fit!”

“It will.”

“You sure?” He chuckles, his eyes lighting up with amusement like they do so rarely and you relax.

“I’m sure.” You trust him. You love him. You want him. He’ll take care of you.

You let him take control. Severus kisses you more. He seems determined to cover every inch of your body with all the confessions of his love he has missed out on. All the elapsed opportunities. All the kisses you could have shared if you both had had just a little more courage. But it doesn’t matter. You are here now. You are together in his bed, skin pressed against skin, breathing the same air, staring into each other’s eyes longingly while his hand slips between your thighs.

You’re soaked and whimper when his slender fingers gather your slickness, brushing your aching cunt with featherlight touches. He draws gentle, slow circles over your clit. Pressure and heat build in your belly and deep inside your cunt fast. You cling to his shoulders, digging your nails into his skin without even noticing.

“I wondered so many times how you’d look…” He murmurs. His lips brush over yours as he speaks. His breath dances across your cheeks.

“...in the throes of pleasure.” Severus’ voice is deeper than you’ve ever heard it. A smoky rumble that goes straight to your core.

He teases your entrance until you’re squirming and rolling your hips against his touch before finally plunging a finger inside you. “I wondered how you’d sound…how I would feel knowing it was me making you feel like that…” You give him the answer promptly. Moaning and whining, gasping for air.

“Sev!” You throw your head back and arch your back. The pressure keeps building and building, beyond anything you ever managed yourself. He adds a second finger and with it a delicious, stinging stretch. He curls his fingers and presses the heel of his palm to your clit. You squirm under Severus’ intense gaze that seems to look right through you, through your skin down to your very soul. He watches every flicker of pleasure and desperation he paints onto your face with utter, devoted, undisturbed attention to you and nothing else. Nothing else matters.

Severus knows you like no other. It feels right to share this with him as well.

He loves you.

You still can’t believe it.

“Sev!”

“Cum for me, sunshine. Cum on my fingers. I want to know- I’m done wondering. I want to know.” You do. Crying out and panting his name, thrashing about beneath him as waves upon waves of intense pleasure run havoc over you, but it’s fine. You can let go with Severus.

“I need you Sev- please-” You gasp even before your orgasm has released you from its clutches. “Please please please- Sev-” He groans.

“Fuck and I thought you sounded needy in my head.” Severus mutters and aligns himself with you. He takes his time, giving you time to adjust to his girth, slowly pushing deeper and deeper into your still spasming channel, forcing it to give way to him. He grunts and whispers praise, how tight you are, how good you feel for him, how well you’re taking him. You whimper and hold onto him, leaving red streaks across his back. Severus doesn’t even bat an eye at it.

He buries his head in the crook of your neck and savours your every sound, every twitch and throb of your cunt finally, finally gloved around him.

“Sunshine-”

“Severus…” More words aren’t needed. He rests there, deep inside you, his body pressed to your trembling smaller one, shielding you from the cold of his room and the world itself and you know there is a promise in there somewhere.

“I can’t believe it-” He murmurs and kisses your collarbone, down to your sternum. He kisses and licks, sucks, grazes your skin with his teeth. “You feel…incredible…you’re so good for me sunshine-” He kisses your breasts, flicks his tongue over your hardened nipples, licks broad strokes and teasingly closes his lips around them.

When Severus finally moves again he does so in slow, measured thrusts. He watches your expression with hidden wariness, watches your every reaction. He can’t hide from you though. He is waiting for you to regret this. To tell him to stop. He’s afraid of letting go, afraid of scaring you off, of losing you.

But he’ll never lose you.

You buck your hips and whine impatiently. “Come on Sev.” You whimper. “Fuck me like you really want to fuck me.”

“It’s your first time I will not-”

“It’s done, Sev. Bye bye virginity! That train of stupid little things society places far too much worth in has left the station indefinitely. Now fuck me.”

“Sun-”

“Severus Snape! Fuck. me. properly.” He groans. His eyes roll to the back of his head.

“Fine.” Severus grunts and a rush of excitement pulses through your stomach and drenches his throbbing cock in more fluids. “I warned you.”

The bed creaks dangerously under his thrusts. His hips slap against yours with a wet, fleshy sound that drives you crazy.

“Oh fuck yes- yes- just like that- that’s-” You babble more nonsense, moaning and shredding Severus’ back with your nails. He fucks you mercilessly into the mattress, spearing you open with his cock with each hard thrust. Your entire body trembles under his thorough attention. Your cunt yields to him in wet, fluttering excitement. It cherishes the promise of soreness his thrusts leave behind.

Any attempt at grasping for and trying to hold onto one of the many thoughts rushing through your fuzzy, hazy mind is a fruitless endeavour.

“Fuck! Ahhh- so good…” Severus mutters against your collarbone and plunges his cock into your drenched cunt again before pulling out almost completely and driving back in with such force he knocks your head against the headboard. You both laugh.

“Sorry-”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” You weave your fingers through his hair and pull him down into a sloppy, passionate kiss. You gasp and moan into the kiss and drink up the way Severus continues to lose the iron grip on his emotions he had cultivated since graduation, revealing more and more of the love-starved, unapologetic, fierce man you know him as. The man that feels so freely, so intensely, so deeply that it hurts him so much.

Every thrust, every kiss, every exploring hand gliding over your sweaty skin, squeezing your breasts in testing, careful motions is a testament to how deep his feelings for you run and have been running for so long.

It breaks free of him in violent bursts and buries you beneath roaring pleasure.

Severus is not good with words.

But he will be damned if he doesn’t show you what he can’t figure out how to say.

“Severus-” You moan, joining the creaking bed and his grunts, the symphony of your love. This would not be a pretty, romantic, fairytale like love. You are both messy and broken in your own ways. It will be hard. It will take work and compassion and will seem impossible at moments, especially in the midst of a war, but Severus is worth it.

To you he is worth it.

He always was and will always be.

You whine in protest when Severus pulls out of you but before you have a chance to voice it otherwise or even glare at him, Severus flips you over.

“Put your hands on the headboard.” He rasps in your ear. You are shaking and struggle to keep yourself upright, but Severus’ arms around your waist stabilise you. You hold onto the headboard so tight your knuckles turn white. Severus is kissing your neck, nibbling and sucking, painting his marks onto you as if to say ‘I was here’ or maybe ‘back off’. Maybe both. Maybe more.

He fills you up again, reaching much deeper than before and you gasp at the unfamiliar, intense feeling.

“Your cunt clutches me so hard-” He grunts and bottoms out. “Sucks me in- all soaked and desperate.”

“Sev-”

“Hmm…yes. I’m here…” He sucks the delicate skin on your neck into his mouth and bites down gently, at which a loud, wanton moan breaks free of you and he bites down harder.

You meet his thrust with your hips, his cockhead hits a spot inside you it previously missed and you fall apart. His grip around your waist turns bruising and Severus pulls you back. Your grip around the headboard goes slack. You melt into his touch, twitching and shivering, whimpering, mind fuzzy with always new, higher, stronger, more intense levels of pleasure.

Severus holds you to his chest, your thighs on either side of his, useless, hands helplessly holding onto his arms, and moves your body up and down his hard shaft. Using you and the fluttering of your cunt as your orgasm continues to coarse through you. He grunts and bites your shoulder, harder than before and a particularly strong spasm shakes your body. You drop your head onto his shoulder, melting further against him.

“Again-” You rasp and present your neck to him. A grin flashes over Severus’ lips. Sweaty strands of hair stick to his forehead, his eyes are glazed over with hazy lust.

“My pleasure.” He coos, but instead of indulging you, he kisses you. One small, chaste peck after another. You squirm against his grip, claw at his arms, painting more red streaks on his pale skin.

“You never told me you got a tattoo-” You murmur. The sight of the jet black snake and skull on Severus’ left inner arm pulls your mind out of its haze and into a brief moment of clarity. Severus hesitates ever so slightly in his thorough, teasing attention he’s paying to your neck. Something about the tattoo unsettles you, though you can’t exactly decide why.

“Must have forgotten. It’s new.”

“Hmm…very metal.”

“I don’t like it.”

“Why’d you get it then?”

“I thought I would.” Severus sucks on your neck and that plummets you back into mind-numbing, all-consuming, ecstatic pleasure.

“Maybe we should go to Dublin after.” Severus purrs in your ear. “Show Black all your pretty marks.”

“Idiot.” You giggle.

“I’m going to cum-”

“Cum inside me.”

“I don’t have to.”

“Please, Sev! Cum in me.” Severus pushes you forward and you fall face first into the mattress with a tiny outrages squeal. Severus laughs at you and grips your hips, adjusting them to sit flush with his own. He fucks you roughly into the pillows. You clutch at the sheets. Severus loses more and more of what little composure he still had. He mutters things you can’t make out.

His thrusts are accompanied with lewd, wet noises and the headboard hitting the wall.

“Severus!”

“I’ll fill you up ahh- with my cum- leave you dripping-”

“Yesyesyes-” He moves your hips with each thrust, pulling you back into him as he buries his cock inside you. His balls hit your sensitive cunt. His fingers dig into your skin, sure to be leaving bruises.

Severus cums with your name on his lips, tumbling over them in a low, reverent, lust-drenched prayer which you join with your own faint, desperate whimpers.

Feeling the hot spurts of cum hit your inner walls violently kicks you over the edge for the third time. Severus slumps above you, pressing his forehead to your back between your shoulder blades, panting and spent.

You stay like that for a while. Both of you trying to catch your breath, relishing in the buzzing glow of your aftershock and the feeling of each other’s love on your skin and warming you from the inside.

Gently Severus pulls his softening cock from you and lies down next to you, pulling you into a tight embrace.

“Sorry.” He murmurs in your hair and presses a tender kiss to the top of your head. “I hurt you.”

“I liked it.” You murmur back and place your hands against his chest, nuzzling your face to his neck. “Why did it take us so bloody long to finally do this?” He chuckles. He tugs a strand of messy hair behind your ear. You look up to meet his gaze. It’s heavy with emotions, a swirling storm of love and care and fear. You reach out to him in a futile attempt of soothing it. The pads of your fingers meet his cheek and he shudders under your touch, before leaning into it. His eyes fall closed and for a brief moment he looks at peace. Content. Home.

“I-” He opens his mouth as if to say something but closes it again. His brows pull together into a frown, a deep crease forming between them. His lips go white as he presses them together into a thin line. His jaw tenses. “I’ve made a terrible mistake-” His voice is hoarse from unshed tears and the effort of suppressing them. He loses. One escapes from between his closed lids and slides down his cheek, meeting your fingers. You wipe it away, but more follow.

“I’m trying to fix it- I am! But I-”

“It’s ok.” You whisper and press a tender kiss to his jaw.

So he did it…You had your suspicions, of course you did, but a part of you refused to believe Severus capable of those horrible acts committed by the Death Eaters. And you were right. The pain, regret and self-loathing is so evident in his face. He can’t bear to look at you.

“We’ll fix it. Together. It’ll be fine.”

You are there when the Aurors storm his house to arrest him. You were sitting on the threadbare sofa in his arms as he read to you.

You tell him not to resist, to not tell them anything.

You send an owl to Dumbledore.

You are at the trial, sitting on one of the benches. Severus looks miserable sitting in the middle of the courtroom, deep shadows under his eyes, a tremor in his wand hand. The chains of the chair are wrapped tightly around his arms. He avoids your eyes.

Dumbledore defends him passionately. Recounting Severus’ turning spy for him, reporting you-know-who’s steps to Dumbledore, how invaluable his intel had been. He recounts the dangers Severus was willing to face. He demands he is released. And he is. The Wizengamot clears him of all charges and you walk out of the Ministry with him, holding his still trembling hand in your own.

“Is this real?” He whispers and you bite the inside of your cheek to not start crying. You want to be strong for him.

“Yes.” You kiss his cheek and wrap your arms around his neck. “It’s real. You’re a free man. I’m here. I will always be here. We’ll figure this out.”

“Together?”

“Together. I love you, Severus.”

“I love you too, Sunshine.”

#severus snape #snape fandom #ao3 fanfic #severus snape smut #Severus Snape x reader #snape x reader #snape x you #request #dividers by cafekitsune

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quimichi · 9 months ago

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↳ ❝ [IF I DIE, YOU DIE AFTER ME] ¡! ❞

warnings: Angst, mentions of death and suicide

summary: All you want is for him to continue if the worst case will ever happen. Unfortunately he understood you wrong...or maybe right?

characters: Aether, Albedo, Al-haitham, Ayato, Baizhu, Bennett, Capitano, Childe and Chongyun × Creator!Reader

word count: 1,805

parts: 1.

Aether

Aether is stunned by your words for a moment; they linger in the air like lingering notes from a lyre, their impact resonating far more deeply in his heart than they did in his hearing. "What... What do you mean?" he replies in a hoarse whisper; his brows knit together, and a flicker of panic flickers across his expression.

"When i die, you better die after me because...I cannot bare to see you go. You should live a good life long after I'm gone and find happiness." you tell him seriously. No way ever, you would be able to live after knowing he ever parished. Aether stares at you with bright, wet eyes as his mind attempts to grapple with your words. His lips part softly as he takes a deep inhale; his heartbeat is pounding in his ears, and he feels dizzy at the very thought of it. "But... But your Grace?" he protests weakly, as if he just can't accept it.

"You can't be gone. I can't live without you." A long moment of silence stretches between you and the Traveler. Aether stares down, his brows furrowed. He doesn't want to say it, doesn't want to entertain the idea, but he finally whispers the words.

"But your Grace... If you're gone, I don't want to live. I wouldn't know what to live for."

"And I wouldn't know what to die for."

Albedo

"That I can't do." he stands his ground, he makes his point clear. He'd always promised that he would be by your side. If you go, so must he. Perhaps he was being dramatic, but he'd rather perish by your side than to witness your death. He'd spent his life wishing to die by your side. The thought of doing so without you would make his heart crumble like the foundations of a ruined nation.

"Albedo wha-" but he interrupted, with the same confidence as before, "If you go, so must I. We're equal, remember? If you die, so will I. Together we will say our last farewells to one another."

"I would die for you, my grace."

Albedo seems adamant about that statement, but the way he delivers it seems to say more. It sounds less of a duty to be fulfilled, but more a blessing to be granted.

It's enough to make him stop and stare. He wants you to live, in truth, above all else. His thoughts of your safety are always paramount; more than his own. If you went down, he would follow, but the way he speaks, the conviction in which he's willing to go. It almost seems as though he'd welcome death himself.

"I would rather die with you, than live without you, my grace."

"Agreed."

Al-haitham

"Of course." He says it instantly without thought. Your word is law. He obeys in the most absolute way possible.

The prospect of losing you shatters his heart into a thousand pieces. He can't even bring himself to think about it, so he focuses intently on your slightest movement. "I could never dream of existing without you by my side," he continues, his voice growing unsteady. His mind is a whirlpool of emotions, thoughts, and memories. Unusual from how you know him. "Al-Haitham..."

The thought of being without you...He just can't.

"I would die for you." A small, hesitant pause. He feels his throat tighten, his breath catching in his throat. "I would...do anything to be with you, join you."

Your heart tightens, he can't mean what he says? He can't mean it, he has so much to lose, and its not you. His job, what he worked for to achieve. All you wanted was for him to continue this. "I would throw away everything for you," he whispers, as if he heard you. The words sound hoarse coming out of his dry lips. His throat feels tight, his chest feels heavy, his head feels hollow.

"Anything I've ever cared about, everything I've ever loved... All of it means nothing compared to being at your side. If you die first, I will die twice."

Ayato

His stomach tightens at the thought. His heart feels like it is about to explode as he considers that reality.

"I would follow you there," he says softly, his voice barely a whisper. "With every part of me, I would follow you."

"No. You know what I meant by my words." He understands your meaning, but he cannot bring himself to say the words outloud.

"I would not be able to bear life without you," he says quietly, his eyes avoiding your gaze. The words escape with an earnestness that he did not intend, and immediately he is struck by the depth of his love for you and his utter devotion to you.

Your words have shaken him. "I love you," he says softly. His voice is little more than a whisper. It feels natural to say. The words slip out from his mouth so effortlessly that they escape him before he can even think to stifle them.

He doesn't question it. He'd say it 100 times over if you needed to hear it.

"My love, I'm sorry. I wish I was what you wanted. I wish I had the bravery to live without you, but I'm a coward. But for now, we shall live till we both die."

Baizhu

"I would never let something so horrific befall you. If anything were to happen to you, I would perish before you. And as you know, I will do everything to prevent death, especially yours."

Baizhu leans forward to gently lay his forhead against yours, a gesture, one filled with warmth.

"You will not die. You will not." Baizhu emphasizes his words, the determination in his eyes unshakeable. "For so long as you remain standing, so will I. Your fate is my fate - there is no other reality than the one in which you live."

"I-I don't want you to-" you hurriedly let out, its almost breaking your heart. "But I would... My desire is to shield you from harm. Any threat comes your way, I would-" Baizhu pauses, seeming to ponder whether to finish his prior sentence. Then, he swallows his pride before speaking again.

"My priority... It is to keep you alive. To make sure you are safe..."

Bennett

Bennett's eyes widen, as if he were shocked by your words. "Y-you're not going to die, my grace," he says softly, but there is something like panic in his voice. "Y-you won't... you can't die, ever..."

The Adventurer reaches out and lightly touches your hand with his fingertips. "Please, do not speak of such things..." Bennett looks up at you, his eyes wide and pleading. "You would... you would leave me alone? What would I ever do without you? Go on adventures alone? Who would I tell all my stories? Who would listen? You're my...— I... I."

And then he looks down, unable to look at you. "If you left, I would die; my purpose is to love. So, please, you..."

He looks up at you in desperation again. "If you leave so soon, I won't ever be ready to finish loving you..."

A breeze gently flows through your hair as Bennett reaches out and strokes your hair. The way his fingers caress your hair, so gently and with such tenderness, makes you wonder if he is afraid of breaking you. "You are my everything. So I will give my all to prevent your death, even if it causes my own."

Capitano

“As you wish, your grace” The words leave Capitano’s mouth almost involuntarily. He stares at you, his eyes glazed over as the thought of never seeing you again flashes through his mind.

He doesn’t care what he must do. Even if the universe is set against him. Even if he must face the Abyss Order or the Tsarita herself alone. You alone are worth his devotion and his existence. The thought is a bittersweet one. He will devote himself to you so wholly that when you pass, he will not live on as he normally would but will rather perish at your side.

He is not a man to love lightly, nor is he a man who will forget your kindness with time.

Capitano will live for you, devote himself to you, and even perish with you without a second thought. You are his entire universe, the center of his world. Nothing exists for him but you. All the other worlds that are his duty no longer matter in comparison.

His will is set on two things, only.

To love you. To die with you.

Childe

Childe's breathing quickens at the idea of your death. He cannot allow it. "No," he breathes. He grasps your hands tight, desperation in every motion.

"You can't die. You are immortal. Eternal. Unbreakable." The words tumble out of his mouth, sounding almost like a prayer with the desperation and pleading in his voice. "Of course I can die silly...so when i do...please live on without me." "No." Childe stares at you, his face hard as a rock.

"I can't."

Childe closes his eyes and grips your hands tighter. He leans forward until his chin presses into your knuckles and his face is inches from yours.

"Don't ask me to do that. I won't let you die."

Childe repeats the words, his voice breaking halfway through the sentence, raw and trembling. "I can't let you die." He pulls you close, so close that your lips are almost touching, but not quite.

"I'm nothing without you." His voice is a whisper. "My existence depends on you.

"I can't live without you."

Chongyun - aged up

He freezes at the sound of these words, his body trembling uncontrollably. His breathing becomes shallower and shallower, his heart pounding faster and faster, all the color draining from his face. "You... you wouldn't... you couldn't.." he says in a hoarse voice, his head spinning from the sudden, overwhelming wave of dread. He is too close to the thought of losing you, and he fears that it could destroy him. "Please," Chongyun whispers, his eyes imploring you with such a profound desperation, a look that could tear your heart out.

"I cannot lose you. I cannot live a life without you." He reaches for your hands, grasping them tightly in his own. "I would not survive your departure. The very thought leaves me in a living nightmare."

Chongyun is crying. "Please do not make me go on without you. Please do not." He is shaking. Your words have stirred up a whirlwind of emotion. He looks up at you, his eyes pleading, his heart breaking at the thought of a life without you.

"I would follow you until the end, your Grace. Even if it means for my own journey to end."

TAGLIST: @hehothrowawayfae @lucienbarkbark

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact sagau #genshin sagau #sagau #genshin cult au #aether x reader #albedo x reader #alhaitham x you #ayato x reader #baizhu x reader #bennett x reader #capitano x reader #childe x reader #chongyun x reader

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deafsignifcantother · 11 months ago

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if music be the food of love, chapter one

♥ chapter two! ♥ relationships: aroace Alastor x deaf female reader (queerplatonic) ♥ word count: 2.1k ♥ pinterest board ♥ warnings: reader got hurt by someone they loved before death, reader is shorter than him, bickering, reader loves tea, lonesome reader, alastor invading space ♥ my idea is that reader has a small stereo on her chest that lets out classical music based on her mood. I imagine that it comes from both her chest (softly) and the outside of her manor (loud as fuck).

Your manor is only visible to the town when the lights are on a tall hill and covered in trees. However, even if all the lights were off, people would at least know it's there.

There are two reasons: the tale and the music.

Tale, a story for the newcomers. They speak of a demon who plays music all day, doomed to play music forever. Oh, the music. The music can be heard from even miles away.

It's refined and dainty, and it reeks of misery. The classical music never seems to repeat itself; it goes on and on and on and on. The demons hear you only through your music. When you cry, the violins and cellos grow with a cruel crescendo. When you sleep, the music is soft, almost quiet. Everyone comes to an understanding, assumption, that if the music were to stop, you would be dead.

The demons who try to step closer to your manor will find themselves experiencing unfathomable sorrow and guilt. The sound of your music is the demonic ability you possess, and it's out of your control. Due to the sadness of your death, you are forced into misery in the afterlife. When you were alive, those you loved and devoted yourself to only broke your heart.

Everybody affected by your music feels that grief.

Alastor doesn't understand why people fear your manor. Your love-related pain doesn't affect him at all.

He starts up the hill, moving both on his feet and through the shadows. On his way to your manor, he focuses on the landscape. The landscape is beautiful; the forest below is so dense that the red sky disappears. Personally, he loves the music. He loves tuning in on you and hearing how you're doing. He sparsely gets to visit, so hearing the song of your heart is always so welcoming.

The worst thing to him is how long the damn walk is.

You're in your house, passing through the dining room, when the lights flicker. The people from the nearby town stutter when the usual sad music suddenly becomes upbeat.

Opening the door, you are greeted by Alastor's traditional smile. You're the one that initiates the hug. He gently wraps his hand around you, only for a short time before he pulls away and establishes his distance.

"Long time no see, my dear." He signs, his claws adding a flare to the simple signs. Truthfully, his sign for "my dear" translates directly to "sweetheart," which he's aware of, just putting faith into you understanding what he means.

"I'll start some tea." You sign, turning immediately to the kitchen.

He smiles at the jazz sneaking its way into your music. The people outside know what it means.

Alastor looks around at the new decor; the place is different every time he enters. It's all the things that you enjoyed when you were alive. That's what is most noticeable about you beyond the aura you possess and how stuck you are to the past; you refuse to acknowledge your situation, which is both a curse and a blessing.

From the kitchen counter, you look at him, seeing him behind you, his staff out of his hands.

He leans a bit forward. "I have news! Have you heard of the new buzz, the new project from the princess of hell?"

A small smile forms. "Charlie?" You remember many years ago when she appeared at your door, in tears due to your involuntary magic, begging you to teach her ASL. You politely declined, though you wrote her a long paper about Deaf Culture (often derailing to rant about your opinion on common debates/crazy events). You've never seen her again, but you're confident she's read it.

You continue, "Her projects are... sweet?"

"Sweet and quite peculiar. She believes that demons can be redeemed. How absurd!" His smile grows, his eyes squinting in interest. He knows you're devoted to being good and staying away from violence. He's here to convince you to join her cause.

"Fascinating," you can't help but show your pure astonishment. "She's on our side."

"Oh, how kind you are!"

The tea is ready. You turn entirely away from Alastor, and he lets you. Your thoughts are apparent; he has spent weeks excited about this conversation. He's absolutely fighting the urge to spill out every argument he has; he wants to mention that if you participate, you'll see each other daily. That hasn't even crossed your mind yet.

You pour the tea and take your time, a little nervous to continue the convo. Alastor's eyes remain on your frame, your casual clothing. The last time he saw you, you were dressed up despite spending your days alone.

You hand a cup to him. Neither sign; you stand still, staring at each other and drinking. Both of you already know what the other will try to say next. Your eyes are deep in thought while he is locked on you. The only reason you are doubting being involved with everything yourself is that you know your aura makes others depressed. It is not very good, isolating. On the opposite stance, Alastor always noticed how your music gets positive whenever he's around. He knows (guesses) that in the hotel, with his presence, your saddening demeanor would be no more.

He moves abruptly, you follow, and he sits on a heavily cushioned couch, dipping deeply, which makes him smile. Your soft smile grows—more piano.

"What are your thoughts?" He prompts with one hand. You take a very long sip of your tea before putting it down.

"I wouldn't make them feel comfortable," you explain. "That's all I think about."

"Ever so pessimistic, my dear. You never know unless you come to visit. What do you say?" He grabs his mic and jokingly reaches it to your face, "A simple visit?"

You put a hand to your temple. "My love," you sign without noticing how his lids droop in comfort, "do you really think I would belong?"

He puts his hand to his chin in faux thought. "Of course I do! The princess will approach you with open arms."

You let out a small, broken groan. You're not going to be winning this little debate. Alastor's going to be able to rebuttal everything you say. Knowing that, why is it still so hard to give in?

You put your hands in your lap before returning them to your temples. His smile grows, and the static radiating off him grows ever so prominent, tickling your skin. You look up at him when you notice the change in the air.

The way he looks at you gives away his intentions. He is standing tall in his usual formal way in his seat, but his eyes are ever so casual. He gazes at you more than anything. His smile is still wide and prideful.

You wiggle a finger at him. "Ah."

He squints.

You continue, "You want to see me more, don't you?"

"Who wouldn't?" He plays off, shrugging. "Your captivating presence has every demon in hell dropping their jaws agape."

"Youuuuuu," you smile mischievously, "you want to see me more."

He continues to wave his hands. "Your accusations are futile, go ahead and fill your pretty head with things such as affection," his shoulders bounce as he chuckles, "dreams about how I miss you."

A breathless laugh leaves your lips. Rather than continue the teasing, you let the positive atmosphere linger in the air. You lift your chin with confidence. "Practically admitting it."

"I know what you want me from me." He signs. You smile at how he interpreted it. You don't bother responding. Instead, you give him a sly smile and lift your cup, taking another long sip; his bottom eyelid is twitching.

The last time he saw you, he signed you many compliments and even danced with you to the rhythm of your music. He let you put your hand on his face as he leaned his forehead against yours.

Admittedly, you only started teasing him because you wanted him to tell you that he missed you. Obviously, he did. You didn't expect him to be so stubborn about it.

When you don't respond, he continues. "When I'm here, your heart sings in happiness."

You nod and sign with one hand. "Very true."

"Well, I find the sound lovely."

"Very appreciated."

You watch as he leans back and crosses his legs, lifting and finishing the teacup. You both spend a few seconds without conversation, just looking at each other. In an attempt to hide how flustered you are starting to look, you lean your head back and gulp down the tea to the point where the cup is hiding your face. But you can only keep it in that position for a short time. After finishing the drink, you place it back down, finding that Alastor is already sitting with his fingers intertwined and waiting for you. His eyes sparkle.

"My dear, I missed you very much." And as quickly as the affection comes, it disappears. "I must give the little lady what she wants. There, are you happy?"

"I missed you too, Alastor. Thank you for coming up again."

Sappy, sappy, sappy. Will you agree to return to the hotel with him now?

He straights his bowtie and stands. "My dear, I'm afraid our time here will be cut short; I have a hotel to show you, don't I?"

You stay seated, just eyeing him. Peer pressure, you sigh and try not to roll your eyes. A simple nose exhaling is enough to show him how you feel.

He leans his head to the side. "Is there anything I can do to convince you?"

You finally stand and meet his eyes. His eyes are gorgeous; you love the way he looks at you. He doesn't take his eyes off you when you step close to him. Your hands reach for his overcoat, and you adjust it fruitlessly, only wanting an excuse to touch him.

You smile. "I can cook you something for your long trip back."

"Our."

"Your."

You both lean in, smiles straining.

He tries again. "Our."

"Biscuits, I assume," you turn your heels and motion for him to follow you. The motion you make is beckoning, and when you flick your wrist, he grabs it and pulls you into him. He lets you go to see your response. Your heart is beating out of your chest. You fall for people too easily. His touch is demanding, yet his face is calm, and with how close he is, all you can do is stare up at him. Your feet stumble a bit to adjust to your new stance. He will fight tooth and nail to get you to follow him back; throughout his days, he always wonders what you're doing and your music might sound like. He'll close his eyes and try to imagine the melody in moments of silence at the hotel.

You can't find yourself stepping back. "I'm perfectly okay with where I am." A lie. "Nobody will bother me if I'm out here."

"And nobody will bother you when you're next to me, get it?" After he signs, both of his hands hold your cheeks. He tilts your head back and forth to try and lighten the mood that's getting a little serious.

You try to hold his wrists and pull his hands down, but he fights against you. He lifts your face so he can look at you head-on. The waist bends his body; he curls himself up to you. Your touch falls to his sleeves and then moves to his biceps, your fingers grazing him gently.

The music is fast-paced, like your heart. It sounds almost angelic, a new ethereal sound surrounding it.

"Okay," you fold but then immediately chew on the inside of your lip.

"Perfect!" He presses his forehead to yours quickly before pulling away. He's taking this win. He turns and eyes the room, motioning. "Packing anything?"

With a small sigh of defeat, you place your hands on your temples again. What would you even need? Like a spoiled child, you realize that if you did need something in particular, Alastor would get it for you. You smiled and shook your head to yourself. "I don't think I need anything at all."

"Spectacular!" Another dramatic sign. "Come along then." The fast twirling of his staff blows air onto you when you start to walk behind him, eyeing how his fingers twist. His head turns as he glances at you from the corner of his eye, his head dipping as his smile widens. The static in the air becomes thicker.

You take a deep breath. If you can say 'I told you so' to him, you will be bringing it up until the end of time. He knows that, so it's good that he's confident in himself and his deductions. He'll ensure you won't be leaving and isolating yourself any longer.

#x deaf reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor #alastor x reader #x reader #if music be the food of love

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hrefna-the-raven · 4 months ago

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Horror masterlist - Masterlist - Misc. masterlist

RZ Michael Myers x female nurse reader

Part 1 - 2

Words: 1476

Warnings: smut (18+)

Summary: Michael has escaped Smith Grove's Sanitarium...

Reader: short female reader, female genitals in smut scenes

The voice echoing in his mind persisted, urging him to go to Haddonfield but the back door he was sliding open was miles away from it, for today he listened to another power rising from deep within. Stepping inside, he found himself standing in the kitchen, his eyes drawn to the assortment of sweets and candies neatly arranged on the countertop. A faint smile curled at the edges of his mouth, knowing that you had purchased each one of them according to the list. Right next to it, neatly folded, was a black witch costume with a small hat resting atop of it.

You were sitting on the couch, engrossed in the movie "Bates Motel" when a continued cold draft caught finally caught your attention. With a grunt, you switched off the TV and lifted your body from the comfort of the couch, making your way towards the kitchen. Your fingers fumbled in search of the light switch, and as it clicked on, your gaze shot up, landing on the tall masked man standing at the counter, his fingers gliding over the tiny hat from your costume. You immediately recognised deep blue striped pants and the torn dirty gray bathrobe that seemed tiny hanging on his imposing figure.

"Michael!", you shouted in shock and total disbelief.

Your body froze for a moment. It was something else seeing this mountain of man standing in your kitchen, close to midnight, all alone and far away from the security that Smith's Grove provided. How could he even be here? Did he escape? Just as you wondered why nobody had informed you about the escape of the patient you mainly took care of, the sharp ringing of the wall-mounted phone next to you startled both you and Michael. Without diverting your gaze from him, you reached out and grabbed the phone, placing it against your ear and waiting a moment before speaking.

"Hello?"

"Oh nurse, heavens! I'm glad I was able to reach you. Michael has escaped, he killed several on his way out."

There was a pause on the other side as Loomis waited for your reply. Any sane person would have freaked out while being trapped alone in their home with the sanitarium's most infamous patient. The doctor on the other end of the line was you're only chance to call for help and as the thoughts of what any sane person would have done in that moment flashed before your inner vision, your body had its own surprise in store for you. Your hand gestured for Michael to close the door behind him while you shot a warm smile at him before focusing back on the phone call.

"Oh my god, that's terrible! Did someone alarm the police? Do you know where he's headed?"

Michael blinked in disbelief as you faked a shocked tone while the traces of your smile still lingered on your lips. His eyes never left your figure, his hand fumbling behind him to close the door. The enigma that was you continued to surprise him, eluding the expectations formed by the cruel world around him, only to grace him with the kindness he not only thought lost after his mother stopped visiting him. No, you continued to surpass it and as he stood within your kitchen, he almost felt a sense of home, carrying his thoughts to the one he had back then as he briefly wondered where his little sister could be now.

"No I haven't seen him. Why would he come here? Have you checked in Haddonfield where his sister lives now?"

You winked at him, feeling freed from your confidential oath as he was technically, officially, not near you to overhear such information. Michael felt stunned at your response. Back in the sanitarium he had wondered more than once if you'd be able to peak into his mind as you always seemed to understand him so well and now you had answered the very question that had been lingering in his mind. A strange sensation burned underneath his skin as if he wanted to...wanted to kiss you. His breaths grew heavier and his hands pressed tightly against his sides, trying to hide the trembles.

"I'll keep a look out but I'm sure he won't waste any time coming here. You too. Goodnight Dr Loomis."

You hung up the phone and turned back to Michael, taking a few hesitant steps into his direction.

"So...uhm...what brought you here? You could also have tried to find your sister."

A small shivering breath came from behind the mask before Michael slowly pulled it off his face and pointed at you. Your brows furrowed for a moment and you contemplated on the possibilities before answering cautiously.

"Me? You came here because of me? To see me?"

He nodded, placing his mask on the counter beside your costume and sank to his knees, arms outstretched, waiting for you to approach him. He was aware that you probably knew the circumstances that led to his escape, Loomis would have surely informed you how much blood stained his hands tonight. And yet, you chose to send the doctor straight to Haddonfield all the while wearing a smile on your face. You had a choice tonight and you chose him. Tears formed in the corners of his eyes when you wrapped your arms around him, exhaling relieved at the shared closeness. It had been a long time since anyone had chosen him, and now here you were, gently cradling his face, your gaze filled with nothing but affection. His heart ached beautifully as the feeling of home nestled within. He leaned in closer, his lips pressing on yours in a, first, tender kiss that quickly morphed into burning passion he couldn't control any longer. Strong hands slid beneath your butt and you gasped when you were lifted onto the counter. Long fingers wrapped around your shorts and panties, tearing them off with such force that they were flying off to the corner of the kitchen.

"Michael!", you shrieked in surprise but your legs parting on their own betrayed your desire.

Michael groaned at the sight of your wet folds before him. Not only had you chosen him, but you were also willing to surrender yourself to him, to be his. He silently vowed to worship you as the angelic being that you were, grant you the pleasures of the heavens you descended from. Gently, he positioned your legs over his shoulders and leaned forward, his face coming tantalisingly close to your cunt and you could feel his breath fanning over your wetness. A deep, sinful moan escaped your lips as his tongue pressed flat against your swollen clit. His fingers dug deeper into your flesh as your sweet taste began to fill his mouth, igniting a feral hunger within him. His sloppy licks grew faster, sucking at your clit in between before shoving three fingers into your dripping entrance. You cried out in pleasure as he kept thrusting into you, pushing you fast towards the edge of your release. The man between your legs had nothing in common with the shy calm patient from the observation room, the one standing between your legs ate you out like a starved man, worshipping you for the loyalty you showed him. Your fingers entwined in his hair, urging him closer as you bucked your hips and cried out his name, panting and finally coming undone while pure bliss washed over you. Michael mumbled something against your folds before rising and using his sleeve to wipe away your juices from his face. You still breathed heavily, chuckling as you hopped off the countertop, searching for your pants in the kitchen corner.

"That was....wow....I-I should return the favour", you spoke softly, pulling up your pants.

As you glanced up, a short gasp escaped your lips as you discovered Michael already standing beside you, his arms sneaking around your waist as he placed a tender kiss on your forehead.

"Later", he murmured, his voice coarse and deep, "let's sleep."

Those little words, so simple and yet the desire that gave birth to them ran so deep. Michael never truly had someone, his dark thoughts being the only company he ever knew until, one day, you stepped through those doors in the Sanitarium. He had always wondered it how would to be to lie down in bed with someone, not a single worry in his world as only happiness seeped through his body and the warmth of your touch lulling him into slumber. You led him upstairs and cuddled up to him on your bed, slowly sinking into a blissful sleep in the arms of Haddonfield's most feared man. Michael caressed your arm, eyelids growing heavy as he drifted off, one final thought lingering before surrendering to the irresistible lure of slumber. Home...

Feel free to reblog if you enjoyed the story 😊

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burstinn · 1 year ago

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KÖNIG x FTM! READER

NSFW

Warnings nd Notes:

This was a request by a friend

(FtM reader who its their first time having sex. With König, König being a soft Dom)

Nsfw

Sex (18+) no minors

Gets lazy at the end

Short beginning at the end, rushed it as well

Reader is a bottom

It's König.. Again..

Did not add the size kink I read it to late when I rechecked the request

König never really knew you much, he never really understood you. You're not much of a show off person, you mostly keep your gear on. He's not judging all respects to you, he understands people like that.

That was not until you were sent on a mission together, and it went south.. Well for you anyway, your team got what they want. In expense getting you hurt in the process, and König was the only one who was close to you that can help.

So you radio him your location. Somewhere remote behind some rubble and tree. He saw you.. Your gear is off. And, maybe this was disrespectful but God. You looked so.. He didn't know how to put it, well he couldn't he had to snap out of it just to help you with your injuries.

He quickly rushed over to you, not wanting to comment about how you look. Or your.. Top surgery scars. He knew what those are, so he immediately understood why you usually don't take off your gear around anyone or how you usually don't speak much.

"Can you not tell.. Anyone about this?"

König hears you softly mutter as he finishes up your stitches. Silently eyeing you, then back to your chest.

"I won't.."

He replies back, handing you your bloodied gear which you forced yourself to wear.

That's when he started getting.. Interested in you. His own curiosity slowly flourishing into attraction towards you.

He would always find an excuse to hang out with you and it's not like you didn't notice, you're not dumb. Eventually, you did start to warm up to him. Letting yourself be, and finally confessing yes you are transgender on which he readily accepted you.

°°°

Which brings you to right now.

When you and König were joking around König suddenly brings up some sex or like sex stories or something.

Then you confessed to König, that you.. Are a virgin. Hard truth but yeah.. You felt slightly embarrassed.

"I.. Don't have any stories, König I never had-"

"You never slept with anyone..?"

"Yeah"

°°°

The soft creaking of the bed contrasting, your loud moans it reverberating throughout the walls of the room.

You whine digging your nails deep on the sheets of the bed.

Burying your head on the tear stained pillow, crying and gasping out.

You laying on your stomach, squirming under König. His length slowly inching himself inside of you. Whispering small praises and assurance in German and English that goes unheard by you, feeling yourself getting high off Königs cock already.

It hurt but fuck it felt good

You knew König was trying hard to be gentle with you, even if he did want to chase his own pleasure. But, No he focused on yours.

His thick cocks pushing down inside your soft squelching hole.

You thought you could handle it really, you prepared yourself. All that was thrown out by your incessant loud muffled whines.

His rough heavy arms slowly moving up and down your waist, pulling you slowly deeper into his cock.

"Shh.. It's alright, you're okay. You're doing so well"

"Mein maus, just breath.."

You couldn't even answer if you wanted too, opening your mouth only led to more choked out cries looking out of your mouth.

König bends over trailing his hand along your back his hand slowly reaching your neck.

His hot breath sticking to your neck, making your breath hitch in arousal. The hand on your neck moves to your mouth, shutting out your wails of pleasure.

"Es tut mir leid.. Bitte, keep it down please-"

Königs voice just as shaky as your trembling body everytime he pushes his hips forward, hitting that bundle of nerves that makes you arch your back, letting you see stars.

"Just.. Just a little bit, I'm close"

He whispers, his soft lips suckling on the soft skin of your neck. His pace slightly picks up just so he can finish faster, his actions getting more sloppy by how much close he is. He wants to cum badly..

He doesn't even mind that your getting louder to the point his hand covering your mouth almost has little effect. More tears coming out of you, one of his hand on your hip trying to keep you mouth the other on your mouth.

"That's it good boy, gut, Haah--.. So good for me"

König gasps out

The back of his balls already hitting the rear of your ass, but he doesn't stop, opting to go in and out of you. The grip on your hips and mouth tightening every time his dick pushes back inside of your tight hole.

He whines, resting his head on your shoulder, Struggling to hold himself to start fucking you senseless,stoppinghimself to just lift up your lower half and just use you as a fuck hole.

He's close, so close.

"Liebe, are.. Are you close?"

You weakly nod, clenching your hole around his hard soppy dick only makes him want to fuck you harder like no tomorrow.

"Alright.. Alright.. We'll finish together.."

He breaths, fucking in and out of you fast but gently. Removing his hand out of your mouth to focus on you until youre ready to cum. Well it doesn't take long anyway, virgin.

"König.. König! I'm going to-- I'm gonna"

You didn't need to say anything more. He pumps his dick inside of you one last time lifting your ass before he spurts inside of you. While you cum on the sheets on Königs legs as well. As you both groan in satisfaction and relief.

He stays inside of you for a moment, before pulling out slowly. Drips of his cum seeping out of your hole, he gets off you lying right next to you. Both you and his chest breathing heavily from what just transpired. He tilts his head to you, him staring at your puffy face. His tired face frowns slightly in guilt.

"I'm sorry.. Did it hurt? I should've.."

"Shut up.."

You respond shifting your body weight to just move closer to him.

"You did.. Great"

Mumbling as you kiss König on his lips, laying back down beside him as he just stares dumbfounded for some reason. Quickly recovering he smiles to himself, hugging you.

Now you both fell asleep, nice slumber haha, a good fuck and some fluff hahah I'm going to bed. (I lied I'm not going to bed.. I'm just lazy)

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seungfl0wer · 6 months ago

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*Who do you belong to?*

Paring: Felix x Reader (Fem)

Genre: Pure smut

Warnings: Dirty talk, Unprotected sex, Cream Pie, Biting, Slight choking, Throat fucking, Hair pulling. I think that’s all? I’m bad at these.

This may not be suitable for everyone, this is your last warning.

For @gnabnahcsworld who really needed more Dom Felix and I’m happy to deliver 😘 hopefully it doesn’t suck lol

-🩵

You had come to this party with your boyfriend Felix to celebrate one of his colleagues. Since the party was work related he was off mingling with everyone. You found yourself talking to one of his colleagues about something when Felix who finally found you a good 10minutes later stood there shooting daggers at the other man. It didn’t help The party in question was one of those rich people’s parties, all elegant and snazzy with a dress code. So Felix was in a nice tailored suit tie to match your dress. Your dress was to your knees, it showed off every beautiful curve of your body. It was actually lix’s choice for you to wear it.

The problem with that is you looked so good everyone was eyeing you up. He couldn’t help see how everyone was just ogling. He stood across from you tongue pressed to his cheek brows forward just staring as you spoke to a guy. A guy who he in fact wanted nothing more to punch for how close he was to you. You on the other hand were just happy to be there, you didn’t notice the eyes on you. Didn’t even take notice of the man blatantly flirting with you.

You felt lix’s eyes looking at you not realizing he was getting jealous, you just smiled at him. That smile quickly faded as you could see it all written on his face. Felix was never good at hiding his emotions, his face would always give it away and boy did it ever right now. You made your way over to him before giving him a puppy dog look ��what’s the matter lixie? You ok?” You asked. He gave you a slow nod focused on something else. Before you could ask him about it though he had taken your hand leading you across the room.

He lead you to a side room locking the door behind him as you both entered. You turned to him but you didn’t get the chance to even speak before his lips crashed against yours. His kisses were hungry, his eyes dark and his touch feral. He bit the bottom of your lip as his lips latched to your neck. You let out a soft moan before lix had his hand over your mouth. “As much as I want them to hear you screaming my name I’m not trying to get fired.” He said with a soft chuckle.

He left sloppy kisses on your neck, biting down leaving small marks as he licked them soothing them after. His hands found their way under your dress, quickly diving to your soaking cunt. You both groaned at the feeling. Feeling needy. So needy for him.

His fingers curled inside you quickening his pace, as his bites became harsher on your neck. Man loved leaving marks on you. He loved knowing the fact people would know you were his. His and his only.

His hand that was over your mouth found its way to your hair. His fingers tangled in it pulling your head to the side so he could get to your neck better. As his hand slipped away your moans quickly filled the room. He shot a look up to you “keep quiet or your punishment will be worse” he almost hissed. You let out a small whimper bringing your hand over your own mouth this time to muffle your sounds.

Felix removed his fingers from you leaving you whining from the loss of them. He brought them up to lick all your juices off before finding a chair to sit on. As he did so he motioned you over “since you wanna talk to other guys you’re gonna suck me off before I remind you who’s you are.” He said his voice low almost a growl.

You nodded his words making your cunt tremble. He was so fucking hot like this. You loved when he become more dominant. Felix dropped his pants manspreading on the chair cock at full view for you. Your mouth almost watered at the sight. You wasted no time, slowly kissing the tip before bobbing your head down. Your hands went to reach for your clit but lix growled out a deep “no touching” into your ear.

You whined but listened not wanting to get punished for not listening. Felix ran his fingers through your hair again he pushed your head down, making you take all of him. He always enjoyed using your throat for his pleasure. He quickly started to fuck your mouth. Your eyes squinting as small tears welded up at your eyes chocking around his cock. He left out the most sinful groans his movements becoming sloppy as he hit the back of your throat.

He was gonna cum and he was gonna cum hard. He quickened his pace throat fucking you good. You could feel yourself becoming drenched at the feeling of him. You wanted him to cum so he could fuck your soaking cunt.

As he came his hips trembled, his cock still back your throat letting out the hot sticky liquid. He watched as you swallowed it as the good like the good little girl you were. His eyes were so dark, full of lust for you ready for him to burry his cock deep inside you.

He wasted no time standing up. He pulled you up hands under you chin kissing you swiftly before bending you over a desk. He grabbed his cock running it over your sopping wet cunt before pushing in deep. He didn’t give you anytime before he started to pound into you. He went deep. Feeling every part of his cock filling your hole. He knew how you liked it knew the things to get you off and boy was he good at it.

He grabbed your arms pulling them back to grip them as he fucked into you harder “you think that guy could fuck as good as I can?” He said. You shook your head no “say it princess use your words” he said gripping your hair now. Pulling your head to him to say into your ear “Tell me how much you love my cock. Tell me how good I feel pounding you princess. We both know that guy could never satisfy you like I can.” His words finally clicking in your head as to why this all happened. You wanted to tease him tell him you didn’t know if he was better or something but you wanted to walk outta here not have to be wheel chaired out.

You whined back at him your words breathy “n- no one can ever make me feel this good” you said trying to keep composure. You could feel your high coming and the way his cock was twitching his was coming too. “Who’s are you princess, who does this pretty little cunt belong to huh?” He groaned out. Your body was shaking the feeling of him pounding you so hard. His hand smacked your ass leaving a nice size hand print, Before it made its way to your clit. You were so close to coming undone.

“Im yours!” You almost screamed back his hand now playing with your swollen clit “what’s my name” he said taking his other hand to grip around your neck “say my name baby and you can cum.” He said his hand moving fast on your clit as he pounded into you. His thrusts becoming sloppy as his grip around your neck also softened. You knew he was about to cum but he wanted to cum with you.

“Felix!! Fucking god Felix fuck” you moaned his name out loudly loud enough everyone there probably heard you but you couldn’t help it. You felt your high coming “fuck cum for- for me princess I’m cumming too” he breathed out. His hands gripped your hips pushing himself as deep as possible before unloading deep inside of you. You coming undone as well your high hitting you hard. Body shaking as both of your moans filled the room. Felix slumped over you both of you trying to catch your breath.

“That- was hot as hell” you said as he let out a chuckle at your words “yeah well so are you in that dress” he said as he peppered kisses on you. His cock still buried deep inside of you. “Y/n one problem” he said with a smirk. You tilted your head at the his words “my cums gonna drip from you when we go out.” He said as he pulled out pulling your pantries back up. You laughed a bit “well this will make your point that I’m all yours” you teased making you both laugh. He kissed your nose quickly “how about we go home, get some ice cream and just cuddle? I don’t like these parties anyways” he said taking your hand and pulling you out the room.

💙 if you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open feel free to send me something🩵

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paddockletters · 3 months ago

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unseen | jude bellingham

pairing: jude bellingham x reader request: yes / Reader who was bullied when young and then jude and her go to her hometown and everyone feels out cause that freaking jude bellingham and they get like, impressed by reader success as an f1 engineer and that she bagged jude? Sorry its way too specific author’s note: Hope you liked it!... as I always say... english is not my first language so pardon me if there are mistakes —feel free to tell me— and my requests are open!👀

The memories of my school days never really left me. Every now and then, they’d come creeping back — a careless comment someone made, or the way people used to whisper when I walked past. I could still picture the sneers, the cold stares, and the cutting remarks. The bullying wasn’t always physical, but the emotional scars felt just as deep. Being the quiet girl who loved math, cars, and physics made me an easy target. I didn’t fit in with the other girls who were into makeup and parties. I was more interested in tweaking engines and dreaming of Formula 1. That difference marked me.

It all began in middle school when I started to realize just how out of place I was. My grades were high, my social skills not so much. Every time I raised my hand in class, there’d be snickers. Every time I’d walk down the hall with my oversized glasses, someone would mutter a snide remark. The bullying wasn’t brutal, but it was consistent, gnawing at me bit by bit. High school wasn’t much better. The teasing continued, though by then, I had learned to keep my head down and drown out the noise by focusing on my dream of working in Formula 1.

Fast forward a few years, and here I am — an engineer for one of the top F1 teams. The transformation was surreal. Sometimes, I still have to pinch myself. Who would’ve thought that the same girl who spent her lunch breaks in the library, sketching out car designs, would one day be standing in the pit lane at Monaco?

But something even crazier happened along the way — I met Jude Bellingham.

It wasn’t some grand, love-at-first-sight story. I wasn’t starstruck when I first saw him. In fact, I didn’t even know who he was. We met at a charity event, one aimed at inspiring young athletes and professionals from underprivileged backgrounds to chase their dreams. Jude was there as the football star, while I had been invited to speak about my journey into F1. He seemed genuinely interested during my talk, but we didn’t interact much that day. It wasn’t until I received a DM on Instagram a few days later that things really started.

“Hey, I loved your speech at the event. I’m Jude, by the way — football player. Would love to grab coffee sometime if you’re up for it.”

I remember staring at my phone, thinking it was a prank. A football star wanted to get coffee with me? It felt like a joke. But I responded, and we met. Coffee turned into long dinners, long dinners turned into walks in the park, and those walks turned into a relationship.

Jude wasn’t what I expected. Sure, he was famous, but he was also kind, funny, and remarkably down-to-earth. He never treated me like I was less important than him. If anything, he seemed fascinated by my work. He’d ask me endless questions about the F1 cars, the strategies, the engineering behind the speed. I’d tease him about football, asking if he really knew what went into designing the perfect car. We just clicked.

Still, going back to my hometown was something I hadn’t done in years. The memories were too bitter. But Jude wanted to go. He wanted to see where I grew up, to meet the people who had shaped me, for better or worse. So we planned a trip. I was nervous as hell, but Jude? He was excited.

The car ride to my hometown felt like an eternity. As Jude hummed along to the soft rhythm of the music playing through the speakers, my mind was far from the road. I hadn’t been back here in years, not since I’d left for university. The thought of returning had always been… daunting. I wasn’t ready to face the ghosts of the past. Or, more specifically, the people who had made my life a living hell when I was younger.

I glanced at Jude, who was focused on the road, one hand casually resting on the wheel, the other on my leg, giving me an occasional reassuring squeeze. His presence grounded me, but that nervous pit in my stomach kept growing the closer we got.

“You’re quiet,” he said, glancing at me.

I forced a smile. “Just... thinking.”

Jude raised an eyebrow, his tone soft as he asked, “About?”

“About how weird this is going to be. I haven’t been back here in years, Jude. People… they remember things. They remember who I was.”

“And who you were is exactly who I love. You know that, right?” he said, giving my thigh another squeeze.

I chuckled softly, leaning back into the seat, trying to push the anxiety down.

“I know. It’s just that, back then, I was the awkward girl who couldn’t fit in. Now I’m walking into town holding hands with Jude Bellingham. People are going to freak out.”

“They’ll freak out because you’re a freaking Formula 1 engineer, not because of me,” he said, grinning. “I bet half the people in town have posters of you in their garage next to their Ferrari die-casts or something.”

“Oh please,” I laughed, rolling my eyes. “No one from my town cares about F1.”

“They should. You’re a genius.”

Jude’s words were always so simple, but they held so much weight. He had a way of making me feel seen, really seen, in a way no one else ever had. That’s what made everything with him feel so different. He wasn’t just the football star that millions of people idolized; he was my Jude, the one who asked me about race strategies and remembered the names of the engineers on my team.

We arrived at the town square just as the afternoon sun cast a warm glow over the small, familiar streets. The sight of it brought back a wave of memories — good and bad. It was strange how everything looked smaller now, less intimidating. The buildings I used to walk past with my head down, trying not to be noticed, now seemed so ordinary.

Jude parked the car, pulling his baseball cap down over his head as we stepped out. I could already see a few people glancing in our direction, their eyes widening with recognition. They weren’t just looking at him, though. They were looking at me.

“Hey, you okay?” Jude asked, stepping closer to me, his arm wrapping around my waist.

I nodded, even though I wasn’t entirely sure. “Yeah, it’s just… surreal.”

We started walking through the town square, hand in hand. I tried to ignore the stares, the whispers. But they were everywhere.

“Oh my god, is that… Jude Bellingham?”

“Wait, isn’t that the girl who used to go to school here? She’s, like, a big deal now, right?”

“I heard she works in Formula 1. How did she end up with him?”

I bit my lip, feeling the familiar wave of insecurity creeping in. But Jude seemed unfazed. If anything, he walked a little taller, as if daring anyone to say something negative. He pulled me in closer, planting a kiss on my temple as we crossed the square.

As we walked into the shopping center, we decided to stop by a café for a drink. I could already feel the buzz of recognition in the air as people realized who Jude was.

Jude sat across from me, casually sipping his drink as if we were anywhere else in the world. He had his cap pulled low over his face, trying to avoid drawing attention, but it was hard not to notice him. He was Jude Bellingham after all.

The stares had started the moment we walked into the square, but he didn’t seem to mind. He had this effortless calm about him, the way he handled attention, fame. Meanwhile, I was doing my best not to feel like I was under a spotlight, even though I knew people were whispering and pointing, probably trying to figure out why he was with me.

I caught a glance from a group of teenagers at the table across from us. They were huddled together, looking our way, giggling and whispering. I sighed, already feeling a bit on edge.

Jude noticed. “You okay?” he asked, his voice low and gentle.

I forced a smile and nodded. “Yeah, just... weird being back here.”

“I can imagine,” he said, reaching across the table to take my hand. His thumb brushed over my knuckles in that soothing way he always did. “You’re sure you want to do this?”

I took a deep breath, glancing around the café. “It’s fine. Just... a lot of memories, you know?”

He squeezed my hand, his gaze soft and understanding. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“I want to,” I said, surprising myself. I had never really told him the full story before.

He knew bits and pieces, but I had kept most of it to myself. Maybe it was time to let him in.

I looked down at our intertwined hands, thinking back to those years.

“I wasn’t exactly the most popular kid,” I started, my voice quieter than I intended.

“I was the one they picked on. The ‘geeky’ one. I loved math, engineering, all the stuff no one else thought was cool. I spent more time in the library than anywhere else. They made fun of me for it—my glasses, my clothes, the fact that I never fit in.”

Jude’s expression softened. “Kids can be cruel.”

“They were,” I agreed, a bitter laugh escaping me. “It wasn’t just teasing though. It got pretty bad at times. I used to dread coming to school. Every day felt like walking into a battlefield. I just wanted to disappear, you know?”

Jude’s grip on my hand tightened slightly. “I hate that you went through that.”

I shrugged, trying to play it off like it didn’t matter anymore.

“It’s in the past. I got out. I became an F1 engineer, so jokes on them, I guess.”

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You don’t have to act like it doesn’t still hurt. It’s okay to feel that.”

I looked up at him, my throat tightening with the emotion I hadn’t realized was building up.

“It does, sometimes. I mean, I know I’ve made it, but coming back here... it just brings all that stuff up again.”

He stood up then, coming around the table to sit beside me. Without a word, he pulled me into a hug, his arms wrapping around me protectively.

“You’re so much stronger than you give yourself credit for,” he whispered into my hair. “You’re brilliant, and you’ve worked so hard to get where you are. They didn’t see that back then, but it doesn’t matter. I see it. The world sees it now.”

I leaned into him, letting his warmth and words wrap around me like a blanket.

We stayed like that for a few moments before pulling apart slightly, Jude resting his forehead against mine.

“You’ve got nothing to prove to anyone here,” he said softly. “You’re you, and that’s more than enough.”

I smiled, squeezing his hand. “Thank you. For always knowing what to say.”

Jude grinned, leaning back in his chair. “Well, you did bag me, so I’d say you’re doing something right.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“It’s part of my charm,” he teased, flashing that trademark grin.

As we sat there, talking about everything and nothing, a few more people came up to us. A couple of them recognized me from school. I could see the surprise in their eyes, like they couldn’t believe the girl they used to tease was sitting here with a world-famous footballer.

“Hey, I remember you,” a girl of the group said, her voice laced with nostalgia. “You were in my physics class, right?”

I nodded, offering a polite smile. “Yeah, that’s right.”

“Wow,” she said, glancing between me and Jude. “I heard you’re doing big things now. Formula 1, right?”

“Yeah, I’m an engineer for one of the teams.”

“That’s… amazing,” she said, looking genuinely impressed. “I always knew you were smart, but I didn’t realize… well, you know.”

I wasn’t sure how to respond, but Jude jumped in, his arm draping casually around my shoulders.

“She’s a genius. She’ll never admit it, but she’s probably the best engineer in F1 right now.”

I blushed, nudging him playfully. “Stop exaggerating.”

The girl chuckled awkwardly, clearly a bit starstruck by Jude’s presence. “Well, it’s great to see you doing so well. And… with him. That’s pretty cool.”

After she left, I turned to Jude, who was grinning like he’d just won the Champions League.

“What?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

Jude grinned. “See? People notice. They’re impressed, as they should be.”

I rolled my eyes playfully. “You’re biased.”

“Maybe,” he said, leaning in to kiss my temple. “But I’m also right.”

As we walked through the shopping center, I could still feel people glancing our way, some whispering, others taking quick pictures on their phones. But for the first time, I didn’t feel like the awkward, out-of-place girl from school. I felt like someone who had earned her place in the world, someone who had worked hard and made it.

A few more people came up to Jude, asking for pictures or autographs, but he always made sure to include me in the conversation, making it clear that I wasn’t just the girl on his arm. I was someone in my own right.

At one point, a young girl, probably no older than ten, approached me shyly. She held a notebook in her hand, her eyes wide with admiration.

“Excuse me,” she said quietly, “are you the F1 engineer? The one who works with the cars?”

I blinked in surprise, glancing at Jude before nodding. “Yeah, that’s me.”

Her face lit up, and she held out her notebook. “Could I have your autograph? I want to be an engineer one day, just like you.”

My heart melted, and I took the notebook from her, scribbling my name with a quick message of encouragement. “You can be whatever you want to be,” I told her, handing it back. “Just keep working hard and never stop believing in yourself.”

She smiled, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Thank you!”

As she ran off, I turned to Jude, who was watching me with a proud smile.

“See?” he said softly. “You’re a role model.”

I smiled, leaning into him. “I guess I am.”

As we walked, Jude nudged me with his elbow.

“You handled that like a pro.”

“I don’t know how you do it all the time,” I said, shaking my head in disbelief.

He laughed. “You get used to it.”

Jude looked over at me, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“I’m proud of you, you know.”

I glanced up at him, my heart swelling with affection. “For what?”

“For being you. For everything you’ve accomplished. And for putting up with me,” he teased, nudging me playfully.

I laughed, feeling lighter than I had in years. “It’s not always easy, but I manage.”

As we left the shopping center and headed back to the car, I realized something important. This place might have been where my story started, but it didn’t define me anymore. I had moved on, grown, become someone I was proud of. And with Jude by my side, I knew I could face whatever came next, even if it meant coming back to the place I once tried so hard to leave behind.

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham blurb #jude bellingham fluff #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham oneshot #jude bellingham imagines #jude bellingham blurbs #football blurb #football imagines #football imagine #real madrid #jude bellingham fanfic #jb5 #hey jude #jude bellingham one shot

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23victoria · 7 months ago

Text

Am I Still Me? ❀

f1 grid x fem!reader, charles leclerc x fem!reader

wc: 6.6k+

summary: the aftermath of y/n’s horrible crash in suzaka, part 2 to ready, set, suzuka!!

warnings: cussing, angsty, sad, kinda depressing ig, emotional and physical trauma

authors note: sorry i took so long with this, honestly didn’t know what to write 😭💀, also if you get some of the references i put in here and characters names you a real one!! any feedback is appreciated and please like, comment, and reblog!! hope you enjoy!!

PART 1

f1 masterlist

The beeping of machines, the sterile smell of antiseptic, the distant murmurs of nurses and doctors—it all blurs together into a foggy haze. When you finally open your eyes, it’s like surfacing from a deep, dark ocean. The light is too bright, the sounds too sharp. Your body feels heavy, achingly so, and it takes a moment for the fog to clear enough for you to remember why you're here.

The Japan Grand Prix. The crash. The pain.

Your vision focuses slowly, revealing the worried faces of your parents, sitting by your bedside. Your mother's eyes are red-rimmed, and your father's face is etched with concern. When they see you awake, relief floods their expressions.

“Y/N, sweetheart,” your mother whispers, her voice thick with emotion. “You’re awake.”

You try to speak, but your throat is dry and scratchy. Your dad quickly offers you a sip of water, helping you take small, careful sips.

“How long…?” you manage to croak out, your voice barely more than a whisper.

“About a week,” he replies gently. “They had you in an induced coma to help your body heal.”

You try to take in the information, but your mind is sluggish, struggling to process it all. You notice the casts on your left leg, the bandages wrapped around your torso. Every breath sends a dull ache through your ribs.

“Your injuries were severe,” your mom says softly, as if reading your thoughts. “The doctor said you had a punctured lung and liver, three broken ribs, a laceration to your kidney, and broken femur and tibia in your left leg. The doctors… they did everything they could.”

The gravity of her words sinks in slowly. You close your eyes, tears escaping, feeling the weight of your injuries, the immense road to recovery ahead.

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The days blur together, filled with endless medical procedures and physical therapy sessions. The pain is constant, a relentless companion that gnaws at your resolve. The physical therapy is grueling, each session pushing your body to its limits. Your left leg, encased in a cast, feels like it’s made of lead. The simplest movements send waves of pain through you.

Your parents are always there, their support unwavering, but you can see the toll it’s taking on them. They try to hide it, but you notice the way your mother’s hands tremble when she thinks you’re not looking, or the way your father’s shoulders sag with exhaustion.

It’s not just the physical pain that wears you down. The psychological toll is immense. The fear, the uncertainty—it’s all-consuming. The thought of never racing again haunts you, a dark cloud that looms over every waking moment.

Despite their best efforts, the doctors and therapists can’t hide the reality from you. Your injuries are severe, and the road to recovery is long and uncertain. There are no guarantees that you’ll ever be able to race again.

A few weeks into your recovery, your finally allowed visitors, you receive a visit from Max. He enters the room with a tentative smile, looking unsure of how to approach you.

“Hey, Y/N,” he says, his voice soft. “How are you holding up?”

You force a smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. “I’ve been better,” you admit, your voice tinged with bitterness.

Max sits beside your bed, his expression serious. “I can’t even begin to imagine what you’re going through,” he says. “But I want you to know that we’re all here for you. Whatever you need.”

You nod, grateful for his words but unable to shake the feeling of despair that clings to you. “Thanks, Max,” you say quietly. “It means a lot.”

He stays for a while, chatting about the latest races and team developments, trying to lift your spirits. But when he leaves, the emptiness returns, heavier than before.

Lewis visits next, his brotherly presence a comforting balm. He’s always been a source of inspiration and comfort for you, and seeing him now brings a glimmer of hope.

“Hey Y/N/N,” he says warmly, enveloping you in a gentle hug. “It’s so good to see you.”

You manage a weak smile. “Thanks for coming, Lew.”

He sits with you, sharing stories and offering words of encouragement. “You’re one of the strongest people I know,” he tells you. “If anyone can come back from this, it’s you.”

His words touch you deeply, but the doubts still linger.

George's visit is bittersweet. He’s always been like a brother to you, and seeing his concern is both comforting and heartbreaking.

“Hey, Y/N/N,” he says softly, his eyes filled with worry. “How are you holding up?”

You shrug, trying to mask your frustration. “Some days are better than others.”

He takes your hand, squeezing it gently. “I know it’s tough, but you’re not alone in this. We’re all here for you.”

You nod, but the words feel hollow. The reality of your situation is a heavy burden, one that seems to grow with each passing day.

Lando brings a burst of energy into your room, his usual cheeky grin tempered by concern. “Hey, superstar,” he says, trying to lighten the mood. “You’re looking better than I expected.”

You chuckle, appreciating his attempt to make you laugh. “Thanks, Lando. I guess I clean up well.”

He spends the visit telling you funny stories and trying to distract you from your pain. For a brief moment, you almost forget about your troubles. But when he leaves, the emptiness returns with a vengeance.

Oscar visit is quieter, more introspective. He’s always been a man of few words, and today is no different.

“Y/N/N,” he says, his voice gentle. “I’ve been thinking about you a lot.”

“Thanks, Oscar,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

He sits beside you, his presence a comforting anchor. “So…what do you wanna talk about?,” he says simply.

You look at him surprised, “What do I want to talk about?”

“Yea, what did you want to talk about” he says softly.

“You're not going to tell me that “You're strong, you’ve got this, you're gonna overcome this” you say indifferently.

He shakes his head saying “Nope.”

“Why?” you ask.

“Because I'm pretty sure everyone else who visited you has said the same thing, so I want to know what you want to talk about. Any good shows you’ve been watching? Hospital drama? Yes, no, maybe? Tell me I wanna know” he says gently.

You smile at him, greatly appreciating the normalcy his bring. You smile saying, “Did you bring food?”

He smirks, laughing “Yes I brought you y/f/f.”

You squeal, happy to have some outside food, the hospital starting to bore you. “Yes, there is some hospital drama. Apparently a resident has been sleeping with a neurosurgeon, and get this, he was married the whole time! And he didn’t tell her until his wife showed up last night for a case!” you say opening your bag of food.

Oscar looks at you in shock, “No way! Holy shit! Tell me more!”

Charles visit is the hardest. He’s always been your closest friend on the circuit, and seeing the pain in his eyes is almost too much to bear.

“Y/N/N,” he says, his voice choked with emotion. “I’m so sorry.”

“Charles,” you say, reaching out to take his hand. “It’s not your fault.”

He nods, but you can see the guilt etched into his features. “I know but I still feel like I should’ve been there for you earlier,” he says quietly.

“You were,” you reply, your voice firm. “And you still are.”

He stays with you for a long time, his presence a comforting reminder of the bond you share. But even his support can’t chase away the shadows that cling to your mind.

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One particularly difficult day, you’re in the middle of a grueling physical therapy session. The pain in your left leg is excruciating, and every movement feels like a battle. You’re sweating, gasping for breath, and on the verge of tears.

“I can’t do this,” you whisper, your voice trembling with frustration and pain. “It’s too hard.”

Your physical therapist, a kind but firm woman named Maria, looks at you with sympathy. “I know it’s hard, Y/N,” she says gently. “But you’re stronger than you think. You’ve come so far already. Don’t give up now.”

You want to believe her, but the doubts are overwhelming. The thought of never racing again haunts you, a constant shadow that refuses to be dispelled.

“I’m worried about her, Y/F/N,” your mom says, her voice thick with worry. “She’s losing hope.”

“I know,” he replies, his voice equally troubled. “We need to do something.”

The next day, they call a meeting with all the drivers who have visited you. They gather together like a small conference room, their faces etched with concern.

“Thank you all for coming,” your dad begins, his voice serious. “We wanted to talk to you about Y/N. She’s struggling, and we need your help.”

Your mom nods, her eyes filled with tears. “She’s losing hope, and we’re afraid she’s going to give up. We need you to remind her of the fighter she is, to help her see that she can get through this.”

Lewis, George, Lando, Oscar, Max, and Charles exchange worried glances, their expressions serious. They all care deeply about you, and the thought of you giving up is unbearable.

“We’ll do whatever it takes,” Lewis says firmly. “We’re not going to let her give up.”

The others nod in agreement, their resolve clear. They begin to plan regular visits, phone calls, and messages of encouragement, determined to lift your spirits and help you see the light at the end of the tunnel.

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The next few weeks bring a steady stream of visitors. Max is the first to arrive, his usual confidence tempered by concern.

“Hey, Y/N,” he says, sitting beside your bed. “I brought you something.”

He hands you a small box, and when you open it, you find a miniature model of your race car. “I thought it might help you remember what you’re fighting for,” he says quietly.

You smile, touched by the gesture. “Thank you, Max. It means a lot.”

Lewis is next, bringing a stack of racing magazines and a collection of your favorite movies. “I thought you could use some entertainment,” he says with a smile.

George brings a scrapbook filled with photos and memories from your racing career. “I want you to remember how far you’ve come,” he says softly.

Lando arrives with a box of your favorite snacks and a playlist of uplifting songs. “Music always helps me when I’m feeling down,” he says with a grin.

Oscar arrives with a stack of books, his quiet presence a calming balm. “I know you love to read,” he says simply. “I thought these might help you pass the time.”

Charles comes last, bringing a framed photo of the two of you celebrating after a race. “I want you to remember all the good times we’ve had,” he says softly. “And all the ones we still have ahead of us.”

Their visits bring a small measure of comfort, but the road to recovery remains daunting. The physical pain is relentless, and the psychological toll is equally severe. There are days when you feel like giving up, when the thought of never racing again is too much to bear.

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Today was another day of physical therapy, the room was sterile, the fluorescent lights casting a harsh glow on the rows of equipment in the physical therapy room. You sat on the padded bench, beads of sweat dripping down your forehead. Your physical therapist, Maria, stood in front of you, her expression firm yet encouraging.

"Alright, Y/N, we're going to try to put a little more weight on your leg today," Maria said, her voice gentle but insistent. "You’re making great progress, but we need to push a bit more."

You nodded mechanically, gritting your teeth. The pain was a constant, gnawing presence in your leg, a cruel reminder of the crash that had shattered more than just your bones. You took a deep breath and tried to stand, but the agony was immediate and overwhelming. You crumpled back onto the bench, gasping.

"Come on, Y/N, you can do this," Maria urged. "Just one more try."

Something inside you snapped. The relentless pain, the frustration, the overwhelming sense of loss—everything boiled to the surface. You exploded.

"NO! NO! NO! I CAN'T DO THIS!" you screamed, your voice echoing off the walls. "I CAN'T! IT HURTS! I'M IN PAIN! AND DON'T YOU TELL ME YOU KNOW HOW IT FEELS WHEN YOU DON'T! YOU HAVEN'T LOST THE ABILITY TO WALK! YOU HAVEN'T BEEN TOLD YOU MIGHT NOT BE ABLE TO DO THE ONE THING THAT GAVE PURPOSE TO YOUR LIFE!"

The room fell silent, the weight of your words hanging in the air. Maria's face paled, and she took a step back, her hands raised in a placating gesture.

"Y/N, I—" she began, but you cut her off.

"Just please, take me to my room," you said, your voice breaking. "I can't do this anymore."

Maria hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Okay," she said softly. She turned to call a nurse. "Please take Y/N back to her room."

The nurse arrived within minutes, her face a mask of professional concern. She helped you into a wheelchair and wheeled you down the long, sterile corridors back to your room. The journey was a blur, the walls closing in on you, each turn of the wheel a reminder of your limitations.

Once inside your room, you pushed yourself onto the bed, curling up into a ball. The nurse lingered for a moment, her eyes filled with sympathy.

"Do you need anything, Y/N?" she asked quietly.

"No," you muttered. "Just leave me alone."

The nurse nodded and exited, closing the door softly behind her. The silence that followed was deafening. You lay there, staring at the ceiling, feeling the weight of despair settle over you. The hours dragged by, each second a reminder of the future that felt increasingly out of reach.

You heard the faint knock on the door but didn’t respond. You knew it was someone coming to check on you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. The knocks continued throughout the day, but you ignored them all.

You didn’t eat, didn’t speak, didn’t move. The room grew darker as the hours passed, the light outside fading into night. The pain in your leg was nothing compared to the ache in your heart, the sense of hopelessness that had settled in like a lead weight.

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Nights like this are the hardest. The darkness magnifies your fears, turning whispers of doubt into deafening roars. It’s one of those nights now, the kind where sleep seems impossible. The weight of your injuries and the uncertainty of your future press down on you like a suffocating blanket.

A soft knock on your hospital door interrupts your spiral of despair. It’s Charles, his silhouette framed by the dim light from the hallway. He steps inside quietly, his eyes searching yours with concern.

“Hey,” he says softly, pulling up a chair next to your bed. “I heard what happened, thought I’d check on you.”

You manage a weak smile, but it quickly fades. “Thanks for coming,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “I’m not great company right now.”

He takes your hand, his touch warm and reassuring. “You don’t have to be. I’m here for you, no matter what.”

For a moment, the two of you sit in silence, the weight of your shared pain filling the room. Then, the dam breaks.

“I don’t know how to do this, Charles,” you confess, your voice trembling. “Every day feels like a battle, and I’m so tired. I’m scared I’ll never race again. Racing is everything to me. It’s my passion, my dream. And now… I feel like it’s slipping away.”

Tears stream down your face, and Charles moves closer, wrapping his arms around you. You bury your face in his shoulder, letting out all the pain and frustration you’ve been holding in. His embrace is warm and strong, a safe haven in your storm of emotions.

“I know,” he whispers, his voice breaking with emotion. “I know how much racing means to you. It’s not fair what’s happened. It’s not fair that you’re hurting like this.”

You pull back slightly, looking into his eyes. You can see the tears there too, the raw pain he’s been holding back. “Charles, I feel like my life is over. If I can’t race… what’s the point? It’s all I’ve ever wanted. Without it, I don’t know who I am.”

He cups your face in his hands, his eyes filled with determination and love. “Y/N, you are so much more than a racer. You’re strong, and brave, and passionate. You’ve touched so many lives, including mine. This injury doesn’t define you. You do.”

You shake your head, the weight of despair still heavy on your heart. “But what if I can’t do it? What if I can never race again?”

Charles’s grip on you tightens, his voice firm but gentle. “Then we’ll find a new dream, together. But I believe in you, Y/N. I’ve seen what you can do. You’ve overcome so much already. Don’t give up now.”

His words pierce through the fog of your despair, lighting a small spark of hope. “But what if I fail? What if I can’t come back from this?”

Charles’s eyes lock onto yours, filled with a fierce resolve. “Then I’ll be there to catch you, every step of the way. We’ll face it together, no matter what. You’re not alone in this, and you never will be.”

The sincerity in his voice, the unwavering support in his eyes, brings fresh tears to your eyes. “Charles, I’m so scared.”

“I know,” he whispers, his own tears falling freely now. “And it’s okay to be scared. But don’t let fear steal your dreams. We’ll fight this, one day at a time.”

You lean into him, your hearts beating in sync as you cry together, the shared pain and love binding you closer than ever. In his arms, you find a flicker of hope, a reason to keep fighting.

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The next day your parents come in, their expressions filled with concern. They sit on either side of your bed, each taking one of your hands.

“Y/N,” your mother says softly, her voice filled with emotion. “We know you’re going through a lot. But we’re here for you, every step of the way.”

Your father nods, his grip on your hand firm and reassuring. “You’re not alone in this. We’re all rooting for you. And so are your friends.”

You nod, but the doubts still linger. The thought of facing another day of pain and struggle is almost too much to bear.

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It’s been five miserable and grueling months in the hospital. You’ve improved a lot, the doctors say but you just feel like you're stuck in limbo, going nowhere. Today you receive a surprise visit from all the drivers at once. Lewis, George, Lando, Oscar, Max, and Charles fill your room, their presence a comforting reminder of the support you have.

“Hey, superstar,” Lando says with a grin. “We’ve got a little surprise for you.”

He hands you a small box, and when you open it, you find a collection of letters and messages from fans all over the world. Each one is filled with words of encouragement and support, reminding you of the impact you’ve had on so many lives.

You feel a lump in your throat as you read through the letters, each one a reminder of why you started racing in the first place. The passion, the thrill, the joy—it’s all still there, buried beneath the pain and fear.

“We’re not going to let you give up,” Max says firmly. “You’re one of the strongest people we know. And we believe in you.”

Lewis nods, his expression serious. “You’ve overcome so much already. This is just another challenge, and we know you can get through it.”

George takes your hand, his eyes filled with determination. “We’re here for you, Y/N/N. Every step of the way.”

The others nod in agreement, their support unwavering. In that moment, you feel a flicker of hope, a small but growing light in the darkness.

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As the days fly by, the recovery process grinds on. The physical and psychiatric therapy sessions remain grueling, one pushing your body to its limits and the other peeling back layers of fear and doubt you didn't even know existed. You're forced to confront not just the physical pain, but the emotional turmoil of possibly losing the one thing that has defined you for so long: racing.

“Tell me about your fears, Y/N,” Dr. Yang, your therapist, prompts gently during one of your sessions.

You take a deep breath, the words sticking in your throat. “I’m terrified that I’ll never be the same again,” you admit. “Racing was everything to me. It was my passion, my identity. What if I can’t do it anymore? What if I’m not...me?”

Dr. Yang nods, her eyes full of understanding. “It’s natural to feel that way. But remember, you’re more than just a driver. You have other strengths, other passions.”

You shake your head, frustration bubbling up. “But I don’t want to be anyone else. I don’t know how to be anyone else. Racing was my life. Without it, I feel...lost.”

Dr. Yang leans forward, her voice soft but firm. “You’ve been through a traumatic experience, Y/N. It’s okay to feel lost right now. But this is also an opportunity to discover new parts of yourself, to grow in ways you never imagined.”

The thought of having to reinvent yourself is daunting. The stress and anxiety of not being able to race again loom large, casting long shadows over your recovery. Each day is a battle against these fears, a struggle to hold onto the hope that you can still find a way back to the track.

Each therapy session, both physical and psychiatric, feels like an uphill battle. The pain, both physical and emotional, is relentless, and the progress often feels painfully slow.

During one particularly tough session, you break down. “I don’t know if I can do this,” you sob, the tears streaming down your face. “I don’t know if I can ever be the Y/N I used to be.”

Dr. Yang sits quietly for a moment, letting your words hang in the air. “You’re right,” she says finally. “You might never be the same Y/N you were before the accident. But that doesn’t mean you can’t find a new version of yourself, one who is just as strong and passionate, even if in different ways.”

Her words strike a chord, the truth of them both painful and liberating.

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One day, after a successful therapy session, you receive another surprise visit from Charles. He enters the room with a bright smile, holding a small box.

“Hey, Y/N/N,” he says, his voice filled with warmth. “I’ve got something for you.”

You open the box to find a small, intricately designed keychain in the shape of a racing car. “It’s beautiful,” you say, touched by the gesture.

“It’s a reminder,” Charles says softly. “Of your passion, your strength, and your determination. No matter what happens, you’re still a racer at heart.”

You feel tears welling up in your eyes, but this time they’re tears of gratitude. “Thank you, Charles,” you say, your voice choked with emotion. “I needed this.”

He smiles, his eyes filled with warmth. “We all believe in you, Y/N. And we’re here to help you every step of the way.”

⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱ ✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱

The days that follow are still hard, but the nights are a little easier with Charles by your side. One night, as you’re lying in bed, exhausted from another day of therapy, Charles sits beside you, his hand gently stroking your hair. “You know, I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said,” he begins, his voice soft and contemplative.

“About what?” you ask, your curiosity piqued.

“About racing being your life, your dream,” he replies. “I get it. Racing is my dream too. But I’ve realized something important. Dreams can evolve. They can grow. And sometimes, when one dream ends, it makes room for a new one.”

You look at him, your eyes searching his. “What do you mean?”

He smiles, a small, hopeful smile. “I mean that no matter what happens, you’re not defined by this one thing. You have so much passion, so much drive. If racing isn’t in the cards anymore, I know you’ll find something else that lights that fire in you. And I’ll be there to support you, every step of the way.”

His words are like a balm to your soul, soothing the deep wounds of doubt and fear. “Thank you, Charles,” you whisper, your voice filled with gratitude. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” he replies, his voice filled with unwavering conviction. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”

⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱ ✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱

The days continue to blur together, but with each passing week, you begin to see more progress. The pain is still there, but it’s no longer as overwhelming. The therapy sessions remain challenging, but you start to look forward to them, eager to see how far you can push yourself.

Your friends and family continue to visit regularly, their support a constant source of strength. Max, Lewis, George, Lando, Oscar, and Charles all make it a point to check in on you, their encouragement lifting your spirits.

And through it all, Charles is by your side, his presence a comforting reminder that you’re not alone in this fight. His unwavering support, his quiet strength, his deep love—they’re the anchors that keep you grounded, the lights that guide you through the darkest nights.

As the months continue to pass, you begin to see more and more progress. The pain is still there, but it’s no longer as overwhelming. The therapy sessions remain challenging, but you start to look forward to them, eager to see how far you can push yourself.

⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱ ✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱

It's been six months since the accident. Half a year of relentless therapy, sleepless nights, and countless tears. But today, as you sit in the hospital's discharge room, a sense of cautious optimism fills the air.

Dr. Yang, your psychiatrist, and Dr. Miller, your orthopedic specialist, sit across from you. Dr. Miller adjusts his glasses and smiles warmly. "Y/N, I have to say, your progress has been remarkable. You're officially discharged."

You exhale, a weight lifting off your shoulders. "Thank you, Dr. Miller. Thank you, Dr. Yang."

Dr. Miller nods. "Remember, Y/N, this is just the beginning. You'll need to continue with your physical therapy and workouts to strengthen your body. We also need you to come in for your planned appointments. But if you keep up the good work, we're hopeful you could start racing again by next year."

Dr. Yang chimes in, "In about a month, you can begin to slowly train with your racing trainers to get back to racing. We know how much this means to you."

The relief washes over you. The thought of getting back behind the wheel, even if it's just in training, ignites a flicker of hope.

"Thank you both," you say, your voice trembling with emotion. "I can't wait to get back to it."

As you leave the discharge room, your heart pounds with a mix of excitement and nervousness. The past six months have been a rollercoaster of emotions, but today, you feel a renewed sense of purpose.

When you step out of the hospital doors, a loud cheer erupts. There, standing together, are the boys: Charles, Lewis, George, Lando, Oscar, and Max. They hold up a large banner that reads, "Welcome Back, Y/N!" and they're all grinning from ear to ear.

Charles is the first to reach you, pulling you into a tight hug. "We knew you could do it," he whispers.

Lewis steps forward next, a proud smile on his face. "Told you, didn't I? You're stronger than you think."

George gives you a high five, his excitement palpable. "Y/N’s back in action!"

Lando and Oscar cheer loudly, their enthusiasm infectious. "We missed you!" they say in unison.

Max, usually so stoic, actually looks emotional. "You had us worried for a while, but we never doubted you'd be back."

You laugh, wiping away happy tears. "Thank you, guys. I couldn't have done this without your support."

Charles takes your hand, his eyes shining with pride. "Let's get you home."

⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱ ✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱

The drive home is filled with laughter and lighthearted banter. The boys recount stories from the past six months, filling you in on all the racing drama you've missed. It's comforting to know that life has continued on the track, even as you've fought your personal battles.

Once home, you step into your apartment, which has been kept in perfect order by your parents. The familiar surroundings bring a sense of peace. Your parents are there, tears of joy in their eyes as they welcome you back.

"You're home, sweetheart," your mom says, hugging you tightly.

Your dad smiles, his pride evident. "We're so proud of you, Y/N."

Over the next few weeks, you settle into a routine. Physical therapy sessions continue, and you push yourself harder than ever, determined to regain your strength. The boys visit often, their presence a constant source of encouragement.

⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱ ✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱

A month later, you're cleared to start light training with your racing trainers. The anticipation is overwhelming as you step into the familiar surroundings of the training facility. Your trainer, Tyler, greets you with a wide smile.

"Welcome back, Y/N. Ready to get to work?"

You nod, your heart pounding with excitement. "Absolutely."

The training is rigorous, but the thrill of being back in the environment you love so much drives you forward. The first time you sit in a simulator again, your hands tremble slightly, but as you grip the wheel, a sense of calm washes over you. This is where you belong.

⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱ ✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱

As the months pass by, your progress is nothing short of extraordinary. Your body grows stronger, and your confidence begins to return. You start to believe that racing again is not just a distant dream but a tangible reality.

One evening, after a particularly grueling training session, you go to visit Charles at his apartment, you sit with Charles on the balcony, looking out over the city lights.

"I was so scared," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "Scared that I'd never feel this again. The rush, the passion."

Charles wraps an arm around you, pulling you close. "I know. But look at you now. You're doing it, Y/N/N. You're coming back stronger than ever."

You smile, resting your head on his shoulder. "I couldn't have done it without you, without all of you."

He kisses the top of your head. "We'll always be here for you."

"Charles," you begin, your voice soft but filled with sincerity, "Thank you. Through everything that's happened, you've been my rock. You stayed by my side, through the tears, the pain, the doubt. You've been my anchor, keeping me grounded when I felt like I was drowning."

Charles reaches out, gently taking your hand in his. "Y/N," he says, his eyes searching yours, "you don't have to thank me. I care about you more than anything in this world. When I saw what happened, I was scared. I couldn't bear the thought of losing you. I'm just grateful that you're here with me today."

Tears well up in your eyes as you squeeze his hand, overcome with emotion. "Charles, you mean everything to me. I don't know what I would do without you."

He brushes a tear from your cheek, his touch gentle and comforting. "I love you, Y/N" he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "I've loved you from the moment I met you. And now, seeing you here, stronger than ever, I know that my love for you will never waver."

You meet his gaze, your heart bursting with love. "I love you," you say, the words spilling from your lips like a prayer. "With all my heart and soul, now and forever."

⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱ ✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱

It’s a new year, the new racing season buzzed with anticipation. Rumors swirled like wildfires about Mercedes’ new driver. Speculation ran rampant—some said it could be Sebastian Vettel, making a surprise return, while others thought it might be another seasoned veteran. Few dared to hope that it could be Y/N, the driver whose crash had left a deep scar on the hearts of fans worldwide. Yet, the more optimistic whispered her name with a sense of defiant hope.

As the Australian Grand Prix approached, Mercedes remained tight-lipped, stoking the fires of speculation. The paddock was electric with curiosity, journalists and fans alike desperate for any clue. The suspense reached a fever pitch during the free practices and qualifying rounds, as an anonymous driver in the silver arrow of Mercedes set blazing lap times, ultimately securing third place on the grid.

Race day dawned bright and clear, the air humming with excitement. The stands were packed, and millions of eyes worldwide were glued to their screens, waiting for the moment of revelation. As the clock ticked down to the start of the race, the Mercedes garage was a hive of activity, the tension palpable.

Then, the announcement came over the loudspeakers: “Ladies and gentlemen, it’s time to meet Mercedes’ new driver.” The garage doors opened, and out stepped Y/N, her familiar figure met with a moment of stunned silence before the crowd erupted into deafening cheers. The roar of support was overwhelming, a testament to the impact she had made in her career and the resilience she had shown in her recovery.

Sky Sports' David Croft, commonly known as Crofty, was almost speechless as he watched her walk to her car. “What an incredible moment, ladies and gentlemen. Y/N L/N, a name synonymous with tenacity and talent, has made her triumphant return to Formula One. After everything she’s been through, to see her here, ready to race, is nothing short of miraculous. Welcome back, Y/N.”

You waved to the crowd, heart swelling with emotion. You climbed into the car, focus shifting to the task at hand. You were back where you belonged.

⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱ ✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱

As the lights went out, signaling the start of the race, your heart pounded with adrenaline. You launched off the line, holding your position through the first few corners. The car feeling like an extension of yourself, every movement precise, every decision calculated.

“Alright, Y/N, keep it steady. We’ve got a long race ahead,” Amaria’s voice crackled through your earpiece. Her calm tone was a steady anchor in the chaos of the race.

Lap after lap, you pushed the car to its limits, the memory of your accident a ghost that spurred on rather than holding you back. You were in the zone, overtaking with surgical precision and defending your position fiercely. On lap 15, you made a daring move on Max, slipping past him into second place. The crowd went wild, the roar echoing in your ears even through your helmet.

“Great move, Y/N. You’re doing fantastic,” Amaria cheered, her voice filled with pride.

As the race progressed, you found herself closing in on Lewis. You knew the pit stops would be crucial. On lap 28, you dove into the pits, the crew executing a flawless stop. You rejoined the race in third but quickly reclaimed back second position, setting your sights on first place.

“Pace is looking good, tires are optimal,” Amaria updated. “Keep pushing, you’ve got this.”

Your focus was razor-sharp, every muscle in your body attuned to the car’s movements. You chipped away at the gap, each lap bringing you closer to the leader. By lap 45, you were on Lewis’s tail, and with a brilliant maneuver, you overtook him, claiming the lead.

The final laps were a blur of speed and strategy. Lewis was close behind, pushing hard, but your determination was unyielding. Your hands gripped the steering wheel, eyes scanning the track ahead, your mind calculating every possible outcome.

“Just a few more laps, Y/N. You’re almost there,” Amaria’s voice was a lifeline, keeping you grounded.

Lap 56 came, and the crowd’s anticipation was palpable. You held your ground, defending your position with the skill and tenacity that had earned you a place among the best. As you crossed the line, the checkered flag waving, the realization hit you—you had won. You did it.

The crowd erupted in applause, the noise almost deafening. You parked the car at the P1 sign, the enormity of your achievement washing over you. You climbed out of the car, tears streaming down your face as you celebrated with her team. They lifted you up, their cheers of joy echoing through the paddock.

David Croft’s voice echoed through the stadium, capturing the essence of the moment. “Ladies and gentlemen, today we have witnessed history in the making. From a young girl in her hometown, driven by an insatiable passion for racing, to being the only girl in her karting races, lovingly supported by her parents. She defied the odds to become one of the first women to race in Formula 1. She survived a horrific accident in Suzuka, a nightmare that could have ended her career and dreams. Yet, she faced her darkest fears, battled through unimaginable pain and doubt, and today, she has overcome those scars to win the Australian Grand Prix. Y/N’s journey is nothing short of inspirational, a testament to the resilience of the human spirit. Welcome back, Y/N. We could not be any prouder. You have shown us what true courage and determination look like."

Other drivers came to congratulate you—Lewis, Max, Lando, Oscar, and more. Each hug, a testament to the joy and respect they had for your journey and your victory.

You ran towards Charles, your heart bursting with pride. You found each other in the sea of people, and you jumped into his arms, hugging him tightly. “You did it, baby, you did it! I knew you could do it. I’m so proud of you. You’re a winner! You did it! I’m so proud, baby. I love you so much!”

“I love you too,” you replied, your voice choked with emotion.

You stood on the podium, the weight of your journey settling on your shoulders. You have faced the darkest moments and come out stronger, your love for racing and the support of those around you guiding you back to the pinnacle of the sport. The crowd’s cheers were a testament to your resilience, a reminder that no matter how difficult the road, you had found your way back home.

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tetsuskei · 6 months ago

Text

⟣ kiss it better - tartaglia [nsfw]

synopsis: your boyfriend sees you wear makeup for the first time and reacts accordingly

warnings: oral (male receiving), face fucking, facial, ajax is a pervert :/, he cums a lot, childe is called by his birth name, self indulgent, russian pet names, reader is implied to be from sumeru, fem reader, one small chomp from childe

word count: 2k

its evening in your comfortable abode, and often a sight is you sitting in front of your vanity taking care of yourself. whether it be brushing your hair or doing your skin care routine for the night, the methodical way you go about your business brings comfort to your boyfriend, ajax. the domestic nature of it all brings a sense of normalcy to his unpredictable and dangerous life. you’re the purest piece, and he wishes to keep it that way.

but this time, he notices a plethora of different cosmetic items. all unfamiliar with him. he doesn’t remember seeing you buy them the last time he went out shopping with you.

the harbinger pauses, watching you in front of the mirror. “what’re you doing?”

“my makeup.” you answer as if it’s an everyday occurrence. you never really wore it before, normally barefaced or at the most, a little mascara and lip gloss, but that’s it. so to see this is…interesting.

the ginger is now looming over you into your space. one would think he’s too close, but you’ve grown accustom to him always invading it. making it his space, too.

“you don’t usually wear that stuff, though.” he notes, watching you paint glittering eye shadow on. “why are you wearing it now? is there…a special occasion?”

you flinch at his words, and he flinches in reaction to your reaction.

“i’m going out tonight with candace and dehya. they’re the ones who recommended me these things, and so i just wanted to try something different.” you explain.

ajax attempts to diffuse the situation. “i see…you know you don’t need all of that, right? you look fine as you already are. in fact, i think you look better without it!”

you glower. “last time i checked, i’m not wearing it for you.”

he panics, “of course not! you’re allowed to wear and do what you want. you look very beautiful—as you always do!”

a small hum in response makes him relax and he lets out a small sigh. he would live another day.

you, on the other hand, sense your boyfriend still hovering, and your mild irritation continues to grow inside of you.

“…do you still need something?” you ask, focusing now on your eyeliner.

he shakes his head rapidly. “no. i’m just…curious! i’ve never seen you do this before, you know.”

but you know ajax. it’s one thing to be curious, but another for someone to be leering. and with the way your boyfriend’s dull eyes bore into your very being, for once—it puts yourself on edge.

you sigh, not bothering to look at him. “just spit it out, ajax.”

“c-can i cum on your face?” he blurts.

it’s silent and the unreadable expression on your face makes him nervous. you’re quiet—much quieter than usual, and the last thing he wants to do is offend you (more than he already has).

admittedly, he can’t help himself, though. the mental image of him standing over your pretty face would not leave his mind, unfortunately. he can’t get over the idea of you kneeling, doe eyes looking up at him with anticipation as he jerks himself to the very sight of you. is he wrong for thinking of that?

“i-i mean, when you’re done wearing it? not right now of course!” he laughs nervously, and you don’t know whether to feel sorry or amused as he explains himself.

“you’re disgusting.” you finally respond, but there’s not a single hint of malice behind your words as you speak. the corner of your painted lips is tilted up in a quirk, and he wonders how you were ever so shy before when meeting him. but it is all attributed to how truly hot you look right now. you know how good you look and what it does to him. “that’s what you’re curious about?”

ajax’s cheeks flush and he looks really bashful, scratching his head and looking at the tiles on the ground. “sorry.”

you both know he’s not sorry.

“you’re the one who said i didn’t need this, yet you want to cum on my face?” you hum, straightening up once you’re finally finished. walking towards him, you note how frozen in place he is.

putting a manicured hand on his shoulder, you look up at him. “what are you thinking about now?”

he laughs, ignoring the feeling of his cock stirring from smelling your perfume and shampoo. his hands twitch. “ahh, not much.”

you kneel in front of him, hands messing with the belt and zipper to his pants. there’s a bigger smile on your face as you eye his bulge. “‘not much’?”

fuck. he really wants to make a mess out of you. to wipe that smug look off of your face.

“n-no, not—shit, baby—really.” you’re already unbuckling and unzipping him, pulling both pants and briefs down in one go as you grasp him.

there’s absolutely no point in him lying anymore with how hard he is. practically begging for release, his purpling tip dribbles copious amounts of pre. bobbing and twitching eagerly and craving release. like a jewel shimmering diamond, his thick cock has never looked prettier.

the smallest whine leaves ajax when the cold air hits him, bringing greater sensitivity to his skin.

on the other hand, he isn’t really lying. the sight of you has his mind running blank. you look gorgeous and he wants to stare at you for hours. is that really so weird?

“really?” you’re stroking him now, single hand moving leisurely as you stare up at him through your thick lashes.

“well now you’re teasing me.” he says, averting his gaze from your sinful stare.

“i’m only trying to give you what you want, ajax.” you laugh, painted lips kissing his tip. you hear his breath catch as you continue to plant kisses but on his freckles and scarred skin. every inch of his thighs are caressed and touched with care, and his cock weeps with jealousy.

“c-can’t you just? ugh—“ he’s whining, face completely flush, “put it in!”

you pinch his thigh in warning. “ask nicely.”

your boyfriend groans. “mila, you’re…you’re killing me here. please.” he whines, trying to move, but you hold his hips still.

“i’ll give you what you want if you’re honest with me.” you bargain, kissing the pretty freckles that decorate his pale thighs once again.

he’s hiding his face in his hands now, and you never thought he’s looked cuter. “i just…can’t stop thinking about what you’d look like…covered in my cum.”

at his words, your kisses move up towards his balls. they’re heavy and taut, sensitive to the warm, plush feeling your lips share against his skin.

“is that it?” your tongue sweeps out, bathing itself in his musk. he shudders.

“and…how jealous i am, because other people are going to see how beautiful you are…when i just want to keep you for myself.”

ahh. there it is.

“to yourself? well you know i’m my own person, right?” you inquire, raising a brow.

“of course you are. but you’re mine, too.” he breathes, eyes darkening. “and there’s only so much i want anyone else to see of you.”

“so that’s why you said i looked better without makeup on? you’re cruel, you know.” you sigh, leaning back.

the lowly laugh that comes from your boyfriend makes your hair stand up on its ends. “you haven’t seen cruel yet, lisichka.”

you chew on your lip, challenging him, “hmm. i’m sure it’s not that bad.”

ajax’s resolve snaps, his large hand coming behind your head before gripping your hair.

“i’m sorry, you—“ he moans loudly, sliding himself fully to the back of your throat, “you look so fucking pretty i can’t help it. wanted to be between these pretty lips of yours so badly.”

his pained expression relaxes once he claims the inside of your mouth. small moans and whimpers leaving him once he starts rutting himself within the wet cavern.

you should be mad at how abruptly he’s slid his dick in your mouth, mad at the way he’s taken control, but the sight of him stops you. the pure look of ecstasy on his face is one to behold. so you grip his legs and let him have his way with you. let him use you as he pleases. you were never really in control anyways. he was just letting you have your fun.

“you feel so good. ‘is s’good…” he praises, snapping his hips at a harsher angle and speed. you gag around him and he only groans in response, legs trembling.

“always take me all so well, hmm?” his dull eyes look down at you with adoration, thumbing your cheek where his tip is nestled.

you nod to the best of your ability, humming quietly. there are tears brimming your eyes, and a few spill over, painting your cheeks with an inky residue.

something stirs within your boyfriend.

he pulls back, eyeing your face and now ruined makeup.

“ahh, i think you look even prettier now. you’ll forgive me for ruining your hard work, won’t you?”

you cough, catching your breath. “so shameful.”

ajax slaps his cock on your face, dragging the lipstick stained appendage over your face.

“aww, mila, don’t tell me you’re not enjoying this.” his familiar sinister smirk is plastered on his face as he nudges your slobber covered lips.

solemnly, you part your mouth before taking him as far back in your throat as you can. another pretty moan leaves him before he swears in his mother tongue.

“you minx. if i didn’t know any better, i’d think you’re trying to kill me.” he falters, grasp tightening on your hair.

you moan around him, eyes rolling back as your nose digs into the tuff of hair on his lower abdomen. every part of him smells like home, like love and affection. like your soul, since you will always be apart of each other.

finally, ajax pulls back from you, and you don’t hesitate to take the next move. you waste no time taking him back into your mouth, this time using your hand to jerk the parts of him that don’t make it all the way in.

the noises are lewd and excruciatingly loud. drool and precum are basically painted and glistening on your chest, dripping down in between your breasts.

“good girl. good fucking girl…you always suck my cock so well. maybe i should…keep you locked up forever.” he praises.

“you can try.” you grin, leaning down to capture his balls in your mouth again, sucking and nursing them while your hand works his shaft.

he’s laughing now, tone bashful as he tries catching his breath, “i-i’m not going to last—“

you hum, pulling off and kissing his tip and swirling your tongue along the underside and frenulum. “go ahead, baby.”

your boyfriend gasps and then whines at the unexpected use of the pet name. it causes him to abruptly shoot his load sooner than he would have thought.

nothing could possibly have prepared you for how much ajax cums as it hits your face. your eyes squeeze shut, and every time you expect for him to be done, more spurts hit you.

his moans are unapologetically loud and fizz out into small groans as he fists himself.

eventually you crack your eyes open, glancing up at him as you suckle on his sensitive tip, lapping up any remnants of his cum.

the harbinger shudders, heaving as he looks at you. he’s never felt more glad to be right, the mess on your face spread all the way down to your chest.

it turns him on a little too much knowing he’s the only one who’d ever see you like this.

gently, he pushes you away, standing back from you.

“just know you can put whatever you want on your cute face, but you’ll never be any prettier than you are with my cum on it.” ajax breathes.

you hum appreciatively, blinking slow as you swipe up his cum and taste it. “you taste so good, ‘jax.”

a dark look swarms your boyfriend’s cerulean eyes. “it’s a shame, mila. i’m afraid you’re going to have to cancel your plans,” he grabs you like a ragdoll, tossing you back on your shared bed.

“wha—! what’re you—“

he grins before he licks your cum covered cheek, biting the flesh. “i’m not done having fun with you.”

end note: bro just licked up cum and foundation. i guess when you survive the abyss, you’ll eat anything /hj

#tartaglia x reader #genshin x reader #childe x reader #genshin impact oneshot #genshin impact x reader #tartaglia oneshot #childe oneshot

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