#idk who is in the tags for the bear but lol

[spaceorphan18]

The Lady Whistledown Papers : 1x07 Ocean's Apart (Part 3)

Welcome back, Gentle Readers, to The Lady Whistledown Papers, where I’m taking an in-depth look at Penelope Featherington and Colin Bridgerton’s character arcs and romance within the show Bridgerton!

For previous issues, follow tag : The Lady Whistledown Papers

The Queen's Luncheon

The family is back together again (except, you know, for Francesca, but who's really paying attention....) Violet seems genuinely happy to be out in society with 7/8ths of her children.

Colin snarks that they should tempt scandal more often -- and I mean, he might be in a pissy mood, but I appreciate he hasn't lost his sense of humor.

I don't really ever get to talk about Lady Danbury, but she has a moment where she talks to Daphne about how her plan of showing up and, idk, being there? is helping no one talk about Colin and Marina. Sure. Okay. I still don't really get these society rules. But if Daphne is now the A-List celebrity kicking the c-tier out of the tabloids, then okay. Lol but mostly, I just like Lady Danbury and wanted to say that.

It is twenty minutes into the episode and this is our first bit of Penelope. And look how gorgeous this girl is, my god. She's got such a beautiful smile.

Anyway... not a long scene, but there are some key elements going on.

For one, the Featheringtons have caused quite a stir showing up. Ooff, the ton is not happy about them trying to foist a pregnant girl onto a Bridgerton. The nerve.

Secondly, Eloise whisks Penelope away -- it's nice that they're friends again. I love that Eloise is so concerned for her, and wants to make sure Penelope is okay, and there's this real moment of care and affection from Eloise to Pen. Eloise is so caught up in Eloise-land half the time that she doesn't always notice what's going on with Penelope, but she does still very much care.

Pen is good about it -- and (unsurprisingly) only concerned about Colin and how he's doing. (It's like she cares about him or something, idk...;) ) And it's fascinating at how dismissive Eloise is of it -- saying his ego's bruised, but the men are usually fine in this. And, I mean, she's not wrong. Look - I'm not downplaying Colin or his right to have feelings, because I think he should have feelings, and it's good that -- unlike so many other men in this universe, he expresses those feelings.

But I can also see it from Eloise's POV, too -- Colin is the one who, from a society perspective, gets off the easiest here. He will be fine, he's protected by his gender and by his family name. Whereas the Featheringtons, who are already somewhat outcasts to begin with, are bearing some truly awful treatment from society.

And then we get into Lady Whistledown, and I always love these conversations, because there's always another layer once you know that Penelope is LW. Eloise reports that people think she's gone too far this time -- and Pen looks away, because she knows it was a risky thing doing what she did. But interestingly, she reminds Eloise that Eloise was once LW's biggest admirer.

And Eloise really steps into her friendship, saying that LW has gone too far when she smears the name of her greatest friend. And Pen is genuinely moved by this. And Eloise also promises that when they find out LW's identity - a retraction will be made, and they'll restore the Featherington name. And Pen is just - she's so happy that Eloise is so dear to her. It's really heartwarming when these two can have such beautiful moments together.

Meanwhile, The Featheringtons are going to get kicked out of the luncheon. Ooff.

Cressida is going to be snarky about it - but Daphne puts her in her place, and really she should learn not to fuck with the Featheringtons (or the Bridgertons) because it will not end well for her.

[I should also point out - the Marina storyline takes a detour with Daphne getting involved to find George Crane. It's nice that the two storylines converge at this point, but neither Colin or Pen are involved at this particular point, so I'm skipping over it.]

Searching for Lady Whistledown

One storyline that I've mostly been neglecting to talk about (and is probably my favorite Season 1 storyline) is Eloise searching for Lady Whistledown. She's gotten in so deep that she's been asked by the Queen to track her down, and the Queen is now threatening Eloise if she doesn't start giving results, so Eloise is pushing all in on it.

Of course, now that she and Pen are doing alright again (interesting their little tiff in episode 5? goes unspoken about -- but I mean, they're such great friends that sometimes you get into fights and let it go because the friendship means more, you know?)

Anyway, Eloise has enlisted Pen's help in going over all the data... (which is kind of funny - as Pen is just enjoying herself watching Eloise spin in circles while the culprit is sitting right there!)

It's clever, really, the Penelope can give so much and so little away at the same time. She managed to not have the whole Marina thing tracked back to her -- shifting the focus onto the servants who (as we saw early on in the series) all gossip. Eloise has ruled out servants, but who isn't ruled out? Tradespeople! So there are new leads and new possibilities!

Also, the end of this scene is... odd, in that all it's really doing is setting up Eloise going to an opera, even though she's not out. I mean, the only reason Pen says what she says is to get Eloise to go be in the next scene so that Eloise can have a scene with the Queen. It's... a tiny bit awkward. But eh, I guess I'll just throw it to - Penelope wanting Eloise to enjoy being in society, since she's already stuck there.

And then the ending of the scene, where Penelope is meh about restoring the family name (I mean, the girl knows her family is a mess even without scandal) and laments having to sneak out the back way so not to be scene. (The amount of times this girl sneaks in and out of this house, I mean really...ten bucks says she sneaks past Colin's room on her way out.)

But anyway, on her way out, she does thank Eloise. She really is grateful to have such a great friend. And even if she knows that LW really can't be revealed, at least she has satisfaction in knowing there is at least one person in the world who truly cares about her and her well being.

[Also, as an aside, towards the end of the episode - Eloise is going to reflect on this conversation, and in kind of a brilliant misdirection, she's going to come up with the idea that Madame Delacroix could be LW.]

An Apology

Another Colin and Anthony scene! And you know what, I know. I know I know I know that this show is supposed to be about the romances, and I mean, I cannot wait to get to season 3 and really dig into Pen and Colin, we'll get there.

But I adore the sibling scenes. I really do. It's a big draw for me. And I just don't think there are enough ABC brother scenes in general. (God, I hope there are more in Season 4...anyway...) This little scene is a just a really nice mirror to the scene where Anthony reprimanded Colin a couple episodes earlier.

What is Colin up to at the beginning of this scene? It looks like a map? Colin is going to spend his evening bunkering down and really getting his travel plans in order, because now that he has no reason to stay, there's nothing holding him back from going...

Here's the thing about Colin and traveling. I do genuinely think, as a part of his personality, that he does enjoy the idea behind traveling - of seeing the world and seeing what's out there. But I think a big component to Colin's travels is that he is looking for something. What is that thing? His purpose? His place in this world? His reason for being? The answers to life's greatest mysteries? All of the above?

He is the third son -- Anthony has role as leader of the family and his duties to the Bridgerton estate. Benedict is the 'spare' but also is finding himself through artistic pursuits. Colin doesn't have the weight of responsibility on his shoulders. But so he is looking elsewhere to give his life some meaning.

The somewhat funny thing about Colin traveling, though, is what he's searching for is right where he left it. He just doesn't know it yet.

But! I do think traveling (both times) is really good for him. Seeing the world does open it up, and gives you new experiences, and lets you see the world in ways you've never seen it before. And (in both cases) it's going to help him grow up a bit. (It's also going to give him the opportunity to really fall in love again -- but he also doesn't know that yet...)

Here's the other thing about this moment... Colin isn't going to the concert because he isn't feeling up to it. He's still very much in his feelings, and when Colin is in his feelings, he retreats. Big time. (It is another reason he's traveling, too, to make an escape.) Not that he shouldn't be, his heart has been very much shattered and things like that do need time to get over.

But it's just another character trait that has been firmly set up in this season that's going to end up magnified in Season 3.

And, omg, I've barely gotten into the scene, lol...

Anthony hands over an apology drink (lol) and Colin starts getting snarky again - locusts in the street? is it the endtimes? what is happening?? Again - I love that Colin retains a sense of humor and a bit of sass. The boy may be wallowing, but he hasn't lost his cheekiness that gives him his charm.

Anthony, to his credit, doubles down on a sincere apology. And Colin becomes self deprecating again -- acknowledging that Anthony was trying to 'protect' him from his foolishness. (And Colin does seem to recognize that jumping so quickly into an engagement was somewhat foolish, even if it's going to take him a while to really get over Marina.)

And I love Anthony's banter back -- ribbing Colin about being foolish. Because it's such a sibling response. And there little banter back and forth -- again such siblingness! And I love it. Love that this show doesn't back away from balancing sincerity with levity and the push and pull that comes with real sibling dynamics.

And then Anthony becomes somewhat prophetic. He's speaking to Colin as if he was speaking to himself, saying that a broken heart will indeed mend, and at some point in the future, you'll barely remember her name. Because Anthony is in the same place Colin is -- nursing his hurt over Siena, and it occupies all of his thoughts. But pretty soon, we'll be in Season 2, and Anthony will discover Kate. And Colin will travel and (somewhat unknowingly) start a correspondence with his future wife. And the names Siena and Marina will be flickering memories of things that seem odd were once a big deal.

The other thing that Anthony does is such a sweet, big brother thing -- he reaffirms that, in the wake of it all, reassure Colin that his family loves him. Which is a big deal - because not everyone (as we'll see) will have families to rely on, but the Bridgertons are a unit, one that unconditionally supports each other, and that's a huge thing.

He also minds Colin that he has the honor of his actions. Which is an important thing to Colin. He has Anthony's respect and that means something.

The scene ends with Colin's empathetic side (as shown through brotherly teasing) coming out -- as Colin asks Anthony how is own advice is working. They may have not directly discussed it, but Colin must know about Siena, and must know that Anthony is also in pain. Anthony doesn't know how it'll play out... but we do, as we know what's coming :D

As we're nearing the end of the season this scene is most definitely setting up the future for our characters, a laying the ground work that even if these story lines are coming to a close, better things are most definitely on the horizon.

[Also - I kind of enjoy the fact that these two are going to spend the evening drinking and being miserable together. Kinda wished we got to see these shenanigans more so than the Simon/Daphne drama, but ah, I suppose that's what fanfic is for]

A Special Cocktail

The episode is going to end with Marina making herself a special potion -- of what? We won't know until the next episode. And Penelope is going to find her! Oh no, the drama! I do like how much Penelope cares, though. Even though they've done nothing between Penelope and Marina since their last exchange where Marina was a bit cruel to her, Penelope doesn't want her dead. And does want her to be okay.

Anyway, it's so weird not to have Penelope featured that much in the episode -- she was barely in it, and her story line didn't really progress at all.

But - with this (and Daphne's dramatic reveal of not being pregnant), we're crashing into the finale!

[Also, huh, it is fascinating that they're paralleling Daphne and Marina's storylines here -- both women wish for the opposite - Daphne wishing she was pregnant, Marina wishing she wasn't, and neither are getting their wish. It's some good storytelling technique here. Shame I don't necessarily care about either of these stories that much. But I can appreciate good storytelling when it's happening. Bravo show, bravo.]

On to episode 8! Whooo! (I'm happy - I'm so ready to move beyond season 1)

[coachbeards]

Also...I invited mom. You invited mom? Yeah. It's friends and family.

THE BEAR - 2.09.

[fulgurbugs]

Full microwave explosion masterpost

[bathroomtrapped]

oh my god?? SAWNIC????? IS THAT YOU???

[butterflysonnets]

yes i'm rooting for m*leven breakup because byler is neat but mostly? i'm rooting for m*leven breakup for the sake of el and mike.

to me, their romance was always a puppy love born out of a combination of social pressures, naïve curiosity, and a lack of true understanding regarding intimacy and romantic love and what it really is. it was real in that they do truly, deeply care about each other and they are close friends, maybe even shared an attraction, but a maturing romance is so much more than that. they've grown up and out of being boyfriend/girlfriend, and that's okay! i think television/film needs to show more often that most of us don't have definite "soulmates" or first childhood loves that we spend our whole lives with. it doesn't mean these relationships meant nothing and didn't impact us, it just means they've run their course and that something else is in the cards, and this is part of life!

i've always felt el was at her best and most confident self when broken up with mike, discovering who she was and what she liked alongside another girl her age instead of just relying on mike for mentorship on how to live in the real world. she deserves more of an opportunity to find herself, her autonomy, and her independence, and to love who she is, and she's made it clear she's felt insecure in the relationship with mike because she isn't being loved and understood the way she wants, needs, and deserves from someone who is her partner.

also, it's okay if mike doesn't love her in "the way he should". he is not obligated to love her romantically and stay in a relationship with her just because she's a girl, because she "needed someone", or because he cares about her a lot. he shouldn't be pressured into a romance if it's not truly coming from his heart. he deserves freedom to find out and honour who he is, too, instead of just staying in his non-functional first relationship — one he got into as a child, essentially — and defining himself that way because it's what's expected when a boy and a girl are close. he loves her in some way, yes, but it's okay if he doesn't feel comfortable or secure being her boyfriend anymore, for whatever reason that is. he's felt insecure too, and that's valid and it matters.

they are their own people and are steadily growing and changing every day. they need time to figure out who those people are, and it's become clear (at least in my opinion) that those people aren't meant to be a couple at this stage.

they deserve freedom. they deserve to grow up and be authentic to themselves and not feel like they need to lie for the sake of a relationship. they deserve to move on from this version of their relationship that isn't making them happy and rekindle the best part of their bond: their strong, beautiful friendship. they don't have to be a couple if it doesn't make them stronger and better and happier people.

i think it would be healthy and wonderful for a show, especially one consumed frequently by young adults, to show a relationship starting, progressing, and ending on good terms in this way. sometimes things don't work out, and that is okay.

[yudidoodles]

Hi I swear I'm not dead just feral about reading and rereading- alas tgcf is draggin me back again,,, the donghua ops got me MESSED UP anyway have some sillies before I reread and draw some angst :P

[soupmanspeaks]

you ever wonder if the Glamrocks's face tracking acts up when they look at Glamrock-Freddy, like they'll look at his face, and the recognition will register as Freddy, but their systems for whatever reason or another think that there is a face overlapped on Freddy's do you think they see two small squares next to him, at his side, roughly child sized, but no one is physically there.... right...?

[baby-xemnas]

crazy talk 🐯🐻❄️

(on appearances)

i don't point out that bepo is silly and awkward and his voice is shrill and he's so unserious and baby JUST to say that i hold no delusions about that (but that is one reason because Yes all that is so opposite of sexy But despite that - yes seriously with a bear)

other reason is that their difference is lawbepo's most obvious charm point

i love that law - the weird and unfriendly? yes of course - but he is hot enough to have that overlooked. he turns dark and mysterious - And thats the thing!!

him being in relationship with bepo really grounds him? it really makes law so human that he has an unusual taste like that

it's like finding out your godlike celeb crush's long time wife/husband is not that attractive

and that thing is soooooo fun to me

mentioned many times i didnt care much abt law n even before i fell into the ship full throttle thought his hug with bepo on zou is his best moment (and im not the only one who loves that softer side that we discovered after that moment - nvm that hug is not treated as romantic sadly but we will disregard that)

bepo really does law so good by just being next to him and it doesnt make sense but it DOES. and them being involved TO ME fleshes out law more. yes bitches. no he wont tell you

[bearlytolerant]

Tagged by @myreia thank you!

Tagging whoever sees and wants to share.

They called her that other builder from Portia or that girl who fought the rogue knight or, if she was lucky, simply baker. Never Sage. Except for him but not always. There was a time he hadn’t known her name but it wasn’t a very long time.

He came in at exactly 6:45 every morning. The first loaves of the day were fresh from the oven, still warm before she opened the bakery at 7. Six months of his regular patronage and the bakery was out of his way, across from the clinic, and she knew the saloon opened at 7 as well. She learned to keep the door unlocked early and welcome him in, friendship and all. It was the least she could do.

“Morning Owen,” she said as she arranged a tray full of lavender scones.

“Hey! Sage,” he said in his optimistic, jolly tone. His eyes closed and he inhaled real deep before opening them again, throwing her a smile. “Wow, it smells incredible in here!”

“Well, I do try.”

“And you succeed.” He found himself a seat near the window but she could feel his eyes on her as she finished her pastry arrangement.

She attempted to follow through on her twin’s latest words of wisdom, ringing in her head, “It wouldn’t hurt if you smiled a little more. You always look like you want to murder something. I think that scares some people a little.” It was easier when she’d been a builder. Higgins never smiled so when she showed up with her neutral expression, Portians seemed pleased and unbothered. At least they never complained to her face. But owning a bakery was a different beast from owning a workshop. It wasn’t as simple as grabbing a commission scrawled on a piece of paper on a billboard and filling the order. People that loved getting bread—well they didn’t just order bread and go—they seemed to enjoy hanging around to chat, especially Cooper.

She tried throwing Owen a smile that felt more like a grimace. Owen didn’t seem to mind as his grin widened. “Pastry of the day?” She asked.

“I always enjoy taste testing your latest confections.”

“So that’s a yes then?” She raised a brow and was answered with a small chuckle.

“Yes. Always a yes.”

[sanguinaryrot]

sorry im not as hairy as the other bears and my beard isnt as full. im sorry. do you still love me

[inkietd]

just went to a bar sober and talked with this 50yo drunk guy about his podcast he wants to make and then he invited me to his lakehouse💀💀

[broodygaming]

People in the discord server I'm in for game jam stuff are talking about different designs and things people do. And one person mentions they don't like playing suggestive games. Two people in the game jams make often... Idk how to put it. Big boob lady games. It's not Terrible terrible? But it does make me eye roll and make me be more careful with my words so I'm being polite and not like, talking down to them too much.

So shoutout to that other girl who was just like "nah I don't play those they make me uncomfortable" haha, you rock.

Also it made me chortle a bit cuz I realized that now three of my main characters in a row wear baggy sweaters and my first character before that was a small child.

Idk, I don't get the "bobba" thing. they'll all like, titter and laugh about it. Ohh, look at her walking cycle her pixel "bobbas" move, ohhh. It's weird. Can boobs just be boobs please. It's just. It's. ugh.

[theundesirables]

Clara and Evan,

Honestly After months of being unable to draw.

I feel good about myself

[leclerc-hs]

capsize - cl16

pairing: charles leclerc x nanny!reader summary: in which charles is an idiot and you decide to make him suffer for a little bit warnings: smut, angst!, exhibitionism (kinda?), breeding kink!, language, 18+!, bad french!!! (please correct me and i'll edit), barely proofread (sorry if there’s mistakes my eyeballs hurt) word count: 5.9k (LENGTHYYYYY) author's note: had to give us some angst obvi....but also smut bc single dad charles is so hot. let me know what you think! I can't believe it ended up being this long but it felt like it was impossible to end. xoxo. please blow this up bc the effort I put into writing this took 100% of my brain power away lmao. also I got an anon request to write about nanny getting a internship with a fashion company which is included in this! french edits made by the lovely @dannyramirezwife (idk what I would do without you)

part 1 part 2

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

yourusername

liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc, and 52,789 others yourusername welcome to miami 🐚🧡 view all 1,321 comments yourbsf but how do you kill it every time??? landonorris mmmm papaya looks good on you🍊 charles_leclerc how do I dislike a comment? liked by yourusername and 7,829 others yourusername 😂 user guys omg. user charles is NOT having it charles_leclerc beautiful. but please stick to red ❤️ user CRYING user lando is def on his shit list user lando wants her so bad lmaoooo

yourusername

liked by scuderiaferrari, charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, and 78,992 others yourusername luigi follows only the ferraris 🏎️🏁 view all 4,391 comments scuderiaferrari as you should! ❤️ user OMG SHES IN MIAMI!!!! user does this mean his daughter is there!!!! user i would hope. unless she's not doing her job lol user we need baby leclerc content!!! charles_leclerc damn right ❤️ yourbsf miami looks gooood on u. wanna move? yourusername 😏 charles_leclerc absolutely not user charles gtfooooo user what does charles just stalk her comments?

charles_leclerc

liked by scuderiaferrari, yourusername, arthur_leclerc, and 1,582,817 others charles_leclerc special guests this weekend ❤️ we’ll keep pushing as always. view all 5,717 comments scuderiaferrari the most precious guests EVER user literally. user guys he’s using plurals again!!! user it has to be about @/yourusername too user crying they’re so cute carlossainz55 can’t wait for her to design my next helmet 🌶️ charles_leclerc OUR* yourusername sweet baby girllllll 🩷🧸🎀

lando.jpg

liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, and 274,892 others lando.jpg mrs. 305 tagged yourusername view all 3,672 comments user omg. user are her and lando dating? user i hope not user they would be so cute carlossainz55 damnnnnn 🌶️🥵 lando.jpg don't poke the bear @/charles_leclerc charles_leclerc 😒 yourusername don’t ever let me take another tequila shot again lando.jpg should i cancel the ones i just ordered to your room? yourusername you BETTER be joking charles_leclerc is that why i opened the door to shots? charles_leclerc mon dieu user no like she's so pretty user they're sharing a room!??? landonorris tagged yourusername in a story!

seen by charles_leclerc, yourbsf, carlossainz55, and 900,281 others yourusername

liked by landonorris, carlossainz55, maxfewtrell, and 65,428 others yourusername who let lando behind the dj booth last night???? tagged landonorris view all 2,318 comments maxfewtrell he’s such a 🐍 user omg her and lando?? user lando has been in love with her for so long user can we just take in that charles didn’t like this post? user charles has a habit of not liking any of her posts with other men 👀 user ariana what are u doing here user where is charles?? user prob with his daughter bc she clearly isn't lol user it's HIS daughter landonorris i'm so lucky user WHAT!!!!!!! user GUYS HELP user IS HE CONFIRMING?!!!? yourusername you need to stop trolling the internet lando user DJ LANDOOOOO HAS RETURNED

YOU BEGIN TO wonder whether the universe harbors some inexplicable grudge against you. Because really, you always make sure to check in on your friends often. You always make sure to pay your bills on time, if not earlier. Heck, you even make sure to donate to a different charity every month. Yet, as the jet encounters heavily turbulent skies on the way to Miami, the persistent question echoes in your mind ‘why me?’.

Luckily, a bundle of joy rests on your lap, cupping your face in her hands, and playfully squeezing your cheeks. A sweet distraction from the terror you feel inside. It’s adorable how earnestly she tries to impact calmness in you, even though her eyes are half shut with sleep. 

“Ne sois pas effrayé,” Don’t be scared. Her voice maintains its gentleness as she swiftly loses interest in your cheeks, redirecting her tiny hands to play with the ends of your hair. “Je suis là avec papa.” Me and papa are here.

“Chérie,” Charles coos at his daughter, picking her up from your lap and resting her down on the bed. “Repose-toi bien," Get some rest. He tucks her into the bed, a space far too vast for her tiny body, nestling her favorite fluffy bunny stuffed animal by her side. You observe in admiration as he plants a gentle kiss to her forehead, then tenderly strokes her hair in a soothing manner.

“J’ai besoin qu’elle me borde, papa,” I need her to tuck me in. Her tiny fingers point to you and your heart instantly tightens. With a slight shake in your steps, you make your way to the bed, sitting on the side of it. “Bonne nuit, ma petite.” Goodnight, little one.

“Bonne nuit, maman,” Goodnight, mom. The words were mumbled with sleep, but it was the name that couldn’t be ignored.

For a brief period, both you and Charles experienced a suspended moment, a pause in time. Never had she referred to you in such a way, and you certainly didn’t want Charles to assume you influenced her perception in any manner.

“I don’t know why she said that.”

Caught like a deer in headlights, you pivot your head to face him. Panic courses through you, eyes widened, heart pounding. Yet, as you turn to Charles, he appears nonchalant, offering only a casual shrug of his shoulders.

“C’est bien.” It’s okay.

In a hushed pause, the both of you remain motionless aside from turning your head back to the sleeping toddler, entranced by how peaceful she looks. However, Charles finds it hard to divert his gaze from you. His eyes focus on the serene scene of his daughter’s fingers delicately entwined with yours, even in the depths of sleep, acknowledging the profound connection between you two. In these tranquil moments, where your presence is indispensable for tucking her in, Charles not only appreciates the nurturing care you offer but also recognizes the profound love and solace you impact. He can’t help but feel incredibly fortunate to have you in his life.

Only when Charles’s gentle hands tenderly squeezed the back of your neck, providing a subtle massage to your tense muscles, did you become acutely aware of the extent of your own exhaustion.

“Allez, dormons un peu, d’accord?” Let’s get some sleep, yeah? His lips delicately brushed against the shell of your ear, followed by a tender kiss on your temple, guiding you toward the other bed on the jet. Wrapping his arms snugly around your body, he let the both of you fall onto the mattress. While pulling the covers over both of you, your face pressed against his chest clad in a soft t-shirt. As you planted a gentle kiss above the neckline, you could feel the rapid rhythm of his heartbeat.  

Despite the passing of a few months since that initial kiss, your connection with Charles retained a serene simplicity. In the quietude of your shared moments, you found solace. Deliberately, you resisted the temptation to let your mind drift into the what if’s, choosing instead to remain in the present moments. 

However, within his mind, thoughts raced at a million miles a minute. Regardless of the casualness of your relationship you both claim to have, he couldn’t stop picturing you with swollen breasts and a swollen belly. The moment his daughter called you ‘maman’, an almost feral instinct surged within him. It was a wild and untamable force. He couldn’t stop imagining you pregnant. Full of his kid. Full of him. The need to fill you up with all of him was all but surging through his veins. All the blood was rushing to his cock, and he knew he needed to get these thoughts out of his head. 

“Bonne nuit,” Goodnight. His voice sounded so rough as his arms tightened around you and you easily fell into a quick slumber, feeling so safe in his arms from the turbulent skies.

-

The abrupt touchdown of the jet resonated through the cabin, rousing you from slumber. A ballet of movement ensued before your eyes met the scene: Charles had migrated to one of the plush seats, his daughter perched upon his knee. The ambient hum of the aircraft formed a backdrop to the unfolding familial vignette, a delicate interplay of affection. As Charles tenderly pinched his daughter’s cheeks, childlike laughter following their hushed whispers.

Charles shifted his gaze towards you, now upright on the bed. Your tousled hair framed a face adorned with the lingering softness of sleep, and your eyes, slightly puffy with remnant of slumber, held a captivating allure. Despite your disheveled state, he couldn’t help but find that you remained the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

“Bien dormi?” Sleep well?

A gentle smile played on your lips as you rose from the bed, indulging in a languorous stretch that showcased the contours of your body. The fabric of the t-shirt clung momentarily, revealing the subtle canvas of freckles adorning your stomach to Charles. His gaze involuntarily flicked away, a reflex triggered by the flooding memories, thoughts of you pregnant resurfacing in vivid detail. The mere glimpse of your stomach had him internally spiraling. 

“Uncle Lorenzo and Auntie Char want to see you bébé,” baby. A ripple of excitement danced in his daughter’s eyes as she clapped her hands joyfully at the mere mention of her uncle. Lorenzo and Charlotte had made their way to Miami a few days prior, cleverly disguising their visit as an opportunity to vacation while supporting Charles in the impending race. This strategic maneuver afforded you and Charles the luxury of solitude in the days leading up to the event, a rare and treasured gift compared to the last few months.

-

“Merde,” Shit. He grunted as his head fell back against the headboard of the shared bed. His green eyes watching you with flushed cheeks as you worked yourself over his cock. “This is where you belong, yeah?” 

The morning sun peeked through the curtains of the hotel room. Eliciting a warm glow in the hotel room as you sunk down onto him deeper than before. Your pussy fluttering around his length, appeasing the ache that he created before you even opened your eyes. 

You nodded your head repeatedly. “Mon dieu, yes.” 

His hands cup your ass, fingers pressing firmly into the delicate layers of your skin, leaving an imprint as if searching for a connection beneath the surface. Controlling your movements, he urges you to move more frantically. The feeling of your hot, wet, pussy squeezing him was almost too much for him to handle.

With each passing second, the pressure of his fingers increased, creating a sensation of both command and invitation at the back of your neck. His touch was a deliberate grasp, not just holding but asserting dominance. Your lips met in a symphony of desire.  His tongue slipping into your mouth instantly, brushing against yours as he held you against him. Your nipples flushed against the toned muscles of his chest as you leaned in, and the pound of his hips fucking upwards into you, had you all but mewling into his mouth. 

“C’mon mon ange, don’t make me wait.” My angel.

You’re not sure if it was the pet name or the fact that you loved to please him. Or maybe the brush of his body against your clit. But your orgasm came quickly after while the tears spilled slowly from your eyes. He swallowed every moan you gave him like it was his own source of oxygen before flipping both of you over and pushing you face first into the mattress.

Every moan you gave him was like fuel to the pound of his hips. He was completely lost in the feeling of you. “Take it all,” he grunted as he pushed your body into the mattress deeper than before, his eyes not moving from the sight of his cock coated with you and slipping into you. 

You were begging and pleading him to give you more, more, more. You don’t know what more he could give you; you just knew you needed it.

“So pretty like this,” he muttered, “like you were made just to take my fucking cock whenever I need.” His thrusts began to slow, but the speed didn’t alter just how good they felt. No, he pushed himself even further, hitting all the spots just right. It was as if he was trying to become one with you. Like he wanted merge you two into a singular existence. 

“Cha,” You moaned out his name and you couldn’t see but his eyes widened. His heart clenched at the nickname. He pulled out quickly, provoking a complaint from your lips as he began scooping one of his arms under your stomach and flipping you onto your back. He took a second to just look at you, a shine forming in his eyes as he observed you. You look absolutely fucked. Cheeks flushed, hair all over the place, eyes glossed with satiation, and red marks all over your neck from his fingertips.

“Needed to see your face,” he answered before you could ask, slipping his cock back into your needy hole. The confession making your heart clench and the stretch of his cock had your stomach doing flips. “Besoin de voir tes yeux.” Needed to see your eyes.

His gaze was unwavering and fixed upon you. It was as if sought to etch the intricate details of your face into the canvas of his memory. He wanted to capture every nuance, every curve, and every expression that you made. 

“Merde, let me cum in you.” His eyes trailed down your face, to your neck, to your breasts. The bounce of your breasts from the force of his hips had him in a trance, thoughts of you with swollen breasts came back to mind. When he felt your pussy clench around him at the phrase, a smirk formed. “Yeah? Want me to fill you up sweet girl?

“S’il ti plaît,” please. You were pleading. You wanted nothing more. “J’en ai besoin.” I need it.

Charles’s eyes almost rolled to the back of his head at your confession. His groaning and grunting increasing in volume as he pounds into you harder, every inch of his cock pressing against your velvet walls as he releases into you, making you feel all warm inside. 

“Tu es parfaite.” You’re perfect. He collapses beside you; his voice was so low that you almost didn’t hear him mumble the words as he pressed his lips to your collarbone before resting his head on the pillows. You felt your cheeks redden almost instantly, brushing off the compliment with a smile and small laugh. 

“Je dois prendre une douche.” I need to shower. The mixture of his and yours cum was oozing down your leg. You could still feel the warmth of it. Charles mumbled a soft “mmmm”, already drifting off into a slumber. 

-

You weren’t sure what changed in the few minutes you were in the bathroom, but you could feel the unease build in your stomach as you emerged with a towel wrapped around your frame and skin flushed red from the heat of the water to Charles pacing around the room, a knuckle in between his teeth.

He was agitated to say the least. He felt betrayed by you.

A subtle smile played on Charles’s lips as the sound of the shower resonated in the room, accompanied by your soft hum of a song he couldn’t name. The ambiance of the hotel room cocooned him in a profound sense of peace, and in that moment, he wished he could stay here eternally with you. Kissing you, touching you, inside of you.

When he heard the buzzing of a phone on the table beside the bed, he instinctively reached for it without glancing at the screen, presuming it to be his own. Given the context of it being a race weekend, early morning phone calls were expected. 

“Bonjour?” Hello? He let out a cough, clearing his throat from the sound of sleep and satiated desire. The subtle rasp carried with it the traces of his happiness.

“Ah bonjour, hello, this is Camille with Christian Dior.” The woman’s voice echoes into Charles’ ear. He sits up immediately, back against the headboard. His first thought was ‘why is Christian Dior calling me?’ but it wasn’t that abnormal either. Companies reached out to him all the time for collaborations. “I am calling regarding the application we received for the internship and wanted to schedule and in-person meeting.”

Charles felt his stomach twist in knots as he listened to Camille chatter into the phone. Application? Internship? Moving the phone from his ear, he looked at the phone realizing that it was in fact yours and not his. This call was for you, not him. Camille’s voice was muffled as it was pulled away from his ear. 

A wave of nausea coursed through Charles, the unexpected revelation at the possibility of you leaving hitting him hard. How could you just apply for another job like that? He felt himself growing antsy and restless as thoughts swirled in his head. Camille, who was confused by the silence, mumbled something about calling back later due to the lack of response from Charles.

He dropped the phone onto the duvet of the bed, standing up and pacing the room while he felt himself begin to question everything. Questioning why you would leave. Does he not give you enough? Was it too much to handle? As his thoughts droned on, taking a turn for the worse, he began to feel angry. Angry that you considered leaving this job. He began to see red.

“Qu’est-ce qui ne va pas?” What’s wrong? You were cautious, not standing too close to him to give him some space. His head whipped in your direction almost too quickly. 

Your attention was drawn to the wrinkle lines etched on Charles’s forehead, marking the aftermath of his furrowed eyebrows. The subtle creases and wrinkles, usually absent in is carefree demeanor, painted you a picture of his current inner turmoil. When you shifted your gaze to meet with his narrowed eyes, the cautious padding of your bare feet seemed to echo.

It was an unfamiliar sight to witness Charles engulfed in such a storm of emotions. The stark contrast to his usual carefree and joyful demeanor.  He was blinded by his rage as he muttered the next words.

“Es-tu idiote?” Are you stupid? His jaw was clenched. A soft gasp left your lips as you clutched tighter onto the top of your towel, feeling rather exposed now. “Demande à Christian Dior.” Ask Christian Dior. His spat out the name Christian Dior with such disdain. As if it were dirt on the bottom of his shoe.

Your eyes widened, everything clicking. You weren’t sure how he knew, but he was answering your internal thoughts before words could form on your tongue.

“Ils t’ont appelé. J’ai répondu par erreur.” They called you. I answered by mistake. He let out a loud sigh as he leaned against the dresser across from the end of the bed, his forearms flexing as he gripped onto it tightly. You noticed the definition of his muscles and veins forming on his arms. He was squeezing the dresser, trying to gain some relief from such anger swirling within him.

At first, you wanted to argue him for answering your phone. But you knew him. You knew he wasn’t snooping. He said it was a mistake, so you took his word for it.

“Qu’ont-ils dit?” What did they say? You weren’t sure how to approach this conversation with him. You especially were not expecting it to go this way, with you wrapped in only a cotton towel.

His eyes narrowed to an almost imperceptible slit, the vibrant green drained from any warmth of presence. “Are you serious?” The exasperation in his voice reverberated through the room. Your question seemed to strike a nerve, leaving him incredulous. Was that all you had to say? The absence of an explanation hung in the air, adding more tension to the charged atmosphere between you two.

“Ne me crie pas dessus.” Don’t yell at me. You felt your own anger building at his attitude. Who did he think he was? You padded back to your suitcase, grabbing whatever outfit you could without paying attention. You weren’t sure what you even grabbed or if it even matched, but you didn’t care. You were too busy listening to Charles raise his voice.

“Don’t walk away from me.” He pushed off the dresser, trailing behind you. “What is this internship you applied for?”

You didn’t answer right away, instilling more anger within Charles. “Answer me. You’re just going to leave like always?” His tone struck you with disbelief, the harshness leaving an unexpected sting. The air was too intense. You needed to get some air.

Like always?

You turned and faced him. “Are you asking me as my boss or my fuck buddy?” You knew it was a low blow, but it was so unfair for him to be this mean to you. It wasn’t even necessarily his words but his tone that bothered you most. He spoke to you as if you were a child who needed punishing.

You had a shirt half-way over your head and black leggings on. “It’s just a summer internship. I didn’t even do the interview yet, but you seem to know that already.” You waved him off, rushing around the room to get your stuff. You needed to get out of here. You weren’t going to sit here and let him berate you.

“You can’t just leave.” He followed you to the door, gripping your wrist to pull you back towards him. You yanked your arm out of his grip.

“You’re just like everyone else.” His words tumbled out incoherently, much like uncontrollable word vomit. He could feel the panic rising in him as you made your way towards the door. “Right. Use me and then leave. It’s all I’m good for.”

His words twisted your stomach, and you chose to overlook the burning ache in your heart.

“Fine. Just go fuck your ex-boyfriend or something. Or Lando. I know he wants you.” He stood there, chest heaving up and down with his heavy breaths. You pulled the door open, standing in the frame, you took one last glance at him.

“Va te faire foutre.” Go fuck yourself. And with that you were out the door.

-

“Je n’arrive pas à le croire!” I can’t believe him! “C’est vraiment un connard.” He’s really such an asshole.

“Babes, you’re g’na need to speak in English for me to understand,” he laughed before taking a sip of his beer, “you muppet.”

You playfully rolled your eyes at Lando, seated across from you in the elegant ambiance of the hotel restaurant. Adorned in a snug black dress, every curve of your figure accentuated, the crystal jewels meticulously tracing the contours of your breasts. The garment displayed a subtle dip between your cleavage, adding an enthralling touch. It was safe to say you looked fucking good. Or as Lando said, “holy fucking shit, you took the air out of my lungs.” Which in response, you couldn’t resist a playful shove to his shoulder.

In the aftermath of the argument with Charles, you found yourself in the company of Lando, driven partly by Charles’s mention of him. Despite the strained circumstances, your connection with Lando remained strictly platonic. However, Lando’s penchant for flirting was a constant, adding a playful dynamic that colored your friendship. Thankfully for Lando, he was the reason you were able to even get a change of clothes seeing as you left the hotel room earlier in complete disarray. It was still your day off, one that was originally supposed to be spent with Charles. Lorenzo and Charlotte were still taking care of Charles’s daughter, leaving your night wide open.

“Martin’s driver is picking us up soon,” Lando declared, drowning the remainder of his beer and emphatically slamming the bottle onto the table. There was still two more days before the race weekend began, meaning Lando wanted to go out to which you agreed easily. Meanwhile, you maintained a composed sip from your glass of wine. With a playful glint in his eye, Lando added, “Get your dance moves ready muppet.” The prospect of the evening ahead seemed to carry a promise of lively escapades.

Your laughter echoed, creating a buoyant atmosphere as you seamlessly fell into a comfortable conversation with Lando. His easy-going nature and banter helped soothe the lingering nerves from the earlier argument with Charles. In that moment, you felt nothing but gratitude for Lando’s presence.

-

The vibrant lights of the club painted the atmosphere in a kaleidoscope of colors, while the unmistakable scent of alcohol lingered in the air. The club pulsated with energy of the intoxicated crowd, bodies swaying to the vibrations of music surrounding them. It wasn’t until you reached the DJ booth that you felt a wave of reassurance wash over you. 

The night unfolded with a multitude of shots, some in which you had to pretend to take, just to save yourself from vomiting on the floor. The music provided a lively group, thus creating a joyous atmosphere. You surrendered to the rhythm, dancing through the hours, deliberately steering clear of thoughts about the brunette Monegasque who typically occupied your mind.

As you slid out of the booth, making your way to the bathroom, you finally pulled your phone out of your purse. The screen was littered with missed calls and multiple messages, most from nonetheless Charles.

from Charles (dilf)    Where are you?                                              18:45 You’re such a brat.                                          19:19 Really? You’re with Lando?                             22:47 Could your dress be any fucking shorter?    22:51 Tu essaies de me tuer                                  01:27 You’re really testing my patience                01:46

You didn’t answer. Feeling triumphant as you snickered to yourself at his messages, him clearly struggling with the concept of you being out with Lando. Slipping the phone back into your purse, you continued your night, leaving all worries behind. Because if you didn’t, the mere reality of the argument with Charles would have you vomiting on the floor.

-

It was honestly insane how the sun was just beginning to rise. Yet, you and Lando were just stepping foot into the hotel not even a few minutes ago, drunken laughter between you both as you exited the elevator to Lando's floor. No doubt, pictures of you and Lando surfacing all over the internet tonight. But you weren’t worried about that. What you were worried about was the angry brunette standing outside of Lando’s hotel room door, his arms crossed, and eyes tired as if he didn’t sleep the entire night.

You and Lando both sobered up quickly from the sight of him, brooding in front of the hotel door. Charles opened his mouth, utilizing both of your native tongue to exclude Lando from the conversation.

“Tu es putain de sérieuse?” Are you fucking serious? The harsh tone he used drew you back to the argument that had occurred earlier in the day. Or should you say yesterday?

“Que fais-tu ici?” What are you doing here?

He rolled his eyes, teeth gritting as he looked over to Lando smiling beside you with his hotel room key in hand. “Muppet, are you sleeping over, or no? I’m tired.”

Charles didn’t afford you a moment to respond before swiftly shutting him down. The gaze he directed at Lando carried a lethal intensity, a silent warning that spoke volumes. “Absolutely fucking not.” Charles’s grip tightened on your arm, an assertive pull guiding you down the hallway toward the elevator. Surprisingly, you didn’t resist, allowing the momentum to carry you forward. You looked back at Lando who had a smirk on his face and winked at you. What a fucker.

The elevator enveloped you both in an oppressive silence, interrupted only by rhythmic beeping accompanying each floor you ascended. Charles maintained a deliberate gap between you, yet his hand remained firmly clasped around your wrist. In the mirrored surface of the doors, your eyes locked onto each other, breaths syncing. As the doors finally opened, Charles propelled you out with a gentle push, his body behind yours. 

It wasn’t until you both stepped into the hotel room that Charles unleashed a torrent of emotions upon you. His voice, thick with a mixture of anger, jealousy, hurt, and worry, carried the weight of the pent-up emotions he had been harboring. He had seen the stories, the posts, and even the photos of you at dinner, images captured by fans.

The way you smiled at Lando in the pictures had him throwing his phone. And don’t even get him started on the dress. The fucking dress.

“Do you like Lando?” He sneered, jealousy bubbling inside of his chest.

And because you felt like stirring the pot even more, you smirked. “Yes.” And although it was the truth, it wasn’t what Charles thought. You felt bad as you saw his face fall, but he deserved it just for a little bit at the very least.

You could feel all the thoughts racing through Charles head before he pulled you both towards the balcony, staring at the city skyline instead of at you. He pinched the bridge of his nose, his voice thickening with emotion, “What about me? What about us?”

“As a friend.” You finally announced, turning your body to fully face Charles. “I like Lando as a friend, Cha.” You confirmed, a groan leaving your lips. “Do we have to do this right now? I’m so tired and my feet hurt.”

“Oui.” Allowing no room for further complaints, Charles pulled you into an embrace, his arms enveloping you and effectively trapping you between the warmth of his body and the balcony railing. He nestled his head in the crook of your neck, finding a moment of relief in the reassurance that you were back, and in his arms. The tight hold on you spoke of relief.

“You’re mine,” He states. “Label or no label.” He's possessive in the way he speaks and touches you. Like he needs to get his point across. You feel him laugh as his fingers trail around your front side, trailing down until he can slip them up the front of your dress, pressing his fingers to your lace covered core. It was almost too easy. The dress was so short.

The desperate ache in the pit of your tummy grows with each swipe of his thumb along your covered clit. You began to forget why you were even fighting in the first place, his hands on you felt too good. You lulled your head back against him, making more room for his lips to attack on your neck.

Your ability to articulate words faltered, your legs turning to jell-o under his embrace. With one arm securely wrapped around your waist, he became your anchor, ensuring that you remained standing. 

“You want my fingers?” His lips are hot on your ear. He slips his fingers beneath your underwear, feeling just how wet you really are. It was almost too easy. “So fucking wet and warm, mmm.” He groans as he slips one finger inside of you, moving it so slowly that you began to get frustrated with the pace. Your hips rut, trying to speed up his fingers, but he holds you in place removing your ability to move.

Your body begins to tremble as he increases the pace of his finger, inserting another one and curling it, hitting the spot you ached most. You want to cum so badly; you want to soak his fingers and tremble around them. “So greedy.” He takes your ear lobe in between his teeth, nibbling gently on it before trailing his tongue down the rest of your neck. “Taking my fingers so well.”

You groaned, his words pushing you towards your climax quicker than anticipated. He could tell you close with the way you were squeezing his fingers so tightly, and the way your words were almost incoherent. As soon as your arm reached back, your fingers brushing through his hair, he pulled his fingers out of you.

“No!” You half-shrieked at the loss of contact, pulling his hair in the process. Your face blushed and eyebrows furrowed from the loss of his fingers.

“Tell me you’re mine.” He flips your body around, your back flush against the balcony railing now. The breeze continues to blow your hair around, no doubt making a mess of it.

“You tell me you’re mine.” You bite back, refusing to say it first. Charles began laughing, it reverberated in his chest. 

“Oh, mon ange.” He ignores what you say, trailing his eyes down your body. “This fucking dress.” His words are sharp as he begins gripping the ends of your dress and shoving it upwards, exposing you completely to him now. He placed a quick slap of his finger tips to your clit, the shock and sting of the slap turning you on more than you could imagine.

He pulls you forward, hands squeezing your neck, the area right under your jaw line to be more specific, lips immediately pressing against yours. There was nothing gentle about this kiss. It was hot, messy, and wet. A clashing of teeth and tongue as he sucked on your tongue. Leaving you almost no room to breathe in the process. But you didn’t mind, his kisses were intoxicating.

The firm presence of Charles’s hand on your neck persisted, the subtle pressure from the pads of his fingers inducing a dizzying effect. It was a tactile reminder of his control, a touch that left your head spinning, and wanting more. “I’ve always been yours.” He doesn’t let you respond before he’s pulling your lips back to his. This time, his fingers slip back into your heated core, assaulting and curling them just how you needed them. You breathed hotly into his mouth as your orgasm crashed over you. It was quick and hot. Charles could’ve sworn he was going to cum right in his pants at the feeling of you squeezing his fingers, coating them in you. He’s never been more jealous of his fingers in his life.

He flips you around again, fumbling with the button of his pants as he shoves them down, them falling to a pile around his ankles. He wasn’t slow, rubbing the tip of his cock through your slick folds, he teased you both for a little bit.

When he finally slipped into you, you swore you were going to cum again. You had to squeeze the railing harder to prevent yourself from doing so. You wanted to cum with him. 

“Squeezing me so well.” He moaned, the wind picking up and the only glimmer of light was from the sun barely peeping over the horizon. You couldn’t believe you were doing this, out in the open of a hotel balcony, but the thrill of it made it that much more exciting.

“Tu aimes ça, hm?” You like that? He pushes you forward so that your chest was pressed to the railing, your head dangling over the edge as you looked down from the height of the building. Everything looked so small from this height. “Want the whole world to know you’re mine.” He continues.

“Want to fill you up.” You clench hard around him, soft moans escaping your lips into the air in response. Charles couldn’t help but feel his heart pound as he muttered the next words. “Want to fill you up with my cum, want to fuck a baby into you.” 

At first, he was nervous muttering the words aloud. But the clench of your pussy around his cock only eased his nerves. Your moans increasing in volume told him just how much you liked that too.

“Merde,” Shit. You were mewling into the open air, the increase in pace of his hips had you seeing stars. 

“Are you gonna let me?”

“Yes!” You were yelling it repeatedly. His fingers crawled their way around your body, slipping into the dip in the front of your dress and pinching your nipples. He rolled your nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

“C’mon donne-le moi.” Give it to me. And boy did you. You both came with a loud cry, the sound of his hips slapping into your backside a faint noise compared to the moans. The warmth of his cum seeping into you for the second time in less than 24 hours. Although, you were on the pill, you still liked to play along with the idea of being pregnant. The idea of Charles filling you up turned you on like no other.

You both took a few seconds to recoup, trying to catch your breath. He pulled out slowly, but brought his fingers down, pushing the mixture of both of your cum back inside you. He didn’t want a single drop of it to go to waste. 

He turned you around, bringing your lips to a sweet kiss.

“Je suis désolée.” I’m sorry.  His eyes hold your own. “I should’ve said it sooner. I didn’t mean any of it, I swear. The idea of you leaving had me freaked out, you didn’t deserve any of it. You..”

A small smile graces your lips as you see how genuine he is and you lean up on your tippy toes, bringing your lips back to his. Essentially shutting him up, his hands wrap back around you, lifting you off the ground as he carries you back into the hotel room, both of you collapsing into the bed.

“Even if I got a new job, I’m still yours.” You started. “But actually, there’s this great nanny job I heard about.” Charles feels panic forming in his chest again. But you continue on, “It involves the cutest little girl ever. I also heard that the dad is so hot and cool. Did I mention he’s single?” You joke, laughter erupting between the both of you as he cradles you into his body.

“I don’t think he’s single.”

“Yeah. He definitely isn’t.”

And that was all he needed to hear.

[joosthead]

touch tank || j.k. f!reader

WARNING #1: explicit real person fiction ahead, dni if below 18. dni if anti-rpf

WARNING #2: explicit rpf/real person fiction content ahead. read at your own risk. dni if anti rpf, dni or read ahead if you simply don’t like rpf lol

₊˚⊹⋆ prompt(s): 16S) the classic “oh, let me help you put some sunscreen on” but then the little massage turns into something more

part 2 of just too soft for all of it — this is a standalone fic but both of these are set in the same universe if you want some more : )

₊˚⊹⋆ reader: f!reader, gets referred to as joost’s girlfriend. notfamous!reader. if you are a person who does not tan/burns—pretend that you can tan easily for this fic😭 exploration into joost and normal!reader’s dynamic. little bit opposite aesthetic reader

₊˚⊹⋆ word count: 7.7k

₊˚⊹⋆ cw: smut (oily massage, f!receiving oral+eating from back, unprotected piv, outdoors [but still private] sex, creampie), perfect world w perfect temperatures and pools, quite sappy lol didn’t know i could top jtsfaoi but here we are, google translate dutch. note: ice lolly/popsicle in mind. yes this is important. idk if they have these in nl but they do now < 3

WARNING #3: rpf ahead—don't like it, don't read it. do not repost this on any other platform, screenshots or text alike. do not click ahead if you don’t want to read rpf. do not interact if you are below 18. how to block tags/words on tumblr.

₊˚⊹⋆ track(s) of the fic: “touch tank” by quinnie, “love is strange” by mickey & sylvia, “pink in the night” by mitski

₊˚⊹⋆ junote: i really wanted to combine this with prompt 14 but i couldn't make it work : ( i do have requests for that that i’ll fulfill so stay tuned teehee !! sorry this took so long, i am a perfectionist and absolutely adore this prompt so—here you guys go !! enjoy : 3

₊˚⊹⋆translation: "Kun je me hier voelen, diep in je?" - "Can you feel me here, deep in you?"

18+ only — explicit rpf content ahead, minors dni, anti rpf dni. 4th and final warning!

Because your life is so perfect, the day after your meltdown and subsequent putting back together (courtesy of Joost), your area gets hit with the worst heatwave of the summer. 

You guess that this is some cruel tactic of the universe to make its stars align for you in any way it can. The unbearable beams of sunlight beaming down upon you the moment you exit Joost and your shared home into the backyard. “Are you sure we should have a day outside?” you call back behind you, putting on your sunglasses. “Shouldn’t we just chill inside and watch something?” 

Joost comes up behind you, arm snaking around your waist, lips planted on your cheek in a second. “Some sunlight will be very good for you, you’re always holed up in the office or library,” he mumbles into your shoulder, covered by the baby-blue cotton fabric of one of his button ups. “You can bear it.”

You shake your head, but keep walking forward down the steps anyways, sandals slapping against the small wood deck. “I think the heat might kill me.” 

“It won’t—I won't let it!” Joost exclaims proudly, letting you go and going ahead of you. Even without seeing his face, you know how big of a smile he’s got on his lips. 

The pool sloshes on its own, the aqua blue water spilling over the sides and darkening the gray pavement next to it. On one of your loungers, Joost sets down the tote bag he prepared of towels, sunscreen, the change of clothes you’ll wear when you go back inside. You woke up to it this morning, along with a butcher paper wrapped breakfast sandwich and a glass of water. A text accompanied it—he would be out back, taking the cover off the pool and setting everything up. 

Usually, you're the one setting everything up, preferring to have it your own specific way, but—you chose peace last night, going straight to bed after taking that bath together  After these few years together, Joost may not be as Type A as you, but he can certainly hold his own now around the household. 

Your backyard is a quaint sight: the fence lined with various flower bushes, clean cut grass all around. A tree stands in the corner, roots surrounded by a ring of decorative rocks and pink carnations—there isn’t much either of you have done to upkeep any of it, but somehow, they bloom year after year. Your loungers are baby blue, covered in the towels that Joost has set out, the tote bag spilling over on the left one. 

It's almost like you’ve taken an outing to the beach and you're not in the little old house you’ve lived in for the past few years. Any day with Joost is that extravagant, he makes it that way. Already, you can relax, your shoulders lowering as you sit down on the edge of your lounger and watch as Joost squats, running his fingers along the surface of the water in silence. 

Low on his hips, Joost’s swim trunks are black and needlessly designer, just the way he likes them. He’s shirtless, the expanse of his back to you—his own name is tattooed on his right shoulder in some sans-serif script he must’ve liked before he ever met you, and in this sunlight, you wish in secret to see your own next to it.  

“You’re staring, lieverd,” Joost remarks over his shoulder, giving the water one final splash as he stands up and you smile. 

“How could I not?”

“I’m just too beautiful, aren’t I?” He comes over to you, standing in front of you and shielding you from the sun. “You ready to get in the pool?” 

Behind your sunglasses, you squint up at him and nod. “Put on some music and I’ll go.”

Goofy as always, he salutes to you and marches away like some Supreme swim trunk clad soldier. As he sets up the speaker on the far side of the pool, you unbutton your shirt, get ready to slip off your flip flops, but in your pocket, your phone vibrates. 

You check it—it’s an email from your supervisor, asking you to look over a few files for her. Regardless of your big day out taking up your time…it’s a Saturday. And yet you still find yourself about to respond, about to start typing when Joost places his big hand over your phone screen, saying, “We can look at that later, yeah?” Your grip on the phone loosens; he’s right, you can look at that later. There’s still a part of you that wants to reply, scared of what the consequences will be if you don’t, but—“Today will be great.” Taking your face in his hands, he presses a kiss to your forehead. “Come, now.” 

You stand up and he slips off your button up for you, dropping it on the deck chair. You adjust the strings of your bikini; white and blue and flowery, patterned like a delicate porcelain vase, so pretty on you and Joost tells you such.

Turning to him, you hold your hands out to the side, showing yourself off. Joost’s hand comes up to your collarbone to fidget with the matching necklaces you both have that you wear now—pearl pendants in dainty silver cages attached to short chains and these green and tarnished (“well-loved,” Joost calls them) old halves of a “BEST FRIENDS FOREVER” heart-shaped necklace from a Claire’s you both visited on a trip to America. He wears them both today, too, chains intertwined and tangled as always. 

“Do you realize how pretty you are? Zo mooi mijn liefste,” Joost says, taking your hand and twirling you around for a better look—he wolf whistles, and it makes you laugh, cheeks warming with his eyes on you. 

“With how much you tell me, I think I’m starting to realize it.” 

“Very glad,” he says, pulling you in for a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll tell you more then.” 

Grinning, you pull away and make for the pool steps, but not before Joost taps you on the ass; you act scandalized, dropping your mouth open, narrowing your eyes at him, but it’s lighthearted, and just makes you want to finish what you started last night. “Smokeshow!” he whisper yells through his cupped hands around his mouth as you walk forward and to the side of the pool—it’s still morning, and your neighbours are weird about noise. This is his version of being considerate of that. Too bad for them that you moved Joost Klein into your once quiet home. 

Dipping a toe into the water, you immediately suck in a breath through your teeth at how cold it is. Even with the tarp and the sun shining down upon it for hours, the water still nips at your skin, something in your brain perceiving it to be freezing and impossible to step into. “Ew,” you mutter, and Joost snickers from behind you. 

“Baby can’t handle it?” he teases. 

“Not true,” you mumble, going down the second step, ankle deep, and immediately scrambling out of the water. “Jesus Christ, what the fuck?” 

“You’re surprised that water is supposed to be cool?” 

“It’s not supposed to be that cool.” 

“Come here.” You turn around, walk right up to him. Even without shoes, you still have to look up at Joost, and he smiles right down at you—you know that’s going to happen. “C’mon. Jump, schatje,” he says, tapping the backs of your thighs, so you do—he can carry you with ease, all the times he’s brought you upstairs this way, all the drunken piggybacks he’s given you. You wrap your arms around his neck, wrap your legs around him tightly, while he has his hands under your ass. “Good, baby.” 

He takes the opportunity to press a kiss to your neck, then starts forward down the pool steps, slowly so you can adjust. “Agh!” you yelp softly as he moves further into the pool, the cold water coming up around your body, engulfing you. The temperature is a shock to your system, though the way it cools your hot skin is so, so welcome. It isn’t as cold like this. 

“Is it okay?” 

“I’m okay,” you say, though you hug him closer to get any sort of warmth on you. 

“Are you sure?” he laughs, and you nod, still clinging onto him like a little bear. “You’re so cute. I think I deserve a kiss for that.” 

“One for carrying me,” you say, kissing him on his soft lips. “Another for setting all of this up.” You kiss him again, and Joost deepens it, somehow squeezing your body even tighter to his, tongue teasing at your mouth as he squeezes your ass, as you rest your hands on his chest.  “Have we ever done it in a pool?” you ask once you pull away. 

“Never.” Joost gives you one last peck, one last kiss on the jaw as he smiles at you. “Do you think today is the day?”

“Maybe. We’ll see.” 

—

After around an hour of wading around—you’ve both decided that today is not the day to do it in a pool. It’s too hot, even with the cold water you’re situated in. Not even your house or the tree in the corner of the yard provides good shade for the water as the day gets later, the sun beating down on your shoulders; it would turn into a burn if you were that unlucky, but you, however, are not. 

In the morning when you first stepped out, the pool was still shaded and you and Joost could do whatever you wanted: breath holding contests, Joost trying (and failing) to do a handstand underwater, racing each other across and back several times like this was some backyard Olympics. After a bit, you floated on your backs together, laughing about what the water feels like in your ears, laughing about how terrible he is at floating. Finally, you felt all of the worries from the past month melt away and into the water as you gazed up at the blue sky above you. 

You heard it before it came—Joost swiping the surface of the water, making a large splash that drenched your face as you floated. You exclaimed, “You dick!” and freed yourself from your float to splash him back in the face hard, then he feigned the hurt and sorrow that fills one’s heart after chlorine fills their waterlines, rubbing at his eyes—you weren’t not going to come over and dote on him, but then he splashed you back as you looked over his red eyes, and it made you splash him back even more. 

Noise be damned, you were both laughing and shrieking and splashing for around an hour—in the midst of your splash war, you noticed how pink Joost’s shoulders were, the beginnings of a nasty sunburn afoot with the afternoon sun shining down on both of you. You shooed him out of the pool and into the refuge of the umbrella covering your lounge chairs, and started to rummage in the bag before he sprung up from his seat. 

“Wait, wait, wait! Before I forget—” Joost exclaims, running back up the stairs and into your house. A minute or two passes, and he comes back with his hands behind his back, closing the sliding door shut with his foot. In front of him, he holds out a twin popsicle—two sticks encapsulated by sweet red syrup and already melting in its package. “Ijslolly!” He presents it to you as he comes down the stairs, then bows to you deeply and dramatically, which makes you laugh. “Here you go, m’lady,” he says, then tips his imaginary fedora to you because. Because of course he would—anyone else, it would make you cringe, but it’s Joost. Perfectly goofy, perfectly sweet, perfectly Joost. 

You laugh as he opens the wrapper and splits the popsicle in two—one for him, one for you. “Thank you, kind sir,” you giggle, playing along. “Where’d you even get this?” you ask, taking your half and licking at the melting syrup already dripping onto your hand. 

“I went to the store while you were sleeping,” Joost says proudly, biting into the popsicle. “It’s strawberry, do you like?” 

Walking forward, you nod and get up on your tiptoes to give him a kiss. “I love.” 

He beams at you, sits down, chomps at his popsicle while you eat yours; he puts his hat and sunglasses back on and you do the same, and you sit together as the music plays for you. 

A new Charli xcx song, Joost and Käärijä’s recent collaboration, an incredibly sexual recent Ski Aggu release that you make a note of texting him “???” about later. 

Before you know it, you’re left with a red-stained stick, a red-stained mouth, a satisfied sweet tooth. “Okay, Joosty. Sunscreen time.” He gives you an exaggerated grumble but sits down at the edge of the lounger nonetheless, and you stand between his legs, taking the sunscreen from behind him and uncapping it. “You need it more than I do.” 

“Shush,” he says, but lets you take out two fingers worth of sunscreen, lets you take off his sunglasses and spread the sunscreen on his cheeks, rubbing it in. You can’t resist him and his pretty face, dusted pink cheeks, ocean blue eyes looking up at you through long blonde eyelashes. 

You’re so distracted by his face that you don’t pay attention to where you’re going—“Oops,” you giggle. “I got sunscreen on your mustache.”

“Oops,” he repeats. “I don’t mind.”

Hands on the backs of your thighs, Joost pulls you close by them and presses a kiss to your stomach, then hugs you tight around your waist. Automatically, your hands come up to play with his hair, combing your fingers through the strands. “All of your sunscreen is going on my stomach, Joost.” 

“Don’t care. You think if I lay out in the sun for long enough, it’ll bleach my hair more?” 

You snicker, “The heat will singe you to pieces before it can even bleach your hair.”

Sighing, he presses another kiss to your stomach. “You’re lucky. You get to tan today.”

“I ran out of my oil in Cuba, Joosty, I can’t.” A couple’s vacation with Appie and Alanis in Havana, feels like so long ago even though it’s only been two months. Fruity cocktails on the beach (and in your hotel room, and at the bar, and in the club, and…), running down hallways, fussing over Joost’s sunburned cheeks, Joost ogling you sunbathing but unable to do anything out of respect for your friends right next to you. You should have picked up another tub, but you weren’t exactly expecting to be tanning back in Amsterdam anyways. 

“You can't, or you won't? Look in the bag,” Joost mumbles into your tummy. You lean over behind him and reach into the tote—most of the other things have already spilled out and onto the lounger behind him: your sunglasses, two droom groot caps, the wrapper of your popsicle, a cheap film camera, and…a brand new tub of coconut oil. Your favourite brand. He must’ve picked it up on his trip to the store this morning, and you laugh, “You're so sweet.” 

“Mm-mm,” Joost hums. “That’s you, lieverd. You should lie down, I’ll put the oil so you can tan your back.”

Cocking an eyebrow at him, you snort, “Feels like you have something up your sleeve, Klein.”

He grins a toothy smile up at you—“Maybe I do.”

Joost gets up and moves all of the things to the other lounger, allowing you to lie on it on your stomach. You wiggle around a little on it, settling into the soft cushion, your back already stretching with your position. 

“I will be a great masseuse, schatje, don’t you worry. “ Careful not to put too much weight on you, Joost straddles the backs of your thighs. 

“Should I be worried?”

“No.”

“I feel like I should be worried.”

“Don’t be.” From behind you, he gets up, and you turn around to see what he’s doing—he gets your/his button up from the other chair and slips it on. “No more burning today for me.” 

You nod as he settles back on you, and you hear the sound of your little coconut oil tub being opened, the safety seal being ripped off, the clicking of his tongue at it ripping off unevenly. The air is a comfortable blanket of warmth upon you now, your worries melting away with it as you wait for Joost. 

“Can you untie the string around my back?” you ask before you forget. 

A few beats of silence pass until Joost finally says—“What?” 

“Is there a problem?”

“Why untie?” 

Joost’s voice has deepened an octave—almost grave, the tone of his voice is, because all of the possibilities in his mind floating around. Just your bare back and its expanse in front of him.

“I don’t want a tan line,” you explain. “Untie it and I won’t get one.” 

“Okay,” he affirms, though sounding uneasy as he undoes the tight strings of your halter top, the strings around your torso. He swipes them out of his way, and you assume the pause in his movement is to dip his fingers in the coconut oil and warm it up for you. 

Your assumption is right. In a minute or so, Joost’s big hands smooth across your back, firm yet gentle—he knows exactly how to handle you. The oil provides a lovely glide for his palms against your skin, and it smells so great; the pressure he’s applying is perfect on you, and you let out a little mewl of pleasure. The knots in your back are melting away with every swipe of his hands across it and you have to ask—“Where’d you learn to give such a great massage, Joost?”

“A magician never reveals his secrets.” 

Even if you tried, you couldn’t deduce how he learned to do this; maybe you’re just super tired from the last month (very likely) or he was a masseuse in his past life, but you’re already less tense with his hands on you. He digs his thumbs into the small of your back and rubs circles into it as you sigh in contentment at how it feels.

“I like this song,” Joost mumbles as it changes to this one you found years ago, some song about baby blue shirts, how pretty he looks going down on you.

“Mhm,” you hum.

“Seems very appropriate for the situation, right?” Eyes closed, you smile with his fingertips hovering just above your skin, a pause now in his treatment for you. “Can I…you know…” with his finger, Joost writes a small J, one, two, three times, on your back and sliding with the oil waiting for your response. 

“Massage me for a little more, I’ll think about it.”

“Fine,” he breathes, then gets back to work. 

Joost smoothes his hands over your back muscles; first over the top, over your trapezius, then up to your shoulders. He pinches a little around the shoulders, gliding over the smooth skin there. Hands sticky with oil, the solid melts with the sun-warmed dip of your spine, the valley of your back before him. The dip is perfect to smell, perfect to kiss; perfect to put a light hand on in public and a harsher grip on in private. With every movement of his hands, it smells more like coconut, smells less like you, and Joost has to resist the urge to bend down and nose at it to get your scent back. Every movement is accompanied by a little—a little breath. A little happy sigh from you, and it makes him go insane with every press of his hands against you. 

You’re much more refined than he is, more able to keep it together; if Joost was in your position, he knows he’d be a mess under you, quick and fast and easy. You’re his favourite person—the wave of your hand could bring him to his knees. Taking care of you comes so easily to him, even if he’s so commonly doted upon by other people. This feeling—no wonder you like taking care of him as much as you do. 

Today is so happy, a day that’ll get him through weeks and shows to come without you, long days on the tour bus wishing you could be by his side. Joost got through yesterday, his flight, the ride home using the prospect of you, seeing you, to get by. Then he got home, and seeing you was all he could look forward to after being away for what felt like forever, and he finally did, and he was so overjoyed and then—then you were crying, and he felt so sad that all he could do was hold you. He wants badly to understand why. 

“Can I ask…can I ask why you cried yesterday, lieverd?” Joost adds in a soft voice, still running his hands firmly over your sore muscles, “It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it right now, I understand. But I’d like to know sometime, so we can help you feel better.”

You’ve known since the moment you started crying that you’d have to talk about it sometime. Sharing everything with each other is the way your relationship is, how it always has been—you thought about it in the bath with him, his chest against your back, deep and tired voice reverberating with it. How to word it as he played the first track on the new album, so crazy experimental and unlike anything you’ve ever heard from him before. Thought about it in the pool, thinking about it now. 

“I just…I’m probably the most mundane part of your life. There’s this little voice in my head, maybe it’s what I think people are saying about me—‘You’re telling me Joost Klein couldn’t find someone more interesting?’” You think back to an offhand Tweet you saw come up on your timeline, 10 angry quote tweets already defending you, no likes, but it still sticks to the back of your mind like some aggravating super glue: “‘His girlfriend doesn’t even do music or anything special and she still can't show up for him.’ I don’t travel like you do, I’m not always making music or doing things. And still, I couldn’t be there for you. 

I watch you at your shows and you’re this…enigma, you’re amazing. I want to be as good as you, I wanna show you off like you show me off. But there’s always something in the way. My schedule, or university, or work.” It’s truly difficult now not to feel like you overshared, dumped something on him that maybe you weren’t prepared to dump on him—a cloud shadows the sun, just at the right moment, and the parts of your skin not already touched by the umbrella’s shade are cooled momentarily. “Or maybe I’m just not trying hard enough for you.”

“I’m not flashy,” you say softly, settling on your forearms. “My way of being flashy is the way I love you, and I don’t know if I’ll ever think it compares to how you do it. I feel bad, that’s all. Like I could be doing more for you in every way.” Whatever it is, whether or not you were prepared to say it—it’s out now. “‘Cause you deserve it, you always do.” Blindly, you reach behind you and hold your hand out for him to hold, and he does, squeezing it tightly. Your cheeks warm, and it’s certainly not because of the temperature outside anymore. “I’m sorry I killed the vibe.” 

From behind you, you hear a sniffle, and you raise your head and look back, alarmed. Joost wipes a tear away with his other hand, laughs a sniffly laugh as you laugh, “Joooost. You’re gonna make me cry.”

“No, no, no vibe killing in this house.” You crane your head back again, pursing your lips, and he leans forward so he can kiss you, then peppers kisses until your shoulder, mumbling, “I should be comforting you, lieverd.”

“It’s okay,” you say softly. “Don’t really need to be comforted, just need to get it through my head that it’s not like that. I’m just sad that you’re sad.” 

Joost rubs your back, though it seems like he needs that more than you do if you’re judging by his sniffles and wavery voice alone. “I never knew you felt that way.”

He wraps his arms around your torso, hugging you close and continues, “If it’s any consolation, which I hope it is—you could never be careless. You set out my favourite sleep clothes for when I got back, favourite snacks, plushies on the bed, a place in the dresser for new stuff.” You have to admit—you were pretty proud of that last idea when you came up with it. “You’re thoughtful, and you’re kind, and I’m so lucky to have you. I love you, I love you. I love you.” 

With every “I love you” is a kiss upon your skin that you can’t see, but feel wholeheartedly anyways. “My muse, my saviour,” he says, and you have to laugh a little. “I mean it, you know I mean it.” And you do, you know it—how could you not when it comes from Joost? “You’re the most extraordinary part of my life, schat. Every show, your presence is there with me, even if you feel you aren’t.” 

“Not true,” you say, voice teasing. “That would be impossible, wouldn’t it?” 

You can feel the roll in his eyes from here, even though you can’t see it. “Yeah, yeah. But you know what I mean, right? Best friends forever, that’s what our necklaces say. Always there for each other. You’re always there with me.”

He kisses your shoulder. The oil is strange on his lips, but he doesn’t mind—it’s you. “Nothing compares to you, everything we have together…I hope you know how I feel now.” Pausing, Joost rests his forehead on the back of your head, breathes you in. “I’m obsessed with you, I think,” he whispers into the nape of your neck, then kisses it, and you laugh with the tickle of his lips, his facial hair against your sunwarmed skin. 

“You are? I didn’t know,” you tease, perking your ass up against Joost on top of you because—somewhere in your conversation, he’s gotten hard, and it’s poking against your thigh now, making you bite your lip. Stroking each other’s egos has gotten you both excited, it seems.  “What’s up with that, hm?” 

“You should know. I’m telling you right now, I’m obsessed with you. And this?” Joost grinds his crotch against you just lightly, kissing the side of your neck as he lowers his voice, “This, I like talking about you too much. You can’t blame me for it, you’re gorgeous.” 

“I don’t think I know how obsessed with me you are yet. Tell me more?” 

“Do I have to tell you, schat?” he says, gentle and low, fingering the delicate ties on your sides and the sensitive skin of your hips under them. His fingers drag down the column of your spine, tease at the edge of your bikini. “I don’t think I have to tell you, right? That I love you, need you?” 

“You don’t? Have to tell me?” 

“I’ll show you.” 

You imagine what he looks like behind you—burnt shoulders, rosy cheeks, dark sunglasses, chlorine dried blonde hair all messy and the tips dripping with water still upon the billowy cotton of his button up. Those blue eyes, blown out at the sight of you underneath him, wandering every lovely curve of your body. Slowly, he unravels the ties that hold both sides of your bottoms together, the nylon springing back against your skin, and you fight the urge to smile in anticipation of Joost all over you soon. 

“You don’t want any tan lines down here?” he asks, fingers already underneath the damp fabric of your swimsuit bottoms. You shake your head no. “Ok, then no tan lines.” 

Joost slips the fabric off of your skin; the dampness makes it cling to you still, though it’s easy enough to take off completely. You hike your leg up for easier access, turn your head so you can get a good look at him. In a sort of headband, his sunglasses are perched atop his head; the button up wrinkled and a bit stained with oil; rightfully, his eyes are half-lidded with want, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his trunks.

“What do you want to do?” Teasing him, you run a finger down his bulge and he smiles at you. Truly, you haven’t a single idea about what Joost wants to do with you next, and it looks like he doesn’t either—until his eyes light up, and you figure that tugging gently at his trunks for him can help expedite the process.

“Can I try something?” 

“Go right ahead.” 

You lie in wait as Joost lowers his shorts, erection springing out and his hand coming to wrap around it and give it a few pumps—you reach behind, running a finger down the slit, and he sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth as he strokes himself, then settles his cock on the soft cleft of your ass and glides it against, between it. 

You laugh, “You’re such a dog, Joost,” but as he ruts gently against you—the little moans he’s doing in your ear, already rambling about how good you feel and he’s not even inside yet, one hand gripping your hip and keeping his cock in place and the other on the back of the lounger so he can keep his balance; this is your personal paradise. 

“Fuck,” Joost whispers, biting his lip. You love a show, and he’s ever the showman—but you’re outside, he’s outside, he’s very aware of your cranky old neighbours, and he loves you and your house. One day, you’ll share the lease together, so he tries and stays quiet for the sake of that dream, so you both won’t get kicked out for verbal indecency today. 

“I know how much you like it, Joost,” you purr from under him, voice muffled by your arms. “You can tell me.” 

From Joost’s point of view, you look like a line in his song, the notes in the margin crafting and tailoring the work to his perfect vision; you look like the fully realized final draft of something he’s been working on for months, trying to find the sound of for years. 

If he could write something about this moment, it would probably result in entire sagas, but for now—keeping you like this close to his chest is a gift only he has. 

“I can’t be eloquent like this,” he laughs, and you have to agree; whatever goes on in that head, he short circuits before he can say it in this state of pleasure. 

Joost pauses his small thrusts, catches his breath. “Go on,” you encourage, but he breathes a quiet, “No. If I go any more, I’ll cum early and that would be so lame, schat.” 

“Not lame. I would personally love to see it.” 

“Mm-mm. We are not doing that today,” he laughs, and the sound makes your heart warm. 

“Put it in,” you say softly, trying to convince him to keep going—it’s so cute how far gone he is already, how hard he’s trying for you. 

“No, no, no. Let me taste you first.”

You cannot argue with that. 

In an instant, you abandon your bikini top, abandon the bottoms too in a crumpled mess on the ground laying on your sandals and his flip flops. “Hands and knees, lieverd,” Joost says, and you follow his direction, settling so you’re on your elbows and your ass is hiked in the air. 

A few moments pass as Joost sits behind you, and you have to ask—“What are you waiting for?”

“Just enjoying the view,” he says, then gives a kiss to your ass cheek, making you giggle. “So impatient today, schat. Is it because I was gone for so long?” Joost moves your knees so they’re spread even wider, giving him more access to you. “How much did you miss me?” A kiss to the back of your thigh, right near your center, your stomach caving in with the deep breath you take in anticipation. 

“I missed you a lot,” you whisper, looking back at him focusing his dilated eyes on your pussy, and your cheeks grow hot at the sight. “Missed you more than you know.”

“Did you?” He licks a tentative stripe up your slit, up even higher over your hole—so sensitive, your knees could shake with only the tip of his tongue teasing you. “Show me, let me hear it, lieverd.” 

“Joost,” you scold, though your arching back reveals your true feelings about what he’s doing.

“Sorry, can’t resist.” He presses a kiss atop it before coming back to your pussy.

So exposed, so vulnerable, so open, Joost’s fingers parting your folds. He spreads them gently so you’re even more open to him and licks in between, drinking from you. The smacking of his lips against you—it’s filthy. You’re so cognizant of the sound; is it unmistakable from outside, Joost’s tongue flicking against your clit, his fingers rubbing circles on where he can’t reach? You hope the sounds of the city outside your flat cover the mewls that spill out of you as he lays his tongue flat against it and laps up your wetness. 

“I think we should get you more tan in the front, too, right, schatje?” Joost says, breathless, and you flip over, laying on your back for him. Before he can get back to business, you cup his chin, pinching it gently between your fingers. His lips are covered in your wetness, glistening with it in the sunlight. You pull him to you, bringing his lips to yours, the salty taste of yourself on your tastebuds, on your chin as well now. 

This all makes you realize—you weren’t wrong at all for missing him so terribly. 

When you pull away, Joost pauses, gazing at your face, brushing your hair out of your eyes. On top of you, lying partly on you, he cups your cheek, silver chain resting on your chest, the pearl pendants and the halves of one heart of the matching necklaces you own together right next to each other. 

“Zo mooi,” he says quietly as he lowers down, kissing your chest right next to your pendants, kissing down between the valley of your breasts, maneuvering so he can graze your nipple with his teeth, flatten his tongue over it. His hand comes up to cup your other breast as he sucks at the bud, then sucks at the skin next to it; that will leave a mark tomorrow, a sweet reminder of your time together. 

Finally, he’s satisfied with his work on you and starts down your body, kissing your stomach, your hips. Before you can even process it, he folds you in half, hands on the backs of your knees; licks one long stripe through your folds, then attaches his lips around your clit, sucking it, forcing a loud and choked moan out of your mouth as he alternates between licking hard at your bud with the tip of his tongue and sucking.

Joost is a fiend for it, devilish look in his eyes, smile on his mouth even when it’s pressed up so close against you—his fingers tease at your dripping wet hole, then his middle fingers are inside you, and then he’s there to the knuckle and petting at your g-spot incessantly. 

Joost knows you inside and out; can already tell that your pretty hands resting on the back of his head and holding him there will result in your fingers tangled in his hair and tugging lightly; knows that a few more seconds of his curling fingers and his tongue on you will make you try and push against his hand still holding you open with your thigh, you’ll fail to do so, and be happier for it. 

You’re too lost in your pleasure to look at him like he wants you to. No matter—you’re a beautiful sight coming undone for him, eyes closed, chest heaving with your breaths, a slight sheen to your skin. “Joost,” you sob quietly as he continues pumping his fingers in and out of you, continuing to lap at your pussy like he’s trying to quench an unquenchable thirst. 

“Mhm? Do you like it, schat?” Joost says against you, the vibrations of his deep voice making you twitch. You nod, and there it is—he pauses to smile when he realizes you're holding his head in its place, burying his face in your center. Who is he not to give you what you want? He drinks you in, and it makes you moan louder. “Keep quiet,” he mumbles. “We wouldn’t want the neighbours to hear, now would we?” 

You’ve come back to reality enough to nod, quiet down a little, but after a few more seconds of him sucking your clit, pistoning his fingers in and out of you, you cum, saying his name over and over again, then whispering it once you realize that yes—you’re still outside. Joost presses one last sloppy kiss against your overstimulated bud, and you nudge his face away with your fingertips, laughing breathlessly. 

Joost laughs too as he settles his cheek on the inside of your thigh, peppering soft kisses to it as he gazes at you; the look in his eyes is so tender, you almost want to look away, but you don’t. You’d take a picture if it wasn’t so glaringly obvious what you were doing before. You cup his other cheek, and he nuzzles further into your thigh, eyes closed. 

For a few moments, you stay like this, catching your breaths, basking in the afterglow of your orgasm together. After a little, Joost wipes his mouth and his cheeks with the back of his hand. “Owie,” Joost winces, reaching back to rub over the spot on his head where you pulled on his hair. “You really enjoyed that, schatje,” he smiles, climbing up over you. 

“I'm sorry,” you say softly, putting your hand over his as he lies down on you, head on your chest. “I shouldn’t have tugged so hard.” 

“It’s okay, it was worth it.” You pet his hair—Joost is so warm, the air is so hot around you, but you’ve never felt better. “I’m so hard it hurts, schat,” he mumbles, and you laugh as he shifts around on top of you, erection through his shorts poking your thigh. 

“Let’s fix that?” 

“I thought you’d never ask.” 

With quickness, Joost is up and off of you, straightened on his knees and parting yours, but you sit up. Hooking your fingers on the waistband of his trunks, you pull them down slightly, pulling him in to kiss you as you pull them lower, letting his cock spring out as you kiss sloppily, strawberry stained tongues meeting. You wrap your hand around his thick shaft, run your thumb over his weeping pink tip to spread around the precum, which makes him groan into your mouth, makes your teeth knock together. 

You stroke him a few times, Joost’s hand resting at the base of your neck. It’s like time slows down when you pull away from him and watch him and his furrowed blonde brows, the way his lips are dropped open, the pink blush of his skin creeping down his neck to his chest with all of this exertion. 

Joost opens his eyes, catching you gazing at him intently, and he brings his forehead to yours as you keep jerking him, and holds your face in his hands. “Catch me if I fall?” he asks, and you laugh. 

“So dramatic.”

“You don't even know, dude.” A few more kiss-filled seconds pass until Joost finally calls it—“Enough, baby, I need to be inside of you now, please.” 

Nodding, you lie back, opening your legs for him. He sits back, stroking himself. “No crying today, hm, schat?” Joost says as he takes his place between your legs. “No crying unless it’s out of pleasure, of course. Or if you want to cry out of sadness, that’s okay, too.” 

“I’ll take note of that, thanks,” you smile as Joost lines up with your entrance, lying over you. You slip your hands underneath his shirt, fingers running over Rayquaza, his skin piping hot on yours. The pool still sloshes, the sun is much higher, he's inching his cock inside of you and saying something in Dutch that sounds like whatever is equivalent to “fucking Christ,” his face screwed up in pleasure. 

“So warm,” Joost practically whimpers, and you both know that he certainly didn’t mean to say that in such a whiny tone. “So warm,” you laugh, making an exaggerated moan to tease him as he covers his face with his hands and laughs with you. 

“Shut uppp.” Another inch inside you, so deep. “I wish you could feel how it feels, it’d change your life.” Every vein and ridge on his cock, you can feel as you envelop him fully. “You changed mine,“ he says, and it makes your heart soar. “Over/under, 3 minutes, schat?” 

“Under. Over/under 30 seconds?” 

“Under. Maybe. Jesus fuck, you feel so good,” he laughs, breathless. “So tight, you’re amazing.” Joost goes silent as he fully bottoms out in you, but a few moments pass, and he states like he’s been thinking of it the entire time, “Lowkey, I wish we had one of those squeeze bottles,” he makes a disturbingly good squeeze bottle sound with his mouth, “Pfft-pfft. We could be oiled up super quick if we did. Maybe for next time I give you a massage.” 

You give him a puzzled, amused look—you know him like the back of your hand, but where his mind wanders sometimes, you aren’t sure. “I just don’t know,” you laugh. “Maybe we can workshop that idea.” Joost grinds himself against your clit, and you moan into his mouth as he comes down and kisses you. 

Joost fucks you like you both have all the time in the day to be here—as far as either of you are concerned, you do. Long, languid thrusts that you both watch as his cock disappears inside of you, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on your clit. The wet, hollow slaps of his hips against your ass are filthy music to your ears; you pant into each other’s mouths, close enough to touch, but not wanting to for the sake of watching each other, eyes open. 

You snake your arms around his neck, bringing him closer as his thrusts become shallower, quicker, erratic, punching into your g-spot. Without warning, Joost straightens up, exiting you fully, then lifts your hips up to meet him where he is, his shaft rubbing against your clit. 

“Ik hou van je, lieverd."

“Ik hou van je, Joost, I love you so much.” 

Joost’s face lights up then melts once he hears you speak Dutch—it’s so cute, like a little surprise for him even though you try to speak it with him regularly. Since it’s easier for you to express yourself in English, he'd rather you just speak Dutch at work and school like you already do, but the excitement in his expression when you do speak it is priceless. 

He sinks inside you once more, a loud shared moan between you two; this angle allows him to be deeper inside you than before. You tighten around him, and he sighs in pleasure. Joost splays his fingers out on your belly. “Kun je me hier voelen, diep in je?” 

“Ja, je voelt je zo goed, schat,” you breathe. Your praises seem to incense him to thrust into you firmly, out, in, out, in, sloppy, though you can’t blame him. Still, the head of his cock hits your spot with every seat of himself in you. He smoothes his tattooed hand over your chest, your erratic heartbeat probably felt through to his palm; he moves up to put his thumb in your mouth, and eagerly, you suck as he fucks you. Anything to quiet yourself, anything to have more of him inside of you. “I’m close, Joost,” you say once he moves his hand to your shoulder for leverage. 

Nodding, he says, “Me too,” keeping the pace, smearing more of your wetness over your clit so his fingers slide over it better as he rubs it for you.  

A few more reckless thrusts, your arms flying up around his neck for support, lips catching each other’s, swallowing each other’s moans. That familiar tugging feeling in your stomach grows and grows until you can’t ignore it anymore, your core tightening, your pussy tightening around him as you gasp out his name over and over again with your climax, and he gasps out yours. He’s not finished yet, but his hips have lost the rhythm they once had, his control over his impending orgasm with how you’ve constricted around him. 

“Schat, hold on for me a little.” 

“I should be telling you that,” you say, though you understand—the overstimulation of his cock dragging against your insides is getting to be a lot. You hug him close, your lips right next to his ear, his panting breaths right in yours as he ruts into you. “Cum inside me, Joost,” you whisper, and with one last deep thrust inside of you, he cums with a groan, with a breathy moan of your name, clutching your body tightly in his hands as he shoots inside of you, cock pulsing; so warm, being filled up like this, no space between you two, his stuttering hips fucking back into you for a few final thrusts.

In each other’s arms you lie there, panting—sweaty skin on sweaty skin, music still playing from the speaker, him softening inside of you. Joost kisses you deeply, kisses your cheeks, your chin, and you smile. “You are everything I’ve ever wanted and more, schat,” he says into the side of your neck. “Don't forget that.” 

thank you so much for reading! likes, comments, reblogs always so so appreciated <3 : ) - juno

[leclercsluvs]

CL16 | Already Over | smau

part 1 | masterlist

an: this is my first time writing something like this, so please be nice :,) also this will include sort of cheating (not really sure what to classify it as), and for that i am going to be using pics of charles and alex, however do i see any alex hate you are blocked or something, thank you very much) fc: sabrina carpenter pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader inspired by: vicious by @azulpitlane and the album 'emails i can't send' by sabrina carpenter

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris and 2.047.489 others yourusername me and my baby <3 tagged: charles_leclerc

charles_leclerc can we stay like this forever?

yourusername always <3

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55 and 2.790.487 others yourusername looks good in photographs tagged: charles_leclerc

charles_leclerc you're the one looking good in photographs. why do you think i have the camera out?

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, yourbff and 2.047.489 others yourusername done with touring for now, gonna focus on writing some more music for all of you. see u soon <3

charles_leclerc beautiful

yourusername <3

charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, pierregasly and 948.302 others charles_leclerc you're my only one <3 tagged: yourusername

yourusername love uuu <33

yourbff woah isnt that a little early-? yourusername love works in mysterious ways

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, yourfriend and 1.409.867 others yourusername never been so glad to be this tired. (thank you lando for the teddy bear, it was really comfortable) tagged: landonorris

charles_leclerc glad to be of help ;)

alex_albon wow i did not need this information

landonorris i want it back >:(

yourusername sorry not happening, too comfy landonorris please i said you could borrow it 😭 charles_leclerc sorry mate, it's hers now

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, danielricciardo and 1.409.867 others yourusername i might be mad for him (dont tell him, it'll go to his head) tagged: charles_leclerc

charles_leclerc wonder who

yourusername shush

yourbff girllll whattt??? since whennn?

yourfriend i think she may be a little crazy yourusername i told youuuu 😭

f1wagsupdates

liked by f1updates, sharllover and 375 others f1wagsupdates charles was spotted with a woman today at the beach. we have also seen him being flirty with y/n l/n on instagram, and this most certainly is not y/n. what's going on? tagged: charles_leclerc

sharllover you think y/n cheated?

f1editor i wouldn't even doubt it 🙄 luvy/n now why would you start a rumor like that? scfty/n *man hangs out with another woman* *first woman didn't do shit* people: SHE MUST HAVE DONE SOMETHING WRONG!! y/n.aep now why is it charles is spotted with a different woman and y/n is being accused of cheating? 😭

cl_lover damn and i thought he was such a nice man 😭

f1updates i guess it is all men 💔

charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, olliebearman and 1.199.750 others charles_leclerc i'm too late to be your first love, but i'll always be your favorite tagged: yourusername

yourusername favorite forever <33

yourfriend girl that's wild y/n.aep girl did you not see the photos? 😭 y/nsfav we need her to see fr

leclerslove ew

cl_wife i dont know but i feel like she's with him for the fame

lovy/n she literally has a successful career on her own, what are you on about? 😭

lechair she gives pick me vibes idk

leclerclvr idk him and charlotte were better IDC WHAT YALL SAY

clarkeysbog posting this right after the photos of him and the other girl leaked??? kinda sus ngl

norris.vfx no literally what is he thinking??? 😭

-

sooooo i'm thinking this will be like a three part little series. what do we think about that?? do we like it? hate it? neutral? if you have any tips pls lmk! i'm kinda new to tumblr lol

part 2