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holllandtrash · 1 year ago

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say don't go | charles leclerc

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

based off of taylor swift's 'stay don't go' why'd you have to lead me on? why'd you have to twist the knife? walk away and leave me bleedin'

word count: 5.2k tags/warnings: slight angst, mentions of being disloyal, this is kinda sad, mention of smut i guess but blink and you miss it

You weren’t one to let your past haunt you. It was the past for a reason, it belonged behind you, all you could do was grow into a better version of yourself.

But what the hell were you supposed to do when Charles showed up at your door after six months of silence?

It was a week into December and you were reluctantly putting up Christmas decorations because you were tired of the comments your friends made, telling you to get into the holiday spirit. Now you had the silver tinsel gripped in your hand as Charles stood on your front step, light flurries landing on his coat only to melt immediately after.

It was the middle of the day and you lived in a crowded area, but passersby on the sidewalk and those driving past had no idea there was a Ferrari driver only metres away from them.

But no one would guess that Charles Leclerc would be travelling to Bristol during his holidays.

“What? Were you in the neighbourhood?” You asked, flicking the tinsel off of your hand and shaking off any remnants. You watched it fall to the floor before looking up, “Felt like stopping by?”

“Can I come in?” Charles asked, glancing behind you. Was he looking to see if you had company? If you had moved on? Regardless of what, or who, he was looking for, his shoulders relaxed when he could tell you were alone. All that was behind you was cardboard boxes labelled Christmas.

“Give me three good reasons why I shouldn't shut the door in your face,” your demand was laced with your usual sweet tone, the same one that always intimated Charles because he never knew what to make of it. Never once did you raise your voice, you never yelled, never showed signs of anger. Even when you were annoyed, you always sounded calm.

He sucked in a breath, “Well, it’s cold out.” He chuckled, but when you didn’t see any humour in his words he just nodded and moved on. “I was, in fact, in the neighbourhood- well I was in London, just figured I’d make a quick trip out west.”

Those weren’t good enough reasons and he knew it. You moved to grab the door and Charles reacted by holding his hand out to stop it from shutting, eyes trained on yours.

His cheeks were red, not accustomed to the British winters. He wasn’t wearing mitts and you could see how his hands had responded to the dry air by cracking at the knuckles. His lips trembled, not because he was nervous but because this was probably the coldest his body temperature had dropped to in a long time.

Which had you questioning how long he had been standing outside your door before finally knocking.

“There’s some things I’ve been meaning to say for a while now,” Charles spoke softly and you could see his breath with each word. “And you don’t need to say anything, but I’d love it if you’d listen.”

Maybe you felt bad that he was cold. Maybe you were curious as to what he had to say to you after so long. Maybe part of you still missed him and if these were the last few minutes you’d get with him, you weren’t going to let them pass.

Whatever the reason, you held the door open and he stepped inside. You watched as he ran his fingers through his hair and slid his coat off, hanging it on the empty hook on the wall. Your eyes darted down to the shoes he wore and Charles recognized that look, knowing better than to walk any further with his shoes on. He smiled, sort of, remembering the first time you asked him to take his shoes off when he entered your apartment.

If this was six months ago, you would have had slippers waiting for him to put on, but instead Charles was left to just his socks. You, though, seemed quite cozy. The matching sweats and jumper was only a shade darker than the slippers you wore and Charles almost asked where you purchased the set from, but he held his tongue because now wasn’t the time for casual conversation.

“Tea?” You offered, glancing at the kettle sitting on the stove. It had started whistling only minutes before he showed up but you hadn’t had a second to pour yourself a cup, too caught up in trying to untangle tinsel.

“Don’t want to put you out,” he shook his head, but when you manoeuvred past him to step into the kitchen, he didn’t stop you from grabbing two cups from the cupboard. He watched, standing at a cautious distance, as you made the two drinks the same way you always did.

Charles was brought back to the time he walked into his own flat in Monaco and you were kneeling on the counter, trying to find a suitable cup because all of his mugs were too big and bulky for tea. He held his hand to your back, worried you’d tip backwards, which you didn’t, but you were happy he was there to help you off the counter and greet you with a kiss.

“I’ll invest in new cups,” he said. He never did.

He didn’t like the silence that lingered between you now, probably the first time it ever bothered him, so he cleared his throat, “I like your new place.”

You nodded, “Thank you.”

He glanced around at the decor and spoke up again, “So you’ve been well?”

“You don’t need to pretend to care about how I've been.”

“I do care.”

The slow yet icy stare you gave him as you peered over your shoulder had Charles wondering if showing up here was a good idea. Instead of opening his mouth again, Charles looked at the decorations littered on the floor.

He was drawn towards the open box of ornaments that was placed on the couch. He noticed the tree in the corner, but all you had put up so far was a string of lights. Curious, he looked closer into the box and smiled to himself when he saw a vintage Formula 1 Ferrari, no bigger than the palm of his hand. He also spotted a racing helmet, but couldn’t recognize the driver it belonged to.

It wouldn’t have shocked him if the rest of this box was F1 inspired Christmas ornaments. Either ones you had purchased yourself or ones that were given to you as gifts.

Charles was always amazed at your knowledge of Formula 1. With your father being a retired driver himself, he shouldn’t have been surprised when you swept him under the rug during a trivia night. He admired your passion for the sport and maybe that’s why when he met you in the Ferrari garage, he wasn’t as quick to judge you like he was to everyone else who had purchased VIP passes for the weekend.

You were there for the sport, for the racing, you didn’t care who was driving the car, it wasn’t like you had favorite drivers.

You were raised to appreciate the history of the sport, the roots, the beginnings. Because of that, you were drawn to the older teams, the classics. Williams, McLaren and against your fathers wishes, Ferrari. So of course you wanted to experience the Ferrari hospitality during a race weekend at least once. To see the cars up close, to be in the garage, to see the race from an entirely new perspective.

It was Australia, the third race of the 2023 season. It was a race that Charles tried hard to forget due to his DNF at the first turn, but there were highlights he cherished before the incident.

He remembered standing in the garage before the first practice session and turning his head to flash a smile towards the VIP members standing at the back. He paid no attention to any of them in particular, but you stood out. The way you were so focused on the screen, taking in the Tech Talk segment that was playing on F1TV. You hadn’t even noticed Charles looking.

He saw you again the second day, closer to the front of the group before the start of FP3. You were wearing a white set, arms crossed over your chest with the headphones resting around your neck. You weren’t watching anything this time, instead you were in the middle of a conversation with a few of the mechanics.

At first, Charles thought they were flirting with you. But when you pointed at the rear wing, lines drawn across your forehead and eyebrows pinched together in studious fashion, Charles got the hint that this wasn’t just a casual conversation.

And then you held out your hand to introduce yourself, your once serious expression turning soft. You smiled at the mechanics as you shook both of their hands, seeming truly grateful to have met them.

Naturally, Charles was curious as to what sort of conversation just took place. He waited a few minutes before asking Mark, the one of two mechanics who seemed to be doing most of the talking.

“What was that about?” Charles asked.

Mark looked over his shoulder at you, but you were too engrossed in the screen again to notice the few sets on you.

“You don’t know who she is?” Mark asked.

“Should I?” Charles glanced your way. This time, you caught it.

You were also the first to look away.

“Damon Hill’s daughter,” Mark chuckled, probably in disbelief himself over who he just met. “She’s also got her masters in engineering. You know what she pointed out- the activation time for DRS is delayed compared to everyone else on the grid. I don’t know how she noticed it, but we’ll take a look at the data and if she’s onto something we’ll fix it before qualifying.”

Damon Hill’s daughter. The 1996 world champion. He had made a name for himself, known for being one of Schumacher's rivals during his prime. Charles knew he had kids, but didn’t know who they were.

He wanted to introduce himself, but he waited till after qualifying.

Was he a little taken aback when you seemed to be paying more attention to Carlos’ side of the garage at the end of the day? Maybe, but you had been watching him all weekend so far so he didn’t like the sudden change.

His P7 starting position was nothing to be overly proud of, but the congratulations was the first thing out of your mouth when he approached you.

“Thank you,” he nodded, suddenly feeling a bit more pride now than five minutes ago. He glanced at the car and then back at you, at the VIP lanyard resting over your chest, at your eyes that momentarily had him forgetting why he walked over to you in the first place.

You held your hand in the same polite manner you had with the mechanics and you introduced yourself as Charles shook it slowly.

“Damon Hill’s daughter,” he stated. “I haven’t seen you around here before.”

You cocked your head slightly, “Is that a line?”

A blush crept up to his cheeks when he realised how flirtatious he sounded without trying to, “No- I mean,” he licked his lips. “I guess it could be but I wasn’t trying for that.”

“I only just graduated,” you answered his question, which wasn’t really a question. “Figured I’d watch a few races, check out a few teams before I decide if I want to dip my toe in the motorsports field.”

“Driver?” He asked, eyebrows raised even though Mark had told him what you studied. But you laughed and Charles was glad he brought up the idea of you getting behind the wheel. He could get used to your laugh.

“Engineer,” you corrected. “To be honest, I think IndyCar might be more my thing. Plus I know Arrow McLaren is looking to expand, hire a few more performance engineers. Mind if I use you as a reference? I saw those mechanics working on your DRS set up, don’t let them take the credit for catching the activation error.”

It was his turn to laugh. He liked your humour, something else he could get used to.

“Mark mentioned you pointed it out,” Charles nodded, unable to keep from smiling. He liked the way you spoke. Not only did he find your accent endearing, but he liked how sure you were of yourself. You knew your talents, you knew what you were capable of. He admired it.

“Good luck tomorrow,” you said, taking it upon yourself to end the conversation. You adjusted the purse over your shoulder and gave him a soft smile. “It was nice meeting you, Charles.”

And then you walked off, happily letting someone else from the team accompany you, probably an engineer. Probably someone who could match your expertise in a conversation.

Charles didn’t know when he’d see you again, but he took it upon himself to make sure it was sooner than later.

Following Australia, the drivers had a bit of a break. Almost an entire month.

It was only a few days into the break when he asked his manager to get Damon Hill’s contact information.

Confused was an understatement when your dad called you and said ‘Tell me why I just got an unsolicited text from Charles Leclerc asking if he could have your phone number’.

By the end of the week, Charles had flown you from Paris, where you resided at the time, to Nice. He was there at the airport to pick you up and drive you to Monaco.

You spent that entirety of the break together.

Charles was smitten. As were you.

But you were cautious.

You knew first hand that racing was at the top of his priority list. You weren’t about to get your hopes up and think that these few weeks meant anything. He just had time on his hands and you showed interest.

However, it was hard not to fall for Charles. He treated you well when you were together. He was easy to talk to. He made you feel safe, admired, wanted. He asked all the questions he could think of to get to know you. He made you breakfast in the morning, or at least he tried to. The mornings when you woke up to the smell of burnt eggs were just as entertaining. Plus you figured you could get used to the way he wrapped his arm around your waist as you took over. The kisses he peppered on your shoulder that tempted you towards pulling him back to the bedroom.

By the time the season picked up again for round 4 in Baku, you were so used to being around him that you had to tell yourself not to be hurt that he didn't suggest you go with him.

You and Charles did a lot of things during those few weeks, but never once did you label what you were. That conversation never came up. Neither did the exclusivity talk.

He still called. He texted you daily. He treated you like you were special, but racing came before a relationship. Even your dad reminded you of that. He told you not to dwell on it, that Charles would come to his senses when he felt secure with the team, with the season. He didn’t need the support of a girlfriend, he needed the support of his team.

And then Charles informed you he was flying you out to Miami. He wanted you to watch the race again. He wanted you there.

You didn’t accompany him to the track, but he greeted you with wide arms and the brightest grin when you showed up at the Ferrari garage. His hand stayed on your lower back for a bit as he showed you around, giving you a proper tour but when you came across Mark it was almost as if Charles passed you off.

He said ‘Here, chat with Mark for a bit, I’m sure you’ve got some opinions about the car’ and then he walked away.

You tried not to think too much about it, maybe he had obligations, media, signings, something. He wouldn’t fly you out to Miami and abandon you the first chance he got. He was a driver, he had priorities. You weren’t one of them, not yet.

It was a difficult situation to be in. When Charles gave you his attention, he gave you every ounce of it. But when he was gone, he was gone. Distant, on his phone, sometimes he quite literally disappeared like at the end of the day on Saturday and you were left in the Ferrari garage wondering where the hell he got off to.

But then he knocked on your hotel room door at a little after 10 and who were you to turn him away?

Charles pulled you towards the bed, dragging you with him as he laid on the mattress. He asked about your day between the kisses he left down your neck. You answered as best as you could, but when his hands found the button of your trousers, it became a little more difficult to collect your thoughts.

When he gave you his attention, he gave you every ounce of it.

You had forgotten all about his disappearances earlier. They didn’t matter, he was here now. His lips trailing every inch of your skin as your back curved off the bed. You tried to remind him that he had a race tomorrow, that you both could just go to sleep if he wanted but Charles only smirked and raised his face back to yours.

He hovered his lips above yours, teasing you with a ghost of a kiss, “Ma chérie, I’m not going to sleep until I hear you scream my name.”

He kissed the corner of your lips and then trailed down towards your ear, adding a quiet, “At least twice,” to the end of the original statement.

And Charles was true to his word. He had you seeing stars with just his tongue alone in a matter of minutes.

Charles worshipped you, he took care of you. In a short period of time, he came to know your body and how to get the reactions he desired. He loved seeing you come undone, loving being the one to bring you to the edge and watch you spill over.

Maybe it was a pride he was chasing, but you wouldn’t think of that possibility until it was too late.

When he climbed under the covers next to you at the end of the night, you could still make out the shape of his body, his gentle features, even in the dark. Your hand found his chest, sliding upwards until it wrapped around his shoulders, pulling yourself closer to him.

He traced his fingers over your cheek, pushing a strand of hair out of your face as he whispered, “Comment ai-je eu cette chance?” How did I get so lucky?

That did it for you.

You weren’t just smitten anymore. You were in love.

Another impromptu break after Miami meant you had a few more weeks with Charles before he had to give his attention back to racing. You didn’t spend it all in Monaco this time. After about a week, Charles suggested the two of you go back to your home. Back to Paris.

Paris with him was heavenly.

The rest of the world didn’t matter when it was just the two of you together. Your days were spent taking in the city, your evenings were spent in a variety of restaurants, lounges, anywhere he could spoil you, it seemed.

It was nearing your last few days before he had to leave when he suggested you take a midnight stroll. The weather was perfect, the streets wouldn’t be too busy. You had no reason to say no.

And there was something about walking the streets of Paris with Charles at night, holding his hand while he spun you under his arm beneath the glow of a street lamp. The Eiffel Tower was sparkling in the distance. Charles’ eyes lit up brighter than it.

There was something about him. About this moment. About the last few months. All of it led up to standing here with him now.

And you knew better, but that didn’t stop you.

“I love you.”

And just like that, you faded into madness. Slowly, silently, but it was inevitable.

Charles didn’t say anything. His lips parted like he wanted to, like he thought about it, only to ultimately lick his lips and inhale a sharp breath.

By saying I love you, you plunged a knife into your own chest, opening yourself up to vulnerability, but his silence only twisted it in deeper.

You backed up, hand dropping from his. Was that his doing or yours? He whispered your name, but only out of pity. He didn’t love you. He didn’t love you.

Suddenly Paris didn’t seem so heavenly.

Charles left that night. Maybe he thought you were asleep, but you heard the door swing on its hinges. You heard the wheels of his suitcase being dragged out into the hallway. You turned over in bed, despite knowing you’d find his side empty, but you didn’t think it would turn cold so fast.

A few days later, Charles was spotted walking into the paddock of the Monaco Grand Prix, but he wasn’t alone.

Next to him, the stunning Alexandra Saint Mleux. Even her name was beautiful.

You had heard whispers that Charles and her had a history, but you didn’t think anything of it. Why would you worry yourself with speculation when he was putting you on a pedestal when you were together?

He had a way of making you feel wanted, but you weren’t the only one who felt that way.

Did she know you two were together? That he was with you in Paris? Was he seeing both of you or did he run back to her the second you told him something he wasn’t ready to hear?

You tried to move on, really. There was no relationship for you to cling to, Charles never said you were exclusive. He just knew the right words to say to make you feel like you were.

You flew to Indianapolis for the Indy500. A rash decision, but the further away from Monaco the better. Your connections at Arrow McLaren gave you the chance to get a closer look at the inner workings of the team, had you momentarily forgetting about Charles. You wanted to be an engineer, not the girlfriend of a driver. You told yourself to get it together.

But then you returned home and seeing the slippers you had bought for Charles had you wondering why you couldn’t be both. You would have been both if he just said something, if he just told you he loved you.

You should have distanced yourself from Formula 1, at least for a little while. You should have turned down the invitation from a partnering brand of Ferrari, enticing you to come to Spain for the race. You should have flown back to the states, reconnect with Arrow McLaren.

Instead you found yourself in Barcelona. The entire time you were there you knew it was a mistake and if you couldn’t figure that out on your own, seeing Alexandra chat with some Ferrari team members below while you sat up above in the hospitality was a painful reminder.

Part of you considered talking to her. You wanted to know if she was in the same boat you were- and if she was clueless, maybe give her a heads up that Charles was going to say sweet nothings to her at night only to leave her in the dark.

But Alexandra wasn’t the one you needed to talk to.

Between practice and qualifying on Saturday, you made your way to the paddock knowing that’s where Charles would be. You walked past Alexandra chatting to someone a few motorhomes down, so you felt better knowing she wasn’t currently with him.

Luck would have it, you ran into Mark outside of Ferrari. He invited you in of course, always happy to chat about the sport with someone who appreciated it on the same level and you assured him you would, you just had to talk to Charles first.

You knocked on the door of his driver's room, not even sure what you were going to say. You were hurt, you were saddened, you were angry but you hadn't had time to think about what you would say to him when you were finally face to face again.

The door swung open and there he was. Shocked to see you, first of all, but not upset. You stood in the hallway and watched as Charles took a breath of relief, a sliver of a smile creeping up on his lips as he held the door open for you to walk in.

Your heart jolted at the idea that maybe, he still wanted you. The look he gave you was almost enough for you to forget he hadn’t said a word to you since you told him you loved him.

Almost.

You stepped in and leaned against the door after it shut, keeping a safe distance as he stood back against the massage table.

Your lips parted, but before you could get a word out, his phone started to ring. You both glanced at the contact, at who was trying to get a hold of him.

Alexandra.

You swallowed, waiting until he let it go to voicemail before your timid voice filled the room. “You love her?”

Maybe Charles didn’t know how to love anyone. You’d believe it, with the way he tensed the second the word passed through your lips. He didn’t say yes, but he didn’t say no, either.

“I can’t commit, Y/N.” He tried to say, like that made up for everything. Like that’s the answer you were looking for.

“No, you can, Charles, but not to me.” You stated, keeping your voice calm. You weren’t one to yell. Causing a scene wasn’t your thing. You were always so soft spoken. Soft spoken, but straight to the facts. “Were you seeing both of us at the same time?”

“She knows, if that's what you're wondering." Charles quickly slid that piece of information in there. “She found out- about us. Threatened to leave me if-”

“If you didn’t choose?” You raised your eyebrows. Once again, his silence spoke volume. “So did you make up your mind before or after Paris?”

Charles averted his gaze for a second, “I realised in Paris I couldn’t love you the way you loved me.”

“You probably realised that a lot earlier,” you pointed out.

Charles must have known you adored him. There was no way he didn’t see the way you looked at him, the way you worshipped him. He knew and still strung you along, making you think he could love you back if you were just patient.

“You didn’t need to lead me on as long as you did, Charles.”

“I didn’t want to lose you.”

I didn’t want to lose you, he says. Bringing light to the fact that he had you. You were his, in a sense. Despite never saying the words out loud.

But he was never yours.

“So I was there, for what?” You asked. “As a backup? In case things with Alexandra didn’t work out?”

Charles was intimated by how calm you were. He would have preferred if you yelled at him, if you fought with him. It would make it easier on both ends to put whatever this relationship was to rest. Instead, you were serene. You came here to talk, to get answers, you didn’t come here to form a divide.

Because if you were being honest with yourself, you weren’t ready to let go. How could you let go when you hadn’t spoken? He hadn’t given you closure, he didn’t say I don’t love you he just…didn’t say anything.

You weren’t going to beg for him to come back, but in the far corners of your mind you were hoping that your appearance here would make him question his decision. You were banking on the idea that when he saw you, he’d remember what he saw in the first place when you met in Australia.

If he changed his mind right now, you’d put all of this behind you. You’d stay at his side, you’d be there for him, you’d be his for real this time.

If he, once again, said nothing, you’d go. You’d go and you’d stay gone.

“I loved you,” you whispered. The past tense striking Charles more than he thought it would, but he didn’t show it. Loved. You loved him, and you still could.

Thirty seconds passed. Then a minute. Almost two and the only thing that lingered between you was silence. Heavy, loud, painful silence.

You grabbed the handle of the door and decided enough time had gone on. You deserved better than this, than a man who couldn’t make a decision, than someone who played with your feelings because they couldn’t figure out their own.

The second you pulled the door back, your name fell from Charles’ lips. You were one step into the hall, halfway to gone, and he stopped you.

All he had to do was say don’t go. All he had to do was tell you he wanted you.

With your back still to the Ferrari driver, you waited for those next words but they never came. You knew they wouldn’t.

That was the last time you spoke to Charles. You knew how to stay true to your word too.

So why was he suddenly here, six months later, sitting on your couch and looking at you like he was waiting for you to say something first when you made it clear a long time ago if you were gone, you were gone.

Charles only took a sip of his tea before putting it on the coffee table. He then moved the box of Christmas ornaments, not liking the divide it put between you as if he wasn't the one to create the wedge in the first place.

You were stupid, to speak first, but you were tired of the silence. He came here for a reason and if he wasn’t going to tell you why in the next two minutes, you were going to send him back out into the snow.

“How’s Alexandra?” You asked, not that you were interested in knowing if he was happy or thriving in his relationship. You were, however, impressed to see that he could in fact commit, but you were right about that. He just didn’t want to commit to you.

“Do you care?” He asked in return.

You shook your head slightly, “I do not.”

Charles smiled at your honesty. Your gentle tone didn’t match the brutal truth.

“So let’s not talk about her,” Charles said and you nodded in agreement. He shifted in his spot, glancing at the decorations, the tea, really anything but you.

And you weren’t about to wait again, not if this was going to lead to the one thing your silence always led to.

You sucked in a breath, “Charles if you don’t tell me why you’re here…”

He nodded, knowing that this was all on him. He was lucky enough to even be allowed into your home, and he knew you were slowly regretting that decision the longer he just didn’t get to the point.

Charles lifted his head, eyes finally meeting yours. He even flinched, like he was trying to reach for your hand only to decide against it at the last second, relying on just his words for a change.

“I shouldn’t have let you go.”

Part 2 - now that we don’t talk

#charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #f1 one shot #f1 fic #holllandtrash #say dont go #cl16 x reader #cl16

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touyyes · 2 years ago

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santa!toji who appears in your house, horny and desperate to find his ms. claus. just imagine you coming downstairs and you see him eating the cookies and milk, making him look up at you. knowing that he shouldn't fuck a mom while children are asleep, he ends up fucking you until he fills you up to the brim. the next morning, you don't have any recollection of the previous night's events — maybe you thought it was a dream, until you saw a note. santa!toji said that you're his ms. claus and will continue to come to your home and dick you down.

my brainrot for toji is so real 😩

didn't get to answer it before, but since its Christmas, im answering it now hehe

Santa! Toji who only visits the neighborhood milfs moms because even though tonight is his job to give presents to children, Santa needs a little gift of his own too. It's not easy working overtime!

Santa! Toji who stumbles upon you on his third home visit, seeing you clamber down the stairs from the sudden noise in your silk pajamas, catching him eating the cookies and milk you left for him

Santa! Toji who quickly gulps down half the milk at the sight of your arrival, imagining himself using the rest to pour down your tits that are currently peaking through your disheveled top

Santa! Toji who looks you up and down, taking in your form. 'No ring, huh?' He thinks. Even if you had one, he could care less but this just makes things a lot less of a hassle

Santa! Toji who beckons you over to him and you walk forward, in a trance, in a daze from your shock that Santa is a stupidly hot man that isn't like any of the beer bellied, crumb storing in his beard men that's advertised everywhere during the season

Santa! Toji who tells you to kneel down in front of him and you do, of course. Pushing his red slacks down to rest right underneath his balls as you lick his cock like a candy cane. And with how you think you're currently going insane 'I'm sucking Santa's dick oh my god', you think it does taste like a candy cane.

Santa! Toji who pulls you back up by the shoulders and leads you towards the couch, pushing the front of your hips to rest against the armrest, pulling your silk pajama pants down till they hang off your ankles. Calling you a slut for not wearing any panties, and how you must've prepared for his arrival

Santa! Toji who wastes no time coming face to face with your pussy and spreading your lips and folds open as he goes to town on your sweet taste

Santa! Toji who sucks and bites every surface of your ass cheeks, licks and swirls his tongue on every crevice of your pussy and ass. Savoring the flavor of you

Santa! Toji who thinks you're being such an obedient mommy for keeping your moans to a minimum to not wake your kids, finally granting you peace by the lining his cock up with your clenching hole and pushing in slowly. Complaining about how tight its grasp against his cock is but it won't be for long once he's done with you

Santa! Toji who puts you in 3 different positions on the couch, making you come for the 4th time tonight, and finally finishing off in your tight, wet throat with your head hanging upside down off the edge of the couch

Santa! Toji who quietly tucks you back in your bed after you passed out from exhaustion, taking care to put your pants back on and leaving a note for when you wake up: "Thank's for the cookies and milk, sweet thing."

#𝒊𝐍𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝑬𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐄 =͟͟͞͞♡#⋆˚ఎ ☆ ໒˚⋆ — 𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐗𝐈𝐒 #this was very halfassed 😭😭#should i even tag this as toji x reader?? idk #i will ig #toji x reader #toji smut #toji fushiguro smut #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro x you #toji x you #jjk smut

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sillygoosealert · 7 months ago

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hiii🌚🌚 you should totally make a little thing where we’re running from danny during a trial and get stuck in a window while trying to vault and yk.. he fucks us from behind and it’s like a “help me step bro i’m stuck🥺” kinda position yk HEHEHE 😈😈😈

Sorry i fell off the face of the earth for a few days i had to like idk reset myself ☆(≧��≦*)ﾉ

Never say step bro I'm stuck again I'm not even joking I'll block you, Stinky

Danny Johnson NSFW, raw, has no aftercare, and a little plot but mainly smut, he’s MEAN (cannon bc because he murders people), um actually he's also COCKY (cannon bc he kills people), and he calls you piggy ( cannon because he likes horror and that is a black Christmas reference) knife stuff

Fog whisps around you as you are forced into another trial. Another day another round. Is it day, or is it night? You may never find the answer.

The entity is cruel in your clothing, a skirt to your mid-thigh, and a button down. Nothing to keep in the warmth. Nothing to hide you from the reality that is the cold red forest.

You think your teammates must all be together- not including you, because a generator is done at lightning speed. Then you hear guttural screams, plural, also at lightning speed. Maybe you shouldn't get them, you'll too just die. Survival of the fittest. They won't remember the trial if you let them die, it's like they have a reset- or something.

You're crouching, lurking, and waiting. Not for long, as The Ghostface jumps out at you.

‘Boo’

He's snickering and taunting you. Mocking the screams of your now-fallen teammates.

A jungle gym is in sight, if you abuse the window and stun him, perhaps the hatch could be located. Maybe you're too tubby, or maybe because the entity is against you, but the window gets blocked from the top halfway through. You do not make it, you are stuck.

He’s snorting and making animal noises behind you.

‘What’s the entity feeding you that you can’t get through the windows?’

‘Oh, it’s blocked.’

He grabs your thighs and tries to pull you out. However, his pullout game must be weak as you do not budge.

He keeps his hands on your thighs as he whistles.

‘Can you not get out?’

‘No?’

‘Does this happen a lot?’

‘First time actually’

You're shivering, it's too much. He's too casual about it.

‘I could cut you in half and play magician, that would be rather amusing ’

‘Please don't’

‘Do you have something else in mind, piggy?’

Nothing. Actually, you're crying a little, but you don't say anything.

He starts to coo and awe at your noises, rubbing and kneading your ass.

He goes around to your other side and pulls out his camera. You’re a mess. Wiping away tears from your cheeks and eyes.

‘That's it. Perfect. That's the picture I'll keep of you.’

He’s taking a couple photo’s. More than needed. Maybe he likes it when you cry, the glossy kind of look.

‘Just me and you babe, whatever will we do?’

He snaps the band on your panties. You just realize nothing is left to his imagination from where he is now standing again.

‘Are you scared?’

‘A little’

There isn't any reason to tell the truth or lie to him. But you think he likes it when you're scared, something kinky.

The cold plastic of his mask is pressed into your ass. He's sniffing you..?

You can feel the squeeze of his hands on your thighs, groaning into them.

He takes off the mask, not that you can him. But the feel of his warm tongue is enough to assume he took it off.

But that's not the only thing to come off, as he slips off your panties as well.

Spreading open your folds, you can hear the shudder of the camera as he takes pictures of your pussy.

You know it's wet, it was dripping on your underwear. What lewd photos he now will have. Blackmail material?

He begins sucking on your clit, shoving his face into you.

Messy, unplanned, and purely out of want.

That's not how Danny usually went. Besides all the times he did things out of rage, like the laser tag incident..

After he's mixed his spit into your cunt, he's ready.

Pulling up his cloak and pulling down his pants, he stares at you.

You're pretty. And you have a nice ass.

Maybe you would make a good girlfriend, maybe.

But he just wants to fuck you right now, really hard

He pumps himself before sliding in.

He's thick, but also kinda lean?

You're shaking again, this is much too abrupt for you

Pinching your leg, he pulls out his blade.

‘A little blood never hurt anyone, right?’

He starts to cut into your thigh. His thrust growing more erotic

Putting the knife away, he smacks the place he just sliced up

Yelping, you start to cry, again.

‘I like that- you crying. Sob for me’

‘You're doing good, do you like merely laying there as you get violated? This could happen to anyone, whore or not. Does that scare you?’

A rhetorical question, he just wants you to cry while he scratches your bleeding leg.

He starts to rub your clit, whipping his knife out again.

‘Where do you want me to put my signature?’

‘It hurts- stop, please..’

Caving GF into your back is a blur to both of you, as he is still occasionally slapping your body around while thrusting considerably too hard

He pulls out and cums all over your wounds, covering them slightly in semen.

‘People would be shaking if they saw this. Are you shaking because of me?’

You didn't even realize you weren't stuck anymore. Only after you fell backward you realized.

‘I'm going to let you go back. But I want you to tell them what I did to you- scare them. Let them know they are not safe from me.’

‘Okay, I promise, I'll tell them’

He picks you up and walks around with you clinging to him.

When you are near the hatch, he puts you down.

‘A picture- for you, to keep’

He's sitting with you on the ground, keeping you in his lap. Putting his face right next to yours- actually, you don't remember when he put the mask back on. You didn't get to see his face.

The light hurts, but he gives you a little polaroid with the two of you face to face, cheek to cheek.

It would be cute if he didn't just cut up your legs

Tucking the photo into your bra, he drops you into the hatch. How kind of him.

He waves goodbye, you do not wave back.

It wasn't bad, it was just a lot. Rushed? Scary? Harmful?

Kinda hot, but you really hope he doesn't keep those photos. For blackmail reasons..

🎀

#dead by daylight #dbd ghostface #ghostface x reader #ghostface #dbd killer #dbd #dbd x reader #dbd x you #dead by deadlight #dead by daylight x reader #dead by daylight x you #dbd ghostface x reader #daisy writes #danny jed olsen johnson #danny johnson #danny johnson x reader #danny johnson x you #jed olsen

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reneesghostinthelivingroom · 2 months ago

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How about a Regina George x fem reader (I'm not a writer just a reader lol, the best I can do is song lyrics so I'm sorry if this idea has been taken or sucks)

Rivalry Turned Romance:

Your character and Regina are rivals in some way.

Initially, their interactions are filled with snarky remarks and subtle sabotage as they try to outdo each other. However, beneath the rivalry, there's a mutual respect and fascination.

As they spend more time together, they start to appreciate each other's strengths and vulnerabilities. Their competitive banter gradually turns into playful flirting, and they realize there's more to their relationship than just rivalry.

Rivalry Lights the Spark for Romance

|| Regina George x fem!reader

|| Warnings; swearing, brief mentions of getting drunk, reader and regina rivalry, enemies to friends and lovers mention, long fic

|| Summary; reader and regina never got along. Like, ever. It would be a cold day in hell if they did. There was always something for the girls to argue over... until there wasn't.

Requests open!

Started; September 17th

Finished; September 17th

~~~

Regina George. The two of you were in a stare down from across the cafeteria. You sat with your group of friends, she sat with hers. Regina and you have had a long standing rivalry that dates back to sixth grade. When Regina stopped being human. Your friend group and hers used to be one big group that hung out together all the time. Then the Janis incident happened and you and your friends sided with Janis.

You, Prudence Ollia, Savie Lane and Nyla Caves were deemed 'weirdos' for doing so. While Regina, Gretchen and Karen grew in popularity. Janis was left on the side lines. You and her haven't hung out at all in the more recent years. Since highschool you've just lost touch with each other.

Which brings us back to present day.

"So. What's our next sabotage plan for Lilith over there?" Prudence asked. Lilith was the code name which your group had made for Regina when you talked about her in public and didn't want others to know.

You didn't take your eyes off Regina. It was like the two of you were in some game of chicken. First one to look away loses," huh?" You asked, not really paying attention.

"Next sabotage plan." Prudence simplified.

"Oh!" Savie grinned as she slammed her hands on the side of the table, looking at the three of you with mischief in her eyes," we replace her shampoo with hairdye. Give her green hair."

"Classic." Nyla nodded with a laugh," but none of us would even be able to step foot in Regina's house."

"Actually, I'm pretty certain her mom still thinks Lilith and I are absolute besties. Maybe I could give it a try, make an excuse like she left something in her room for me to pick up or whatever. Lilith's mom probably wouldn't even think to ask for details." You stated, eyes still on the blonde. You swear she hasn't even blinked once this whole stare down.

"I'll buy the hair dye," Savie did an excited clap. She was usually the most hyped up when it came to the sabotage plans.

That night, you did exactly what you had said you would. Luckily Ms George did think the two of you were still friends and Regina happened to be out at a party. So you were able to pull things off pretty smoothly.

The following day, Regina George showed up to school with bright lime green hair. But instead of laughing, people were in awe. And lime green hair was a trend over the next couple weeks.

Regina remained unaffected, which annoyed you to no end. How does everything you do just boost her popularity? It was infuriating. Though you couldn't help but respect her just a little. Only a little.

She walked by your locker as you were grabbing your trumpet out for music class," What? Too cool for green hair, L/N?" She smirked at you when she noticed you hadn't dyed yours to follow the trend. That technically you started.

"Shouldn't you be off trying to steal Christmas, Grinch?" You replied, trumpet case by your side.

Her eyes widened just slightly in annoyance and she snatched your case from you, flicking it open and taking the mouth piece. She handed your trumpet back," good luck in music, loser." Regina winked at you as she walked away. Mouth piece in her fist.

You sighed deeply. Honestly surprised she even recognized that piece was important. You didn't think Regina knew anything about music. Though the only grievance her act actually caused you was a lecture from the music teacher about not "losing" pieces to your instrument.

So it didn't bother you all that much. Which annoyed Regina, but she had a small respect for it. But it was only small.

Things like this would continue to happen between the two of you throughout the rest of the year. Each of you gaining a little bit more respect for the other.

One day, a few weeks before the Christmas talent show, Regina passed by your locker and gave you her signature smirk.

"Hey, L/N. Signing up for the talent show?" She asked, clearly she wasn't really interested. However, unless you were seeing incorrectly, her eyes scanned your body. It was quick and easy to miss if you didn't happen to be looking in her eyes when it happened- what? Pfft, no you weren't staring into Regina's eyes. You hated her.

"Yeah, actually. You still doing that tradition of yours?" You replied, arms folded across your chest as you leaned against your locker.

Regina scoffed, folding her own arms," obviously. Bet it's better than whatever you're doing."

"Playing the trumpet without a mouth piece. You know, when you stole it it gave me the idea to actually give it a try. Kinda fun," You grinned at her. Yes you did it specifically so you could rub it in her face that you were unbothered.

You saw her eye twitch ," whatever, loser."

Christmas was nearing, the talent show was here. You were on before the plastics and Mr Duvall called your name to the stage.

You walked on and took a seat, trumpet held in front of you. You took a breath and got ready to play. Only no sound came out when you tried.

"What?" You muttered to yourself and turned your trumpet around, looking down into it. Apparently someone had stuffed it with pink slime. Not the runny kind, but the kind that looks more like rubber. You rolled your eyes. You didn't need the pink to tell you who had done this," Just a moment."

You got up and took the slime out as you headed back stage, looking for Regina. When you found her; her and her crew were laughing. Presumably at you. They hadn't noticed you approach, so you took your chance.

You threw the slime directly at Regina, it slapped her in the face and landed in her hair. Getting stuck. She screamed and her eyes snapped to your direction.

"Oh you're so dead!" She immediately walked towards you, you stood your ground even after getting a solid bitch slap from the blonde.

The two of you were now in a full on brawl, you knocked Regina to the ground but she pinned you there. The both of you wrestled each other.

Gretchen and Karen shared a look while Cady encouraged it. Being the fake she is.

It didn't take long for Ms Norbury to find you and Regina and separate the both of you.

"She attacked me!" Regina yelled.

"You punched first!" You yelled back.

Ms Norbury sighed deeply," I don't care who started it, ladies. You are both just as involved as the other." Her eyes landed on the slime in Regina's hair," Regina, go get cleaned up. Y/N Mr Duvall's office. Regina you'll meet her there. You have ten minutes before I come get you to make sure you go."

"Ugh. This is so fucking stupid," Regina muttered.

"You're fucking stupid," You muttered right back as you both walked out. Narrowing your eyes at each other.

Soon enough, the both of you are in Mr Duvall's office. Just waiting for the talent show to be over as Ms Norbury waited with you. Keeping an eye on you both in case another fight started.

When Mr Duvall finally joined you, he looked... more disappointed than anything. Or maybe he was just tired.

"How many times must we do this?" He asked. This was not the first time you and Regina had been in his office together.

You and Regina gave each other a side eye.

"It put slime in my trumpet," You pointed to Regina.

"'It'?!" She looked ready to fight you again.

"Girls! Please." Duvall sighed and leaned forward, arms rested on his desk." Both of you are in the wrong. Both of you are being punished. You'll have detention with each other for the rest of this week and next. And you'll be given tasks from the janitor. Maybe if you work together on it... you'll at least tolerate each other more and I won't get so many headaches."

You did not tolerate each other more.

At least, not at first. The first few clean up tasks were absolutely hell.

That was until the janitor trusted you and Regina with floor cleaning machine. (i wish it had a better name but i could not find anything. they're those zamboni things. i'm just gonna call it a zamboni 😭)

You don't know how you earned his trust to use this but you did. School was out for the day and you and Regina had to stay behind, the janitor left already. Leaving the two of you to work alone with this.

You glanced at Regina and grinned. "Bumper cars?"

Regina raised an eyebrow," you're so stupid."

"Come on! You know you want to~!"

"Absolutely not." She folded your arms and started walking away.

You got an even better idea." Slip and slide?"

That got her to pause and consider it. She looked back at you," if it will get you to shut up."

"Definitely." It wouldn't.

You and Regina worked together to get the floor of a hall cleaned up with the cleaning zambonis. Once it was done, you took a running start from around the corner then sprinted down the hall. Sliding the whole way down and trying to stay on your feet. You did not. You landed on your ass about half way down.

Regina laughed as she watched you and thought 'screw it' as she did the same thing. She made it about the same length as you, then fell on her front with a thud.

The two of you laid on the floor and laughing, looking at each other with smiles on your faces. Maybe Regina George wasn't so bad. What you didn't know is that Regina was starting to think the same about you.

"Hey. Wanna ditch this and go get bobas?" You asked, you doubted she would even agree.

Regina seemed to hesitate for a moment before she got off the floor," yeah, sure. But you're paying."

"Aw, whattt? You're like a billionaire." You stood and followed her out of the school.

"So?"

You rolled your eyes but smiled. The halls didn't get cleaned that night, but it seems Mr Duvall's strategy worked a little better than he thought it would.

The two of you rekindled your friendship, you still annoyed each other to no end but on a less... chaotic scale. It was more controlled and less sabotages.

And later it even became more as you and Regina had a very intense drunk make out session.

#x reader #fanfic #canon x reader #fem reader #wlw fiction #mean girls x reader #mean girls #regina george #regina george x fem!reader

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weird-an · 11 months ago

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Christmas sucks, because the Camaro is cold.

Billy watches his breath form little clouds. That's the only reason. He's got everything he needs right here. A blanket, a book and a bottle of his best friend Jack. Maybe he'd like a cookie, it's the holidays after all, but he's got to stay in shape anyway and can't give Neil a reason to push him around some more.

There's a knock on his window. It's a tall man with a beard and glasses, wearing an ushanka.

"I know what you're doing, boy."

"What the fuck, dude?" Billy frowns. Christmas sucks, because the wrong people won't leave him alone. There's a little kid inside him that's scared. Scared of strangers, scared of men that are even taller than his dad.

"You're plotting something. I know, I know, they build that fancy ass Starcourt mall, the peak of capitalism and you'd just like to take it down, right?"

Billy blinks. Wonders if he's half asleep already, caught in some weird fever dream. "What?"

The guy laughs. "Sorry, that was just a test."

"A test," Billy echoes. Are there any normal people living in Indiana? "For what?"

"To see if you're safe to talk to," the man says if Billy is the biggest idiot missing the most obvious thing in the world.

It doesn't make any sense to him. Billy hasn't ever been safe, how would he know what that means? And why would a stranger care? He's probably crazy, the kid inside him whispers. He's bigger than Neil and crazy.

"You know, your car is really nice and all. But it's Christmas and you've been here for four days and..."

"Have you been watching me?" Billy sits up, clinging onto the little bit of rage lighting up inside him. It's warming him a little.

"The usual observation of unusual occurrences in the area my friends live in." The man shrugs. "I've got a warehouse in Sesser. It's warm."

"A what?" His rages gets overwritten by more confusion.

"There will be pirozhki." The man seems to think a moment. "You can invite Steve! You like Steve, right?"

The man has been watching him. Steve met him here two days ago. Did he seem them? God, Billy is such an idiot. Meeting at the quarry, thinking no one would see. Billy is so dead.

"It's fine," the man says. "You like Steve, I like Alexei."

"Who's that?" Billy asks. His head is dizzy, like he already drank that bottle of whiskey.

"My..." The guy pauses. "My Steve, I guess."

Oh. He never met anyone who was... like that. Like him. It's a comforting thought. Like a blanket. Billy probably shouldn't go to stranger's warehouses, but Christmas sucks - because the Camaro is cold and he'd really like not to be alone.

"I'll talk to Steve first," Billy says. He doesn't want to end up murdered in some place called Sesser.

The man nods. "It's good not to trust easy."

Billy snorts. Yeah, tell him about that. He wonders if he's about to spend Christmas with a crazy guy and his partner. And whatever pirozhki are.

"I don't even know your name."

"Murray."

Murray stretches out his hand.

"Billy."

Billy takes it.

#murray bauman #murray x alexei #harringrove #billy x steve #billy hargrove #harringrove ficlet #steve x billy #billy hargrove deserves better

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amaya-writes · 2 years ago

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Day One: And Then There Was One...Bed (BNHA x Reader Smut)

Day One of Amaya's New Year's Event

Summary: After a tiring day assisting your hero at the commission's Christmas party all you wanted to do was collapse in your hotel room and sleep the night away, however, things take a surprising turn when you find out each agency was only given one room...with one bed.

Warnings: smut!!! NSFW, MDNI!! sub Hawks, oral (both receiving), raw sex, dom reader, dom Aizawa, use of words like kitten, fingering

Characters involved: Hawks, Aizawa

Keigo Takami (Hawks)

You shouldn't be doing this.

A small smile tugged on your lips as you allowed your fingers to card through his feathers, the action eliciting a shiver from your pro hero as he leaned further into your touch.

The sight made your grin widen as you felt Keigo trail his hot fingers across the swell of your ass, causing you to softly grind against his touch as you allowed yourself a quick peck before completely pulling away from him.

"We really shouldn't be doing this, Keigo."

Other pro heroes would have taken your words as a reason to stop and never look you in the eyes again, but Keigo was different. He was young. You and stupid and everything you thought you left behind after graduating from UA.

And he was needy. So, so needy.

It was why he allowed a small whine to slip past his lips as Keigo's grip tightened on your bare skin.

Stay, he said. And you listened.

You listened even if you knew better than to kneel between your pro hero's legs and slot his dripping cock between your lips, you listened even if you knew a pro hero's position wasn't between his side kick's legs sucking at her core.

Low groans and moans echoed through the hotel room as the two of you made love to each other. Because that was what this was. Not random sex, but making love.

He caressed your body with the hands of worship and you tainted him with a sinner's touch.

Keigo was clumsy, and clearly didn't know what he was doing. He couldn't have had sex more than a handful of times, not with the commission breathing down his neck day and night, but he was eager. Eager and so ready to learn.

He didn't say anything when you tugged at his blond strands and pushed his mouth close to your core. He didn't protest when you told him to sit up against the headboard and climbed on his lap.

The only sound that escaped his lips were moans of pleasure as he egged you on with his words.

Don't stop. So you didn't. Let me cum for you. So you let him.

You wanted to be meaner, to pull away at the last second and make him whine for your touch. But you couldn't. Not when he was looking at you like you hung the sun in the sky.

He looked at you with the eyes of worship, you looked at him like you wanted to severe his faith.

Nobody would know about what transpired between the two of you that night. But nobody needed to know.

Because Keigo Takami might have been the powerful number two hero to the rest of Japan, but to you, he was the pro hero who fell to his knees for his side kick.

Even if it was just for a night.

Aizawa Shouta

It'll be fine he said. We're mature adults who can handle ourselves, he said. I'll be asleep even before you realise it, he said.

Yeah, right.

Aizawa Shouta might have been a pro hero who prided himself on his self-restraint and poise, but the way his lips trailed hickeys down your neck while his fingers curled into the waistband of your pyjamas certainly made it seem otherwise.

It had been hours since the two of you first stumbled into your hotel room tired and ready to collapse, but neither of you had gotten a wink of sleep since the second you lied down beside each other.

At first, he had used the blaring red 2:00 am on the hotel's alarm clock as an excuse to strike up a conversation about how both of you wouldn't be able to get any work done the next day if you didn't sleep.

Then came the cuddling because it was cold enough for you to feel like your toes were going to fall off.

But somewhere between the clock striking three and your lips find his, the two of you had found yourself tangled in each other's limbs with a salacious need gnawing at your mind.

This was wrong. Both of you knew it was.

Pro heroes weren't supposed to spend their nights with their fingers stuffed into their side kick's pussy. And side kick certainly were supposed to jerk off their heroes at three in the morning.

Especially not when you were on a trip organized by the hero commission and in a hotel surrounded by dozens of heroes who could easily hear you through the thin walls.

But neither of you seemed to care much about that. Not when every fibre of your being just screamed for that delicious release.

"Shouta- I-"

You wanted to say something, anything at all. But it was hard to do anything but muffle your moans in the pillow beside your head when Aizawa was curling his fingers up into you so perfectly.

"It's okay."

He placed a chaste kiss on your jawline as he spoke, causing a small smile to tug on your lips.

"You ready to go all the way, kitten?"

You silently nodded along to his question, allowing your hand to fall limp around his length just as you felt his hand pull away.

As you watched Shouta shift so that he could tower over you with one hand pressed into the mattress and the other stroking his leaking cock, you couldn't help but feel a sudden sense of yearning consume you.

It made you whine in annoyance at the lack of his touch, a sound that elicited a chuckle from Aizawa as he reached down to finally slide his tip inside you. And then more, and more, until you could feel him bottoming out with a loud groan that drowned out your own moans.

The mattress squeaked below the two of you as you felt him began to pull out and slide back in at a painfully slow pace.

"Shouta!"

This time your call was one of desperation, the sound making him smirk against your neck as he trailed kisses down your hot skin.

"Be patient."

"But-"

He pulled away from your neck at the weak protest, choosing to stare at you with a raised eyebrow even as his hips rolled against yours.

"Trust me, kitten, I know what I'm doing."

He dropped down to place a quick peck on your lips as he spoke, the gesture causing a small smile to tug at the corner of your lips as you silently watched Aizawa reposition himself above you.

"Now, let your pro hero take care of you."

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xiaoscarasimp · 11 months ago

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Horny Drabble 2-Ribbons and Smut

Merry Christmas everyone ^^ I wanted to do a Christmas themed smut piece and this ended up being way longer than intended (but still short)

Cw: afab reader, biting, pet names, choking, degradation, etc etc MDNI pls

“Ah, shit, it's supposed to wrap around this way? No wait, this way?”

You were having problems trying to figure out how to wrap the purple ribbon around yourself; you were starting to look like a hot mess, almost falling over. There was supposed to be a bow on your front, across your chest and it was supposed to be wrapped around your torso, plunging down towards your crotch in a V shape, showing off your soon to be leaking pussy. The thought of seeing your boyfriend's reaction to your “present” to him was already making you excited.

You tried a few more times to wrap the ribbon around yourself, eventually settling for a bow on top of your head, a lacy purple bra and bow on your chest, and matching panties and stockings. There was supposed to be the ribbon around the stockings as well, but you got frustrated on trying to put it on. Waiting for Scaramouche to get home, you wrap up in a warm blanket because your torso was getting cold, despite the fireplace going in the background. The heat starts to make you sleepy and you drift off with thoughts of the long, long night with Scara.

An hour or two later, Scaramouche comes through the door, clearly exhausted from work. You wake up, still a bit groggy and greet him in the kitchen, blanket off, revealing your special Christmas outfit. At first his eyes went wide, then they settled on a lustful gaze.

“My, my,” He coos, pupils blown wide with lust. “What do we have here? My very own personal Christmas slut? Aww, y/n you shouldn't have.” Scaramouche comes over to you and tilts your head up with a finger running under your chin, staring deep into his deep indigo eyes. The storm of lust was just beginning.

“Merry Christmas!” You say cheerfully.

Scara picks you up and carries you to the bedroom princess style. He whispers into your neck how he wants to ravage his present, starting with your breasts. Your boyfriend nibbles at your neck while he is performing his ministrations, lapping at the skin to surely leave a mark. You're already a moaning mess and he hasn't even taken his clothes off; your neck has always been your weak spot.

He carefully, but roughly, puts you on the bed, climbing on top of you, a knee between your already drenched pussy. You moan once the knee hits it and attempt to grind on it, leaving a stain on his jeans. Removing the knee, Scaramouche leans down to kiss you enticingly,passionately, roughly. His lips were the electric jolt your body needed, one of the things your body craved. Thrusting his tongue in your mouth, you two perform a choreographed dance, him taking the lead, nibbling at your lips as you danced.

“Gods, you look so cute underneath me like this,” He temporarily paused his assault on your lips, cupping your face with a smile. Scara then went straight for your neck again, licking a stripe up one side, then kissing and biting down the other.

“S-scara,”you moan, overstimulated already.

“Shh, darling” He coos with a smirk on his face. “Let me have my fun.”

Scaramouche then makes his way down to your breasts, groping one while his tongue swirled around the nipple of the other. The way he was pulling and tugging on the sensitive bud, you swore that he was going to tear it off. Needless to say, you found a lot of pleasure in the pain.

“Please,” you beg. “Please just let me cum.” You were about to cum just from him sucking on your breasts.

“Ah-ah-ah” He tuts. “I need to savor my present and Christmas dinner.”

He dives down towards your pussy, licking it and teasing the clit. Scara thrusted his tongue in your needy, leaking hole, lapping up the juices that spilled forth from it. It’s his ambrosia; the sweetest nectar he could have ever tasted in his entire life. After savoring the taste for a little while he sits up, eyes half lidded, drunk on your pussy and finally lines himself up with your hole. He decides to take it agonizingly slow, plunging in centimeter by centimeter, allowing you to crave it all the more.

“Scara please, hurry up,” you whine.

Big mistake.

“Know your place,” He growls.

Scaramouche's hand finds purchase on your neck, squeezing gently at first. Noticing your reaction of pleasure, he squeezed a bit harder, your walls squeezing him in turn. He knew you liked to play rough sometimes, and tonight was about pleasuring not only himself but you are well.

He starts to thrust slowly at first, each stroke causing tantalizingly slow. It wasn't long before he was thrusting faster and at irregular pace that your hole started sucking him in even more, craving the member in its wake. The sounds of sex reverberate in the room, the plap plap of skin slapping together was making the experience all the better

“Scara,” you moan. “Faster, please!!”

“Such a needy slut for me,” Scaramouche breathes in your ear. “Do it. Cum on my cock like the whore you are.”

Few seconds later, you allow the coil in your stomach to come unwound, cumming on his member. Not long after he filled you up, leaving his dick in your hole to ensure not a drop was wasted.

“Merry Christmas, darling.”

#genshin #genshin smut #fanfic #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche smut #christmas smut

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fuwaprince · 11 months ago

Text

👉👈 Hi friends! I have a long, serious post made just for you(!) that isn't full of spoilers, smut or mooning lawn gnomes. Please read if you can, this is a 💥 mutual aid request 💥

It has been a horribly painful and long while as most people following/keeping up with me know. and in a few days I'm going to be down $1500, which is basically all my fucking $

I can't afford Christmas for anybody, which sucks and I'm very sorry. I can't even take care of myself and haven't been, which also sucks and I'm very sorry

Landlords spontaneously raised rent on me more than halfway through this month as punishment for not getting to my house chores and not communicating, to be totally honest with you. I feel ashamed and awful about it but I didn't want to clean the place while multiple ppl living here had tested positive for COVID and kept walking around unmasked... I am not fully vaxxed because I've been too depressed to get any kind of necessary medical care done and I didn't want to catch COVID in the middle of my finals week for the semester. I woke up to being angrily and rudely bitched at first thing after the last of my finals (I passed at least). It wasn't a humanizing text. Fuck the mistreatment though. Rent is now almost doubled and it won't be lowered

There was no room for negotiation and I truly believe they've resorted to pricing me out of living here because the group of renters psychologically tormenting me wasn't effective (actually- putting a picture of my rapist on the fridge rly was super effective in getting me to isolate myself in my room all day and so was outing me as trans to the transphobic ass neighbors.... But I didn't and still don't have any place better to move out to, like the way they were hoping I would. Yes, I have looked and BEGGED btw)

I want out of here NOW, but I can't leave. I tried and had to come back because it was the best option. I can't afford to stay in a motel/hotel/BnB just to get away from them for a day or two during Christmas. I don't have any friends who I can spend the holiday with either. During the semester, I resorted to convincing classmates with keys to locked buildings to let me crash in them while they worked at night and I would leave before anybody showed up. Now that school is out, I can't do that. I don't have any family I can reach out to for support or friends who I can depend on for immediate help. I have been crying day in and day out for weeks. I have records of it posted throughout my blog. Literally crying for days on end. I'm being so fucking transparent

All that lump of text is to explain to whoever is out there, who might be listening and willing and able, to please consider helping me, if and ONLY IF able. I know times are tough and if you'd rather use your $ for other reasons or just don't have any to spare, don't sweat it and take care! 🫂

I've thought about what I could do for a long time and have helped myself how I can. It isn't enough. I've applied for so much assistance. Been approved and been sabotaged by my inhumane mom (who does not love me) via stealing my legal documents and letters and hiding them for months. My mind jumps to grim places but I'm clinging for dear life to whatever hope I have left that says things will get better. I wish I knew somebody with a business that I could work for. Part of me feels so fucking terrible for asking for help because I feel like a waste of all your resources. I feel like I shouldn't ask, like I really do not fucking deserve help, but there are friends online who care, who I know mentioned being interested in helping in whatever ways they can

So to the people who care to seriously me, I'm ready to accept it: please send me nice words to get through this and feel less alone. It feels pathetic to ask but I would love a nice letter. A nice card even. Kind words of any kind would go a long way. It means more to me than food. I have felt so broken and every day feels like a test to figure out how badly I actually want to live

I'm also leaving my cash app and paypal here in case anybody would like to do more than what I'm comfortable asking but probably very likely will inevitably need very very soon. I will be left with fucking nothing and I will have no idea what to do once rent is paid

Thank you to those of you who have sent love, offered to listen and heard me out. I really wish it wasn't so hard to survive. I'm trying to feel better knowing there are people out there who are also without help and hoping the best, but it doesn't make me feel any better or comforted tbh. I just wish the help was there for us. I wish there was a place to go for spare love, care, compassion, empathy, kindness, humanity, generosity... I need that more than I need $. Call me stupid but that's what I live for. I don't live for paying to survive in terrible conditions. I live for love and to smile with friends

I hope to write back to the friends who have already been so kind as to message me soon btw. I'm sorry for not replying sooner. Your overwhelming support is sincerely sweet and sometimes I cry because I can't believe people are so nice (to me???). It'll give me something to do that doesn't make me feel like dying! :') so thank you thank you thank you *fist bump*

Hope you're all doing as well as you can and that somehow things get better. Hope anybody else struggling like me doesn't make the mistake of isolating like a sick and dying animal. You deserve love. You deserve support. Don't be like me. Have the courage to reach out to the people who care about you for help as early on into your emergency as possible. Don't let your situation snowball because you spend so long trying to figure out if you're worth it!!! This Random Tumblr user is here to tell you that YOU ARE. Sending my infinite everlasting unconditional love. Be nice to yourselves. Be nice to each other. Fuck the hateful assholes who wish I would just kill myself already. Tell your friends you love them. Happy Holidays!!!

And here's a single picture of a mooning lawn gnome at the very end, as a treat! I told you this post wasn't full of it.... It just ended with it 👉👉

#i decided i rather write a help post rather than a suicide note or my own obituary #sorry to ask for your attention AGAIN #mutual aid #important #help #i'm very sorry #mutuals can all kick my ass once for not abandoning me during these times #i wish i had a $ goal but i do not as of now #I'm taking it a day at a time #doing my very best and trying so damn fucking hard.. please help #i rly would just like to escape and have my own tiny place one day.... some place i can live and love happily in #i was on the steets earlier this year and living out of my ex's car. i do not want to go back to that out of desperation #i have been through so much just trying to survive in place where i don't feel like i belong or welcomes me #i need help #babbling

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stevenssacrab · 11 months ago

Text

Before The Party

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ✧ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ*

Summary: Just before the party, you question your outfit choice; Steve shows you how beautiful you are.

Rating: 18+ (minors, do not interact)

Warnings: lighting grinding, kissing, horny Steve lol, insecure reader, Steve being the best boyfriend anyone could ask for.

Word Count: 1k

a/n: I love Steve so much, the sweetest of man I swear, also I wrote the sexier parts to After Last Night by Bruno Mars, let me tell ya, perfect song for the occasion hahah

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ✧ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ*

Today was the annual Christmas party at Stark Tower. You usually dreaded going to these, but you have someone to go with this year. This year, you decided to go a little sexier; you're wearing a floor-length burgundy dress, off the shoulders, with an A-line silhouette with a high slit stopping just below the hip bone, accompanied with a silver heel with rhinestone embellished straps. For jewelry, you went with a simple 18K white gold pendant, and of course, the hair, Hollywood waves with a crystal hairpin tucking your hair behind your ear.

"I hope I'm not overdressed," you said to yourself, suddenly insecure in your outfit choice; you shook your head as if shaking the negative thoughts out of your head, "No, I look good, right?" you ask aloud, raking your eyes over the ensemble, questioning every choice you've made up to this point.

"Baby, have you seen my shoes?" Steve called, walking into the room, too concerned with his outfit to notice yours, but only for a moment.

"Hey, do I look okay?" Steve finally lifts his head, laying eyes on you for the first time. He had been with you throughout the whole process of picking out everything, but this was his first time seeing it all together. He was rendered speechless; all the words in the world couldn't describe how elegant and stunning you looked, the dress hugging all your curves perfectly, accentuating every mound and hill that was you, and don't get him started on the slit, highlighting your long legs, making your legs never-ending, Steve, staring like a starved man, eager to kiss up your legs, worshipping and memorizing every beauty mark and scar on your body.

"Steve, do I look okay?" you whimpered, a hint of sadness lingering in your voice; you turned to Steve, with tears welling up in your eyes, having convinced yourself that you looked horrible.

"Okay?" he asked, walking around your shared bed, slowly sweeping his eyes over your entire body.

"I look bad, don't I? Ugh, I knew the dress was a bad idea; maybe I shouldn't go tonight," you admit sadly, moving to sit on the bed; you slip your shoes off; you want to curl up and hide.

"No baby, not at all," Steve says wholeheartedly; he grabs one heel and gently slips your foot back into it; he buckles the strap by your ankle and brings your leg up to his mouth, slowly kissing up your leg.

"You look amazing," one kiss, "beautiful," another kiss, "ethereal," another kiss. You blush deeply and giggle with every kiss Steve lays on your leg.

"Steve," you whine, wiping your eyes away and pull him up for a passionate kiss filled with every ounce of love you felt for this man. Steve climbs on top of you, trapping you under his broad body, sliding his body in between your legs, fitting perfectly like puzzle pieces; you let out a breathy moan, grinding your hips up into Steve, desperate for friction. Steve swallows every moan he earns from you.

"Steve," you whimpered, gripping his arms tightly. "Steve, we're gonna be late," you say, grinding into him despite your protests.

"Let's skip it," he groans, moving his lips to your neck and sucking gently, meeting every buck of your hips perfectly, drawing a whine from you.

"We can't, Tony. Will never let us live it down," you sigh. Steve groans loudly and climbs off you, extending his hand out to help you sit up.

"Whatever you say, Y/N," he laughs, smoothing out the wrinkles in his suit; he kneels in front of you and helps you put on your other heel, kissing up your legs like before.

"How do I look?" Steve asked; he was dressed in a light grey suit that complimented his blue eyes, accentuating his broad shoulders wonderfully; you ran your hands up his arm and past his shoulders, tip-toeing up to kiss him sweetly.

"Ravishing, my love," you utter in between kisses. Steve smiles into the kiss and rests his hand on the small of your back, pulling you into a deeper kiss; you break the kiss slowly, fluttering your eyes open.

"Ready to go?" you asked, scanning him over, laughing at his feet; he still doesn't have his shoes on.

"On the bed," you say confidently, Steve laughs.

"Yes, ma'am," he jokes playfully, watching you as you slowly kneel in front of him. "Now that's what I'm talking about," he says, smiling coyly; you smack his leg light-heartedly, grinning from ear to ear.

"The shoes," you say plainly, holding out your hand. Steve places the shoes in your hand, and you slowly slide his foot into each shoe; you gently pat his feet when you're finished.

"Let's go," you say happily, hooking your arm with Steve. The car ride to the tower was smooth and uneventful; Steve rested his hand on your thigh, drawing random patterns the whole way.

"We're here," Steve says and quickly hops out of the car, lightly jogging over to your side, opening the door for you, and offering his hand to assist you; you smile shyly and the gentlemanly gesture; Steve was always so chivalrous, never missing an opportunity to make you feel like a princess. Steve hands the keys over to the chauffeur and holds his arm out for you to rest your arm; you smile at Steve and stride forward, heels satisfyingly clapping against the tile. You smile up at Steve for the umpteenth time tonight while waiting for your elevator. The elevator arrives with a ding, and you step in, checking yourself one last time in the reflection; the doors open, and you meet with an array of fellow Avengers dressed to the nines, everyone smiling and drinking carelessly, soft Christmas music played by the live band filled your ears, you gently squeeze Steve's arm nervously, Steve returns a reassuring squeeze of your hand.

"We got this," Steve says with a nod; when you step through the threshold, your eyes meet with Wanda and Natasha; smiling brightly at them, they look at you with their mouths hanging open. "You look hot," Wanda mouths from across the room; you laugh, throwing your head back. Steve laughs and lets go of your arm to let you go to the girls; you give Steve one last look before excitedly walking over to them, and you're met with excited squeals and hugs.

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striderskunk · 1 year ago

Text

Birth RP prompts, taken from someone in a birth group. Their post had so many great ideas.

1. labor on a plane

2. labor on a train

3. labor on a bus

4. while stuck in traffic

5. while stuck in a lift

6. while stuck at work

7. on vacation

8. stuck at home

9. planned at home

10. at a celebration / wedding

11. at an award show / gala

12. at the cinema / a play

13. while camping

14. during an important exam

15. during a sport event

16. while running errands

17. during Christmas, Easter, Halloween, etc.

18. while taking care of her other children

19. in a hospital

20. while going to the hospital

21. while being kidnapped

22. during combat.

23. during sex.

+ one baby

+ twins

+ triplets

+ big babies

ø early

ø on time

ø overdue

ø forced (pressing on the belly/ making the mother walk the stairs/ sex etc)

# baby is breech

# shoulders get stuck

# didn’t realize they were pregnant

# birth denial

# pushing baby back

– all alone

– with partner

– with friend

- with relative

– with colleague

– with someone who is also pregnant

- in pubic

– with stranger

– with a doctor

– with a controlling/ dominant/ commanding person

–other

≈ while trying to hide the pregnancy

≈ while trying to hide the labor

Labor

Induced labor (non-sexual)

Induced labor (very-sexual)

Early labor

Overdue labor

Long labor

Short labor

Moderate labor

Long contractions

Belly movements

Tight skin

Back pain

Short contractions

Soreness

Nausea/vomiting

Fevers

Carrier panic

Labor denial

Water-Breaking

Pre-labor

During labor

During sex

During birth

Slowly breaking

Fast breaking

Little fluids

Lots of fluids

Massive fluids

Water breaking on the floor

Water breaking over a towel

Water breaking on bedsheets

Waddling while water is breaking

Water breaking over the toilet

A lot of mess

A little mess

Birthing positions

On all fours

On back with legs spread out

Standing (away/towards partner)

Perching on a birthing stool

In the bathtub (away/towards partner)

In a birthing pool

On the bed

In a chair

Squatting while giving birthing (away/towards partner)

On the side

Tied up

In partners lap

Leaning onto something

on a birthing bed

The birth

Screaming

Wailing

Assisted pushing

Tearing

Fundal pressure

Hard crowning

Head sucking back in during birth

Long birth

Short birth

Moderate birth

Waddling while head is crowning

Moans

Grunts

Amniotic fluid gushing

Bearing down

Position change

Long push time

Short push time

Moderate push time

Dizziness/fainting

Breathing exercises

C section

Epidural

Head getting stuck

Shoulders getting stuck

• Giving birth to a baby that's so big, another person has to press on the belly as they push. Also works with a person who is exhausted from birth denial and needs help getting the baby out.

• When the baby drops very low and feels like it might fall out as they walk or stand.

•Having to hold the head back with their hand as they desperately try to find a safe place to give birth. This also goes well with the whole hostile situation thing.

• Being forced to work while heavily pregnant. Bonus if the work is hard and triggers labor.

• Water breaking late in birth immediately followed by overwhelming urges to push.

• Pushing when they can't or shouldn't push at all.

Hope this gives people inspiration ^.^

#birthing #birth rp #childbirth #birth sex #labor sex #maeiusiophilia #maiesiophilia #maieusiophilia

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rainbow-nerdss · 6 days ago

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The Abby of it all

(figured I should get what I've got of this posted before tonight... Just in case 👀)

Buck shouldn't be upset about this. It's been years, the mention of Abby should not send him into a spiral. He's happy right now! He's in a good place, with Tommy, and with his life in general. The only thing missing is Chris, and… he's hopeful there, too.

But, he supposes, this wasn't just a mention of her.

They'd been having the exes talk, him and Tommy. Kind of intense, kind of emotional, but necessary and a little bit cathartic, too. It started when the news came on, Taylor's face filling the screen. Buck groaned.

"Ugh, can we change the channel?"

"What? You don't like news reports about corporate espionage?" Tommy asks.

"No, uh... We used to date." He nods at the screen, grimacing.

"Huh." Tommy squints for a moment, and hits the power button on the TV remote. "Gotta be awkward, seeing your ex on TV?"

"You have no idea." Buck starts talking about his first date with Natalia, then Taylor, and after a while Tommy picks up the thread, talking about the last guy he dated. They bounce back and forth, no particular direction to the conversation, until Buck realises something.

"You haven't mentioned... What about before? Did you ever, you know, date women before you came out?"

Tommy sucks his teeth for a second, then nods. "Yeah. I don't talk about that much—I'm not the proudest of it, but I actually had a pretty serious relationship with a woman while I was still with the 118."

"Really?" Buck asks, voice neutral while Tommy gathers his thoughts.

"Yeah. It was... Good, I thought. Until I met her brother, and thought: damn, he's hot."

Buck throws his head back and laughs. "You did not sleep with her brother!"

Tommy snorts a little. "No! God, no. He was happily married to a woman, had a kid on the way and all. Nah, it was just a moment of: shit, I really can't keep pretending this isn't a fact about me. You know?"

Buck nods. After a pause, he asks the question. "What did you do?"

Tommy sighs. "That's the part I'm not proud of—I didn't really do anything. I kept dating her. She was going through a lot—family stuff, her mom was sick, and I just... Didn't wanna do that to her."

Buck hums, tracing patterns over Tommy's arm while he stared into space, remembering.

"How did it end?" Buck asks.

"Badly. She knew something was off, always so perceptive. She confronted me, and I just... I couldn't keep it in anymore. I told her. We ended it. She ended it.”

"Damn."

"Yeah. She's fine, though. After the initial hurt, she rebounded with some hot young probie she met on a call, and now she's married with step-kids. We still send Christmas cards to each other." Tommy laughs. Buck… doesn’t.

"On a call?" Buck asks. "She was a firefighter?"

"Oh! No, not a firefighter. She worked at dispatch, actually."

Buck's entire body convulses, blood turning chilled. "Dispatch?" He asks.

He runs back over everything Tommy said about her. He remembers a voice, frail and confused, calling him by the wrong name.

"You... You're Abby's Tommy," he realises.

Tommy blinks in surprise. "How do you...? Oh. Oh.”

Buck takes a breath, long and shaky. Tommy's words reverberate in his head. Rebounded.

Hot young probie.

Is that all he was to her?

"I… I didn't know I was a rebound," Buck admits, voice small. Tommy reaches for him, but he flinches away. "She... Abby was everything to me. She was the first person I ever let myself imagine a future with. Her leaving... it kind of... broke something in me, Tommy. Something that it took months—actually, years—to find again. And she never even..."

"Evan, I... I had no idea."

Another thought occurs to Buck, then. A darker, worse thought. He almost doesn't want to ask, but he knows he'll drive himself crazy with wondering if he doesn't.

"Did... You said you were with her while you were with the 118?"

Tommy nods. "I was."

"Did you ever... Did she ever come by the station?"

Tommy squints, like he's trying to remember. "I don't know. I know she met Sal. Gerrard kept asking if she'd come cook for everyone, like a ‘good wife.’" He rolls his eyes. "I don't think she ever did, though."

"So she... She never met Chim, or-or Hen,or Bobby, then? They didn't—"

Tommy shakes his head. "I'm sure they would have told you if they'd known."

Buck swallows. He feels sick.

Rebound.

The final straw hits a moment later. She told Tommy about him. She's told Tommy about her husband, her step-kids.

She couldn't even tell him what country she was in while they were dating.

Buck stands abruptly.

"Are you okay?" Tommy asks.

"I need... I need to go."

Buck grabs his keys, puts his feet in his shoes, and walks out the door.

"Evan! Evan, come on! Let's talk about this?"

Buck's halfway to his jeep already, but he turns. "We will. I promise, we'll talk, but I just... I don't think I can talk about this yet. I'll... I'll call you, okay?"

And here he is now, in his jeep, driving without aim through LA. He doesn't know where to go. He doesn't want to be near Tommy right now, though he did nothing wrong, and he doesn't want to be alone.

He drives past Abby's—his—old building, and has to fight a scream which tries to tear itself out of his throat.

Who asks a rebound to move in with them? Had she actually used that word, or was Tommy just inferring?

He knows who he has to talk to.

He hopes Tommy was wrong. He hopes Abby was genuine. Because if she wasn't, Buck's really not sure what he will do. His relationship with Abby set the bar he compared every other relationship to—how can he trust his instincts, if that was all a lie?

He fights for the memory of when Abby told him about Tommy—what had she said about him?

She didn't talk about him much, he thinks. She hadn't even mentioned the fact that he was a firefighter—Buck would have remembered that.

“He wasn't ready for all of this.” Buck hears the echo of her words, remembers interpreting it to mean her mom, her situation. He remembers worrying that he might not be ready for it, but really wanting to be.

Looking back, he absolutely hadn't been ready.

Had that been her way of not outing Tommy? Had she been trying to cover up the real reason for their breakup? Or is it Tommy who's telling a twisted version of the story?

There's only one person who can give him an honest account of it all—one person who may not have been there for it all, but who knows the situation better than Buck.

Carla.

With Chris in Texas, though, Buck doesn't know where she's working, or what hours. He just hopes she answers his calls.

#my fic #evan buckley #tommy kinard #(if i complete this it will be a breakup fic #just fyi #911 abc #911 spec fic

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