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requiemforthepoets · 4 days ago

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en garde! 𖦹 CL16

PAIRINGS: charles leclerc x fencer!leclerc!reader , f1 grid x fencer!leclerc!reader

SUMMARY: charles had been asking you to teach him fencing, and you finally did.

REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WARNINGS: smau mixed with narrations, inconsistent photos, typos, not proofread, cursing, no use of y/n on the narrations, poorly google translated italian, and all photos are taken from pinterest

FACE CLAIMS: all from pinterest

WORD COUNT: 4.5k

AUTHOR’S NOTE: it’s been a long time since i added a new fic to my leclerc!sister series, so here it is hehe sorry, i’ve yapped a LOT about fencing on the narration part, so pls forgive me 😭 i hope i didn’t bore you a lot with fencing stuff 😭 i’m also accepting request for this series (i’m running out on ideas lmao 🥲) but i hope that you’ll enjoy this one!

ynleclerc

liked by charles_leclerc, yourbestfriend, sofia_rossi, marcoromano.fencing, landonorris and 783,984 others

ynleclerc E' passato un po' di tempo, Italia 💘

view all 12,837 comments

charles_leclerc when are you coming home?

ynleclerc idk, why?

charles_leclerc are you serious right now 😐

ynleclerc what…🧍🏻‍♀️

charles_leclerc check my messages for once 😐

username1 OH HOW I MISSED YOU 😭

username2 the y/n drought has finally ended!!!! 😭

username3 MOTHER IS BACK, MOTHER HAS POSTED 😭🎉

landonorris thank god you’re alive. i thought you’re already dead somewhere 😔💔

ynleclerc bro what 😭

landonorris anyways, when will you teach me how to fence for a new quadrant yt vid

ynleclerc you sure you’re up for it? don’t want you poking yourself with the foil

landonorris 😠😠😠😠

sofia_rossi CAN’T WAIT TO SEE YOU NEXT WEEK!!

ynleclerc 🥰🥰🥰

username4 OUR FAV FENCING DUO IS GOING TO SEE EACH OTHER SOON??? OMG 😭❤️

francisca.cgomes you’re in italy and you didn’t even tell me? 😠

ynleclerc I FORGOT IM SORRY IM SORRY!! but hey, i’m italy 🥰 hangout soon?

francisca.cgomes of course!!! just text meeee!!

username5 SHE REMEMBERED HER PASSWORD 🥳

ynleclerc posted a story!

liked by charles_leclerc, sofia_rossi, yourbestfriend, francisca.cgomes, marcoromano.fencing and others

charles_leclerc when will you teach me fencing 😔

charles_leclerc can’t believe it’s so hard to schedule one with you 💔💔💔

charles_leclerc i need big brother privileges 💔

ynleclerc USHCJJSJD CHARLES 😭

ynleclerc i’ll be home by next week! (hopefully you’ll be home as well 🤥) damn, can’t believe our schedules never really align

charles_leclerc ❤️❤️❤️❤️

francisca.cgomes i’m free tomorrow!! how about we go out for brunch?

ynleclerc KIKAAAA!! yes yes, ofc! ❤️

francisca.cgomes YAY!!

username6 OUR FENCING DUO WILL BE REUNITED SOON 😭❤️

username7 oh we pray for times like this (you being active on ig 😔💔)

MONACO

The sound of clashing blades echoed through the halls of the Club d’Escrime, a backdrop to your training session with Marco, your Italian coach. Fully suited in your white fencing uniform, mask tucked under your arm, you watched the double doors open, revealing your brother, Charles and his videographer, Antoine. The latter already had his camera rolling, and Charles, in his usual casual style—jeans, a dark hoodie, and white sneakers, looking like he had just stepped off a magazine cover.

“Finally!” You said, walking towards them with a smile. “Thought you’d never make it.”

Charles chuckled, spreading his arms in mock exasperation. “Don’t start! You’re the one who’s always impossible to catch. What is it this week? Tokyo? Budapest?”

“Home, for once,” you replied with a laugh, gesturing around the salle. “But that’s rare, as you know.”

“The place is very stunning,” Charles said, as he marveled the interior of the salle. “So this is where gold medals are made?” He teased.

“Something like that,” you replied, your voice light with pride. “Though Marco here deserves half the credit.”

“Ah, Charles! Finalmente ci incontriamo,” Marco greeted, shaking Charles’ hand firmly. His thick Italian accent added a charm to his words. “Your sister talks about you a lot.”

“È un piacere finalmente conoscerti. Lei non parla mai di me quando vinco, però.” He joked, shooting a playful look your way.

“Not true, and you know it.” You rolled your eyes at the comment.

Marco laughed, patting Charles on the shoulder. “Well today, we’ll see if athletic talent runs in the family, sì?”

“Okay, so here we are at the Club d’Escrime in Monaco. This is where my sister trains—when she’s not winning Olympic gold, of course,” he said grinning at you and turning towards the camera.

“We’ve been planning this fencing lesson for many months now, but with her busy training schedule and my racing calendar, it’s been almost impossible to find a day that worked for both of us. So finally, today is the day!” Charles added.

“Did you mention how excited you’ve been?” You quipped, folding your arms.

Charles smirked. “I may have. But, let’s be honest, you’re probably more nervous than I am.”

“Nervous?” You scoffed. “Why would I be nervous? You’re the one holding a weapon for the first time.”

“Ah, but I’ve seen the movies,” he countered, mimicking a clumsy lunge. “How hard can it be?”

You laughed at his theatrics, shaking your head. “We’ll see how long that confidence lasts when Marco puts you through the warm-up.”

“Speaking of which,” Marco interjected, “shall we start soon? Time is short, and I want to see if he can last more than five minutes.”

“You’re in for a workout.” You teased and smiled.

Charles gave an exaggerated sigh but could not hide his amusement. “Great. I love being underestimated.”

“You’re about to learn that fencing isn't as easy as people make it look on TV.” You smiled at the camera.

“Or tiktok.” Charles quipped, earning a chuckle from Marco.

You gestured towards the piste. “Alright, let’s get you geared up. I don’t want to hear any excuses later.”

Once Charles was all suited up, he stepped onto the piste, fully suited in his borrowed fencing gear, and you couldn’t help but pause. There was something striking about the way the jacket, breeches, and long socks suited him. The silver sheen of the lamé, a metallic vest worn over the jacket for scoring, added an almost regal touch. You smirked as you took in the sight of your brother adjusting his gloves.

“Oh my god. I’ve never looked so good.” Charles said as he came out all suited up.

“Would you look at that,” you began, folding your arms. “Hate to admit it, but you look good. Maybe too good.”

Charles glanced up, clearly amused. “Oh? Surprised your brother cleans up well?”

“I’m just saying, if this racing thing doesn’t work out, you might have a future as a fencer. Imagine, Charles Leclerc, Olympic Champion.” You gave him an exaggerated once-over. “The gear suits you.”

“I mean, I do look the part.” He smiled, striking a mock fencing pose, which was more comedic than impressive.

“You do,” you admitted with a laugh. “But let’s see if you can move like a fencer before you start planning your second career.”

“Basta con i complimenti. Time for the warm-up! No excuses later when your legs start complaining.” Marco smiled.

Charles groaned playfully, shooting you a mock glare. “Leg day already gets me in the gym. Don’t let him overdo it.”

“Stop whining,” you teased, motioning for him to follow Marco. “You’ll thank him when you’re not limping tomorrow.”

“We begin easy,” he said, demonstrating a forward bend. “Touch your toes, Charles. Keep your legs straight.”

“Easy for you to say,” he muttered, glancing at Marco, who was effortlessly folding himself in half.

“Come on, Charlie. You can’t lose to a guy twenty years older than you.” You chuckled from the sidelines, standing near Antoine, who was filming the entire thing.

“Thanks for the encouragement,” Charles quipped, finally managing to graze his toes. “I see you’re enjoying this too much.”

“I am.” You admitted, voice light with laughter.

Next were lunges, which Charles did with ease, his form surprisingly precise. “Now these, I can handle. We do this in the gym all the time.”

“Good. Now arm extensions, long and controlled. Think of reaching for the target.” Charles mirrored Marco’s movements, extending his arms fluidly.

You couldn’t resist teasing, “not bad, Charles. Maybe you’re a natural after all.”

“Maybe I am,” he replied, smirking. “See? I’ve got this.”

“Next is jumping jacks,” Marco interrupted, clearly amused by your banter.

Charles transitioned smoothly into the exercise, his movements energetic and practiced. As he worked through the routine, Charles suddenly turned to you, his tone curious.

“Why don’t we ever train together? Seems like it could be fun.” Charles glanced at you.

“Because you’d complain the whole time.” You laughed, shaking your head.

“Hey, I don’t complain that much.” He argued, clearly offended.

You just laughed at him, waving a hand dismissively. “Fencing is my thing, Charlie. I need to focus when I’m training, it’s not all fun and games.”

“And today isn’t serious?” Charles raised a brow, pausing mid-jumping jack.

“Not really,” you admitted with a shrug. “Today’s more about proving to you that fencing isn’t as easy as it looks.”

“Good luck with that,” he said, clearly amused. “You forget who you’re talking to.”

“Charles,” Marco interjected, a mischievous glint in his eye, “your sister has a gold medal, she might surprise you.”

“I don’t doubt that,” he said sincerely, before his grin returned. “But I’m still confident I can keep up.”

“That’s the spirit!” You smiled.

”The floor is yours, campionessa.” Marco smiled as he stepped back, and gestured for you to take over.

“Alright,” you turned to Charles. “Let’s start with the basics. This is going to be your crash course in fencing, everything you need to know before you touch the blade.”

Antoine, still filming, zoomed in on Charles’ face as he nodded, looking serious. “I’m ready, let’s hear it.”

“Fencing is one of the oldest sports in the world. It dates back centuries, originally used in dueling and combat training, but over time, it became more of a sport.” You explained. “In fact, fencing has been part of the Olympics since the very first modern games in 1896.”

“1896?” Charles repeated, very intrigued. “So, it’s been around forever.”

“Pretty much,” you confirmed with a smile. “Since then, it’s evolved into three distinct disciplines—foil, sabre, and epee. Each had different rules, strategies, and weapons. That’s what makes fencing so fascinating, you’re not just swinging a sword around. It’s a mind game as much as a physical one, that’s why some call it physical chess.”

Charles tilted his head, clearly interested. “What’s the difference between the three?”

“Come on, let me show you guys.” You walked over to a nearby rack, where several swords were neatly displayed, each one gleaming under the salle’s lights.

“This is a foil.” You picked up a foil, you held it up for him and the viewers to see. “It is the lightest of the three weapons, weighing about 500 grams, and the one I use. Foil fencing focuses on precision and technique, the target area is only the torso, and points are scored with the tip of the blade.”

Charles reached out, and you handed him the foil. He tested the weight of the blade, lifting and lowering it.

“It’s lighter than I thought.” He admitted, giving it a small swing.

“Foils are meant for agility and speed,” you explained. You then picked up a sabre, slightly heavier with a distinct curved guard. “This is a sabre. It’s a bit heavier, and the rules are very different. In sabre, you can score with the edge of the blade, not just the tip, and target area is the upper body—above the waist, including arms and head.”

“Sounds aggressive,” Charles remarked, running his hand along the blade’s flat edge.

“Oh, it is,” you chuckled. “Sabre is all about speed and attack. It’s fast-paced, almost like a sprint compared to foil’s more calculated, chess-like style.”

“And the last one?” Charles asked, pointing to the remaining weapon.

“This is the epee,” you said as you picked up the epee, handing it to him. “It’s the heaviest of the three, about 775 grams, and the target area is the entire body, head to toe. But in epee, there’s no right of way, whoever hits first, scores.”

Charles tested the epee in his grip, nodding thoughtfully. “So it’s more…straightforward?”

“In a way, yes,” you said, setting the sabre and foil back on the rack. “But it can also lead to longer matches since there’s no restriction on who can attack when, you need all the patience you can get when playing epee.”

The camera panned as you gestured for Charles to follow you back to the piste. “Now, let’s talk about the rules. In foil, which is what we’ll be learning today, the target area is just the torso. No arms, legs, and head. If you hit anywhere else, it doesn’t count.”

“Got it,” Charles said. “What about the scoring?”

“In foil, we use something called right of way. It means that the fencer who initiates the attack has priority. If the other fencer wants to score, they have to defend or parry first, and then counterattack.”

You picked up a foil and demonstrated, lunging forward in a quick, fluid motion. “For example, if I attack you like this, you can’t just hit me back. You’d need to block my blade first.”

“So, it’s not just about being faster, it’s about timing.” Charles frowned slightly, absorbing the information.

“Yup,” you said, impressed. “It’s about strategy and reading your opponent’s moves. Now, there are also some practical rules. The piste, the one we are standing on right now, is 14 meters long and 1.5 to 2 meters wide. If you step off, you lose ground or even a point, and you can’t use your off-hand to block, and obviously, no overly aggressive moves like charging into your opponent.”

Charles raised a brow. “No tackling allowed? Shame.”

“Not unless you want to get a penalty.” You laughed, shaking your head. “Lastly, to win a match, you have to reach a predetermined number of points, usually 15, or have the highest score by the end of the time limit.”

“Okay, I’ll give you a quick demonstration of how right of way works in a tournament.” You gestured for Marco to join you, and he grabbed another foil, stepping into position, as Antoine adjusted his camera as you stepped back onto the piste.

“Watch closely,” you instructed as you and Marco faced off. “Marco will attack, and I’ll defend and counter.”

Marco lunged forward with a smooth attack, and you parried, your blades clashing with a satisfying ring before you swiftly riposted, your blade landing lightly on his torso.

Turning to Charles, you explained. “Since I defended first and then countered, I get the point. Make sense?”

Charles nodded slowly, his brows furrowed in thought. “So, if I just swing wildly, it’s useless unless I have priority.”

“Yes,” you said smiling. “Fencing isn’t about brute force, it’s about control, precision, and strategy.”

“This all felt like a masterclass,” Charles chuckled. “This is very incredible stuff.”

Once Charles had a solid grasp of the basic rules and ths purpose of fencing, you decided it was time to get into the technical aspects.

“Alrighty,” you began, pacing in front of him, foil in hand. “Before you can start attacking, you need to learn how to defend yourself. So, let’s talk about parrying.”

“There are four primary parries in fencing, and each one is important for blocking and setting yourself up for a counterattack.” You added.

Charles nodded, gripping the foil in his hand as if ready to jump in. “Alright, I’m listening. Hit me with it.”

“Not literally,” you teased, pointing your foil at him briefly before continuing. “First is parry four. This is your standard parry, used to block attacks aimed at your torso. You bring the blade across your body like this.”

You demonstrated, twisting your wrist and angling your blade so that the imaginary opponent’s strike would be deflected away. Charles mimicked the movement, though his hand was stiff, and his blade angle slightly off.

You leaned in, using the tip of your foil to adjust his blade position. “Loosen your wrist a bit, it’s all about control, not brute strength. The goal is to guide their blade away, not smack it out of their hands.”

“Okay, okay. Got it.” Charles said, trying again. This time, his movement was smoother.

“Better,” you said, stepping back. “Next is parry six. The one is similar to parry four, but instead of protecting the inside of your body, it covers the outside. Like this.” You executed the parry with ease, your blade moving in a fluid arc.

Charles tried to copy the movement, his blade wobbling slightly as he adjusted his wrist.

“Close,” you said, stepping closer. “But watch your wrist, it needs to stay firm, or you’ll lose control of your blade.” You tapped the back of his hand with your foil, and he adjusted accordingly.

“Parry eight is for low attacks to the outside of your body.” You continued, moving on, and crouching slightly, angling your blade downward to demonstrate. “This one is a little tricky because it requires good reflexes. You’re aiming to protect your lower torso and legs.” Charles gave it a go, though his stance was a bit too wide.

“Too much space,” you said, tapping his knee lightly with your blade. “Keep your movements controlled. The smaller the motion, the quicker you can recover.”

“This is harder than it looks.” Charles exhaled, looking at the camera as he adjusted his stance.

“That’s fencing for you,” you said with a grin. “Last one, parry seven. This one is similar to parry eight, but it protects the inside of your body instead of the ourside.”

You demonstrated the motion, and Charles followed suit, this time managing a relatively smooth movement.

“Good,” you said, stepping back. “Now, key things to remember when parrying—keep your blade pointed at your opponent at all times. It’s not just about blocking, it’s about setting yourself up for a counterattack. As soon as you’ve parried, you need to riposte, counterattack, immediately. If you wait too long, you’ll lose your advantage.”

Marco stepped forward, foil in hand, and you turned to Charles. “I’ll show you how it’s done.”

You squared off with Marco, and as he lunged forward with a mock attack, you parried effortlessly, your blade gliding against his and redirecting it away. In the same motion, you extended your arm, blade tip landing lightly on Marco’s torso.

“See how quick that was?” You said, turning to Charles. “It’s a fluid motion—parry and riposte, all in one go. No wasted movements.”

Charles nodded, his brows furrowed in concentration. “Alright, let me try.”

You stepped aside, letting Marco face Charles. As Marco slowly lunged, Charles attempted a parry, though his movement was slightly delayed, and his riposte lacked precision.

“Not bad,” you said encouragingly. “But don’t overthink it. The more natural it feels, the faster you’ll be.”

“Okay, let’s talk about stance,” you said, planting your feet firmly on the piste. “Your stance is your foundation, if it’s wrong, everything else falls apart.”

You demonstrated, keeping your feet shoulder-width apart, one foot pointing forward and the other at a slight angle.

“Your dominant hand is the one holding the foil. The non-dominant hand stays behind you, raised slightly for balance. So, which hand are you using?” You asked.

“Right.” Charles said, switching the foil to his dominant hand.

“Good,” you said. “Now, copy my stance.”

Charles mirrored your position, though his back foot was slightly out of place.

“Close, but—” you tapoed his leg lightly with your foil. “Your back foot needs to be at an angle, like this. Don’t forget to bend your knees slightly. You need to stay low for balance and quick movement.”

“Not bad,” you said, nodding approvingly when Charles adjusted his stance. “Now let’s work on movement. When you’re in your stance, you need to be able to move forward, backward, and side-to-side quickly withou losing your balance.”

You demonstrated, gliding forward and backward with small, controlled steps. “Notice how my feet stay the same distance apart, no matter where I go. That keeps me balanced and ready to attack or defend.”

Charles followed your lead, though his movements were a bit stiff.

“Relax,” you said, smiling. “You’re not marching in the military. It’s more like a dance, fluid and controlled.” He tried again, this time loosening up slightly.

“Better,” you said. “Now let’s add a lunge, the lunge is your main attacking move. From your stance, you push off your back leg and extend your front leg forward, like this.” You demonstrated, your movement smooth and precise. Charles attempted the motion, but his lunge was too short.

“Bigger step,” you said, tapping his front leg with your foil. “You want fo cover as much ground as possjble without overextending.” After a few tries, he managed a decent lunge.

“Not bad,” you said, stepping back. “You’re getting there. Now, let’s put it all together—stance, movement, parries, and lunges. You ready?”

Charles grinned, gripping his foil. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Alright,” you said, picking up the body cord, “before we start, we need to get you all hooked up.”

Charles tilted his head, examining the cord. “What’s that for?”

“This is a body cord,” you explained, stepping closer to attach it to his fencing jacket. “It connects your weapon to the scoring system. When you land a valid touch, the electrical circuit completes, and the scoreboard registers the point.”

“So no sneaky hits?” He joked, watching closely as you secured it to his back and guided it through the sleeves of his jacket to attach to the foil.

“Not unless you want the referee to see it light up,” you quipped, making sure everything was in place before handing him a fencing mask. “Here, put this on.”

“For this first round, we’re keeping it simple, call it a trial run,” you said, rolling your shoulders and flexing your foil. “Marco will referee and keep things light. Just focus on getting comfortable.”

“Got it. Don’t go easy on me, though.” Charles raised his foil slightly, his excitement evident in his stance.

You laughed. “Trut me, Charles, I won’t.”

Marco stepped onto the side of the piste, holding a referee’s clicked in one hand. “Alright, trial run. I’ll call the touches. En garde!”

You and Charles took your positions at opposite ends of the piste, foils raised in salite before dropping into the en garde stance.

“Prêt? Allez!” Marco called, signaling the start of the bout.

Charles moved hesitant at first, testing his footing as he advanced. You let him come forward, observing his movements.

“Don’t forget your stance,” you reminded him, stepping back slightly. “Stay balanced.”

He nodded, adjusting his feet, and made a tentative lunge. Charles’ foil grazed your blade, missing the target area entirely.

“Close,” you said, countering with a light touch to his torso. Marco raised his hand. “Touch!”

Charles shook his head, laughing. “Okay, that was fast. Was that even one second?”

“Welcome to fencing,” you said with a grin. “It’s all about timing. Relax, though you’re doing fine.”

As the trial run continued, Charles began finding his rhythm. He landed his first touch on your shoulder, earing a quick ‘touch!’ from Marco.

“How does it feel?” You asked, stepping back for a brief pause.

Charles grinned under his mask. “Not bad! Are you nervous yet?”

“Me? Nervous?” You teased. “Cute. Let’s see how you handle the next round round.”

The second round began, and Charles was much more deliberate in his movements. He used the parries you had taught him, successfully blocking two of your attacks and landing another touch on your shoulder.

“Not bad, Lord Perceval,” you said, nodding as you reset your stance. “You’re learning quickly.”

“Of course,” he replied, his voice light with mock arrogance. “I’m a Leclerc. We adapt fast.”

By the end of the round, Marco called for a pause. “Alright, let’s use the scoreboard for the next one.”

“See this?” Marco said, pointing to the display. “Every valid touch will light up here with a beep. First to fifteen points wins.”

Charles noticed the screen, which displayed yor names, complete with small Monaco flags next to them.

“Wait, you personalized it?” He asked, laughing. “Now I feel like I’m in the Olympics.”

“Of course,” you said with a grin. “Nothing but the best for my big brother.”

Charles chuckled, lifting his foil again. As you adjusted your own, you bent the blade slightly, an action that caught his attention.

“Why are you doing that?” He asked.

“It’s something all fencers do,” you explained, holding the blade up for him to see. “Foils are flexible, and bending them ensures they’re in good condition and won’t snap. It also helps make the touches more accurate and less painful.”

“Huh,” Charles said, mimicking the motion with his own foil. “Interesting.”

“Alright, this is it,” you said, lowering your mask. “First to fifteen.”

Marco raised his hand. “En garde! Prêt? Allez!”

The boug began, and Charles quickly demonstrated his growing confidence. He moved fluidly, landing a few clean touches on your torso and arm. You could see his competitiveness kicking in, and you responded with sharper attacks, forcing him to parry and riposte.

Halfway through, the score was tied at 7-7, and the beeping sound of the scoreboard filled the room with each touch.

“You’re doing great.” You said during a brief pause.

“Thanks,” Charles replied, panting slightly. “But I’m not letting you win.”

“Good,” you said, resetting your stance. “Because I’m not letting you win, either.”

The intensity ramped up in the final stretch. Charles managed to land three more touches, bringing his total to ten, but you quickly countered with a series of precise attacks, pushing your score to fifteen.

Marco raised his hand as the final beep sounded. “Touché! Match for her—15 to 10!”

“Lifting your mask, you grinned at Charles, who pulled off his own mask, shaking his head in disbelief.

“That was incredible,” he said, still catching his breath. “I actually thought I had you for a moment there.”

“Well fought, champ! Ten points is impressive for a first timer, you did really great.” You said, resting your foil on your shoulder. “But I told you, fencing isn’t easy as it looks.”

Charles laughed, running a hand through his sweaty hair. “Yeah, no kidding. I think I’ll stick to racing.”

Marco, who had been observing with a smile, stepped in. “You were actually good for a beginner. You’re a fast learner, Charles. I’ve work with a lot of first-timers, and not many can pick up that quickly.”

“That’s true,” you chimed in nodding. “You were way better than I expected. Usually, people take ages to figure out how to lunge properly or keep their stance balanced.”

Charles’ grin widened. “Well, what can I say? It’s in my blood to be competitive.”

Marco laughed, clapping Charles on the shoulder. “You should come by more often during her trainings. You’d make a good parry partner.”

“Oh stop feeding his ego,” you said, rolling your eyes playfully. “It’s already huge.”

Charles gave a mock bow. “Keep it coming, Marco. I’m soaking it all in.”

Marco just smiled as the camera zoomed in on you both as he continued. “Not, really, Charles. If you’re free diring off-season, you should consider it. You’d give her a good challenge, and it would keep her on her toes.”

“Hmm…” Charles leaned on his foil again, pretending to consider the offer. “Fencing during off-season. I might actually think about that.”

You laughed. “Sure, if you can handle beaten every time.”

“Bold words. But we’ll see.” Charles grinned. “So, what’s next for you? You’ve already won the Olympics. Where do you go from here?”

“Next up is the Fencing World Cup. It’s coming up in a few months, so I’m focused on preparing for that.” You smiled, feeling the excitement bubbling inside of you.

Charles nodded. “If people want fo follow your journey, where can they find you?”

“Everywhere.” You said with a laugh, then added, “but seriously, you guys can follow me on my social media. If you are curious about up coming tournaments, you can check out Team Monaco’s offical instagram. They post all of the updates there.”

Charles turned to the camera. “There you have it, guys.” He then faced you and Marco. “I just want to say thank you, for real. I know your schedules are crazy, and you took time to teach me something completely out of my comfort zone. I really had fun.”

“You’re welcome here anytime, Charles.” Marco smiled warmly. “You’re a natural. Who knows? Maybe one day, you’ll be on the piste at a tournament.”

Charles laughed, shaking his head. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, but I appreciate the vote of confidence.”

“You did great today,” you grinned, nudging him lightly with your elbow. “Who knows? Maybe we’ll see you fencing for Monaco one day.”

Charles smiled. “Only if you promise not to embarrass me in front of everyone.”

“No promises.” You teased.

Marco gestured toward the camera. “Alright, shall we wrap this up?”

You, Charles, and Marco all faced the lens. “Thanks for watching!” You said with a wave. “Remember, fencing is cooler than you think.”

“And harder than it looks!” Charles added. “Thank you both for taking the time to teach me, I had a blast today. It’s always fun learning new things.”

“Of course, Charlie!” You replied warmly. “We’ll be waiting for your next fencing session.”

“You’re always welcome, Charles.” Marco smiled. “Just don’t take too long to return, alright? We might have to recruit you into the team at this rate!”

All of you laughed as you said your goodbyes, and with that, the video came to a close, screen fading into black.

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yn.jpg just a regular day at the office (bonus: taught charles fencing, see slide 4! 😁)

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username8 never knew i needed to see charles in a fencing gear up until now 😮‍💨 THANK YOU MOTHER!

landonorris can’t believe you taught charles first, i thought i was gonna be the first one 😞💔

yn.jpg sorry, big brother privileges 😔✊🏻

charles_leclerc what she said! 😁❤️

landonorris i see that you have taken my advice

yn.jpg yes, and i owe it all to you sir 🫡

landonorris when will u be our quadrant athlete 😔🤲🏻

yn.jpg idk bro, what do they do? 🤨

yn.jpg just hit up my personal coach 😁

landonorris ME NEXT PLS

yn.jpg THERE ARE A LOT OF YOU WANTING ME TO TEACH YOU ALL FENCING 😭😭😭

lilymhe I ASKED HER FIRST! FALL IN LINE!!

landonorris IM HER BEST FRIEND

landonorris BESTIE PRIVILEGES

yourbestfriend EXCUSE ME????

landonorris EXCUSED

username9 WE FINALLY GOT A JPG ACCOUNT??? ACTIVE ERA IS UPON US?????

yn.jpg u guys really gotta thank lando for convincing me on making one bc apparently according to him, i always “ghost” you all 😞💔

username9 OHMGYGOSD I LOVE YOU 😭

username10 GAIUS 🥺🥺🥺🥺

username11 CHARLES WHAT ARE YOU DOING 😭😭😭

username12 petition for you to have a yt acc or tiktok or smth 😔😔😔😔

username13 and then what? we all ended up being ghosted 😔😔😔😔

username13 she barely posts on instagram, and now that she has a jpg account, i’ll take what i can get tl have some y/n content 😔😔😔💔💔💔

username12 omg u right 😭😭😭

username14 ok, scuderiaferrari, just hear me out this once…what if y/n teaches charlos fencing on a tiktok or yt vid? huh huh huh, wouldn’t that be a great idea, right? 😁

scuderiaferrari hmmm, i think you might be onto something 🤔🤔🤔

username15 i will sacrifice my first born for this to happen 🤲🏻

username16 we are BEGGING, on our knees

username17 charles leclerc in fencing gear, save me. charles leclerc in fencing gear, save me 🛐

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fizzie-frog · 22 days ago

Text

I don't even know where to start, sorry, buuut Ghostfuckers spoilers ahead.

"Who needs you anyway?!"

Blitz's avoidant coping once more. I am guilty of avoidant behaviour just like Blitz and while it technically eases stuff, it becomes too much when there's so many problems you ignore and they pile up. This behaviour also makes it hard for someone to be vulnerable, which obviously is the case for Blitz, too. It hurts to be vulnerable. We avoid being vulnerable, because we avoid being hurt.

So instead of trying to talk through with Millie, Blitz opts for being avoidant.

The imagery in this episode is fucking amazing.

Now this is just cruel. :(

She's so pretty, omg...

Once again, the imagery is amazing. It's so beautiful, but so tragic. Fucking horrible in the best way. The torment Blitz is going through of that fateful day.

He's breaking down... Crying in front of someone else; this man is avoidant, as stated before, so if he could help he would NOT do this. He's really tormented by his memories.

They're both so badass damn.

"You don't hate me?" I'm disintegrating rn. Help me.

How am I supposed not to sob my eyes out when I see that face?! Taking mom's accessory piece back.

Holding hands!!! Please, yes!!!

"You've always been so unbothered by everything, almost bulletproof"

That's avoidance, baby! Blitz needs to stop being relatable...

But why-

This absolute POS beating up his already injured son has me fucked up!!! I don't doubt Cash probably beat Blitz many times before, but doing so after being burnt too is a special kind of fucked up! He's always been horrible, and I'm sure this is where Fizz too got his issues (with perfectionism that is) and made him an easy target for Mammon. This mdf really fucked everyone over! Fk him!

And then separating them when they both needed each other so much! Blitz and Fizz needed each other more than ever in that moment, and yet that POS preferred to have them suffer! I'm riled up honestly, we've never seen much of this mf but he's managed to make himself insufferable with just a few short scenes! He's horrible and if he's not dead then I wish him the worst.

I miss my baby-

Being forced to watch all this... Fuuuuck.

He's so terrified of losing Millie too! Fuck!

"Blitz can handle this!" Fuck yeah girl, call that mf's bluff.

"So I'm your best friend, huh?" He's so surprised about that I can't.

"I've never had a real friend that I didn't wanna fuck..."

...Does that include Fizz? Hm?

This episode was fucking beautiful.

#helluva boss #Blitzo #Millie #Moxxie #Loona #Fizzarolli #fizz #cash buckzo #Stolas #Ghostfuckers #Ghostfuckers spoilers

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schoenpepper · 17 days ago

Note

How about for our early xmas gift, you give us a version where Yuu comes back to twst again🙂

(You broke my heart po💔)

Maybe This Time

Intro: Everything changed after you left. But maybe he still stayed the same.

Warnings: bad grammar, awful writing, not proofread, jade is veryy bad, kinda yandere ish

A/N: Counted as a sequel to this, though you can probably read it as a standalone. Sige na nga anonnie merry xmas happy new year nlng sayo haha. Maybe this tiiiime it'll be lovin' they'll find—*gets shot*

Masterlist

Jade forgets what it's like to live.

The day you left, all color drained from the world he resides in. Rather, your absence pushed him from being an active participant into one that only watches.

Still, it only takes him a day to get back to work.

"You can take a longer break."

He waves off Azul with such a well-practiced smile even he might believe it. "I don't need a break. What is it for, even? There's no use reminiscing over such boring things."

Boring.

Boring boring boring.

The word makes him livid. It makes him seethe with a burning, passionate anger he was unaware was even stored within him. Maybe that's why you left. Maybe Jade failed to excite you. He and his brother are people that stay because of interest, so perhaps the reason you left was because Jade could no longer interest you. Is that it?

Why else?

Why else would you shatter him the first chance that you get?

It takes him one week to forget.

Not you. Sevens know he'll never forget you. You were a whirlwind that crashed through everything he knew and smashed him to smithereens. It takes him a week to forget that he's still hiding his pain.

He forgets he's in pain.

You're a rotting, festering wound that he's buried under layers of pretend. He's such a good actor even Floyd is—

"Stop cryin'."

Well. Maybe not Floyd. Jade raises a hand to his cheek and finds no tears. "You weren't crying. But I made you look, right?" Floyd grins, "Hurry and pack. Maybe nonna can help you get over shrimpy. She's real good at life advice~"

He's sure life advice won't help, but it wouldn't hurt (any more) to try.

The waters of the Coral Sea are frigid. It doesn't numb him enough when he's so used to it, but it's alright. He's fine, anyway. There's no more regret. No more bitter hatred. Only the familiar salt of the ocean water. His parents mean well when they fret over him, asking his twin brother for details. His grandmother is worriedly chattering over his shoulder, and he's made aware that he's unable to fool them this time. He's good at pretending. His family couldn't pick out his faux smiles when he's entangled in mischief, nor could they identify the mock innocence he likes to act out when he gets into fights with other mer. But now, why now? Why are they able to press their hand on that beating, dead thing in his chest and attempt to comfort it when the only thing it wants to do is wallow and wither in nothingness?

They couldn't tell when he was pretending to be good.

But they can tell that he's pretending to be okay.

It doesn't make sense.

It takes one month for everything to fall back in routine. Sleeping potions and pills and spells aid in nights when he's preoccupied with memories of a person he wished never existed at all.

His grades are higher than they'd ever been, and he's so ridiculously productive. It's all on track. Everything is just as it was before you. There was a time in his life before you. He can fill in the empty spot you'd left behind with dirt and the pieces of himself you'd killed that fateful day.

And thus, there will be a time after you.

"Jade," Azul hands him a familiar plush toy, "Floyd told me to give this back to you."

The felt shrimp plushie is mocking him; there is no other explanation. It's one half of a pair, actually. In some dingy arcade in town was a claw machine filled with small mushroom, shrimp, egg, onion, and garlic plushies. The owner called the machine "shrimp fried crane game". You were the one to win one mushroom plushie you kept for yourself, and you gave him the shrimp.

The mushroom was in your suitcase.

In his rampage (he wouldn't call it that, really), he had destroyed everything that reminded him of you that same night, or rather, early morning. He watched polaroids and love letters burn inside a metal dumpster he'd hauled from school grounds. The shrimp wasn't part of the bonfire.

It seems Floyd had snuck it away.

He inspects the toy with his usual smile, tight-lipped and close-eyed, nodding at Azul. He wants it out of his sight for a long, long time. If it could feel as forgotten as he felt, let those feelings be transferred to you. He wishes you pain and agony and guilt and regret.

It takes one year for him to let out a genuine chuckle.

His twin brother stares at him like he'd grown a second head, and Jade is aware it's unusual. Even though the joke he'd laughed at was so inane, the fact of the matter was that he laughed, which in itself is so strange. Perhaps this is a good thing. No, it can only be a good thing. What is it if not a sign that he's healing?

And soon, he won't remember you at all.

And you will cease to exist in his mind.

But it's not meant to happen today.

No, with that little laugh, grief like several tonnes of cement hit him right where it hurts the most; it's heavy, and debilitating, and it makes it nigh impossible for him to even breathe.

(Because you were the air he once consumed, and neither humans nor mer are made for such long term suffocation.)

"I've never seen you laugh before," the young man in front of him smiles with thick, syrupy lovesickness, "it suits you."

The person is an underclassman who'd been following him around recently. Like a poor mockup of your silhouette, he hears the same promises you couldn't keep from the mouth of another. It irks him more than he'd like to admit, because if he does, then it means admitting that he still remembers you. It means he still holds you up in his altar and lights flames in your name.

He does not.

Whoever says otherwise, whether it be Floyd or Azul, or Silver or Riddle; they all lie.

He only remembers you in anger. In bouts of madness that makes him question your existence, it is then that your name leaves his lips.

It takes one decade.

For what?

For forgiveness? For the hate to fade?

On his 27th birthday, his phone rings with a number he's long since engraved in his heart.

Jade forgot how to live in your absence.

In the decade you'd left, he only existed. It is a passive state of consistent routine that allows him to appear normal to his peers. Still, his closest people know he was left incomplete. He became a creature without a sense of purpose, and it was a sad thing. How pitiful it was for a predator to be reduced to a vessel containing shards of a broken heart.

Still, it is your name that he finds. It is your number.

A number from a phone kept in some dark corner of NRC's storage room. It's likely a student who decided to scroll through your contacts and found his contact name amusing. You did have quite the strange penchant for putting strange names in your contact list.

He answers the call in a moment of boredom.

There is nothing interesting to do in a business party.

"Hello? Jade?"

He stops. There is nothing in this world or yours that could erase each and every memory he's ever made with you. The voice is one he's heard often and dreams and even more in nightmares; it has replaced the voice of his dead conscience and pushed him to a meaningless drifting existence instead of finding thrill in things you would despise him for.

It's been a decade and instead of forgetting you, he didn't know when he melded you into his bones and stitched you into the fabric of his soul, but he knows you more than he knows himself.

"I'm back."

There is no more bitter hatred. There is no more regret.

"Can you pick me up?"

In one moment, it all dissipates into nothingness and there is only you.

Jade remembers how to breathe again. He feels that withered thing in his chest beat once more, and he feels alive.

It takes one decade for you to return.

And he didn't know he was waiting for you, but then, what could every second without you have meant if not just an endless eternity of patiently waiting?

"Did you see my message?"

"I did."

"Are you not afraid I'll make good on my promise?"

"I've never been afraid of you."

Yet, perhaps you should be. He may no longer despise you with every fiber of his being, but you'd betrayed him and lost his trust. There will be no more second chances. You will stay unlike before, and if he must break every mirror in the world to ensure his heart remains beating, then it will be all too easy.

Taglist:

@yummyyummyinmytumny @lemon-koii @fsh1

#disney twst #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #gender neutral reader #x reader #twst x reader #jade leech x reader #jade leech #jade x reader

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evilkitten3 · 1 year ago

Text

sasuke: u did nothing wrong

itachi: hey it's actually really fucking concerning that you think that. i was objectively a horrible brother and the fact that i loved you the whole time secretly doesn't change that. i did what i thought was right but that doesn't make it any less fucked up, and you definitely didn't deserve it. i failed to treat you like a person with your own thoughts and beliefs and instead tried to push my own agenda on you. i traumatized you more than anyone else, and i did most of it knowingly and purposefully. you don't owe me gratitude or forgiveness or anything else. just know that i love you no matter what and i hope you can find happiness in spite of what i did to you.

people with incredible reading comprehension just phenomenal abilities to comprehend the reading: why sassgay not gargle leaf balls

i always forget about this scene, where itachi refutes the fact that he made the right choice regarding the massacre.

(even though he still identifies as itachi of konohagakure because the will of fire i mean brainwashing is too strong)

no matter how much itachi loved sasuke, he manipulated him, just like how the village manipulated itachi. the fact is that the rot cycles back to konoha.

#naruto #naruto shippuden #uchiha sasuke #sasuke was right #i love itachi but he was a pos and he was aware of it #kinda nuts to me that people try to act like itachi was a good person when even itachi never tried to do that #at no point did itachi go ''and this is why i'm winning the world's best brother award. sasuke are you listening''#itachi became a monster - and he was a tragic monster to be very clear a 12/13yo being pushed into genocide is tragic - but he knew that #he wasn't unaware of what he'd done. he just didn't realize how badly he'd fucked up his own plans #when he talked to naruto after his revival he got a huge wake-up call about it #i think learning of sasuke's new goal was the turning point for itachi's character (posthumously but still)#he never got a chance to unlearn everything bc. he was dead. but he did realize that he'd fucked up big time #and he knew he owed sasuke an apology. and more than that he owed him what he'd spent so long denying him: honesty #itachi's lies and manipulations made sasuke into the person he is. but itachi realized that didn't mean he got to try and 'fix' him #it just meant that he'd fucked up. and he demonstrates that newfound understanding by giving sasuke the truth and trusting him with it #''no matter what you do from now on i will always love you'' was for both of them #sasuke so he could know that he didn't need to live his life around itachi. and itachi so he could show his growth as a (dead) person #i love them so much #itachi saying ''no. i was shitty. don't make excuses for me'' was something i think sasuke really needed to hear

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frownyalfred · 3 months ago

Note

TRINITY STRIP CLUB?

I had some bits and pieces written for an outsider!POV fic of the Trinity going undercover of a strip club, but I think I scrapped it since I ended up going with a similar storyline for dead man's party.

(snippets below, unedited)

---

“Oh fuck. VIP in the big suite.”

Amy set down her gatorade, swallowing quickly. “This late?”

Matt tilted the POS screen her way, showing her the time block. “They just grabbed the last two blocks for the night.”

“Shit,” Amy said, biting her lip, “That’s pricey.”

“Ask if they want any bottles,” Matt said, immediately switching to business mode, “Actually, don’t ask. Just bring in the champagne.”

Amy made grabby hands until he stepped out of her way, letting her look at the screen. She thumbed through the schedule, frowning at the room reservation -- John Smith -- and the underlined note: Do not disturb.

“Taking first dibs?” she asked, glancing at his sweat-soaked shorts critically. Matt stuck his tongue out at her.

“They don’t care this late,” he said, “It’s all coming off, anyway.”

Amy scanned the screen one last time -- three guests -- and snagged her serving tray off the counter, going off in search of champagne glasses.

Matt, wisely, split off for the dressing rooms, likely to freshen up. He was wiping down with baby wipes in full view of the door when Amy passed by a few minutes later, a chilled bottle of Dom Pérignon carefully perched in an ice bucket on her tray.

“Give ‘em hell,” he said, grinning lewdly.

Amy made an unimpressed noise, heading for the stairs.

(line break)

“Hello, welcome to Club Charlie. My name is Amy, I’m going to be your--”

Three heads shot up, staring at her in surprise. Years of training prevented Amy from immediately stopping in her tracks. She balanced the bucket off of her tray and onto the table, focusing on keeping her heels under her.

“We didn’t order champagne.”

Amy looked up from the bucket, already reaching for the glasses.

“Compliments of the…” she faltered, “...house, sir.”

The man in the middle of the couch -- sunglasses, dress shirt open to the third button, broad shoulders -- didn’t seem amused. Delicate lips pressed together, highlighting their curve.

“We also asked not to be disturbed,” he said. Not upset -- not really, the truly wealthy ones never did -- but on the road to it. “Miss…?”

“Bruce,” the man to his left said, interrupting before Amy could respond, “let her be.”

He was just as broad-shouldered, wide blue eyes keeping just above her collarbone. On the table in front of him was an iPad and several notepads, half filled in with penciled diagrams.

“We can drink champagne,” the third person -- a woman, in a deep red, one-shoulder dress -- said, leaning forward, “I will do the honors.”

Amy handed off the champagne bottle to the woman, mouth slightly open.

There had to be a convention in town. A convention for highly attractive, black-haired, blue eyed models. It was like staring at a movie star in real life.

The woman smiled at Amy in thanky, digging a perfectly manicured finger through the foil of the bottle. Before she could offer the bottle opener, the

“Holy fuck,” she said, stumbling back into the dressing room, “you need to get in there now.”

“Are they rich?” Matt asked, looking up from where he was tweezing a hair from his upper thigh, “Please tell me they’re good tippers. I got absolutely fucked by that last DJ set.”

“They’re models,” Amy said, breathless, “literal, actual, fucking works of art. I’ve never seen three more attractive people in my life.”

“Bullshit,” Matt said, returning to his hair.

“Seriously. Grab Leslie. There’s three of them.”

---

“Two birds, one stone,” Sunglasses said under his breath, “I need to be here.”

“You said you were available,” the younger man protested, “I didn’t think that meant you were at the strip club.”

“You said it was urgent,” Sunglasses said, raising an eyebrow at his companion, “and I am available.”

The woman gave Matt and Leslie an encouraging smile as they mounted the stage.

“I don’t…” next to Sunglasses, the younger man wiped a hand across his face, “Lois is going to kill me.”

“Lois would already have her wallet out,” Sunglasses muttered, “and you know it.”

“Gah.”

“See something you like, gorgeous?” Matt called to the woman, slinging a hand around the center pole.

The woman’s sculpted eyebrows lifted, lips forming a perfect, cherry-red pout over her champagne flute. “Will you show me something I’ll like, μωρό?”

“Oh God,” the younger man said, glancing back and forth between the two of them, “This was a mistake.”

Sunglasses glanced up at the stage, looking marginally more pleased than his companion, “Might as well enjoy it, boy scout.”

“Enjoy it?”

“More champagne, sir?” Amy asked, darting in with the fresh bottle. The younger man stared up at her in shock. God, his eyes were really fucking blue. She could get lost in those eyes.

“I--um,” the man shoved it out at her, “Sure. Please. I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have --”

His reply was drowned out by the sound of Kim Petras blaring through the VIP suite speakers, marking the beginning of the set.

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invisible-b0nes · 3 months ago

Text

Hey shoutout to @randomalistic for making a 2 hour analysis video on my favorite villain who I also had nightmares about as a kid. You made me draw a character I was so scared to draw of /pos

I NEED HIM DEAD

DEAD I SAY

#my arto #turbo wreck it ralph #turbo #i cant physically like characters /half joke #i need to kill him now

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scnderlands · 3 months ago

Note

If you’re open for requests, could you write something with Homelander please?

*cough* pervy Homelander *cough*

content warnings / tags : MINORS / AGELESS / BLANK BLOGS DNI, strong non-con to barely dub-con, panty thief / sniffer homelander!, oral ( fem reader receiving ), fingering, homelander basically threatening to kill you with laser eyes, stalking, 1.2k words, not proofread ;-;

kai’s notes : hey, my love, sorry this took so long :( I hope this is what you had in mind, I wasn’t fully sure what to write but I made a small drabble nonetheless ! I’m not sure how I feel about this at all, maybe I’ll rewrite it some day, but here it is <3

you crept into his mind day and night, torturing him daily without your knowledge. you slowly became his obsession and it didn’t take you long to realise you had somewhat of a stalker.

you’d been working at vought for a few months and within the first few weeks you’d noticed weird things. at first it was small things like pens and notepads going missing, then a photo of you and your friend was torn in half, your face missing from the picture but your friends sat on your desk.

a few weeks later it began happening at home, to the point you changed your locks and installed cameras in your home, but it never caught anything. you’d put down your working long hours and doing too much work as to why you’d ‘forget’ where you put things. your keys not being where you left them, things going missing from the fridge, cupboard doors being left open, even not putting your clothes in the laundry basket properly. it wasn’t until you noticed that pairs of underwear and shirts started disappearing, perfume depleting faster than usual, your hairbrush being cleaned off from hair.

you were new to the city, no one knew who you were, you had no friends or family there so you knew it couldn’t be anyone you were familiar with. you tried to report it but it wasn’t taken seriously, not that it surprised you in the slightest.

every day at work got worse, always having mountains of paperwork to go through, and home was no escape either — both places feeling as unsafe as the other. but today was worse than usual, all you’d been doing was dealing with office politics and running around after the seven to get them to sign paperwork. and you were the only one that seemed to be doing any work around the tower, and being new made it all that much worse.

once you got home you threw your bag down on the floor, and stripped off as you walked towards your bedroom, desperate to jump in the shower and go to bed.

“what the fuck…”

you stopped dead in your tracks as you saw the homelander laid out on your bed, pants around his ankles, cock in his hand, and a pair of your dirty underwear over his face.

he didn’t even bother to look over at you, instead he fucked his fist even harder, quicker. your name rolled from his tongue over and over, his hips bucking needily into his hand, he was whimpering like a puppy as he was approaching his finish.

you took a few steps back as slow and quiet as you could, but he could hear you no matter what.

“don’t you dare fucking move.” he glared down at you and stopped what he was doing, anger flashing red across his face.

your heart jumped into your throat and you did what he said, fear overtaking your body to the point you couldn’t even move if you wanted to.

“how did you—“

“get in? what, you think changing your locks could stop me?” he raised an eyebrow wondering if you were really that naive.

truth be told, you didn’t know how to answer, you’d never have suspected it was homelander that had been messing with you, stalking you. you rarely saw him that much in work, only occasionally in passing or talking to him when you needed him to sign something. in your head there was no reason for him to be here, for him to be obsessed with you to the point of breaking into your house.

“come here. now.”

he gestured you over with one finger and you stared at him, your blood pulsing through your body so loud that you could barely hear anything else. if it wasn’t for his eyes beginning to glow red, you don’t think you’d have had the balls to move your feet.

it felt like it took you an eternity to walk towards him, and his look of impatience did nothing but cement that feeling in you. he glared at you all the same, reaching out and grabbing you by the wrist with a bone crushing grip.

he pushed you down against the mattress and hovered above you, his cock pushing against your bare thigh, and he couldn’t help but moan at the slight bit of friction.

“you have no idea how long I’ve waited for this, do you?”

you shook your head side to side without meeting his gaze, too embarrassed by the way his hand was slowly rubbing up your thigh.

his other hand grabbed your jaw and forced you to look at him, a shiteating grin creeping along his face as he cocked his head to the side. it was obvious he wanted to see your face when he touched you, to see if you reacted in the way he’d always imagined you would, how he pictured your pretty face every time he came thinking about you.

homelander chuckled to himself as he kissed your neck, slowly moving his way down your nearly naked body. the lower he got, the more every muscle in your body tightened and the more excited he got. finally his head was between your legs, his face pushing up against the fabric that still covered your cunt.

he let out a sigh and breathed in, enjoying finally being able to take in your sweet scent while your underwear was still on. you could feel him grinding his nose up against you, his tongue desperately lapping at your cunt just to get as much of a taste as he could.

“please, stop…” you pushed at his head to try and get him away, but that only cemented his grip on you, his hands wrapping around your hips tighter and pulling you even closer to his face.

he enjoyed the way you struggled against him, how weak and pathetic humans were, and he could practically smell the way it turned you on — even with how much you pretended you didn’t want it.

he couldn’t resist it any longer, desperate to finally taste you on his tongue, to have your juices dripping down his chin, to have his cock buried so deep inside you that you could barely breathe.

homelander hooked a finger around the crotch of your underwear, letting his knuckle skim across your clit ever so slightly just to get a reaction out of you.

“homelander…” your hips instinctually bucked towards his touch, a heat rising up your body.

with one swift pull your panties were nearly destroyed, and he wasted no time burying his face in your cunt. his tongue swirled around your throbbing clit and dipped in and out of your hole, his grip tightening on your sides the more he lost himself in you.

your hand intertwined in his hair as you attempted to yank his face away from you, but that just added to his enjoyment, a muffled moan vibrating between your legs as he kept eating you out.

“fuck—“ he came up for air for only a second before dipping his head straight back down.

he pushed his fingers knuckle deep into you and laughed at the moan he pulled from you, no matter how much you tried to be quiet you just couldn’t. his fingers curled up back and forth inside of you and his tongue went back to work.

it was obvious that he wasn’t going to stop until he was satisfied, regardless of how many times you came, how much you begged him to stop. for tonight, you belonged to him, and you were going to take it like a good little slut.

#⋆˚✿˖° 📄 ── ( 𝘒𝘈𝘐’𝘚 𝘔𝘈𝘕𝘜𝘚𝘊𝘙𝘐𝘗𝘛𝘚 )#⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ 🌌 ── ( 𝘈𝘓𝘖𝘕𝘌 𝘐𝘕 𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘋𝘈𝘙𝘒 )#the boys #the boys x reader #homelander #homelander x reader #homelander x female reader #definitely gonna rewrite this at a later date!!#my mind has been so bad recently that writing is a struggle </3 #but I didn’t wanna keep you waiting too long!! how it’s okay <3

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