#even with the highs and lows of the process U u U

[teunip]

"Learn the secrets they keep from you."

Textless version under the cut!

[userlando]

watch you watch me — lando norris

lando norris x fem!reader [2k] summary: getting caught is the last thing on his mind as he walks you back into the bathroom of his jet. warnings: 18+ explicit smut & language, semi-public sex, slight choking, mile high club a/n: fic two of smutober and the kink i decided to focus on is mirror sex. i literally couldn't not do it after the chaos when the jpg pics got posted. i hope you enjoy it!! love u all 🤍

Three hours. That’s how long Lando could keep himself entertained on a long haul flight before he grew bored out of his mind. He almost regretted turning down the offer to share a jet with Alex and George, but then he’d glance at you curled up in your seat across from him and Lando would immediately change his mind. You had your own life to live and Lando had his highly demanding job so it left you little time to spend together. It didn’t mean that you didn’t try, because you absolutely did; Grabbing every chance and spare day to see each other, only if for a few hours.

Sometimes, when your time zones were wildly different and Lando was suffering from major jetlag, he’d lie awake on facetime; Blinking tiredly at the bright screen while you went on with your day, chattering about the most mundane things. He liked it, loved it even. It made him feel like he was right there with you and not in an empty hotel room by himself.

So a fourteen hour flight together was really a blessing in disguise. But Lando had an overactive mind and he really couldn’t sit still for more than two hours before he felt the urge to climb the walls. And you knew it as well, having come prepared with cards and boardgames. But Lando was a sore loser and you were over-competitive so that only lasted for an hour before you both were on the verge of insulting each other and decided to call it quits.

He glanced up when you suddenly unfurled your legs from where you’d folded them against you, stretching your legs and wiggling your toes cutely before standing up. His eyes drifted to your midriff when you stretched your arms up above you, the hem of your shirt riding up in the process and suddenly Lando felt like fucking Einstein when an idea slithered into his mind.

Lando fisted his hands to keep from reaching for your hips, feeling an anticipatory stir in his groin when your bellybutton was on display like that because fuck, it was his favourite place to kiss.

You glanced down at him, clearly mistaking his hungry staring for confusion because you yawned through a smile, looking as beautiful and innocent as ever.

“Bathroom break.” You explained but he wasn’t really listening.

You might as well have been speaking an entirely different language but he nodded like he’d heard you, watching you turn and head for the bathroom on unsteady legs. His eyes glanced up and down the short aisle but there was no one in sight, and he took that as a chance to scramble out of his seat and follow you, reaching for his camera in the process as another idea sparked in his mind.

The squeak coming out of your mouth when he crowded up against your back would’ve normally made him laugh, but he was too busy with walking the both of you into the bathroom to pay it any close attention. A scandalised gasp escaped your mouth when you realised what he was doing, watching him turn and lock the door like he’d done it a million times.

“Lando, what the —“ The words died on your tongue when he turned around and revealed his face to you, staring at you so hungrily that it almost punched the air out of your lungs.

He took one step and caught your mouth in a kiss, groaning low in his throat when you opened up beautifully under him. Lando loved the way you became so pliant, melting into his touch when he backed you into the sink and reached one hand to loosely circle your throat.

“Baby.” There was a slight whine in your voice that made his nerves sing, pressing his lips against yours more insistently; Mimicking the movement of his hips against yours. The hardness you feel makes your mouth open in a gasp and he takes that moment to drop to his knees in a crouch, hands scrambling to roll your shirt up enough to reveal your belly.

You keen a little at that and he knows that you do it out of insecurity so he hurriedly places kisses to the flesh there, biting your hip for good measure and he only stops once you’ve relaxed fully; Gripping the edge of the sink with both your hands too keep from folding in on yourself.

Lando glances up and you look down at him, shooting him a shaky smile.

“You look so pretty.” He says and you shake your head with a breathless laugh.

“We’re gonna get caught.” Your lower lip gets sucked between your teeth and Lando wishes it was his tongue in its place.

He shrugs, shooting you a smile that spells trouble and something fire hot shoots down your spine when he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your joggers and pulls. He doesn’t waste any time to get his face between your legs, opening his mouth against the material of your panties that you’d managed to soak in the span of five minutes. The faint taste of you on his tongue makes him moan, sucking until you’re whimpering his name and the material turns sodden with his spit.

He gets a finger under the cotton, pulling the crotch aside and burying his face against your hot flesh, mouth opening wide enough to slot over where you’re aching for him. The feel of his wet and warm mouth against you makes your knees buckle, gripping the sink even tighter when he starts sucking and licking on your clit.

You try to keep your noises intact but you’re too loud to be doing this in such a public space and Lando seems to realise it at the same time you do, reaching an arm up until he’s got two of his fingers shoved into your mouth. It makes him ache when you gratefully suck them, wetting them with your saliva as you hum and moan.

It doesn’t really take long for him to pull an orgasm out of you, your knees shaking and your hand tightly gripping his unruly hair as you cry out; The sound muffled by his fingers. He laves his tongue against you until your shaking subsides, slowly getting up from his crouched position when you start whining in overstimulation.

You’re a sight for sore eyes, pupils blown out and drool dripping down his hand and Lando can’t help but push his fingers deeper into your mouth, listening to you gag as your eyes flutter shut.

“God,” He whispers, hooking his fingers into the side of your mouth to pull it slightly. His eyes are trained on you, dark and wanting. “So fucking beautiful, aren’t you? I’m so lucky.”

You moan, the sound a little too loud in the small space but Lando can’t bring himself to care much as he leans forward to kiss you. It’s messy and you don’t really kiss him back with the way he’s got his digits in your mouth but the movement of your pliant tongue is enough to push him one step closer to the edge.

He pulls away with a breathless groan when you palm him through his pants, hurrying to turn you around and bend you over the sink and it makes him physically ache at how docile you are. You let him position you, both of your palms flat against the counter without preamble and Lando bends to press a kiss against the back of your neck as a silent thank you.

The stretch of his cock takes you by surprise and you hang your head low as you go up on your tippy toes the further he pushes himself inside of you. It doesn’t burn like it usually does, Lando having prepped you enough to take him without any problems but it still makes you ache when he finally bottoms out with a drawn out groan.

Lando swears, the words filthy on his tongue as he gives you a moment to get used to him before he sets up a rhythm. It shakes you to the core, gripping the sink tightly enough that it hurts your fingers but the pain balances out the sheer pleasure you’re feeling as he fucks into you.

You shudder when he gets a hand between your legs, touching your sensitive clit and you keen harshly at the added sensations; bringing your head up to stare at him.

What you see takes you by surprise. You expect to see his face, but the camera aimed right at you jars you; making you clench when you realise what he’s doing.

He’s taking pictures. And you fucking love it.

“Oh, look at you.” He grins, cheeks flushed pink as he pushes himself forward; burying himself inside and watching you squirm. “Beautiful girl. The camera loves you, baby.”

You let out a hum, trying not to shy away from the camera as it clicks. He’s having too much fun with it, thrusting particularly hard to get a reaction out of you before hurryingly taking a picture of your face. If you’d been of sound mind, you would’ve thought of how you probably looked but you couldn’t bring yourself to worry too much when Lando stared; open mouthed and in awe, like he was too afraid to blink in fear of missing out on every microscopic expression on your face.

He grabbed the pudge of your hip with his other hand, working his hips into you and you moaned quietly as your stomach started clenching. A telltale sign that you were close. And judging by the look on your boyfriend’s face, he wasn’t too far behind either.

“Yeah? Gonna come for me?” His words were whispered, harsh and you nodded. He watched you get a better grip of the counter, fucking yourself back on his cock with every thrust forward. “I can tell, you’re clenching up so tightly around me, love. Get a hand in there, touch yourself.”

“Lando.” The whispered moan nearly did his head in, focusing on the way your hand shakily let go of the sink to touch between your legs, shaking with the intensity of it. “Oh, fuck.”

He couldn’t help but bring the camera up to get a full shot of you, mouth open and eyes fluttered closed, circling your finger over your clit and back arching the closer you got to your orgasm.

Lando let go of his camera, absentmindedly placing it to the side before he got both of his hands around your throat; feeling your vocal chords vibrate with the moan you let out as he yanked you upwards. You went easily, your free hand grabbing his but you weren’t trying to pry his fingers away from your throat. You were pushing into it, like you were silently begging him to put pressure and Lando was all too happy to comply.

The sudden tightness around him was like a punch to the stomach, your pussy rippling around his cock as you came with a choked off cry. His hips pushed against your ass, losing all sense as he came inside of you with a groan; listening to the sounds you made as you fell over the edge of oblivion.

Lando wasn’t too proud of the way he stumbled into you, letting you hold both your weights up as you came down from your orgasms but you didn’t say a word, only giggling between gasps of breath.

He unwound his fingers from your throat, sliding them around your torso with a content smile that he hid in the back of your neck.

“Those pictures are going on my jpg Instagram.” He said, voice slow and sleepy and you made a sound in your throat that sounded a lot like a protest.

“The hell they bloody are.” You turned your head over your shoulder, trying to glare at him but it was impossible to do so when he nuzzled your cheek. “Maybe one.”

“Two.” He said, like it was a negotiation.

“One.” You said, laughter in your voice as he squeezed you tighter to him. “But maybe you can change my mind.”

[midnightwriter21]

jjk hcs: satoru gojo meeting soulmate!reader

characters: satoru gojo x reader, mentions of megumi, yuji, nobara, and principal yaga

warnings: language, mentions of a giant spider

AN: AS PROMISED!!! the soulmate gojo fic!! i’m a sucker for non-sorcerer!reader x gojo. so if u want a version with a sorcerer reader lmk!!!

edit: sorcerer!reader version is published!! read it HERE

- soulmate au where the first words your soulmate says to you are tattooed in their handwriting somewhere on your body!!!

SATORU GOJO

you’re working at a small, family-run cafe

which just so happens to be quite close to jujitsu high school

it’s quite often that students and staff from the school are stopping at the cafe for a quick snack, coffee, and sometimes lunch

and due to an unfortunate run in with a low grade curse during a rush, you are very aware of the jujutsu world

principal yaga himself exorcised the curse when he was on his lunch break at the cafe

usually you’re working in the kitchen, baking, whilst someone else takes orders

until a coworker of yours calls in sick at the last minute… so ur on ur own rip

taking orders, cooking, serving, all of the above on your own

the 3 first year jujutsu high students, megumi, yuji, and nobara come into the cafe after a mission

they place their orders and megumi tells you that their sensei would be joining them shortly, with yuji letting you know that their sensei would also be picking up the bill

as if it would even put a dent in gojo’s wallet

anyways after taking their orders you walk into the kitchen to begin making their food and drinks

as you get to work, gojo walks into the cafe, joining his students at their table

you’re rushing around the kitchen, flour stuck to the font of your shirt, hair sticking out in different directions

trying to get the food cooked and out to them in a timely manner

and the world is just not on your side today because guess what shows up in your kitchen…

a cursed spirit

but not any cursed spirit

a cursed spirit in the form of a spider

a GIANT spider with what seems like a million eyes, the 8 legs, kinda furry looking

oh and did i mention it was giant? by giant I mean it stood at abt 6ft tall

two words: hell. nah.

when you turn away from the stove and find it standing behind you

you, like any normal person, let out an eardrum shattering screech of terror and back away from it as fast as possible

backing yourself into the corner of the room, with no room to escape…

the 3 first years and their sensei hear your scream and spring into action, running into the kitchen to defend you

that’s a lie

the 3 first years run to defend you

their sensei takes his time, sauntering towards the kitchen with his hands in his pockets

bastard

the kitchen door slams open as the 3 first years spring through the door, with yuji pouncing on the curse

the pink haired boy delivers a heavy punch, knocking the spider curse away from you

you take the chance to run

yeah girl it’s better to give them their space fr, yuji has a habit of punching through walls with his bare hands

you run through the door, looking behind you towards the scene, and you run head first into what feels like a brick wall

before you fall onto your ass, you feel two large hands latch onto your shoulders to steady you

“woah! don’t go falling for me already.. we just met.”

you look up at the voice, finding a man with stark white hair, a blindfold, and a cocky smirk

adrenaline coursing through your body you don’t even process the man’s words and you find yourself babbling almost unintelligibly to the man

“kill it! please kill it! i can’t stand spiders!”

the mans grip on your shoulders tighten slightly before he releases you, pushing you behind him, chuckling quietly with a “anything for you, sweetheart”

and with the flick of his wrist the spider curse literally explodes

staring at the tall man in both shock and awe, you don’t realize until you smell smoke

“THE FOOD IS BURNING SHIT!” and your running back into the kitchen to see if anything is salvageable

it’s not lol but honestly the food is the last thing on anyone’s mind

as you throw the ruined food away, the same hands from earlier sit themselves on your shoulders again, turning you around

“so… if i’m gonna actually get you to fall for me, i’m gonna need your number.” and there’s a phone thrust in your face

and at his words you remember his earlier statement to you, “woah! don’t go falling for me already.. we just met.”

you look up at him in shock, putting a hand on your forearm, over your soulmate mark with those exact words covering your skin

and he just smirks and pulls the sleeve of his uniform up to show you his own forearm

and printed in your own handwriting is your terror filled words from earlier, “kill it! please kill it! i can’t stand spiders!”

as the blush crawls up your neck and into your cheeks he laughs, throwing an arm around your shoulders and saying, “so.. does this mean I get free sweets from now on?”

[spread4marvel]

Little Mouse

so this was a requestttt (THANK U SM FOR THE REQUEST ILY SM) and this is a Loki x Maid reader againnn and basically Loki play a little cat and mouse game with the reader☺️

As you saw him from across the room and locked eyes, you knew you were obsessed. Unfortunately, you didn’t know how to pursue him from your position. Luckily for you, he could read you easily, more so than you thought.

TW: SMUTTTT, dirty thoughts, thigh riding, praise kink, hand necklaces😓, slightly insecure reader… I think that’s it’s I hope u enjoyed😽

From the first time you saw him, you were hooked.

Across the room, you stood with the other maids. With pride and your chin up as the other maids gossiped and gawked at men they knew they could never obtain together. You scoffed to yourself, how ignorant. You never understood why they would conspire fake delusions over palace men… until you saw him.

Your eyes locked onto Loki sitting at the Royal table. You couldn’t pull yourself away from him, the rest of the world fading as you admired from afar. Norns… he’s absolutely ravishing… You thought to yourself as he chuckled at his brothers foolishness. You got lost in a train of thought as you bore into him. Gods he must be heavenly. You continued to think, suddenly Loki’s eyes shot to yours. The two of your stares connecting as a smirk spread across his face deliciously. Unbeknownst to you, he could practically hear your thoughts from across the room screaming at him.

You blushed as he smirked at you, immediately darting your gaze to the ground. Your flushed face making him chuckle darkly to himself as he hummed. Fuck… Did he see me? You thought to yourself, he tried to ignore your thoughts but you intrigued him oh so dearly that he continued to bore at you. Finding himself captivated by your beauty, he immediately recognized you as his mother’s personal maid. He tucked that information back in his mind but he didn’t return to the conversation…

You finally looked back to see his piercing gaze still well onto your skin, he smirked as you didn’t look away. Curling his fingers in a beckoning motion, persuading you to come to the table. You’re sure this is more of a command than a wish. You find your feet moving before you can stop them as you make your way over to where he was sitting at the table. The conversation luckily didn’t stop as you arrived, almost as if you and Loki were invisible. “Yes your highness?” You inquired, your voice slightly faltering due to your racing heart beat.

He gave you his normal cheshire cat smile before asking you a question. “How come i’ve never seen you around here, little mouse?” He asks, you furrow your brow slightly. His voice is deep and velvety. You could practically drowned in it. “U-uhh well i’m usually tending to Frigga during my days, I’ve never attended this type of a public event before.” You responded, slightly stammering before composing yourself to answer. He hums and silence falls over the two of you before he hits you with a low and sultry command.

“You wouldn’t mind feeding me those grapes would you, Darling?” He asked with a low purr trickling off his voice, you felt a wave of arousal wash over you by how he spoke and the degree of his voice in that moment alone. Gods even his voice can make me wet, I need him to talk me through it. You thought, dirty fantasies running through your mind as you nodded and picked up the grapes that nobody else seemed to be eating.

“P-please just tap me when you want one, i’ll stand here for now.” You said, feeding him the first grape. He kept the process slow. He would tap you and then slowly tilt his head upwards, but never as high as you needed. Every single time he would give you no choice but to tilt his head up, which made your heart flutter every single time. Then you would pick the perfect grape off the stem you held and drop it into his mouth, in which every time he would give you a playful wink. And after every grape he would make a low hum, and then thank you.

Every. Single. Time.

Eventually the night had came to its end, and your flushed face was evident, the pool between your thighs starting to become unbearable, and it seems Frigga has noticed you taking a liking to Loki. As you were helping the other maids clean off the table and Loki was long gone. Frigga came up to you. “My dear, I believe these lovely ladies have the job covered. Go wash up, i’ll see you prompt and prim tomorrow.”

You nodded, thanking her silently as you slipped away in the silent corridors. The ache between your thighs had yet to vanish and it made itself well known. Steadily you made your way to your maidens chambers.

Carefully you peeled the articles of your uniform, running the warm bath water as you did so. You eased into the water, humming as the warmth hit your messy inner thighs. “Mm.. Loki…” You mumbled to yourself, eyes closed in anticipated pleasure as your fingers trail to your pussy. Slowly, you insert a finger. Swirling it in your wet cunt. You decided it’s not enough, adding another and repeating the action.

“N-norns… Loki!” You cry, as if he would barge into your chambers and take you right there. A couple more swirls and you’re close. You pump your fingers in and out of yourself imagining he was taking you. Filthy girl. You flinch, eyes darting open at that echoing voice in your mind. It sounded like Loki. You take a deep breath, climbing out the bathtub. Deciding to ignore the dull ache that still lingers and prepare yourself for bed.

______________________________________

A few days had past since you and Lokis encounter at the ball and as if your pride had been chunked out the window with the lewd thoughts running through your mind, he had you in a chock hold badly. Later that day, you had been called into Friggas chambers for she wanted a ‘word’ with you. You were practically scared to death as you entered, your heart trembling in anticipation and fear.

As you entered you immediately caught a wiff of him. Pine and spearmint infiltrated your nostrils as you entered. A pleasant surprise on your part as you noticed Loki deliciously manspread sitting down whilst Frigga stood somewhat beside him looking at you. Your eyes scanned over his body with a subtle quickness, his bulge catching your eye. Dirty thoughts seemed to run through you immediately as he shot you a knowing look.

Norns he looks so good like that, spread like that. Gods I can already feel myself getting wet, he knows just what he’s doing i’m sure. As your brain had a field day, a deep chuckle rumbled from Lokis chest. Pulling you away from your fantasies back to reality as Frigga shot him a look before clearing her throat. “Dearest (Y/N), a personal request has been brought to my attention. Therefore, I will be transferring your services to Prince Loki.”

At first a chord played on your heart, Frigga had always been a kind superior and an overall accepting person plus you had worked for her for decades so naturally you were a little disappointed. But when your gaze flicked over to his piercing bluish-greenish eyes all your doubt seem to evaporate. You nodded and bowed your head to her. “I understand your highness, it was a pleasure working under you. You still have my services I assure you.”

You promised, she threw you a gentle smile before Loki stood, signaling the ending of this little arrangement. “I can assure you that you’ll have a wonderful time with me, darling.” Loki purred to you, your face flushed once more. It’s impossible not to. You thought to yourself. It was almost too easy for him. He offered you his arm and you took it with ease as he walked you to his personal chambers.

_____________________________________

You had been serving Loki for a few weeks now and he was always sure to never overwork you. Your commands were either really important or a way to tease you, unfortunately you could never reach an in between. You had been out most of the day tending to important tasks all over the palace for the upcoming party celebrating Thors return, naturally Loki had to attend a meeting due to his Brothers success but he was back in his chambers much before you.

As you entered, it was late in the evening. Not terribly but the sun had began its setting. You opened the door to his chambers and was met with the pleasant sight of Loki, manspread like how he was moons ago, reading a book in his Asgardian armor suit. He knew how much you loved him in that armor. It drove you crazy every time you saw it. The way it hung on to his skin, you practically envied it for that reason.

Curse that wicked leather. He looks ethereal like this. He looks perfect, like always. Norns he’s so ravishing. I need that silver tongue deep inside me. I need his thigh pressed against me. You thought as you closed the door behind you, he finally looked up from his book and you can tell the meeting hadn’t gone too well for him. “Evening darling, can you come here for a second?” He asked, carefully closing his book and placing it in the ground next to the chair that he was spread in.

“Yes my prince?” You responded as you stood in front of him, those bedroom eyes glaring at you, swallowing you whole. You couldn’t even bare words to how he looked right now, in this very second. Looking up at you while he sat like that. “I’m growing sick of this little game we play darling, haven’t you?”

“I’m not sure what you mean, Prince Loki.”

“Liar.”

His tone dropped and rumbled at the simple word, like a growl. You shifted as you stood before him, pressing your thighs together as subtle as possible while trying to relieve the ache that had deepened itself between your thighs. Of course Loki caught the simple action.

“Oh you enjoy that…”

He noticed, his voice in the same tone, the same tone that could bring you to your knees. Fuck. Suddenly his hands reached from behind you and brought you onto his thigh. The same thick thigh that you had fantasized about earlier. “L-Loki!” You moaned out as his thigh was pressed into your soaking panties, it took everything in you not to start riding the meat of his leg right then.

“Oh darling what’s wrong? I thought you needed my thigh pressed against you? I thought I looked so good spread like this? You thought so yourself, my dear.” Your eyes widened as he recited your thoughts, your heart pace racing and breath quickening but mainly not even in fear more so in the arousal that seemed to be paining you at the moment.

No no that’s impossible, he c-can’t know… Your mind ran with thoughts until you felt Loki rock his thigh and bring you back to reality with a whimper and deep moan from yourself. “G-gods…” you mumbled. Unable to truly think of anything else besides how good it felt on your clothed cunt. “Oh yes little mouse, it’s very possible.” He hummed, his signature sly smirk playing off his lips.

“Answer me this pet, did you touch yourself after our first encounter in that ballroom?” He asked, you shot up to meet his gaze. The connection of his armor on your pussy intoxicating. Gods yes. You thought, the lump in your throat forbidding you from responding. His gaze deepened and he rocked his thigh once more, pulling another wanton moan from you.

“Say it.” He demanded of you, you whimpered once more without a response and suddenly with a snap your panties were gone and another rock came from his thigh. The moan even louder than before now at the raw connection.

“Say it!” You ignored his demand once more. “I-I’m close…!” You responded instead, he huffed and growled. With a quickness he moved from the chair, pulling you with him and off of his thigh as he pressed you against the wall. His hand wrapped around your throat just how you imagined many times but not actually choking you just applying slight pressure as he demanded you one last time.

“Say it.”

“Y-Yes!” You shouted, not terribly loud of course but either way Loki had put a silencing charm long before this encounter. His once dark eyes and unpleased scowl turning into a smirk. “Keep going, pet. Tell me how much you want it, tell me all of those dirty thoughts from your innocent lips. I wish to hear how I take you every single time you have thought about it.”

You whimpered from his words, realizing this is just like the latest fantasy you had thought out the other night, but you figured that was the point. A long silence falls over the two of you as you try to gain the confidence to confess your thoughts. You take a deep breath before telling him. “W-well sometimes it’s with your thighs…” You start, he nods along, gripping your neck slight harder.

“Go on.” He encourages, more of a command but you nod and continue. “O-others with just your voice. S-some you watch me touch myself a-and talk me through it…” You trail off, he groans as your desires seem to spill from your lips. You realized his hardness is pressed into you, causing a slight whimper to pull from your lips. “Keep going, pet.” He demands, he’s breathless, breathing heavily as you don’t waste anytime to continue.

“L-lots of times it’s with your tongue… many with your glorious cock… O-once or twice happen in public… one more secretive, one where y-you take me in front of everybody…” You say, your face flushed as you do embarrassed and aroused at the situation. He released a deep hum at your last word. “Oh I do remember that one…” He adds on while snaking his thigh back between your legs, making another wave of arousal wash over you as your reminded of the ache growing between your thighs. You moan out at the rebuilt connection.

“A-and once in the royal baths… F-finally m-many different times on your throne…” You finish, he groans once more, rocking his thigh and pressing deeper into you causing you to cry out. “L-Loki!!” You moan, he growls in response. Addicted to the way your voice hits him like a melody. Deciding he wants to hear more of your pretty sounds he began to rock you back and forth on his thigh. Finally releasing your neck.

Your arousal coated his Asgardian armor as you slid up and down on his thick leg. Moaning and whimpering as you took his initiative and rode his thigh. You’re achingly close, Loki can feel it. “You’re going to cum on my thigh, little mouse, and then i’m going to draw those pretty noises from you for as long as I see fit.” He declared his voice dripping with lustful need, and as if you follow suit, you’re instantly cumming.

You make a mess of his armor as you come down from your high. Panting and breathing heavily. He picks you up and easily carries you back over to the chair from earlier, the simple action of that making your cunt jump with anticipation. Slowly, you watch him fall to his knees in front of you. A god, a prince, on his knees for you. He hoists one of your legs over his shoulder, exposing your arousal to him.

“You look so gorgeous like this my dear, I’m going to make you crave my tongue. I assure you.” He promises, you let out a whine as his breath ghosted over your needy cunt. “P-please loki…” You beg, he hums and slightly brushes his nose against your arousal. “Oh you’re so wet for me darling, is this all for me little mouse?” He asked while licking a stripe up your pussy, forbidding you to answer as you cried out. Your hands dart to his ravenous locks. Gods yes… you thought, unable to truly respond. He hummed in return.

“Sprawled for me like this, you are absolutely heaven-sent, my dear. The perfect meal I intend to feast on…” He trailed off, his breath ghosting over your cunt once more. He observed your reactions to his words, watching how you threw back your head and whimpered or moaned to his words. He smirked as you did just that, moaning as you gripped his hair harder. He watched your pussy drip for him. You were getting sick of the teasing. “Oh you like that pet? You like to hear me tell you how pretty you look like this? Your body is practically begging me to make you cum. I’m sure you’ll do the same sooner than later.” He purred out, his voice dropping to that tone that you adore so much. You whine again.

“P-please Loki I need you.” You beg, he smirks and he returns his attention back to your aching cunt. “Very well, my dear.” He licks one more stripe up your pussy and you cry out again as he does. Your fingers grip his raven-like locks harder which seemed to challenge him as he began to suck on your cunt. There was no getting around the fact that Loki knew how to put his tongue to work. Your orgasm springs faster than you realize as in a matter of seconds you cum all over his mouth. Eagerly he licks up all of your discharge. Once he has he lifts his head from your thighs with a teasing grin.

You try to scoff but unfortunately find yourself too breathless to accomplish it. His shit eating grin making you roll your eyes. “D-don’t even…” You warn, he smirks but doesn’t respond. Returning to his duties as he buries his face back into your cunt.

Six. He makes you cum six more times after that.

Each orgasm more breathtaking than the last. Your brain is practically dumb-fucked when he lifts his face after the seventh orgasm. He’s panting and his hair is disheveled, your own cum smeared around his lips. “Look at me pet…” He mumbles breathlessly, you look at him to finally see his face. It’s as if your previous orgasm hadn’t happened by the way your pussy grows wet again. He looks absolutely ethereal You thought, he took another breath. “I want you to watch as I bring you to ecstasy this time, little mouse.” He stated, you nodded aimlessly, your breathing shallow and unable to properly respond.

He began his final attack on your cunt. Much like the first orgasm, he started with one longing stripe. This time, he added his fingers. With every draw of his tongue he would pump two thick slender fingers into you. The rhythmic pace making you see stars, you kept your eyes on him even as you moaned and whimpered, unable to pull yourself away. With another pump of his fingers you orgasmed. Coating his fingers and tongue with your juices. He lifted his head for the last time, licking his lips deliciously.

When you finally come down from your high, your mind runs with insecure thoughts. Overthinking seemed to swallow you whole. It’s over now… am I going to get transferred? What if I get sent to the chambers… Does he even like me or is it all a game? I didn’t even do anything for him that whole time… Loki frowns at your thoughts, snaking his way up your body to cup your cheek in his hands. “Hey, hey, it’s not like that… I assure you, calm down my dear please. Look at me.” He demands, you make eye contact with him. His brows are slightly furrowed and he’s looking into you longingly.

“My dear, do you know how good it felt to even touch you like that? Do you know how long i’ve waited to make you feel that good?” He asked you, you furrowed your brows slightly, not believing him fully. “Tell me.” You demanded, he smirked slightly, determined to voice how much you meant. “Darling I would move mountains and part seas to feel you come undone on my tongue. I would build worlds to tear them down and walk through the destruction just to hear those little noises you make one last time. I would bring kingdoms to your feet just to feel you next to me when I wake up in the mornings. I promise you, I will make us work.”

He said, you nodded along finally believing the words he spoke has he tilted your head upwards and captured you in a chaste kiss. You whimpered into it slightly as his tongue dominated yours. Finally he pulled away just to whisper in your ear.

“But i’m still not done with you, little mouse.”

——————————————————————

Sorry if this isn’t exactly the request you were imagining but I hope you enjoyed it and send me more! Sorry it took so long I have a lot of things goin on rn😭😭💗

@izka8520 @kathren1sky-blog

[scudslut]

Ok hear me out. Reader and Daryl go on a run for supplies with a few other people. Reader makes a mistakes and almost gets seriously hurt/ near death experience. Daryl gets pissed at reader, maybe yells at her. Reader laughs it off and acts like she doesn’t gaf. Daryl later finds reader all shaken up and crying by herself. Love if you don’t, love if you do!

stay with me

daryl x fem!reader

wc: 2k

warnings: typical twd gore/violence, mentions of death, mentions of trauma/ptsd

a/n: absolutely love me some good fluffy angst, thank u nony❤️ i hope you like it:))

As much as you tried to prepare yourself for the inevitable situations runs would put you in, the blood-chilling reality of it never got any easier. No amount of mental prep could stove off the sounds and smell of the dead, nipping ravenously for a taste of your sweet living flesh.

Of course, over time you’d learned just to shut your brain off and fight. Fight as hard and tirelessly as you possibly could, but mistakes could still be made. Shit happened, whether it was your fault or not.

Hours earlier, a group of you went a few miles east of the prison; Daryl having spotted a little strip a few days prior, not too overrun that he thought might be loot-worthy.

It was a simple run really. Keep close, hit a few shops in and out, then head back home. That’s it. Follow the plan, get as much useful shit as possible, and get the fuck out of there. You guys had it down to a science at this point, runs becoming so second nature it was almost too easy to let your guard down nowadays.

“Hey D, I’m gonna go check the storage room back here. Might have something we could use,” you voiced to your partner a few isles down, still keeping your tone as low as you could.

“Gimme a sec, I'll come help ya,” you heard him say but you kept moving. You two had already cleared the main area, you could handle a walker or two if there actually was any behind the small door. You figured you would’ve heard something by now, some sort of banging or grumbling to announce their presence, but there was nothing, the coast presumably clear.

You should have waited.

Crossing the few miscellaneous isles you reached the back door, giving it a small rattle. Still complete silence, not even the faintest groan or shuffle. Knife at the ready, hand clamped over the cool metal handle, your heart rate picked up a notch as it always did before opening into the unknown.

“You got this, come on,” you muttered to yourself, before throwing the door open, bracing for attack. The door flew wide, only to reveal a dark, empty room. Squinting through the dimness, a few high, dusty shelves were visible, stocked with all sorts of canned goods. Fuck yea, that was certainly useful.

“D! Come look what I found!” you rasped, dropping your knife into its holster and shuffling in. You unslung your backpack from your shoulders, digging through it for a flashlight excitedly. It’s been so long since you’ve found this much canned food, surely enough to keep the group well stocked through most of the winter that was approaching. A loud creak from the left caught your attention as you sped forward. Hands finally finding purchase on the flashlight, you flicked it on, scanning across the room to the sound.

Dust caked the air, making the already dark room fuzzier and your eyes took a minute to adjust. You took a few smaller steps closer, peering wearily ahead and then you saw them.

Beady, soulless eyes staring back. A whole rickety staircase of them, heads turning one by one to the light source in your hand.

“Oh fuck.”

There had to be at least 10 of them that you could see, the top of the stairs pitch black and unrevealing.

Your feet stumbled backward, hands desperately reaching for the knife at your hip, dropping the flashlight in the process. It rolled and caught under your heels, knocking you on your ass as the corpses advanced, jaws snapping.

These were those moments. When you felt your heart in your throat, brain stuttering on action. Time moved so slowly that the fragments were almost visible and every thought screaming in your mind sounded like gibberish. You know you should move, is that what it was screaming?

The first one got to you, grabbing your leg trying to crawl up and finally, you were kicking, scrambling, grabbing onto the knife and slamming it into its skull with a loud squelch.

“Daryl!” you yelled. You needed him. Now.

3 more dropped before you, slinking towards you and you were trapped — the first corpse lying heavily over your midsection.

“Yea, yea girl. I heard ya,” you heard him respond, still sounding a few isles away.

No no no, this was not how you were gonna die. Not today. Please.

You kept stabbing, each kill taking everything out of you as you struggled against the body weight atop you. They just kept piling, you could hardly feel your legs anymore, the circulation surely cut off below your knees. And more were coming, a never-ending stream of hunger.

Another one landed before you and you had just enough time to catch its shoulders before it was inches away, snapping at your neck. Your arms burned, tears welling in your eyes as you realized this could be it. You didn’t know how much longer you had before they gave out and rotting teeth would be sinking into you, tearing you apart.

The walker kept snapping, so close you could see the layers of rotting flesh peeling from its face. You had been close to walkers before, had stared into the lifeless eyes too many times to count, but this was different. More were coming and the face in the reflection of its eyes was barely recognizable — terror painting every feature you’d known on you distorted.

The bones cracked in its left shoulder and it dislocated, dropping down to centimeters from your skin.

“No,” you sobbed quietly. Daryl wasn’t going to make it, you knew that. He was going to walk in and find his girl as dinner. You hoped he just booked it, and didn’t waste his time trying to save what would long be gone.

The walker fell limp in your arms and you flinched harshly, expecting excruciating pain to follow as it bit. But there was nothing.

“The fuck are ya doing! Get up!”

Daryl was suddenly right before you, ripping each body off your aching limbs and you were now acutely aware of the larger pile by the stairs, all with arrows and stab wounds littering their heads. When had he gotten in here?

You didn’t hear his words, adrenaline coursing so loudly through your system that all that could be heard was a loud, shrill ringing.

“Goddammit girl, wake the fuck up!” he shouted, grabbing you by the shoulders in an attempt to lift you. Your brain caught up then, as he harshly placed you on your feet. Walkers scattered the floor around you, and a grumble at the stairs announced it wasn’t the last of them.

Daryl reached down, grabbed your dropped items, and shoved them in your dumbstruck hands. “We’re gettin’ outta here, now,” he seethed, dragging you along and slamming the door behind you both, crossing the lines of isles quickly to the front entrance.

The fresh, afternoon air hit your nose in a gust and the last of the fuzz chipped itself from your senses slowly.

“Hope yer fuckin happy with yerself. Can’t ever listen to a goddamn word’a mine, can ya?” Daryl quipped beside you. His eyes were slits as they dug into you, so fuming you could see the heat radiating off his skin in the early autumn brisk.

He was angry at you, you knew that. But you also knew it was because he was scared. Hell, you were fucking terrified to stone back there, but if you wanted to calm him down at all, you knew you had to act unfazed.

Gathering any remaining wits about you, you took a deep inhale, “I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting them.”

He didn’t respond, wouldn’t even look at you anymore as he began to pace the graveled parking lot.

“Hey don’t stress Dar. I’m alive, we’re good,” you attempted to soothe further.

“Don’t stress? Yer a real piece a work, y’know that! Always fucking up everyone’s shit cause ya don’t wanna use yer brain, huh?”

Well, that did not go as you expected.

The rest of the group had started shuffling out of the other shops around you, making their way to the vehicles.

“Jeez, you need to lighten up,” you brushed past him, head high. You couldn’t let his words affect you, not with all the other emotions coursing as well. You didn’t understand what he meant. You had never put anyone other than yourself in danger, how could you possibly be fucking over everyone else?

You decided to wait in the car as the rest of the group went back for the cans, tag-teaming whatever walkers remained. The loot had decently filled both trunks and everyone was happy to call it a day and head back.

Your eyes followed Daryl as he jumped into your car, eyes trained on the windshield, “Ya alright at least?” he muttered glancing at you briefly while shifting the car into drive.

“I’m good, you big grump,” you huffed with a tight-lipped smile. “That much food will last us a long time. I believe a thank you is in order, don’t you think?”

You were not good. Not at all, but there was no reason to worry him anymore, putting him through enough today as it was. Your hands were shoved tightly under your thighs, so he couldn’t see the tremors racking through you.

You had smelt death so many times it didn’t bother you much anymore. Today you had smelt your own. Saw your life in that walker's eyes, mere seconds away from demolition. It was safe to say you were shaken to your core.

The journey back was silent, both not in the mood to chat for very different reasons, and the whole time you were trying to keep each breath of yours steady.

You helped unload as much as you could, before slipping away discreetly to your cell. You didn’t want anyone to see you like this, you felt kind of pathetic honestly. This was life now, it had been this way for a long time now, you shouldn’t be so shaken up as you were but the terror just wouldn’t leave your body.

Panic washed over you once again as your eyes hit your dim cell. Your mind was quickly slipping back into those last moments, the darkness and dust all too similar. The fear you had felt coating your veins icily and your breaths started to become agitated. There was nowhere else to go though. If you left the cell someone would see you.

Subconsciously, you backed yourself into the corner of the room, crumbling down to the floor with your head in your hands. Deep down you hoped your hyperventilating would knock you out. You didn’t want to think anymore — see it anymore. Tears were burning the back of your throat as you held down sobs, feeling the walker's hands and weight atop of you all again.

A small yelp escaped you when the hands became real. Pressure on your shoulders and waist and your head snapped up from its hiding spot, reflexes already prepared to fight whatever presence was with you.

“It’s jus’ me, hey, hey,” you heard through your panic, his blue eyes just recognizable through blurry tears. “S’okay, relax.”

You couldn’t calm down this time, vicious sobs finally breaking their way out of your frame. Running was your first thought; you didn’t want anyone to see you like this, Daryl or not. Emotions were never a strong suit of yours and would always find yourself dealing with them in private, away from sympathetic words and pitying eyes. But Daryl was never like that, he drew you in and held you tight, uttering no more words other than the ones to confirm it was him. If you asked him to say more, he would, but he knew this was what you needed. Someone to ground you back onto Earth and out of whatever images tormented your head.

So that’s what he did. Held you for hours as your body expelled all its terror and lingering adrenaline. He’d give quiet coos through each wave of shakes, grabbing a blanket to warm you through the cold sweats. And finally, once the fear faded to exhaustion, he scooped you up off the stiff concrete and into your soft cot.

“Stay with me?” you rasped, throat parched and raw from crying.

It wasn’t a second thought for him. He was never truly angry with you, and he knew you knew that. He needed you safe with him.

“Always.”

[leclsrc]

decent incentives ✴︎ cl16, mv1

genre: this is. Smut, porn W plot, threesome, driver reader

word count: 6.9k

Max can’t even feel his feet on the hardwood floors because you’re on your bed, spread out, wearing one of Charles’ sweaters, two fingers at the apex of your thighs. Or: You’ve been a brat, and only two people know how to mellow you out. title from this

auds here… hi hi hi! scanned my reqs last week, found a max/charles threesome one, and wrote this out in half a day after a friend showed me the challengers trailer (i love tennis and it drove me to write abt a sport that was not, in fact, tennis) also i truly cannot explain the phenomenon behind me finding smut/these kinds of works easier to suss out these days (long form fic i talked abt in the last drabble is not this one fyi) but it’s just ???? like i don’t… i’ve no clue. i hope u enjoy this anyway!!!! love auds :)

nsfw warnings under the cut!

18+ because... penetrative sex, double penetration, sexual tension, masturbation (f), teasing, praise central, reader is a MASSIVE brat, size kink, dirty talk, i don’t want to say brat taming but kinda kinda

Your first time in Max Verstappen’s hotel room happened after a tiring night of media and press, where you spent hours together smoking to calm yourselves down. You’d almost been caught by a manager, stepping on your sticks as soon as the back door swung open and your names were called out to do another interview. This was with ESPN, if you remember right. There’d been a muddled chaos of journalism in the venue, all the jumbled mess of the same questions. As young as you both are, do you feel intimidated by success?

It didn’t—and still doesn’t—help, you suppose, that both you and Max had stared, tight-lipped and deflated brows, and stated, with finality: no.

The afternoon stretched into an entire night, and by the time the clock ticked nine and everything had formally wrapped up, Max mustered up the courage and a half it took to invite you to his hotel room for a cig and half a Cuervo divided into three shots each. The conversation had progressed as he drove, the continuation of an otherwise unorthodox friendship between a Red Bull and Mercedes driver—a fact you’d both acknowledged but opted to ignore.

Drivers are friends all the time, you figure—you’re close with few drivers—but none of them are Max. You had made the lousy small talk, commented on how different the pre- and post-race processes have become since your entrance in 2018, which, back then, had seemed like forever ago. “It would seem like forever to a world champion,” he’d said, and his voice is all teasing and raspy and scruffed up. You had laughed, a scoffy little noise, and told him to shut up.

He obeyed, for two seconds, then added, “Do you mind if we meet someone there?”

The hotel room was what you might expect a high-level athlete to be bestowed with, wide and huge but not as wide and not as huge as yours a few streets over. There’d been a thing of cologne left uncapped on the table by the door, Adidas shoes on the floor next to Nikes, and then a low table housing a still smoking joint that left the entire living room smelling like grass.

Somehow, Max had managed to turn a neutral, sterile hotel room into a boy’s room. The scent of weed mixed with Tom Ford cologne. The rap music blending into the open balcony’s traffic noise. The socks on the floor, two pairs, both white. It’s a strenuous effort, you’d thought—and you were beginning to think this wasn’t the work of Max alone. “We have a guest,” he’d hollered when he managed to fiddle with the key card properly enough to leave the door alone.

No one had answered, or surfaced from the hallway leading to the bedroom and bathroom, so you followed Max into the bar area. Bottles of booze in varying states of empty, lemon slices and salt now cold—“Do you not call housekeeping?” You’d asked, amusement concealing curiosity as you accepted a poured-out shot. He said they do—they—and sometimes hotel staff are just a bunch of pricks. He asked more questions. How it felt to win at twenty-one, how it felt to be driving, to be the youngest winner, the first female driver. 

Ask me something I don’t hear fucking journalists say all the time, you’d replied back, half-jokingly. The August air nipped at your cheeks, chilling your warm face. He’d laughed, and explained that he re-asked the questions in case you have a more honest answer to give him. The most honesty you could offer is that you’d grown to hate your reputation because it precedes your skill. It’d been silent for a bit then, just the scent of the unclaimed weed. Then Max went, We have a new friend.

You turned to see who he was talking to. Charles was at the doorway, eyes on you already, raising a hand to say a silent hello. “H…” He trailed off. “Hey.”

He was shirtless, Calvins tight on his legs, his free hand scratching absently at his abs. Behind you, you had faintly picked up on Max introducing you and Charles rolled his eyes before replying, clipped, I know who she is, wiseass. He’d taken the weed and almost left, but you spoke next.

“Want to come sit?”

He paused, turned, and blinked. “I’m alright,” he rejected. “We have a meeting tomorrow, don’t forget.”

Then he was back in the bedroom area, leaving behind him a trail of grassy smoke. He was clearly rugged and fresh from sleep, the delicious sleep athletes have all grown familiar with: post-race, overcome with a terrible exhaustion. You’d only ever exchanged a few words with either of these two, and the fact that you were alone with them sent a warm, drawling thrill up your spine.

You were two and a half shots in when Charles reappeared, sans weed. “Any left for me?”

—

If you grouped the grid into years, you would be with Max and Charles—on the younger end, still at the ripe years of your careers. You entered first, though, then Max, thenCharles, which meant you were connected to, and friends with, relatively different people on the paddock. But the 2020 season and your many close calls with Max began the media and manager tirade of constantly lumping you and Max into the same interviews, press conferences, and media days, to maybe somehow elicit a bit of drama out (a tireless and unrelenting effort).

That’s how the rumors started. The rumor that permeates you most is one that asks about you, Max, and Charles. Some say you dated one then the other (a homie hopper, they’d branded you in 2021), others say they dated each other and you butted in. All of them were woefully untrue, in the same way all had some ring of truth to them.

And you suppose that’s what hotwired the beginning of your nights spent at Max’s hotel room, where Charles would nearly always be camped out, then eventually vice versa (Charles’ room, Max camping out; your room, solo, housing them for one night), drinking and/or smoking and/or playing some form of cards. And you suppose again that it was all this that radiated into everything else, all your wins and successes and bad days and near crashes, that just caused the entire universe to topple over, into itself, and creep up onto the three of you in Bahrain that year.

But that year is three years ago, and if you try to detail every last divot of it, you’re going to wind up rubbing a migraine out of your head. And you’re not interested in developing a headache—not when you’re celebrating the fifth race of the 2023 season.

It’s your fourth win this season. It’s all anybody ever talks about, how you had gone and secured a third championship for yourself last year, and how you’re gunning for four, the greatest the sport has seen in years. It’s all anyone can repeat and echo—you’re a fucking legend!—and you know from experience that praise does more than the most dangerous cocktail of drugs to get you high.

The afterparty is full and obnoxiously loud, dark and smoky and low-visibility. You’re wearing a flimsy dress and running a hand through your hair while you nurse a drink, feeling drunk on compliments and confused with certain absences. You can feel the bass through the tiled floor, heels clicking on it as you search, search, and come up short. Neither Max nor Charles have sent you a text, a play they always perform to break a routine you’ve become familiar with. You frown. Hey, somebody says next to you, you’re better than anyone else on the grid right now! You thank them, thinking to yourself—where the fuck is anyone else on the grid anyway? The relevant people, at least?

Half an hour later, you’ve ditched the party and are pounding with your fists at Max’s hotel room door in an effort to get them to open it quicker, after your knuckles didn’t seem to do the work well enough. You half—no, mostly—expect Charles to be the one who pulls it open. He’s more prudent. He gives in easier. He’s nicer and he can spare a thought for the other people on this floor (but the price of this room means there barely are). 

“What.” His voice is gritty.

“You told me you would come tonight.” Your voice is steady—you’d chosen not to drink much, and what little you consumed wore off on the ride here. Even with your heels on and even in sleepiness, you notice his presence towers over yours. “You both said.”

“We were tired.”

You scoff and gently push past him into the room, where evidence of their existence rags the furniture. “Every hotel room you ever stay in is turned into a fucking frat house.” Beer bottles, cigs, gifts from fans stored with precarious care but peeking out from suitcases. 

“We were sleeping. I am sleepy,” he says behind you, unamused by your sudden appearance. He shuts the door and stands still, looking as disappointed as he can. It’s unlike him. You’re buying time to find out what the problem is.

��Okay, I’ll go,” you say, relenting, running a few fingers over the mess of clothes strewn atop the armrest of the couch. “My driver’s downstairs, anyway. I wanted you there tonight, though.” You look up, meet his eyes. Tired and green and fed up. “Both of you. We could’ve celebrated.”

He pulls his lips tight and stands straighter. “I know, I know.” He softens a little. “I’m sorry, okay? Desolé. Just… tired.” You know he’s tired because his team is shit, and you know it has nothing to do with you, but you’re so wrapped up with everything that your irritance fails to quell.

“Where’s Max?” You ask roughly instead, thumbing at the strap of your minidress. He gestures to the bedroom. You’re quiet but stormy when you walk in, finding him, messy hair and tired eyes notwithstanding, fully awake, unlike what his roomie has been telling you since you arrived; you scoff out loud again. Des-fucking-picable. You sit yourself on the couch, crossing your legs petulantly.

They both stare. They’re mad, it occurs to you, which is weird because they had you in between them on that same bed less than forty-eight hours ago. You’d come thrice and begged for more, but they laughed and said you all needed sleep to get up for race prep. Race prep. Race prep.

“Okay, then.” You throw two hands up in a semi-shrug. “Let’s have it. What’s the matter? No use lying.”

They both look irritated. “Nothing,” Max says.

“Fuck nothing.” You trail a hand over the hem of your dress. “You’re pissed with me, but I didn’t do shit.” You try to rerack the race, but you hadn’t so much as collided with them in the slightest, apart from overtaking them a few times, but they weren’t man children to whine over that. You’d shared the podium with Charles, for Chrissake.

“You’re right. You just went and…” Charles blows a raspberry and makes an explosion gesture, opening his clenched fist. “Shat on us in your post-race interview.”

And there it is.

You huff out a laugh, momentarily losing control over speech, and it’s caught in between itself and a sigh, a breathy noise that makes waves in the quiet room. Okay, you think. I get it. Your eyes flit in-between the two men across you, your shoulders straight and eyebrows raised, posing a challenge. “What, are you jealous?”

They’re silent. And you know silence always means—

Your eyes relax, smug and a little teasing as you elaborate. “Because you know I’m better than both of you?”

—Yes.

Their silence is redeeming and rewarding and permissive and it speaks volumes louder than if they’d actually admitted to it. You stare back at them, eyes narrowed, amused, coy. You’d been joking around in your Sky Sports interview. Sure, you’re a bit of a tease, especially on the high of a win. But they should know that by now.

You know it annoys them more to leave the door wide open as you leave, than to slam it closed.

—

“Will you draw me a tattoo?!”

“I’d love to, but you are going to regret it,” Charles laughs, signing his name off with a heart on the frenzied fan’s outstretched cap. The busy, busy practice day had now worn into night, though nothing seems to be taking his mind off the fact that you’ve been giving him and Max the cold shoulder since last week. And he knows it’s stupid, he knows he and Max were being irrational and pissy—him especially—but now he just finds himself needing to apologize before anything becomes worse.

But his priority is getting to your hotel, which now seems like the journey of his lifetime. His bodyguard is a bulldozer and grips his elbow to traverse them through the sea of people who cheer him on, go Charles have faith in Ferrari and yeah, that’s been getting more and more difficult as the races pass without much good progress. There are flashes all around, noise and laughing and whoops and gifts he tries to receive, but he just—he needs to get to your hotel. Preoccupied, he remembers where he’d seen Max last, just seconds before leaving the paddock for the evening.

You spend a lot of time with a certain pair Ferrari and Mercedes drivers, says the interviewer in Dutch. Charles squints at the subtitles and waits for Max’s reaction.

He’s in the passenger seat, being driven around for a change, and maybe he’s a pessimist and he misses you and Max, or maybe the city he’s in is just. Dreary, so he opts to stare at his phone like every other person. The clip’s been posted by a fan on Twitter, and the caption is something jokey—something about a dream threesome. He can’t help but laugh as he watches. We are close, us three, Max says, nodding. In fact I will be meeting them later.

The media’s always speculated, rumors born out of a few close calls outside clubs where you’re tipsy and giggly and getting into one car. The fans, funny as ever, also make some fun of it—posting pictures of you three captioned with something like polyamory is real or her and the guys she told you not to worry about, but God if any of them knew the real picture, the whole three years of it, all the sex and hickeys and rumors.

He scrolls a bit more. There are a few photos of you leaving the paddock, hand poised atop your face to shield it from the paps. You get loads more of them wherever you are, loads morecompared to anybody else on the grid. You always attract the media, the press. He finds a picture with your face in it, smiling at your result during FP2. Fuck. You’re pretty, hair damp with sweat, lips stretched into a proud grin, suited hand raising a thumbs up.

“Where to?” The driver beside him asks suddenly.

—

“Fairmont,” Max says to his assistant as he pulls out of parking. “I’m hanging up, doei.” He presses the red button and sighs, shutting his eyes and driving the steady, increasingly familiar routes of the city. He’d called you this morning but you didn’t pick up. Last night he’d slept restlessly, which was no different from the nights before, anyway.

He gets to the valet parking of your hotel when purple is just settling into blackness in the sky, the beginnings of a civil discussion at the tip of his tongue as he exits the elevator and finds your room, opening it and finding it unlocked already. Charles must have done the brunt of it, or maybe you’d gotten an assistant of an assistant to pass an extra keycard to him. You always plan around them, thinking ahead. Both on and off track.

Like the hotel rooms he and Charles share or camp out at, your existence is terribly visible. Unlike them, though, it manifests differently.

It smells like your perfume, the pink bottle he’d found you spritzing on once, and everything is neat and tidy and gorgeous. A vase of white peonies on the low table, lipstick on the table by the mirror, even the pack of cigarettes you barely smoke is pretty and unassuming on the sofa. The only thing amiss—a pair of men’s shoes, those ones with stars on them that you bought Charles on a spur-of-the-moment shopping trip. He toes off his own beside them, eyes the alignment, and fixes it lest you scold them for it later.

Anyway. It smells like you. That’s the only thing he cares about right now. It hits him like a tidal wave, after being ignored the whole week and then some. Your perfume, your favorite linen spray—that black and white glass bottle you carry around like a rosary—your favorite lip balm, even. He swears he smells the vanilla, can recall the taste of it from kissing you ditzy.

It’s beginning to rain—it had been drizzling already, en route here—and the noise pelts the windows, an accompaniment to his footsteps down the hall. He’s familiar with the layout of a penthouse suite, but still he tries out the WC door, and then the closet with the ironing board, before finally he figures the bedroom should be at the end of the hall.

He’s reciting it. I’m sorry. Would you stop being a brat? No. No, just say you’re sorry and then he’s standing at the ajar door of your bedroom, pushing it open, and he can’t feel anything. The words have evaporated. So have his warm little sentimental feelings, and so the annoyance he’d come busting in with.

Max can’t even feel his feet on the hardwood floors because you’re on your bed, spread out, wearing one of Charles’ sweaters, two fingers at the apex of your thighs.

He opens his mouth but nothing leaves. His eyes find Charles, standing by the door, propped against the desk, arms crossed and fingers digging into his biceps. Max looks at you again. You have a pretty flush high on your cheeks, a slight sheen of sweat on your exposed collar. He blinks and realizes you’ve been talking.

“I said, you can sit the fuck down.” There’s a couch to his left.

He pulls himself together and stays beside Charles. “I’m good here, thanks.”

You eye the two of them. They look like stupid twins in the same way they look like Republican husbands. You roll your eyes and allow it; anyway, you’re not in the mood to order either of them around too much.

Charles has been watching you for a while now, watched you fake moans and exaggerate whines, feigning pleasure over two of your fingers. It’s almost laughable—he’d allowed a smile, in fact, because he knows better. Once, he’d pulled your hair so hard you teared up, nodding, hand at his wrist, whimpering more, harder, do it. Another time, he and Max had gotten you all riled up and edged for half an hour, so riled that all you could mutter out were please and their names when they finally stuffed you full. You’re evidently playing your games again. You love to play around with them. It’s almost—you could almost call it a hobby.

“I’m not going to stop just ‘cause you’re both here.” Your hand moves, two fingers fucking into yourself, pink lace pushed aside. Your cunt is so pretty, they’re both thinking. “Did you think I would?” When silence greets you, you decide to address them directly. “Max. Did you?”

His voice is thin and tight when he responds, “Yeah, actually—so we could suss this out, at least.”

Your laugh is patronizing. “I prefer it this way. And you know what?”

Max stares. Charles has already been told this, several minutes ago when he found you in the exact same position. It’s not any easier for him to hear it again, chaste and sweet out of your lips. You can’t touch me.

See, they would’ve been content without touching you, if they sit and think about it. Max didn’t walk in here thinking he’d even be kissing you, and he knows Charles thinks the same thing. Maybe touch you—innocently, that kind of way. Sure, they’d been pent up, heady with arousal, but that came second to talking things out. But now you’ve told them they can’t touch, and that’s worsened them to their limit. Charles imagines touching you, the same touch he gives when it’s post-race and he gets you alone, to himself, nobody else’s, quick fucks in a dim closet, whispering some dirty shit in your ear and getting you like putty in his hands.

Max thinks of nearly the same thing. Imagines running his hand over your hair, gentle but firm, the same way he does when he knocks at your hotel room after hours and gets you from high-strung and bratty to begging for more. You notice their eyes, darkened; you realize their minds have wandered. So, they watch hopelessly as the smirk spreads prettily across your flushed face, and they remember the events of a week prior, when childishly, they’d acted out, and think, for a second, that maybe they deserve this.

You all know what it’s like to keep them from touching you.

It was both easier and worse then, in 2020 when everything started—when everything was brand new and thrilling and exciting. Easier, because they were satisfied as soon as they got you to come, maybe kiss them both, and they were content with slow exploration. Worse, because you were all insatiable. It felt like none of you could go minutes without some form of touch, during, in-between, after practice, quali, fuck—it was worse, much worse.

As you all grew older and got accustomed to the drivel of racing, you all got better. It didn’t get much easier.

Charles recalls how insatiable he was—and thinks, with amusement almost, that if he was insatiable then, he’s worse now. Now he knows where, how, for how long to touch you to get you wide-eyed and warm in the face even in the most serious of moments. Max, too. He knows how you taste, bend, tease. They love touching you. Just skin to skin. And you’ve gone and put a great big X mark over that.

“So,” Max says, voice flat, the way it is when he’s unamused with a reporter, “we’re in a time out.”

“You can call it that,” you giggle, and it segues into a huffy whimper when you angle your hand just right. “You were acting childish, anyway.”

Charles sighs, long and deep. “We—fuck.” His eyes can’t unglue themselves from your fingers. He knows he could make you feel so much better, fuck real moans out of you until you’re crying. “We were being childish, oui, and it was—we were just tense. I was unhappy with strategy. I could’ve been P2 but they pitted me at the worst time, putain. I took it out on you, and I’m… I was… I was worn out, and you called us childish in your interview.” 

Ever the minx, you only smile. You’d been joking, you clarified that a day later; it was crass, spurred on by team radios of the two of them complaining in the latter half of the race. “It was a joke, Charles.”

“I know, baby, I know.” His lip curls and he breathes steadily, controlling himself. “It was unprompted though. You weren’t even asked about us. And yeah, a joke—but it felt shitty, love. I don’t mind it—we don’t mind it, but—” He needs to think about the phrasing, think about his intentions.

Your eyes are on fire, clearly still angry, but steadily softening.

“But in moderation,” comes Max’s raspy voice. “You’re running your mouth a lot in the media.”

“You’re one to—ah—talk,” you huff back, a futile argument.

“You need to understand that—that when you’re giddy, or angry, you can’t keep turning to interviews to express all that out. You need to sit with it. Just because we’re not…” your boyfriends, Max almost says, “…yours, doesn’t mean you can shit on us then expect us to be okay with it a few hours later. It’s a thing you do. A game you play. And it’s nice, it was nice then, but it’s annoying now, and it’s almost, like, do you even want this to keep going? To work—?”

You recoil. “You seriously think I don’t want th—”

Charles cuts in. “Well, when you play at us like this, yeah. Put in the work. If you’re high off a win, or mad for some other reason, just let it happen. Don’t fucking.” He exhales. “Call us names, then show up at our hotel acting like an angel.”

They’ve always looked out for you like this, known when to scold you or put you in your place for doing too much or not doing enough. They’ve never let personal things cross too much with business, which is a blessing of an ability when you’re three people having regular sex while balancing a ludicrous athletic career. It’s all sussed down to stupid ‘I care for you’ stuff that, frankly, they’re both too horny and angry to get into the grit of right now.

They don’t realize how quiet the room has grown until you eke out a noise, a thoughtful sound of agreement. You’ve pulled your fingers out, both hands playing with a loose thread on the hem of the sweater, rolling it into a ball. Your hair falls in waves. There’s a crease in it from the ponytail you wear when driving.

Your expression is still murderous, but much softer now; you cough, “I—I get what you’re saying. And I know I play… I have these games, or—but, honestly, I could say the same to you both.” You stutter through your totally shit explanation.

“How do you… mean,” deadpans Max. 

“I mean, when I’m acting out, you two just take it.” Having them at your mercy like that is satisfying in its own right, but pragmatically, it’s unhealthy. “You don’t ever tell me off. Even now. I need you to tell me… to fucking,” you’re warm and spluttery now. “Fuck's sake, okay? I know I can be annoying. I know I say stupid shit when I don’t finish and I’m way less diplomatic than Mr. Il Predestinato,” you breathe. “But you two just let me be annoying!”

“Then don’t be annoying,” Charles says, diplomatic as ever—his voice rises, though, nearly matching yours.

“Not like that!” You huff, folding your legs and sitting straighter, and they catch a glimpse of your pink panties again. “When I’m out of line, you”—you point to them—“need to correct me.” They’re nearly blindsided by your request to… be told what to do, which is so different from how sex usually works. From how this whole dynamic usually works.

But Max remembers your manager, and Toto, and your teammate Lewis even, and your engineers, who have all, at one point or another, had to talk you down and tell you to calm down and correct your behavior. So he says, “People do that all the time, but it only works for a second.”

“Because th—” You suck in a lungful of air. “They’re not you two, you daft fuckers!” You’re at the centre of the bed now, sweater drooped over your folded thighs, eyes matching the rain outside. “Every time, I need to be talked down, and you never. Do it. So do it. Fucking—do it. I have to tell you everything.”

“You don’t—-”

“Oh, I do.” You say, folding your arms over your chest. 

“This is despicable,” Max says. “We need to sort this out properly.”

“So what? This isn’t”—you raise violent air quotes—“putting in the work?”

They glance at each other for a minute. They feel you thinking you’re winning, thinking they’ll grovel and say okay we’ll do that next time, can we fuck you? Like all the other semi-resolved fights before. You’re sitting straight, eyebrows raised, defiant. But for them to do that—you just said it wasn’t what you needed. 

And they’d have to be caught dead before not giving you what you need. If you want to be bossed around a bit, then they’ll do it.

“Sit down,” Charles goes. Unmoving. 

“What.” You’re deadpanning, eyes narrowed.

“Sit the fuck down,” he repeats. You open your mouth, but he’s quicker. “Don’t make me say it again.”

You pout, leaning against the headboard and unfolding your legs. He rounds the room, sits at the foot of the bed. It’s a big bed, so even if he’s on it, he still needs to reach over a bit to be able to touch you. The distance is good, though, keeps them in control. Max sits opposite him, both of them on either side of you, and they’re so close, so scrutinizing, so handsome. 

“Put your fingers in your mouth,” he says. You take a second, spreading your knees and obeying. You find a way, though, to make their little challenge all your own—you make a show of it, peeking your tongue out and licking your bottom lip all shiny before hollowing your cheeks. You stare at them the whole time and you don’t blink. It’s hotter than it has any right to be. “Suck on them.” You continue doing it, lips slightly curled.

“You’re a brat.” You try to conceal the whimper that leaves you but it fails pathetically. Charles presses on. “A spoiled brat.”

He’s the nicer of the two. Your whole threesome situation had began three years ago, and in almost every tryst since then, he’s been nice. In fact, if any of them were to ever ��tell you off’ like you so desperately wanted, apparently, it would have definitely been Max. He’s firm, yeah, but he’s sweet. And he’d hate to boss you around too much, even if it’s something he wants. So he thinks, and he pretends he’s back to quali day of last week. It was a slow morning because of weather problems, so everyone was in a mood, and you were absolutely no exception. You come off as quiet to the public and to some of the grid, but to your friends, you’re anything but.

In an effort to lift the mood, you’d been mouthing off the entire day to your close circle of driver friends, in particular retelling the story of how you had teased Charles post-DNF in Saudi, and even gotten Lando to laugh about it at the time. What a season starter, you said when you were recounting it. You left out a detail: that night in Saudi, he’d fucked you and refused to let you cum, soaking your pillow with tears and goading a sobbed apology out of you.

Watching you joke about it again, even if it was a fucking joke and even if it was because you were mad at him and Max—got him all red hot, pissed off. Seething.

“Do you remember last race weekend when you joked about my DNF in Saudi?”

Cheeks hollowed, you nod.

“Fucking brat. That whole day. Ignoring me, ignoring Max. Didn’t listen to our apologies. Just noise all day.”

Your brows knit defiantly.

“I’m serious. You weren’t being funny. Just a brat. And if you were bored or pissed, you could’ve said so instead of making me look stupid.” You nod.

He glimpses at Max; the latter speaks next. “Open yourself up.”

You spread your legs out farther and sneak your spit-slick fingers down, pushing the flimsy material aside to rub at your cunt, two fingers sliding right back in. You breathe out shakily and wait for them to talk again. You’re still fussy, high-strung, not totally calm and mellowed down yet.

“When Charles and I aren’t here to fuck you into behaving, who’s going to make sure you’re acting proper?”

“Carlos,” you grit out in between thrusts.

They seethe. “Again,” Charles says, unamused.

“Nat,” you name your manager. “Lewis, or something. Fuck. Lando? I don’t—”

You asked to be told what to do, but you never said, they suppose, that it would be an easy job. “Guess again.”

“Toto.” You look delighted at that last one, knowing the implication. They’ve always been a bit jealous there. You thrive off disobedience, getting your two favorite boys all angry and flushed red with it. You open your mouth to try smartassing your way out of their orders, but Max beats you to it. “If you guess wrong, you’re not cumming. We’ll fuck you tonight, but no cumming.”

You whimper out loud, sinking your fingers farther in, adding a third.

“Don’t add another. Answer Max,” Charles says.

“Fuck,” you seethe, slipping the third out on your next thrust. “Me. I’m supposed to keep myself in check. When I’m mad. When I’m giddy and fuck—yeah. Me. It’s me.”

“Good girl,” he rasps out. “Good girl. You have to practice. How does it feel?”

I know, you mouth, eyes fluttering. You scissor the two fingers you’re thrusting in and out, wet with slick. “Feels good.”

“Not your fingers, love,” Max says. “How’s it feel hearing what we just told you?”

“Good, better,” you say in-between breaths. “I’ll practice. I like it. You’re not… letting me push you around. You’re—you can punish—fuck. Me.”

“Yeah? How, then?” 

“Fuck me,” you repeat breathlessly. “Both of you.”

“Add another,” Charles orders, and you nod, quick and pliant, fucking yourself open. They’re both so hard, cocks heavy and uncomfortable in their jeans. You can see the thick shapes of them through the denim, and you thrust harder, a futile attempt to replicate how it feels when they’re fucking you.

“You remember how it feels, having both of us in you?” Max sounds amused.

“Yes,” you moan. Your pathetic imitation of moans and gasps earlier pales in comparison to this, voice dry and thick with pleasure and raw desperation. “Yes, pl—fuck, yes.”

“Why aren’t you feeling it now?” They need to hear you verbalize the reason why, admit it one last time before they give you what you want. You whine, rutting your hips up against your hand, catching your clit on the heel of your palm. 

“Because I was being a brat, and I—you were being childish, but I didn’t want to talk things through either—and I’m always taking out my emotions on you guys, and I’m sorry, okay, would you just fuck me already?”

They’re on you immediately, all words and whispers, fingers at your chin turning you both ways to slot kisses on your mouth. Your free hand palms over Max’s bulge; he’s the one to your right. It’s hard and thick and heavy and you need it, need them. Charles’ hand takes over yours, thrusting deep and you’re whimpering into his sweet mouth.

“Feel my cock?” Max asks, “Could make you feel real nice, baby.”

“I know,” you sigh, breathless. “I want it.”

“When's the last time you took us both?” Charles asks, smile wicked. “Little thing like you.”

You grit out a moan, fuzzy and floating, letting them lift you up to straddle—one of them—you open your eyes and see Charles staring up at you, wonder and green eyes. “Got this, love?” You nod, yeah, I’ve got it, you say, little sighs. Both of you. Now.

This space you’re in, where it’s pleasure and fuzz and nothing else, is comparable to the high of winning. And you know you prefer that to sex, at least now, because racing is your life. It’s the slow satisfaction of being the best on the entire grid, despite everything. It’s the cheers, the raised fists when you climb atop your car and bring the crowd to a crescendo. The even louder screams when you pull your helmet and balaclava off and smile, trophy and all, champagne shiny and glowy on your face. All that shit—it’s addictive, and it feels just like this. So similar, in fact, because when you win, you finish on top of Charles and Max, and—

—Max is behind you, jeans tugged just enough for his cock to be pulled free, slick with lube and prodding at your ass—

—it feels just fucking like this.

“Like Max’s cock filling you up?” His cockhead is breaching your tight entrance and you moan out loud.

“I missed it,” you say, muffled by Charles’ free thumb at your lips, swirling it on your tongue. You flip him off for cutting you off and he laughs. “Give it t’me,” you goad, turning slightly. You want it so bad, missed being fed with their cocks. A week is too long. “I need more of it, all of it. In me, fill me up,” you beg, whimpering, desperate.

Max stares at your ass, grabs at the flesh there, at the string of your thong. You suck him in so hungrily, like you’re challenging him to not thrust in fully; you’re canting your hips backward too, and Max has to hike the too-big sweater up to watch the muscles of your back flex to meet his dick.

“So pretty, princess,” Charles says, because with them you really are a princess. Max begins to thrust into you from behind and you’re getting little moans fucked out of you, watching Charles unbuckle his jeans to tug his cock out, thick and pretty and you want—if you could, you would suck on it, let him fuck your throat, but you’re in the business of being filled to the point of blank thoughts right now.

You feel Charles at your cunt then, your slick making the slide easier, and Charles bucks his hips up and you—this is what you needed, to mellow you down, get you all loose and ready for more. “Take it, baby,” Max says, “all of it, all of us.”

“Ah,” you gasp out. “Ah.”

“Come on,” he grits, voice hardening. “You’re ruined. Pretty little girl. Come on.”

“Maxie,” you call out weakly, your fond little nickname for him. You remember Charles whining about how he doesn’t have one, so you save baby for him, had sussed that out on a night where they took turns fucking you. Your hips torn between the two dicks stuffing you, face sweaty and the sweater doesn’t help, gets you hotter; Charles gets the hint, and with effort, pulls it off you. Your skin is shiny underneath, matching bra sticking to your sweaty, sheened out skin.

“Love it,” you say, voice strained. “Split—fuck—me open.” Your holes clench around them and Jesus, they could have you all flushed and pretty and spread out like them, like this, forever. Charles grabs at the flesh of your ass, slaps you once and you’re tightening around them, breath impossibly still, thighs shaking. Max’s hands hold your hips tight, hungrily traveling up, groping at the wire of your bra to press at your tits. You’re pressed against both of them at a delicious angle that gets you dizzy.

“I’m gonna cum, I,” you breathe out, moaning, “I haven’t touched myself since…”

They both moan at that, delirious. Fuck. The thought of you holding it—for them—fuck. 

“You’re so perfect, so—fuck—slutty,” Charles says, and you can’t hide the moan fast enough. “Feels good, having us in you, yeah? Getting you all noisy and… fucking—shit. I know how much you needed this, love. I know how much you love it. Us.”

From behind, Max snakes a hand up your abdomen, the column of your throat, and wraps there. You see white from the sensation of it alone.

“Tell me—I can’t—please, I—Charles—Maxie—” You’re increasingly incoherent, slick running down your thighs, twitching vigorously. You try to comprehend everything but you’re losing coherence and they get it, they get it, wiping your tears and sweat and coercing you to cum, yeah, pretty little pussy so fucking wet for us, cum hard, come on, you’ve been so good, baby, the best girl for us.

There’s no way either of them are lasting after that, after watching you fall apart and finish on top of them, stuffed full, stuffed pliant, stuffed fucking docile.

It’s your turn, then, to praise, your favorite boys, always so good for me, thank you for letting me cum, come on, let me taste it—and you’re stained with their release after a few minutes, Max biting on your shoulder, Charles’ thumb indenting your hip.

—

What. A. Podium, ladies and gentlemen! Max Verstappen of Red Bull, from P6 in the last race to a stunning P3 drive—Charles Leclerc, braving the team’s dismal strategy to get P2! What a knockout. Of course the Mercedes legend, gunning for four championships now, had crossed the flag first to claim her fifth P1 of the season.

What a legendary race, absolutely proper podium. They showed us what driving is, real driving.

The season is heating up. 

Makes you wonder what happened over the weekend for them to get such good results.

This is F1. I’m sure they keep each other motivated.

[haechoxo]

[11:11 pm]

the party had died down soon after you had left with jisung carrying you to chenle’s car. most of the people who stuck around were just adjacent to the group, though none of them had the misfortune of having to hear what just went down between you and haechan.

mark and renjun, however, weren't so lucky.

“you’re fucking stupid.” mark was seething.

“what?”

“all that you went through with y/n and yet you threw it all away for what? minjeong?” he was glaring daggers at him now, the roles eerily reversed, but haechan only scoffed,

“what’s minjeong got to do with this? she didn’t do anything.” he rolled his eyes, only pissing off mark even more.

“you’ve been chasing after her, pining, since high school, bro. you might think she’s interested, but i can guarantee you, she is not.” nothing was getting through to him, no matter how angry mark could possibly get at a person, “she’s always backed off because of y/n, much like how you always scared off any guys that even went as close as looked at y/n.” this caught haechan’s attention.

“i never scared off any guys that approached y/n! bullshit, mark.” haechan was getting defensive, denial. it was mark’s turn to scoff this time.

“really? so when yeonjun started showing interest in her, you just conveniently decided that then of all times was the perfect opportunity to start carpooling everywhere? or what about when jisung had his little schoolboy crush on her? or maybe, i don’t know, the very mention of me five minutes ago when you argued with her outside? don’t think i don’t notice you staring every time i’m around her.” mark isn’t one to be trifled with when he’s pissed off, hardly ever letting his emotions get the better of him, but seeing those closest to him get hurt flips a switch in his system.

his voice was low as he stalked closer to haechan, “i’m not afraid of you, donghyuck, and neither is renjun. your only competition is your fucking ego, and you’re blowing it. not only are you hurting y/n, you’re hurting yourself, dumbass move on your part, get your shit together, hyuck, before renjun and i actually get involved.” he wouldn’t stand a chance against an angry mark, let alone mark and renjun, who’s been lingering nearby having heard his previous conversation with you before your departure. but haechan would never admit his wrongs, especially not to mark, of all people right now.

“get involved with what? you’re threatening me now?” haechan scoffs, getting closer to mark’s face, shoving a finger to his chest, “you’re both full of shit.” his eyes dart between mark and renjun, before renjun steps between them, any closer and mark would’ve swung.

“donghyuck. figure your shit out, or you won’t see y/n at all anymore, we can and will make sure of it.”

haechan can’t believe the shit he’s hearing right now, first mark, now renjun?

“you don’t mean that, what authority do you have over me? her best friend.”

mark’s had it, “best friends don’t fuck for three years straight and get in the way of personal affairs, just for you to ghost her anyway! and for what? are you jealous? insecure? or just plain fucking stupid. you used her, donghyuck. you made it very clear where you stand now.”

“if she wanted me so bad, why didn’t she do anything about it, huh? she could have reached out.” he was too stubborn for his own good, but it was too late to take it back now.

“get the fuck out,” he didn’t even have a second to process being shoved out of the house by mark, renjun in tow, “we’re done with your shit, haechan.”

“don’t bother showing up here again.”

previous - bonus

a/n ; i have no words this time lolz, lmk what u think, i hope this chapter is living up to ur expectations LMFAOO i couldn’t stop giggling writing it, advice is appreciated! xoxo jelly

[asuyaka]

Hello Hello!!📞 Hope ur having a wonderful time zone, author I just wanna say that I have read 2-3 of ur writings and I alr love it! Keep it up! ur writing's amazing.💗 I was wondering if I could request a Geto from jjk fic about him with a Curse! M reader, not a curse user, a literal curse like Mahito. But unlike Mahito the reader doesn't understand human emotions and from observing Geto (after he betrayed jujutsu high and became a cult leader) think's that its normal to kill and hate non-sorcerer's. Reader just sticks around in the shadow's and watches Geto and observer's his behavior until Geto notices and question's reader but after learning that, oh shit this curse is actually pretty powerful he might actually be useful, and promises reader to teach him about human's in exchange of him staying by Geto's side and helping him in his goal. Geto (as time passes) fall's in love with reader while reader get's this feeling that he can't understand when he's with Geto. sorry if this is a lot to ask and if u don't understand what i meant, u can just ignore me and my rambling😅

★ - s'okay lovely, descriptive reqs are jus as interestin' as non descriptive ones! <3

☆ - Cult Leader! Suguru Geto x Curse! M Reader!

♡ - typical Geto stuff! racist ta non-sorcerers, n tha word 'monkey' s'used one too many times (toji only said it once, by that way.)!

Geto remembers finding you— a curse who's stuck by his side ever since he deflected from the Jujutsu world— letched onto the side of a very popular road for couples to hang out and do whatever it was that couples do.

The very first time you two met, he remembers your soft voice, body radiating heaps of untapped cursed energy—untapped potential. Your curled up body, eyes void of emotion looking up at him with something that resembles confusion. "You can see me?"

Ever since then, you've been stuck to his side. While he doesn't think of you as useless, it has taken a bit too long for the potential— the strength he wants to see from you come out.

He's willing to wait, of course, he needs all the help he can get before initiating his plan against Jujutsu High, but there's only so much patience one man can have.

Especially, a man who's already running low on time.

You're accompanying Geto on a trip to a 'money-collecting monkey', as he likes to call them. They went back on their payments to the...cult (?) home (?) and he came to give them some 'personal counseling'—which was what he always said when blood was more than likely to be shed.

"Remember why we're here, [Name]," Geto says as he gets off his manta-ray curse, extending his hand to help you.

You stare at him, muttering a small thank you. "Help the monkey?"

Geto pushes his arms into his sleeves with a smile that makes your tummy churn in discomfort. "And?"

"Work on my cursed technique..." You mutter, kicking a pebble on the ground with an unseen pout working its way on your face. Ever since Geto quite literally found you on the side of a road, you've been his right-hand man ever since. Even if your understanding of cursed techniques and cursed energy is slim to none.

You've always understood in the back of your mind that he needs you for something. He had to—otherwise, he would've turned you into a ball and swallowed it on the spot. He always says how you aren't necessarily a bad curse, but he's never said you were good either.

You've never understood what he meant by that, but by the way Nanako grimaced whenever he said it, you assumed it wasn't a good thing. Without knowing, the pout grew into a frown and you found yourself huffing. Humans and their weird emotions always intrigued you ever since you were born, but you could never understand it.

Which is why you've been with Geto for so long. He's the first human who acknowledged your presence, the first human to act (kind, was it?) around you, so by process of elimination he was your first and only candidate to learn from.

When you two reached the house you overhear Geto whisper something about how the stench of monkeys would get everywhere.

'... Monkeys = bad people, they make Geto angry.' You think to yourself as you rummage through the pockets of the clothes Geto lent to you, bringing out a small spray bottle and handing it to the male beside you.

The action seems to take him by surprise. His smile falters and he stares at the item in your hand for a beat too long, grabbing it with a 'thank you' and spraying it on his clothes with a tight expression.

"Come here, you aren't getting monkey on my curses, or around the house." Geto waves you over, spraying a generous amount on your clothes and on your face. The spiciness takes you by surprise, spluttering as you try to get the taste off your mouth and the burn out of your eyes.

Surprisingly—shockingly even, you hear Geto laugh. It doesn't sound like the one he uses around the curse-collecting or money-collecting monkeys, it sounds like the one he uses around Nanako and Mimiko.

'Geto laughing = good. He's happy or excited.'

The laughing stops but he brings up a finger to wipe the tear that fell down your cheek during the sting. His hands are slightly calloused but soft to the touch. "Come on, let's get this over with. I'd rather stay away from monkeys on my weekends."

Nodding, you follow behind Geto as he walks up to the door, planting three brisk but firm knocks against the wood. You make sure to stay a step behind him, your body stiff and your eyes blank in case the monkey decides to try anything.

The door opens a slither a pair of green eyes widening the second they see Geto. "G-Geto-san! What do I owe the pleasure?"

"Good afternoon to you as well, Mr. Ashido. From my understanding, you're to fund my organization with three hundred thousand yen a month, am I correct?" Geto smiles, but it doesn't feel nice like when he smiles at you.

'Monkeys make Geto's smile weird. All monkeys are bad.'

The man nods shakily, his grip on the door faltering slightly. "Y-yes, but I cannot make up with the payments anymore because—"

"Correct me if I'm mistaken, Mr. Ashido, but you were the one who said three hundred thousand, am I correct?" Geto interrupts with a slight movement of his head, his signature bang moving with it.

"But Mr. Geto—"

Then, Geto's smile falls. His nose scrunches up in disgust and his eyes narrow. That means he's going to kill someone.

Before either of you knows what's happening, a surge of cursed energy flows into your hand, and the man's body squishes onto the ground until it pops as if the gravity on his body somehow quadrupled.

Geto's eyes widen, staring at the eyeball that rolled on the tip of his sandals. He turns to look at you, equal parts shocked and amused. "You did that, didn't you?"

"Monkeys are bad, and you looked like you were going to kill him anyway. I'm sorry for acting out of line G—"

"Don't you dare apologize for that." Geto interrupts with a sharp cut to his tone, making you stutter and trip over your words.

'Don't apologize, Geto gets angry. Angry = bad emotion.'

You nod hastily, but the nagging feeling to apologize stretches along your throat, itching to come out. Geto huffs, walking down the stairs and dragging you by the collar. "Seriously, the one time I take my eyes off you, you go change the actual laws of space on a guy?"

"Sor—" You stop yourself midway, remembering how apologies made Geto feel. You opt to stay silent and let him drag you wherever it is he wants to.

As you and Geto ride back home on the manta-ray curse, you see the smile on his face from earlier still hasn't left.

'Killing monkeys makes Geto give Nanako and Mimiko smile. Feels better than what he uses with sponsors.'

"Did I do good, Geto?" You ask absentmindedly, shifting closer to him until your chest is pressed against his back.

Something that resembles a laugh comes out of him, but it seems airy. Still genuine, but not as hard as when he sprayed you in your face. "Yes, [Name]. You did well."

A slight flush and embarrassment creeps up on you, causing you to plant your face on his shoulder. It didn't feel bad, just new. The same thing you feel whenever Geto falls asleep on your shoulder, or when he and you stay on his flying curse for hours at a time, doing nothing but basking in each other's presence.

It feels great, and you're glad to be feeling it with the only human you would put your life on the line for.

[rilakeila]

cat's out of the bag, where reader is an animagus cat and gets embarrassed about it around mattheo

word count 3.9k fandom harry potter pairing mattheo riddle x fem!animagus cat!reader warnings none(? lmk if u see any) author's note just hope it's good, changed it up a lil from the request

request a little cat has been crossing paths with him in the courtyard and he’s actually grown quite attached to it. one of their friends spot him scratching her head or smth on his way to class and makes a joke that mattheo doesn’t understand but the reader does and BOOKS it outta there. mattheo is lowkey a lil put out because he doesn’t see the cat for awhile after that, and the group starts making inside jokes abt it so the reader gets embarrassed and starts avoiding him in person too. mattheo decides he’s over it and gets her to finally spill the beans

STRETCHING your limbs before walking around the classroom, professor mcgonagall requested you to stay a couple of minutes after class to discuss your animagus progress. more so, she was just proud that you were able to complete the process. with mcgonagall and dumbledore’s help, you were typically excused from many days from hogwarts, travelling to uagadou, school of magic, in africa, accompanied by dumbledore to start the process of your animagus. certainly felt out of place with several students younger than you to be able to transform, but it was a great motivation through the help of your professors.

“nicely done, a lovely feline just as myself,” mcgonagall clasped her hands together, proudly, as she watched you jump from table to table in your animagus form.

reaching to the last one that was next to her, you transformed back into your human form, sitting with your hands folded on your lap, “thank you, professor. a big help from you and professor dumbledore, as well as the students at uagadou. though, i am glad that my incantations process did not take as long as i thought it would.”

“well, good that you were able to successfully do so, but i do have another class in a couple of moments, i will let you off now,” mcgonagall patted your shoulder before going to her desk, giving signal that you were free to go. bidding your farewell, she responded with a wave, not looking up from the paperwork. opening the door slightly, you transformed into your animagus form. you remembered that your daily tasks was to practice into your new form, as often as you could, but it was also requested to be kept on the low for your privacy. your classes were not going to resume until the following day, given that you recently had got back from uagadou, only needed to be up to date with all of the material given in your classes. 

taking an adventure around the castle was quite interesting in your new form. a new perspective of seeing it at a much lower angle, may even develop a fear of heights from the tallness of the walls. you tried to get use to climbing and hopping around high shelves in some of the corridors. many students noticed you as you walked around the hallways, only responding in hisses unless they were your friends such as hermione or luna. after roaming for quite some time and alternating within your forms, you settled on one of the open sills in the hallway. taking a laying position, your tail curling on top of your frame and getting comfortable to take a nap.

trying to calm your mind, you wished you could be a cat for the rest of time, not having to worry about school and be someone’s pet sounded like such an easy life. a long nap in the midst of day would have been great, only to be awoken the noisy echos of the halls from the students walking out of class or their breaks. you hear someone place their bag on the open minimal surface on the right of you. their once fast movements turned into quiet, assuming that they left. you peeked one of your eyes open, only to see the green of their school robe, moving carefully as they could next to you to sit cross legged. your eye shuts when he finally sits down, seeing a book in his hand, but being nosy, you tried to see who it was.

your eye opens once more, a scar on their nose, curly hair, and a green robe. well, also a familiar face. mattheo riddle. a mutual of luna’s boyfriend, to keep it simple. you have had your fair share of conversations with mattheo, some were just of commonality or had to do with one of your classes’ assignments. though, many of those shared conversations may have been rare but when initiated, they were quite long, often enjoying and longing that company. if there was anything about him, completely different from his father, he was not as interested in gaining power or any sorts, he just enjoyed a good game of quidditch and being in and out of class as soon as possible. 

you eyed the book in his hand, recognizing it was his little notebook that he used to jot down notes during class. 

“this is a new cat, it’s not filch’s cat,” was all he mumbled before you heard his quill starting writing away. you noticed you craned your neck a little too much to give him notice before dropping it down, closing your eyes to resume your nap. that was until you heard a paper tear out and placed in front of you, “since you’re not asleep, here, judge my drawing.”

caught. you looked at the quick doodle, it was a simple sketch of you curled up with small details from the background, sky, clouds, sunrays, and everything. he must have drawing as a hobby, you were sure it was no more than five minutes that he was able to conjure from the time he has sat down. stretching out your limbs, you grabbed the drawing with your mouth and turned to place it in his lap, a small nod of approval. honestly, you were unsure how to show your appreciation in this form without giving away that you were an animagus.

“well, i reckon that you like this picture. and i’m sure there’s no way that you have a place to keep it,” he raised his hand to pet you, but there was hesitation, probably unsure if you were to going to hiss, bite, or claw at him. mattheo held his palm out in front of you, showing some sort of consent. he seemed harmless, but would it be weird if he ever found out that you were just an animagus. you leaned closer, but that thought of the what if made you feel embarrassed, leading you to jump off the sill. 

“mmm, fine, i’ll see you around, little feline.”

you never thought that the frequency of seeing mattheo around from once every two or so weeks would become an everyday occurrence, mostly in your animagus form. once, maybe around the morning, and a couple more times throughout the day. it was typically during your breaks, walking around the hallways as you usually did. he did a showcasing of his drawing of you whether it was in the usual spot of that sill where you first met in your animagus form or a candid, and those drawings were at a random. each and every single you had appreciated before he hides them into his notebook. outside of your feline moments, you were paired up with him in doing tasks for professors and the staff around the school, seeing as you two would be the common picks due to both of you regularly being in the hallway at the same time. getting to know each other on a different level, even noticing more habits and traits that he has had. though, it was awkward when the topic of your animagus had been brought up during a walk in the library, putting books up for some of the professors.

“anything new recently?” you questioned, placing back the introduction to water creatures into its vacant spot based on madam pince’s list of nonhelpful locations.

“studying and helping the quidditch team, nothing has been new with me,” he placed the book that you handed him on the top of the stack.

“what about any drawings?” you froze in your tracks, unsure if that hobby of his was even known to anyone.

“drawings? how did you know that i draw?” he also paused in his tracks.

“well, i taken up some doodling in my free time during classes and noticed that in charms, you like to doodle professor flitwick and the floating objects in the classroom pretty well,” you did take notice after finding this hobby of his that he continuously did draw at what you thought was him writing notes.

“not as secretive as i thought of that little thing of mine. well, actually, do you know that cat that will always hang around the hallways?” mattheo handed you another book to place within the shelves.

“filch’s cat?”

“no, not mrs. norris, it’s a much smaller cat. this feline has been the center of my art recently, maybe i’ll show you a new one in class next time. i see that cat pretty often, at least a couple of times a day, someone must have lost their pet and gave up,” he said with a chuckle.

“yeah, maybe,” you replied, not knowing what to say, “well, that’s the last book.”

“you said you doodled, right?” mattheo questioned, in which you hummed, agreeing to the statement. it was not a lie you did doodle. stick figures, that still counts. he continued, “do you want to come along with me in the morning before potions to draw this cat?”

no. i can’t, i am that cat. you turned to him, trying to figure out how to be there in two different forms, “maybe, we’ll see.”

“just say that you don’t want to hang out with the dark lord’s son, it’s alright,” mattheo playfully pouted. 

that was a characteristic that you have never seen before from him, and he was trying to persuade you, using his dad’s name. you scoffed, “there was not a no in my response.”

“but, i know that’s what you meant. please,” he drawn out the please, adding hints of sweet in it to essentially charm you.

“fine, but i never even seen this cat,” you said.

“you’ll see, i basically attract this cat. see you in central hallway,” he clasped your shoulder before exiting the library. now, you were left to discover some sort of spell to double your bodies and how you do agree that he does attract you.

“it’s fine, i’ll just walk with him then leave then appear as a cat,” you flattened your robe, smoothing any crinkles out as you walked through the corridors to reach the destined hallway, seeing mattheo already walking towards you, backpack slung over his shoulder. a small smile appeared on his face, meeting your eye contact.

you waved before reaching to him, “so, where’s your little cat?”

“honestly, haven’t seen her around today. the one time i wanted to show her off, and she isn’t here,” he looked around the hall, trying to look around to spot the small feline, not knowing that she was right in front of me.

“aww, maybe, next time, how do you even know it’s a she,” you asked.

“just a wild guess, but if that she is actually a he, hopefully he’ll let me know,” he said, shoving down a piece of paper in his pocket. 

you only glanced before looking at him once more, “well, mcgonagall needed to see me before potions, so, save me a seat.”

he nodded as his way of a farewell before walking inside the classroom. watching him enter and up and down the hallways for lingering students, hoping that the area was student free, you almost started to transform until the conversation within the classroom became much more audible.

“come on, you don’t think it’s odd that the cat always happens to meet you and certain people at certain times. plus, some students just came back from other schools for special training, what if your little cat friend is an animagus?” that statement was followed with laughter, recognizing that the person who said that was lorenzo berkshire. head always full of thoughts and a motor for a mouth.

“a professor, perhaps, or a student much closer to her,” someone else commented, hinting that the only other known animagus with a feline form was mcgonagall. 

there was no way that he was not going to realize that you were an animagus and connect the points, he was aware that you were part of the groups that left hogwarts to study shortly at other schools. you did not want to share your face to him, mattheo may not be the greatest person in the bunch, coming to academics, but with enough effort, he was quite intelligent. you were sure most of the students connected the dots especially with your frequent visits with professor mcgonagall, always excelled at transfiguration and potions, gone to uagadou, there was not a doubt that even trying to keep it on the low, there were people that knew.

maybe walking in the classroom would combat the rumor of being an animagus. though, you already had told mattheo that you were going to be meeting with the professor that they had mentioned. you tried to convince yourself that him finding out was not all too bad, helps not trying to suppress the secret, but you enjoyed the attention that he had been giving you. 

you pinched the bridge of your nose, persuading yourself just enough to tip the iceberg of walking in. entering seeing that you were essentially the last student to walk in and many students faced the entrance, especially that set of certain students, their eyes were on you. not to mention, the widening smirk of lorenzo as he locked his eyes with yours, “you know, that was a purr-fectly timed appearance.”

feeling your cheeks heat up, the cat was quite literally out the bag between you and lorenzo. he definitely knew, he always had some sort of information on every single person you know. you wondered if he was also an animagus as a small fly for the way he always has the buzz on the hogwarts student body. he sent a wink with a sly grin, which ushered you quickly out of class. it was going to be impossible without him dropping hints around you and could not allow someone else to drop your secret. even with calls of your name, there was no way that you would turn back.

“professor, do you know how embarrassing it is if riddle finds out that i am the feline he has been drawing?” you paced around the classroom. with the amount of times that you had walked your pattern in front of your mentor, there would certainly be a dent within the ground.

“perhaps, perhaps not. mr. riddle will more than likely be unbothered by the fact that you are an animagus. he seems too unbothered by any topic for that matter, just as ms. everwood confessed her feelings for him and he had said thank you and walked off as if nothing had happened,” your professor was too focused on other matters around the classroom to be bothered by your issues, but you were sure that she was going to share the same details with professor snape. you were alright with him knowing, it was not like he was not going to be able to read your mind with him being a power legilimen.

“you’re right, thank you, professor. will keep that in mind, i figured out what to do,” you said, all you had to do was just ignore him for the rest of the term or until you graduate. it was going to be impossible for you to not change into your animagus form as mcgonagall required you to change a couple of times a day, and there was not a chance that you could avoid him which was through analyzing the frequency of seeing him everyday. there was a giant possibility that you were overthinking this, as it was true. you just wanted to save yourself from the embarrassment from the intimate moments you had shared despite them being in your cat form.

“please, do update me on your animagus progress, as well as your situation with mr. riddle. concluding with your heightened embarrassment of him knowing, it would seem to me that you may have a crush on him and or value your friendship, as well as him revealing that secret of yours will ruin everything.”

as always, spot on at everything.

for the time being since your conversation with mcgonagall, your contact with mattheo had gone down drastically. attending potions much earlier to avoid having to sit next to him, though, lorenzo’s obvious cat jokes as he walked past you to go to the ingredients closet, it was something you wished to avoid. you were unsure if mattheo cared enough that you switched seats, using mcgonagall’s story regarding about evelyn everwood, he may have just moved on. additionally, you opted to stay in the astronomy tower now for a break when in your animagus form, despite enjoying the ground levels to stroll. you did remember a small exchange between lorenzo and mattheo during a potions practical;

“does mr. cat whisperer miss his feline friend?” there lorenzo goes again.

“and does the school's resident gossip hound miss wagging his tongue in everyone's business?” mattheo responded with the same tone.

“don’t be so grouchy, isn’t it a coincidence that someone stopped hanging out with you?” lorenzo had glanced at you when saying someone, knowing that you were listening. 

there were certain times where you had close encounters with him trying to talk to unless you decided to deviate your path, pretending that you were busy in your notes as you walked in the hallway. you had made a habit to just have your notebook open, just in case he was around.

“mr. berkshire always intends to irritate others quite easily, but i am certain it is his tactic of getting information out of most people,” mcgonagall waved her hand to have the chalk write against the board in preparation for her next class.

before being able to respond back to her, there was a knock at the door. your head turned to the sound, only sinking into your chair and raising your hood to hide your face. it was very unlikely for mattheo to even talk to mcgonagall, unless he was failing a class.

“hello professor, snape had sent me over here saying that you needed me to help a student in returning boxes of ingredients to his closet,” he began to come closer due to the proximity of his voice getting louder with every step he had taken. damn, professor snape. the two professors must be working together in cahoots for whatever the reason may be according to your problems.

“yes, please assist (y/n) with those boxes over there. i would have done a spell, but professor snape wanted to ensure that the number of ingredients were done by hand and everything was correct for storage. off you go, i need to prepare for the upcoming period,” she dismissed the both of you. you knew that she was not going to respond if you tried to convince her, but you did trust her judgment and may be the only way to jump over the obstacle.

“of course, professor,” you shoved your hood down, trying to not make eye contact.

the collection of the boxes was quiet, one for you and one for him. there was an understanding between the both of you in doing your task, more so you quickly grabbing your box and walking out of the classroom. mattheo did not do much but just follow your lead, similar to your library duties. the walk was fast-paced and still silent, typically you had started most of the conversations, always starting with how has your week been going.

“how has your week been going?” he initiated.

“busy, just studying, you?”

“the same thing as you.” 

“nic-“

“i am not one to beat around the bush, why have you been avoiding me?” he asked once more. straightforward. the synchronized clanking of the glass jars and footsteps was quieter, and it was just your own creating the sound. 

“what do you mean? i said i was busy,” you awkwardly chuckled. you stayed still, but you had not turned to face him.

“not busy enough for you to stay in professor mcgonagall’s office for a couple hours of the day, your studying sessions in the courtyard and library has whisked you away to a different location. mind you, you never came to potions early enough, but you recently had to change seats,” mattheo pointed out the changes in your daily routine. it did not seem like a big of a deal, but no one would typically pay attention to the specifics of the times that you did things.

“are you spying on me, now?” you finally turned around, wondering why.

“no, just things i’ve noticed. also, when someone mentions cats or just anything of the sort, for instance.. lorenzo, that day, when he was talking about an animagus being my feline friend, were you offended that he brought up mcgonagall? if it is, i have enough dirt on him to drag down his reputation,” he offered. for someone with decent intelligence, he was not displaying enough critical thinking.

“it’s not that, mattheo, you didn’t understand the joke that he had said when i walked in?” you raised an eyebrow, typically he understood the complex jokes you thrown at him when you placed books back in the library.

he seemed to be taken back, hesitating, one expression that he rarely had, “the purr-fectly timed appearance, he was..”

hesitation once again. the raised eyebrow also did not leave your face, watching his once sturdy eye contact to be broken as you waited for him to complete his statement. he cleared his throat, “he was alluding to something else that we were discussing in the group.”

“which was?”

“i asked first, so, why have you been avoiding me?” he quickly veered away from you prying his answer. you were so close to revealing the mystery, and you were able to imagine the disappointment from mcgonagall in not completing her goal of this task between you and mattheo with professor snape. there was no way he would mind.

“okay, fine, no, we say our answers at the same time. i’ll answer your question, and with my question for you to answer is what the something else of that discussion as it pertains to me and i am nosy,” you looked at him, hoping he would take your proposition. 

he walked closer to you, stopping with no space left between you two aside from the boxes that you both held in front of your torsos, “fine.”

“on three.”

“one.”

“two.”

“three.”

“i am the cat that you have been hanging around.”

“i have feelings for you.”

the surprised looks mirrored each other’s faces, only mattheo had his mouth agape which he closed. your embarrassment was overflowing your body, but the surprise of him confessing that he had liked you mixed in with the embarrassment. though, the combination just left your body heated. 

“i also like you, if that helps,” you broke the silence despite feeling the warmest you ever been.

“no wonder why you said that drawing bit in charms,” he grinned. mcgonagall was correct, yet again, he seemed to overlook your animagus side, not even slightly bothered.

“so, you don’t mind me being an animagus?” you needed to make sure that it was clear that he did not mind, in order for your embarrassment to be resolved,

he shook his head, “it’s okay to be an animagus, that’s bloody amazing, actually.. enzo is quite smart in dropping that hint, it was quite purrfectly executed.”

you snorted, as you watched him move to stand by your side. there was so many questions running through your mind that you were unsure which option to pick to start at. you were just satisfied at the fact that he did not mind. though, you two had a mutual understanding was to leave it be for now and enjoy the moment.

“and so, the cat’s out of the bag.”

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[sleepybbie]

(going on anon bc im shy WHEHDHD🫡)

but how about a drabble of like, having a quickie with yingxing in his workshop or something 🤭🤭

bonus point if hes being a tease and kept edging you, forcing you to keep begging even tho he kept denying u anyways :3

𝒑𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒔𝒎𝒊𝒕𝒉𝒚 | yingxing (blade) drabble

a/n: SHSHHSJA I LOVE U SM FOR THIS ISTG (>w<) ♡ since i’m a bit biased (i am) i low-key made this drabble more longer than i originally planned to be ;w; but that shows how i love him sm

yingxing (blade) x fem!reader

warning: smutty drabble below! mentions of past!blade so there’s spoilers too ૮ • ﻌ - ა

you’d be lying to yourself if you say you didn’t enjoy watching your lover work on his weapon forges.

it wasn’t rare to anyone in the xianzhou that YINGXING was a very hard worker when it comes to crafting masterpieces of a weapon, glands of sweat rolling down his forehead to his forearm before wiping it away with ease. no wonder jingliu wanted him to be the one forging the weapons for the high cloud quintet; not only they were easy to hold and durable, but they have a strong impact of slashes that were even hard to destroy.

he gives in a lot of effort to his creations. therefore, he spends most of his time on his crafting table to make sure they were perfect. every weapon he forges, he smiles as he creates a new masterpiece and takes his time.

but how could he forget such a cute darling like you?

if there’s one thing you knew about your lover, is that he likes to tease, make you pout when he gets the chance. it wasn’t your fault you couldn’t peel your eyes away from him as he hammers down a weapon, it wasn’t your fault you find it so hot when he rolls his sleeve down his sweaty arms during the heating process, it wasn’t your fault why you visit his smithy looking so alluring and ethereal in a new short gown baiheng gifted to you in order to show it to him, and it’s absolutely not your fault why the small items from his table (including the blueprints) were scattered onto the ground while you’re being fucked in his workshop.

…this is a different kind of “risky” he’s giving you, a memory that might be in your head for a couple of weeks, or even months because of how good he was slamming his hips onto that spot of yours over and over. you have no idea whether his workshop was soundproof, you’re scared if ever dan feng were to visit him—after all, that high elder often comes in without warning. he finds it endearing, how your soft smile when you entered his forging area was now shifted into a mouth that cries his name on repeat like he just damaged your brain.

he promised to make this quick since he still has some forgery to finish. you don’t want him to be distracted when he’s already so focused, do you?

“ngh..! ha..! ah! y-yingxing…!”

your helpless and breathless mewls just seemed to turn him on more along with the way your hands clawed its way onto his damp neck, pushing your legs further up to wrap around his waist as he fucks into that spot of yours, repeating his ruthless thrusts while he pants heavily over your shoulder. it was sticky, you both were getting sticky; it’s obvious you were close, the pain your nails were digging on his attire was certainly giving a sign. who wouldn’t? his tip penetrating deep inside on your cervix was already enough to send you over the edge.

“p-please…wan…wanna cum..!”

“not until i say so, sweetheart..” he breathes into your neck, taking in that scent of yours like a pervert as he grins, “be obedient and wait for my signal..”

you hated when he does this, so teasing…you’ve been a good girl, right? so why? you teared up a little, and that just riled something inside of him more.

suddenly without warning, yingxing lifts you up off his desk, carrying your body until you back hit the wall, pushing his cock back inside of your sobbing puffy cunt like he was running out of time. he didn’t give time to rub himself in you, he just straight up pushes himself in. yingxing picks up the pace, pushing his tongue into your mouth while carrying your legs, balancing your body in order for you not to fall back from the wall. he’s strong..as expected from one of the strongest in the luofu. you’re full on crying, drooling spill past both of your lips before he pulls away with a smile. he’s close too…you can see it from the way he bites down his lip, blood drawing out, shutting his eyes when you clenched down on him.

now you both were even.

“are you keeping it in?”

“p-please, please, please…wanna…cum, yingxing…!”

“just a little more…i—

he was cut off with a grunt, pushing you back up on the wall after you almost fell down. were you so fucked out from his thrusts it made you unable to hold yourself? he chuckles.

“that was close, huh? as i was saying..just a little more, darling…and then you can cum..”

god, this was unfair. it’s so much..it’s only been a past minute when you both decided for a quick-quick, yet the smithy was a mess with the scent of sex. dan feng was definitely going to question this after..

“c’mon…almost there..” he goes even more faster, you swore your eyes were gouging at the back of your head when it hits that soft spot in your walls over and over, feeling semen spill out little by little, his thrusts sloppier..holy shit, you were seeing the aeons at this point. yingxing had a vice grip over your thighs as he holds you tight, your head bumping on the wall behind you, hard. you could hear him curse underneath his breath.

“y-yingxing, please…!”

“shit…you wanna cum? come, my darling, let’s do it together..”

and with one last thrust, his lips on yours to silence your moans, the coil in your stomach was cut along with his, cum spilling down past your legs as you whined loudly in his mouth—ribbons of his release shooting inside of you, breeding you basically. your poor cunt spills his thick seed, tickling down to his legs and onto the floor. fucking messy, and fucking filthy.

he didn’t dare to drop you while you both catch your breath, after all he didn’t want you to be hurt. yingxing holds you tight, leaving a small mark over your neck as he pulls out, watching his dick soften, along with his release spilling out of you. he thinks you’re pretty, he knows you’re pretty, including with that new fucked our expression of yours. he kisses your cheek, to your nose and on your forehead. he smiles, acting like he didn’t fucked you like a goddamn beast.

“want to buy something with me at the market? i forgot i need more materials.”

this guy…

an: hehe! i love yingxing ૮ ˶´ ᵕˋ ˶ა ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

[nymphomatique]

-ahem after reading your nerd/loser!Miguel I just CANT ✊😩 ❤ I gonna need ask orrrr request something !...YOU MADE SOMETHING AWOKEN something in me that I i JUST can't explain😵😳 but NEED TO BE RELEASED (😏) and now today I wanted to request my take on it if that ok with you 😌😏

Ok hear me out nerdy loser/horny!Miguel x YOU GUESS IT popular/richfm!reader 😝!!!..

So let me explain the plot first 😌 .so let just say we never seen Miguel (it been an long time since) only remember that name while reader was in highschool and reader was one of Miguel bully I guess.. (even though she not the one laying an hand on him 😒😔) as she just watch as her popular group of friends bullied Miguel seeing him have tear down acting nothing like an man... ( what an man baby)'Which taught was more *interesting* about this nerd. but reader always think he was cute (I guess reader say it in her mind) even if he was an loser nerd at high school and more of an quite guy and only care for work.but the best part of Miguel in high school is that he ALWAYS obey no matwhat towards you/fm!reader 😩(god I don't know if I have to explain the next scene but I think I just hints some 😝😋 blow jobs overstuim- i mean many !! I want to see. Him cry on the desk while reader under it 🗣✊)

This is could be an flash back honestly I don't care 🗣🗣 I hope your doing great and having an awesome day

you were cooking nonnie‼️ i hope this translated well into writing. and yes timeskip crumbs 🤭

cw: no smut in this one folks! timeskip present, mentions of cannabis use, miguel gets bullied ;(, reader saves him tho dw, genuinely just fluff, teeny bit of d/s stuff, allusions to sex at the end. italic text is a high school flashback! enjoy 🫶🏾

“i cannot believe you had braces!” miguel laughs at your yearbook picture. you smack his arm and roll your eyes at his laughter.

“s’not funny. was only my freshman year.” you mumble,

“i’m just kidding honey, you’re still gorgeous, braces or not,” he says, kissing your temple. the two of you were sitting on your couch in your shared condo, looking at your old high school yearbook.

“you’re flattering me to get in my pants,” you quip. miguel wraps an arm around you and kisses your neck whispering low. “don’t need flattery to do that.”

you push his face away and snort. “when did you get so suave, mr. o’hara?” you question. “you weren’t as smooth in high school if u remember correctly.”

“you’d be right, but meeting you changed me for the better, no?” he flips the yearbook pages, finding his picture in the sea of others.

“maybe you changed me,” you say lowly.

“aww, come on pete, lay off him will you?” flash thompson laughs. “nah, he’s too easy,” peter replies. they had been roaming the halls, cutting class to smoke a joint. since peter was out early, he figured meeting you once your class period was over would be fun, high sex in the bathroom stalls was on his bucket list after all, and you never told him no when it came down to a good time.

in the midst of both flash and peter roaming the halls, they had ran into miguel o’hara, clutching his books in his hands during his free period, roaming the halls like them. nudging flash in his shoulder, peter made a show of miguel. he had pushed him into the lockers, feigning accident. miguel hit the rusted metal with a thud, dropping his books in the process.

“oh, did i bump you? my deepest apologies,” peter mocks, flash not even trying to hide his smile. miguel looks up from his place on the ground between the two, rubbing his shoulder that hit the locker. not worth it, he thinks, and moves to reach one of his books. before he can grab it, peter kicks it across the hall. miguel’s eyes stay focused on the ground. “aww, what happened? you got butterfingers, o’hara?” flash laughs.

“pick up your fuckin’ books, you’re blocking the hall,” peter directs towards miguel. miguel stays unmoved, pushing his glasses up his nose, eyes still glued to the floor. peters angry, feeling disrespected. “hey,” he says, and the hostility beginning to bubble in his voice is clear. “you fuckin’ deaf or what? i said pick up for fuckin-”

“the fuck is going on here?” you interrupt, seeing peter and flash freeze for a split second. you had left a while ago to go to the bathroom and skip class, but had decided to stop by your lockers, where you found peter and flash bullying some random.

“hey, baby,” peter begins. your eyebrow raises and he drops the act. “we uh- we were just tryna help h-”

“can it. i can smell the pot off you guys, fuckin’ gross. get outta here before you get caught with no hall pass,” you dismiss both peter and flash. peter makes way to kiss you goodbye but you move your head, your eyes telling him to get the fuck on.

when both peter and flash are long gone down the hall, you turn to miguel. “hey,” you say. he finally looks up at you and you see tears welling in his eyes. you wince, and wordlessly kick his book back to him. watching him gather up his books is almost disheartening, usually you laugh at something this pathetic. your feelings get the better of you, so you walk to miguel and buy your hand on his chin, lifting his head up to look at you. the eye contact sends a weird feeling in your chest, his tear stained brown eyes filled with emotion.

“chin up, dweeb,” you say, touching the tip of his nose and winking at him before you get up and leave, off to see what trouble peter found himself in.

miguel is in shock. that’s the first time he’s ever been talked to by someone popular. a popular girl at that. miguel looks back at your figure walking away, hips swaying with determination and he feels his heart swell in his chest.

“you gettin all sappy on me now, baby?” miguel quips. “funny. you must have forgotten what to address me as. i’ve been too nice to you,” you reply, your gaze intense. miguel swallows and his whole demeanour changes. “i didn’t forget, mistress,” he replies. you smile, getting up from the couch, pulling miguel up by his shirt to follow you.

“that’s my good boy.”

[itsmarsss]

i know u said no preview for lucifer smut but i’m gonna try my luck and ask anyways plz let me have a tiny peak PLEASE😭😭😭

ok ok im feeling generous and i was also just polishing what i already have for it

we’re going straight at it, enjoy

content warning handjob, cum-eating, calling him ‘sir’ and ‘your majesty’

He inhales a sharp breath, his eyes closed and his face distorted in an almost pained expression. “You decide.”

“That’s not how this whole thing works, sir.”

“Shit, your- your chest. Wanna- wanna lick myself off you. Please let me do that.”

Well shit. At least he’s being a little more assertive with what he wants. It doesn’t take any much longer until he’s painting your chest with his cum, thick ropes of his release covering you as his body spasms under you, his breathing growing even more erratic and the noises that leave him more desperate, bordering on whines more than the moans he’d been letting out before. He lets himself fall back down hard onto the mattress when his high is over, chest heaving up and down at a frantic speed, panting as he tries to catch his breath.

“Fuck, that was- I can’t- just- fuck.”

You laugh at his failed attempt at recollecting his thoughts. “Good?” You offer.

“Good. So good.” He’s still looking at the ceiling, eyes glossed over as his mind seems unable to process any more than what just happened, the back of his right hand raised over his forehead.

“So, your majesty. Are you gonna do it?”

“Do what?” He questions, voice slurred, almost as if lost in a trance, barely there.

“You wanted to ‘lick yourself off of me’, if I recall.”

He shoots up immediately, as if coming back to himself, remembering only now what he’d told you. How could he have forgotten? He supports himself on his elbows and only then does it occur to him to take a look at his masterpiece.

Fuck, he could eat you right up.

He sits up completely and wordlessly guides you back to his lap in some sort of lust-induced confidence burst, diving at your chest and doing as he promised, licking every inch of you clear of any remnants of his release. His eyes never leave yours except only for the fractions of seconds in which he closes his eyes as he swallows the evidence of his own pleasure, a content groan rumbling low in his throat before continuing until there is no trace of himself on you anymore, and for a split second it crosses his mind that that’s almost a shame.

[theoldoor]

topaz day bc i love her sm dont u dare say a word about her shes my sister, girl, bestfriend, etc… aventurine likers who doesn’t appreciate her isnt a real aventurine liker bc if u truly liked him YOU SHOULD KNOW THAT SHE’S HIS FOIL. SHE FOILS HIS CHARACTER. AND SHE HERSELF IS ALSO A GOOD REP OF GROOMING VICTIM.

shes the best friend, shes the gal who supports i love her so much and yet she’s seen as nothing within the fandom… its either “omg i hate avenpaz” or talking down on her bc she devotes herself to the IPC like damn ofc she would SHES BEING MANIPULATED TO SHUT YO BUMASS UP. if youre gonna be a gooner or a hater at least hate critically. understand before you hate. hate with knowledge.

SHE’S THE FOIL TO AVENTURINE. JUST LIKE HOW RUAN MEI IS THE FOIL TO DR RATIO.

I feel like she and aventurine being the younger people + under jade’s care is intentional for them to highlight each other’s characters. (even their primary colors are reversed broo… cuz like, aventurine is green and inverted color of green is red and that’s topaz).

im going to go on an analysis ramble here, im not rereading anything ok PUTTING MY LIT STUDENT BRAIN TO WORK HERE

Topaz in a gem itself symbolizes strength, wisdom and calming influence and throughout the story we can see her as a character who was reliable and calculated considering her conservative approaches to the challenges she faced in the quest.

This is a juxtaposition well played by hoyoverse to highlight their decision-making processes - which is a foundation for their character. Aventurine is a gambler. His life philosophy is well known with his iconic quote of “high-stakes, high-rewards”. In contrast, Topaz represents a more calculated approach, even voice line during combat was “low-risk, high reward”.

Aventurine’s appearance and demeanor are misleading. Even his smiles serves as nothing more than a mask to fool others. And his Avgin eyes contributes more to this enigmatic nature - such colorful eyes, yet so dull and devoid of life. Much like hiding a complex hidden world under his “brazen bravado” attitude and flashy outfits. This creates an ironic contrast between how he appears and the “extraordinarily faint self beneath.”

Conversely, Topaz is straightforward and transparent. As seen with her attitude in her quest in Jarilo-IV. She wasn’t afraid to tell her tale of her planet, she was willing to talk it out and came to a calculated conclusion. Topaz’s character is also seen as affectionate and caring, as she was willing to take such a huge price for the people of Jarilo IV - of being demoted even and her care for her little pets in her splash art (+numby). Her strength lies in her compassion and clarity, providing a stark contrast to Aventurine’s deceptive nature - making her a trustworthy figure that emphasizes the irony of Aventurine’s masked intentions.

NOW ONTO THE PART I WANT TO TALK ABOUT

THEIR REACTION TO THEIR PAST.

Aventurine’s past as a slave and his resulting inferiority complex drove him to prove his worth through constant risk-taking. To be fate’s test dummy. To be thrown and tested around. To seek validation from risks. His need to control his fate, yet at the same time threaten it and challenge the blessing reveals a deep-seated desire to overcome his history - to let go yet he’s still stuck because his life is bound to his curse. Although one could argue that the IPC “saved his life”, he would still bite. His life is of no value anyways - he was just a pawn. Such as how Jade would still refer to him as “Aventurine” and not Kakavasha, even though knowing that it was his real name. He was nothing but a coin to the slots. A chance to see if they can reap the rewards.

Topaz, however, focused on building strength and validation from the efforts she puts out as seen with her and the IPC. Her project with Jarilo IV has caused her some distress, even during the Penacony quest as she was still bothered about it. But the moment Jade affirmed her, it soothed her almost immediately. She needed to prove herself to the people who “saved her planet”, to thank them as they gave her her life value. Jade, however, referred to Topaz with her real name, Jelena. Seemingly almost as if she valued her as Jelena, a person, and not a pawn on a board.

Topaz serves as a foil to Aventurine by embodying traits that contrast sharply with Aventurine’s risk-taking and enigmatic nature.

IF YOURE GONNA HATE, UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU HATE FIRST.

Fenrir and Topaz would get along. I wrote him to be Aventurine’s foil after all, they have a lot in common. Even their designs are similar with the color red and bows and the waist belt lol. They’re so best friend coded.

Fenrir would hang around for Numby and Numby is awfully fond of the man. Sometimes Topaz would think that Fenrir is a secret warp trotter because how tf did you write a whole study on language of warp trotter. And also, they both like shiny things. So hell yeah.

I have nothing to say they’re just so best friends.

[doctorreid187]

Obsessive Flames // E.Munson

Pairing: Eddie munson /Reader

Reader Gender: not told but afab when sex

CW: sex, Unportected sex[ wrap it before u tap it] slight dubcon at first

wc: 11591

As you make your way through the dark and ominous hallways of Hawkins high school, you can't shake the feeling of being watched. You turn a corner and come face to face with Eddie Munson, but something is off. His eyes are cold and dead, his expression twisted into a menacing grin. In the dimly lit forest, you find yourself walking along a narrow path. The leaves crunch beneath your feet as you hear the faint sound of a guitar in the distance. You quicken your pace, eager to find the source of the music. As you approach the clearing where the music is coming from, you see Eddie sitting on a fallen log, playing his beloved guitar. But something doesn't seem right. He looks up at you with those cold, dead eyes and you feel a chill run down your spine.

"Eddie, what's going on?" Eddie continues to play his guitar, the haunting melody sending shivers down your spine. He doesn't respond, instead his gaze becomes more intense and predatory. You try to back away slowly, but you feel a hand on your shoulder, gripping it tightly.

"Where do you think you're going?" Eddie's voice is cold and menacing, a stark contrast to his usual carefree demeanor. You try to speak, but your voice fails you. You can feel his hot breath on your neck as he leans in closer, his grip on your shoulder tightening.

"I've been waiting for you." Eddie's other hand reaches up to your face, tracing your jawline with his thumb. You can feel the roughness of his callouses against your skin, a reminder of the many hours he's spent practicing his music. But there's something else in his touch, something darker and more dangerous.

"You're mine." Eddie's voice is firm and unyielding, leaving no room for argument. You feel a shiver run down your spine as his hand moves to the back of your head, pulling you closer to him. His other hand moves to your waist, pulling you onto his lap.

"Eddie, what are you doing?" Eddie's grip on you tightens, his fingers digging into your skin. "I'm taking what's mine," he growls, his lips brushing against your ear. You can feel his breath hot and heavy against your skin, causing you to shiver.

"But Eddie, I don't understand." Eddie's grip on you tightens even further, almost to the point of pain. "You don't need to understand," he hisses, his lips still close to your ear. "You just need to submit to me." Eddie's hand moves to your throat, gently but firmly gripping it. His thumb strokes your skin as he leans in closer, his eyes never leaving yours. "You're mine now," he whispers, his voice low and intense.

You feel a surge of fear and confusion, but there's something else too. A small part of you can't help but feel a spark of excitement, a thrill at being dominated by Eddie in this way. You've always admired his passion and intensity, and now you find yourself drawn to it, even as it scares you. Eddie's hand moves from your throat to your chin, gently tilting your head up so that you're looking into his eyes. His grip on you is still tight, but there's a softness in his expression now, a tenderness that takes you by surprise.

"I'm sorry," Eddie says, his voice softer now. "I didn't mean to scare you. I just needed to know that you were really here, that this wasn't just another one of my hallucinations." Eddie's grip on you loosens, his thumb gently stroking your chin. "I've been hearing things, seeing things that aren't there." Eddie's eyes fill with a mix of sadness and fear as he continues to confess. "I thought I was losing my mind. But then I heard your voice, and I knew you were real. I knew I had to see you, had to make sure you were really here." Eddie's grip on you has loosened, and you can feel your heart pounding in your chest as you try to process what's happening. You've never seen Eddie like this before - so intense, so vulnerable. You can see the fear and desperation in his eyes, and it breaks your heart.

 Eddie's hand moves from your chin to your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. "Please," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "Stay with me. Don't leave me alone in this darkness."

You can feel the weight of Eddie's words pressing down on you, and you realize that he needs you. You look into Eddie's eyes, seeing the raw emotion and vulnerability that he's showing you. You can feel the tension in his grip, the fear and desperation that's driving him. And in that moment, you make a decision. You're not going to leave him alone in this darkness. You lean in closer to Eddie, your lips brushing against his in a gentle kiss. You can feel him relax slightly, his grip on you loosening as he returns your kiss. But there's still a fire in his touch, a passion that you can feel pulsing through his veins. As you continue to kiss, the passion between you grows more intense. Eddie's hands move to your hair, gripping it tightly as he deepens the kiss. You can feel his tongue exploring your mouth, tasting you in a way that makes your head spin.

 The kissing becomes more urgent, more primal, as if both of you are trying to convey your emotions and desires without words. Eddie's hands move from your hair to your body, exploring every inch of you with a hunger that takes your breath away. You can feel his hands move down your body, tracing the curve of your waist before settling on your hips. He pulls you closer to him, his hardness pressing against you in a way that makes you gasp. Eddie's kisses become more insistent, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip as he growls softly. Eddie's hands move to the hem of your shirt, lifting it up over your head and tossing it aside. His eyes hungrily take in the sight of your bare skin, and you can feel his breath catch in his throat. He leans in closer, his lips trailing kisses down your neck and shoulders.

 Eddie's lips make their way down to your breasts, his tongue flicking at your nipples through the fabric of your bra. You can feel yourself growing wetter with every touch, every kiss. Eddie's hands move to the clasp of your bra, unfastening it with a deftness that takes you by surprise. Eddie's eyes light up as your bra falls away, revealing your bare breasts to his gaze. He dips his head down, taking one of your nipples into his mouth and sucking gently. You can feel the sensation shoot straight to your core, making you moan softly. Eddie's free hand continues to explore your body, tracing a path down your stomach and beneath the waistband of your pants. You can feel his fingers probing at your entrance, teasing you in a way that makes you squirm with pleasure.

 Eddie's fingers slip inside of you, and you can feel yourself clenching around him. He starts to move his fingers in a slow, rhythmic motion, building up a steady pace that has you panting with pleasure. Eddie's thumb finds your clit, circling it with just the right amount of pressure to make your legs shake. You can feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, but Eddie doesn't let up. He continues to thrust his fingers in and out of you, his thumb working your clit in slow, deliberate circles. Just as you're about to tip over the edge, Eddie pulls his fingers out of you and stands up. You look up at him, confused and a little disappointed, but he's looking at you with a fire in his eyes that takes your breath away. Eddie extends a hand to help you up from the ground, his movements quick and decisive. Once you're on your feet, he pulls you close to him, his hands gripping your hips as he kisses you deeply. You can feel his hardness pressing against you, and you can't help but grind against him in response.

 Eddie's lips never leave yours as he guides you backwards towards the bed, his hands never breaking contact with your body. Once the back of your legs hit the edge of the mattress, Eddie gently pushes you down until you're lying flat on your back. Eddie breaks the kiss for a moment, his eyes locked onto yours as he reaches down to undo his pants. You watch, mesmerized, as he pushes them down, revealing his boxers and the obvious bulge beneath. Eddie kicks his pants aside, his eyes never leaving yours. Eddie then hooks his fingers into the waistband of his boxers and slowly pulls them down, releasing his hardness. He kicks his boxers aside and climbs onto the bed, settling himself between your legs. Eddie's body hovering over yours, his hardness pressing against your wetness. He smiles down at you, his eyes full of desire. "Are you ready for me?" he asks, his voice husky and low.

You nod, unable to speak, your body trembling with anticipation. Eddie takes your silence as an affirmative, and he slowly begins to push himself inside of you. You can feel yourself stretching to accommodate him, the sensation both uncomfortable and incredibly pleasurable. Eddie moves slowly, giving you time to adjust to his size. Once Eddie is fully inside of you, he pauses for a moment, allowing you both to catch your breath. He looks down at you, his eyes filled with concern and desire. "Are you okay?" he asks, his voice soft and gentle. You nod, unable to speak, your body still trembling with pleasure and anticipation. Eddie starts to move his hips, slowly at first, but then building up a steady rhythm that has you both moaning with pleasure. He braces himself with one hand next to your head, while the other hand roams your body, exploring every inch of your skin. His lips find yours again, kissing you deeply as he continues to thrust into you.

 The feeling of Eddie's body moving against yours, his hardness filling you up completely, is overwhelming. You can feel every inch of him, and the sensation is both intense and exhilarating. Eddie's thrusts become more urgent, his hips slapping against yours as he drives himself deeper inside of you. You wrap your legs around Eddie's waist, pulling him in deeper as you meet his thrusts with your own hips. The feeling of him inside of you is incredible, and you can feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge. Eddie's hand continues to roam your body, his fingers finding your clit once again. He circles it gently, sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. You cry out, your back arching off the bed as you climax hard around him. Eddie groans, his thrusts becoming erratic as he chases his own release. With one final thrust, he stills, burying himself deep inside of you as he reaches his peak.

 Eddie collapses on top of you, his breathing heavy and labored. He rolls off to the side, pulling you with him so that you're both lying on your backs, wrapped in each other's arms. Eddie's fingers absentmindedly trace patterns on your arm as you both come down from the high of your lovemaking. As you lay there, basking in the afterglow of your passionate encounter, Eddie's fingers continue to explore your body. His touch is gentle and soothing, and you can feel yourself starting to relax in his arms. Your breathing slowly returns to normal, and your heart rate slows down. Eddie looks over at you, his eyes soft and full of affection. He leans in and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. "I love you," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper.

 Eddie's lips brush against your forehead as he whispers those three little words. You smile, your heart swelling with love for this amazing man who has just given you the most incredible pleasure. You turn your head towards him, your lips meeting his in a soft, lingering kiss. "I love you too." The words hang in the air between you, heavy with emotion. Eddie's arms tighten around you, pulling you closer as if he couldn't bear to let you go. You feel completely at peace in this moment, wrapped up in his warmth and love.

[elizaleclerc]

How I love your writing so much! 😭 I saw that you are taking requests / ideas so maybe something of Charles x famous singer reader where they break up and everyone kinda thinks he broke up with reader or it was just a mutual breakup but then reader comes out with a song similar to midnight rain by Taylor swift and ppl piece the pieces together + the lyrics and kinda realize that Charles proposed and reader said no. Just something angsty and with Charles and reader they tried remaining friends but obvi are still in love with reader just isn’t ready for such a commitment. Thank you and love u 😭

tysm for this amazing request xoxo

float in your orbit 🪐

charles leclerc x reader

summary: famous fem singer!reader releases music about her surprising breakup with long term partner charles leclerc

songs: i can do it with a broken heart by t.swift , this is me trying by t.swift , wildflower by b.eilish , champagne problems by t.swift , chloe or sam or sophia or marcus by t.swift :)

author's note: ahhhh my first request!!!! the topic is right up my alley i love love love it. hope u love it too <3 plenty of angst ahead for u x

word count: 2k

With a heavy heart, your fingers traced the same piano note over and over again. The sound was monotonous, a stark contrast to the busy and lively world of your recent world tour. Now, back in your New York City apartment, life seemed dull and uneventful. It was even more glum now that you were alone, with no one to share your thoughts and experiences with.

You sat hunched over the piano, staring at the black and white keys in front of you. Your eyes had a distant glare, as if lost in a deep and melancholic reverie. The city sounds outside seemed muted and far away, as your mind was stuck on pause. Every memory felt like it was on repeat, playing over and over again.

In this moment of isolation, all you could do was sit and reflect on the ups and downs of your career, the highs and lows of fame. The emptiness inside seemed to grow with each passing moment, until it consumed your whole being. You were trapped in a bubble of loneliness, yearning for human connection but unable to break free from the walls surrounding you.

Charles had been your partner for five years. When you were first rising to stardom in the music world, you received an invitation to perform the national anthem at a prestigious Formula One race. As you stood on the track, your heart pounding with nerves and excitement, you caught sight of Charles, one of the esteemed drivers. The connection between you was immediate, a spark of recognition and attraction that lit up the air around you like fireworks. In that moment, you knew that love at first sight wasn't just an empty phrase, but a tangible reality. You could feel it deep within your bones, a warmth spreading through your body that told you this was meant to be.

A deep ache, like a heavy weight, settled in your chest as silent tears fell down your cheek. The emotions swirled and collided inside of you - sadness, hurt, anger, and betrayal all jostling for dominance. Despite both of your chaotic schedules, especially with your tour this year, you had always made sure to prioritize spending time together whenever possible. But during the last month of your tour is when things fell apart.

It was like a sudden storm had swept in, tearing down everything you thought was stable and secure. At first, it was hard to even process what was happening. The shock and confusion were overwhelming, making it difficult to make sense of the situation. But as time passed, the anger and betrayal only grew stronger, raging like a wildfire inside of you. You released a new song two weeks after the split, I Can Do It With a Broken Heart. 

The media went into a frenzy. Fans from both you and Charles speculated on the recent events, but the lyrics in the song were simple and undeniable - Charles had ended things with you. You couldn't help but worry about the hate he must've been receiving, especially since the two of you hadn't spoken since the night everything fell apart. And to add onto the chaos, you still had a tour to finish, forcing a smile and putting on a brave face for the fans that had no idea of the turmoil within.

Being on tour was a necessary distraction, a way to keep your mind off of things. Yet as you lay in yet another unfamiliar hotel room, the same thoughts still haunted you. The rooms all looked different, but they were all characterized by the same sterile and impersonal feeling. The only thing that used to make them feel like home was the sound of Charles' voice on the phone. You would talk for hours, often until you drifted off to sleep, so even though you were physically alone, you never felt truly lonely.

Despite releasing a new single, the public still didn't have the full story of what happened between the two of you, and why you had broken up. With Charles choosing to remain silent in the media, you were left to navigate through it all on your own. It was a daunting task, trying to piece together your relationship and figure out where it went wrong without any input from him. But you refused to let his silence define your story.

Throughout your life, anxiety had been a constant shadow, lurking around every corner and following you wherever you went. It wasn't until a year ago that you finally sought help and medication for it. During this time of struggle, Charles was your unwavering rock, always there to hold you up and support you. Relationships in general were uncharted territory for you when you first met Charles, and the unknown of it all scared you most.

But as the months went by, he became your confidant, someone with whom you could share your deepest worries and fears during those late night conversations. He would listen with patience and understanding, easing your anxieties with his calm presence.

Yet when fate intervened and pushed him away from you, he was not as accommodating as you had hoped. You couldn't blame him entirely, but the void left by his absence consumed you more with each passing day. In an attempt to express all that you felt and lost, you turned to your songs as a means of communication – letting the lyrics speak for your heartache and longing.

In your next release, an EP of four songs would be put out into the world, the lyrics explaining everything. In the week after the release, fans had put all of the pieces of the puzzle together. You spent the hours scouring social media reading the analysis of your relationship, all of it correct but nevertheless heartbreaking. 

~

One particular post analyzed the meaning of the four songs perfectly:

this is me trying: This song is the beginning of the end. Y/N is clearly struggling mentally and is pleading to be understood that they are simply doing the best that they can do. It is a desperate call for affection and is riddled with self doubt. After such a long relationship, Charles could have begun to crack, and Y/N is trying to keep it all together. 

wildflower: This is clearly about Charles’s past girlfriend. He dated her for many years, and was speculated to be one of Y/N’s friends. The lyrics depict her struggling to get past the thought that Charles is actually over his old girlfriend, and she feels terrible about “betraying” her to date Charles. Further in the song the lyrics showcase that Charles clearly loves Y/N, but again her internal battle prohibits her from seeing the truth in their relationship as things seem to break further. 

champagne problems: This is the breaking point. Shocking to fans everywhere, this song reveals that Charles proposed to Y/N, but due to her already detailed mental struggles and anxieties, the commitment was too much for her to bear. The melody and lyrics are filled with regret and a tinge of shame for not being able to commit to Charles, no matter how much she loved him and vice versa. 

chloe or sam or sophia or marcus: The aftermath of it all, she details that even though she cannot commit to marriage with Charles she still loves him deeply and wishes that they could still be together. This caused fans to piece together that after she said no to the proposal, Charles ultimately cut things off.

~

With misty eyes, you read the post that brought back a flood of memories. The night he proposed in Monaco, the city where your love had blossomed and thrived, was etched in your mind with crystal clarity. In your shared apartment, tucked away from the bustling streets, the two of you had a private and intimate dinner that would change your lives forever. Warm flickering candles cast a soft glow over the dining room, while rose petals adorned the table and floor.

Despite being in the comfort of your own home, you both dressed to impress, savoring this rare moment when it was just the two of you. "You look absolutely stunning, mon chéri," he whispered as he gazed at you with adoration, making you feel like the most special woman on Earth. Every detail of that night was ingrained in your heart and soul, a cherished memory that would never fade.

Your hand rested on the white tablecloth, and he gently placed his on top. The warmth of his touch sent a jolt through your body. "Thank you, love," you murmured before he leaned in to place a soft kiss on the back of your hand. As the night went on, you caught up on each other's lives - him excitedly sharing about his latest Formula One race while you reminisced about your past tour experiences. But as the dinner neared its end, you noticed his fidgeting and asked him if he was okay. Suddenly, he stood up from his chair and sunk down on one knee next to you. Your heart skipped a beat, and everything seemed to slow down as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box.

“Mon amour, I don’t want to spend another day without calling you my wife. You’re the most important thing in my life, and I want to spend the rest of it loving you and giving you the world. Will you marry me?” 

Your throat constricted as sweat formed on your palms. The words caught in your throat, refusing to come out. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen - not here, not now. Marriage was never a topic of conversation between you and Charles, but suddenly it felt like an inevitable future staring you in the face at this dinner table. You weren't ready for this.

“I don’t- I can’t-” 

~

Your fingers moved deftly across the ivory keys of your piano, playing the familiar beginning chords of "Champagne Problems." Tears continued to fall down your cheeks, leaving glistening trails in their wake. Memories flooded your mind as you played, memories of a love once strong and unbreakable.

But now, as you sat alone in the dimly lit room, you couldn't help but feel the weight of that love slipping away. You missed him with every fiber of your being. You yearned for his cheeky smile and the way his crystal eyes sparkled when he looked at you. The memory of his messy bed head first thing in the morning made you ache with longing.

The thought of living without him was unbearable. You longed for his laughter, how he would throw his head back and let out a hearty sound that always filled you with joy. You could almost see his nose crinkle in amusement at a bad joke, just as it always did.

And oh, how you missed those moments when he would wear his glasses, simply because he knew how much you loved the way he looked in them. You could picture him now, standing before you with that charming grin and those frames perched on his nose.

But now they were only memories, and you were left to play out this heartache through the melody of your piano.

The realization hit like a freight train, knocking the wind out of you. You couldn't fathom the idea of moving on from this moment, it was too pivotal, too raw. With a sudden surge of energy, you leapt up from your seat at the piano and frantically searched for your phone among the scattered sheet music and empty coffee cups. Your fingers flew over the keys as you dialed the number you knew by heart, each digit a familiar melody in your mind.

One ring, and he picked up.

[oneslimybastard]

Another underutilized aspect of N, Natural Harmonia Gropius himself, is that he's conceptualized as not just a Math Guy, but a Math Genius if we go by some interview trivia notated on Bulbapedia.

It clearly shows in the way he speaks since his (translated) dialogue (idk about the original japanese one) is full of hamfisted references to formulas and frustration expressed when the chaos of the world does not align with them — which to me is like, the core of his character, something that makes him both An Asshole to deal with but also a very intellectually curios and creative individual. It's just a brand of creativity not a lot of people can keep up with nor understand.

N likes math because a lot of math is about clearly defined variables and their relationship to one another. If you come across an inconsistency that doesn't fit any prior definitions, you iron out a new definition and suddenly the field has expanded upon itself tenfold. It aligns with how his Very Autistic Brain functions, x + y = z, if I do x to y then z will happen. If z doesn't happen, then that just means I have to identify the hidden variables within the exchange and rewrite the formula to be more accurate.

Black and White's quality of writing is. Like pokémon often is. Questionable at best. The foundations are there but the execution is dumbed down and corny because it's still aimed at kids, BW in specific really cutting the theme of pokémon trainer ethics short in favor of just "dang u beat me in the pogiebattle guess ur right!". How-ev-er. In my head, and the reason why I still find the plot of those games compelling (aside for my unhinged thirst for goth man-milf Ghetsis) is that to me they're about local cult-raised autist Normal Henry Gropus bashing his head against the world over and over to desperately try and make the formulas make sense, to distill it into variables he can understand and predict on a consistent basis, and failing miserably at it. Because even if the world is Technically made up of a bunch of chemistry that you could, in theory, predict, there's just a lot of random noise in there from microscopic complexities that fuck everything up.

Pokémon are simpler creatures (discounting the eerily intelligent ones) who will be nice enough to behave like math problems most of the time. Humans rarely extend that grace, the more N studies them like a science project the more contradictory variables pop up. They have a million thoughts in their head he doesn't have access to, that brew into feelings he doesn't understand, which leads to actions he can't do a proper traceback through. Which is frustrating, devastatingly frustrating. At least at first.

Due to how BW2 pans out and my own yearning for thematic mirroring, whereas Ghetsis gives in to the Autistic Bitterness over all these NTs he doesn't fuckign understand, I like to think N develops a sort of joy in studying people like the impossibly complex math problems we are. Because he likes math, he likes figuring shit out, he likes buying a nightmare rubik's cube and charting the squares out on a nightmare variable graph (listen i am not a math guy. i respect the hustle but my skill level is too low to accurately attempt to simulate the process in writing. im sorry math guys) so he has a home-made flexible cheat code on how to solve any possible mix-up of it. It's fun for him, it stimulates his brain and he is so stupid good at it that he can only share that joy with like a stray alakazam or metagross because he's a bit of a tarzan just hanging out in the wilderness, he doesn't know any high end mathematicians he can casually geek out about combinatorial game theory with, and the normies just do not get it .

I think this math enjoying is kind of a big part of his ~Innocence~ as well, since there's a lot of childlike glee to being a Math Guy. It's the love of problem solving as a process rather than a means to an end, it's playful, but severely misunderstood to the point where people kinda might assume things about you if you are a math guy.

N's love of math helps him love the world but it also isolates him. He's a genius, but since he can't communicate it in a palatable way it'll get overlooked in favor of him just being a loomy weirdo on the street chatting up the local patrats.

If introduced to DnD though he'd spend so much time on forging ridiculously optimized multiclass builds, then migrate to digging through old obscure sci-fi ttrpgs from the 80s with hellishly complex systems just for the funsies of learning how the presented variables behave within a variety of frameworks, but then if you actually invited him to play with your group he'd look at you like you'd just called his mom a llama.

He's a neat guy to me, STEM guy who's also one of those animal rights activists who's a little too PETA-coded, I like him :)