#it was a different time. a more innocent time. also a stupider one. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

stellamarielu · 2 days ago

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john mitchell x female reader

summary: bloodlust and sexual desire have become one in the same to mitchell making it increasingly difficult to have a normal relationship. so when you find yourself frustrated by the lack of physical intimacy, he figures out a way to solve the problem

content: nsfw, 18+, cursing, mentions of blood, mentions of death, a little bit of angst, a sprinkle of fluff, a shit ton of dirty talk, mutual masturbation [kinda], basically mitchell just wants to watch you get off, fingering, squirting? [lord forgive me]

authors note: first mitchell fic let’s go!! so, I wanted to start with something more tame for mitchell since it was my first time writing for his character, but i did no such thing. this is just full speed no brakes very smutty so if that’s not your jam just keep scrolling! there is some fluff and a little bit of angst but other than that it's just filth

It had been nearly a month since you learned the truth about Mitchell. What started as innocent interactions and flirtatious jokes turned into the two of you regularly going for drinks at the local pub. Before you knew it, your casual little dates led to you joining him and his roommates for movie nights at their home which always ended with you both cuddled up next to each other on the couch.

Mitchell tried not to let you into his complicated life but failed miserably after the first time he felt that warm fuzzy sensation in his chest when he saw you. You had him wrapped around your finger in a way no one ever had, so much so that he started referring to you as his girlfriend, which of course made George and Annie annoyingly giddy. They absolutely adored you and thought you’d be good for Mitchell, someone to motivate him– to ground him. It all happened so quickly but you couldn’t help it, neither of you could. You were completely infatuated with one another; it was almost sickening.

But of course, along with the fresh adoration of a new partner also came their baggage. It was something you expected. What you weren’t expecting however, were the skeletons in Mitchell’s closet to be so literal.

He had gone back and forth about telling you the truth and of course Annie had convinced him to be honest with you.

“If your feelings for her are real and you want a genuine relationship you have to tell her Mitchell.”

He knew she was right, but it didn’t stop the anxiety weighing on his chest at the thought of rejection. It was terrifying. The possibility that you would run screaming kept him putting it off day after day until one night the two of you were having dinner at your apartment and it just kind of stumbled out of his mouth.

“A Vampire?”

The words slipped from you in a giggle, your face full of amusement at his confession. You figured he must’ve been trying to make some kind of stupid joke until you noticed his dead serious demeanor.

When he refused to meet your tickled expression with a smile of his own, your brain started running laps around itself trying to piece together the last few weeks of your life. Confusion and fear filled your senses and for a split second it felt like you were sitting across from a complete stranger. Despite your inner dialogue telling you to run, you didn’t leave. You didn’t even get up from your seat. You just sat and waited for him to explain himself further.

So he did. He told you everything.

It took hours of explanations from him and hesitant stares from you, but after a night of discussing his condition you were sure he was telling the truth, and you were also somehow open to it.

Mitchell was surprised by how understanding you had been about the whole thing. After the initial shock, the two of you laid on your couch until the sun came up and you interrogated him about his supernatural lifestyle.

he answered every last question.

You learned about the different cities he’d lived in, the people he had known throughout his long life, who he once was, who he still longed to become. You admired his desire to live differently than the others like him.

Even after listening to the man next to you give hour’s worth of evidence proving he was a bloodthirsty killer, you still managed to fall asleep in his arms. At the end of the day, it was still Mitchell; Mitchell who mopped floors and made crude jokes, Mitchell who was always there to give you a comforting smile or lighthearted wink when you were having a rough day, Mitchell who you had fallen head over heels for, Mitchell who wanted to be human so badly that he was attempting sobriety from the very thing his body craved most. Nothing could change the way you felt for him and so you held it together when he told you a secret about himself that he was sure would have your relationship unraveling.

Only he didn’t tell you everything. There was one little detail about his life that he left out that night. He told you about the countless people he killed– about the guilt that ate away at him as he remembered their faces. He even confessed to you that he had given in to his bloodlust not long before you met. All the grim details about his murderous tendencies were true, but he made sure to leave out the part about how he killed them.

You knew that he drank away their lives, that he consumed their blood until there was nothing left of them. But he couldn’t bring himself to tell you that it so often started by seducing a woman- getting her naked in bed, writhing and vulnerable underneath him. He hated that he’d weaponized sex for so long that he could no longer differentiate his longing for blood and his desire for sexual release– the two had become synonymous. It was so bad that anytime he found himself in a heated position with a woman he couldn’t tell if the passion he felt burning in his veins was actual yearning or just a desire to feed. This made his relationship with you extraordinarily difficult.

You were so handsy. Of course you were. The two of you had been dating for nearly three months and the furthest you’d gone was a clothed second base.

At first, Mitchell told you he wanted to take things slow, a little odd maybe, but you respected his boundaries and kept the physical touch to a minimum. But time went on, and the restraint you had both practiced began to falter. You started getting little tastes of what it would be like to have his hands on your body and his mouth on your skin it was driving you insane. Every time he kissed you, his lips lingered on yours and there was a certain hint of impatience that always peeked through. You could sense the hunger in the way he would crash his lips on you, his mouth molding to yours and his tongue tracing your bottom lip. Sometimes he would even let his hands find your hips gripping you tightly and pulling you into him as close as possible. Not to mention the little groans that would slip from him when you tugged on his hair. Those little grunts made you want to drop to your knees in front of him and see what other sounds you could pull from his mouth.

You were constantly reminding yourself to take things slowly, but it was so hard when there was such a strong sexual tension tying the two of you together– or at least you thought there was; but based on the way Mitchell would break your kisses and take his hands off of your body like he just burned them on a stovetop, you were beginning to think maybe he wasn’t craving you in the same way.

Only there was no doubt in his mind that Mitchell wanted to fuck you. He was obsessed with you. He thought about what you looked like naked at least once a day and dreamed about hearing the little whimpers that you’d make when he was finally able to get between your legs. he wanted you, but he was terrified of possibly putting you in danger, so he tried to keep his hands to himself, Just for a little bit.

At least that’s what he told himself at the beginning. He would work his way up to having sex with you. Like little practice runs, he would let himself give in to the temptation, a make out session here and there, maybe even some heavy petting- but he would always put an end to it before it went any further.

He had to pace himself with you. He needed to be able to control the blood driven part of him that had most of his hookups ending in red stained sheets. You deserved the best part of him. The part that he was convinced was still human. The part that could take his time and indulge in the intimacy of knowing another’s naked body. He knew that part of him still existed- he knew because you brought it out of him. With every touch of your hand to his cheek or the feeling of your sweet lips on his, he felt it. Hell, even when you had your fingers intertwined in his hair, pulling at it while you attacked his neck with kisses, he could feel a deep appreciation for the way you loved him. It was an innocent kind of love. It was pure and gentle and all-consuming and the last thing he wanted to do was ruin it by pushing things too far. He wouldn’t ruin this- ruin you.

But then you were straddling him on his bed. Your legs spread on either side of his hips as he grabbed onto you, guiding your movements as you slid your fully clothed center over his, your lips meshing in a messy kiss.

The house was empty other than the two of you who were now involved in a very heated make out session in his bedroom. His hands were splayed across your thighs, holding them hungrily and his mouth chasing yours. Neither of you were showing any intentions of holding back, so you took it upon yourself to take things a bit further.

You let your hands fall to the button of his jeans–undiscovered territory that you were determined to explore at the feeling of his obvious arousal beneath you. Just as you were fumbling with the zipper of his jeans, Mitchell broke your kiss and took a hold of your wrist in an abrupt attempt to stop you.

You looked down at him, trying your best to hide the defeat you felt from yet another rejection. His eyes looked almost remorseful before he averted his gaze downward to where your hands met, he was tracing little circles on your wrist.

You were out of breath, chest heaving, and thoughts jumbled. You were trying not to read into it, but this whole situation was so confusing to you. Was there something you didn’t know? He seemed to be enjoying himself just moments ago; so why was he stopping? Did he ever intend to have sex with you?

“Mitchell, are you attracted to me?” The words flew out of your mouth as you leaned back, still sitting on his lap.

“What?”

His expression was a mixture of confusion and amusement which only frustrated you further because what on earth did he have to be confused about?

“Seriously. I get it if you want to take it slow, but It’s been weeks and I’m starting to get scared that you don’t actually want to have sex with me.”

He was watching as you spoke, a small smile curling on his lips. He couldn’t help it; you were so cute and flustered sitting on top of him talking about how badly you wanted to have sex. How could he not be attracted to you? How could you think something so utterly insane?

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

You were questioning him and teasingly shoving at his chest so that his back sunk further into the mattress beneath him. The only response coming from the man laying under you was a low chuckle.

“Mitchell, talk to me.” Your voice softened.

You were serious now; Mitchell could hear it in your worried tone and see it in the unsure gaze holding his own.

He sat up with an audible sigh and you took that as a sign things were taking a more serious turn.

You carefully moved off his lap, opting for a seat next to him and plopping down on the bed. You sat facing him with your legs folded underneath you and your hand gently resting on his thigh.

Everything about you was inviting his awaiting admission; your body language, the gentle smile encouraging him to go on, the way your eyes fell on him in an already understanding gaze. You were too good for him– too kind. Here you were willing to accept every last part of him and he was getting ready to tell you he uses sex to aid his homicidal affinities.

“I did want to take things slow- I do.” He started with his eyes glued on you.

”I just, I don’t want to hurt you.” He spoke slowly, still searching your eyes for any changes to your expression.

“And you’ll hurt me if we have sex?” You were trying to clarify and make sense of what Mitchell was saying.

“I used to-“ He began but stopped himself.

He looked down at your hand on his leg. Your touch so sincere.

“I used to use sex as a method of getting women alone and vulnerable so I could- you know...”

He was still staring down refusing to look at you as he spoke. He couldn’t stand to watch the inevitable look of fear on your face.

“It was just so easy. The first time I had sex after I turned, it was such a rush. Everything was intensified; her heart rate, the blood rushing through her veins, how much control I had. I didn’t even realize what I was doing and then she was just...”

His words were trailing off yet again, he couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud. That he was a manipulative evil monster who prayed on women and got off on killing them.

It wasn’t true though. That side of him was something else entirely. It was someone he didn’t even recognize when he was with you.

His thoughts were interrupted when he felt your delicate hands cupping his face, bringing his eyes up to meet yours. Instead of a look of terror, your face held nothing but forgiveness and warmth.

“So you’re scared you’re going to kill me if we sleep together?” Your words were point blank as you stared into his eyes.

“No.” His response was instant, but then quickly followed by a correction,

“Well maybe. I don’t know, it’s complicated.”

He paused.

“I never want to hurt you. I know that much.”

The look in his eyes was so gentle, begging for the forgiveness you’d already given.

“There’s just this part of me that I can’t control, and I’m so scared that I’ll get too caught up and won’t be able to stop myself.”

“Have you ever had sex without-“

You began to ask but Mitchell finished your question for you.

“Killing someone?”

He looked away again, unable to come to terms with his own sinful memories.

“Yeah, but it’s been a long time.” He confessed.

You leaned back on the bed creating a bit more space between your bodies. You had a million thoughts running through your mind but the only one that mattered was the realization of how much Mitchell had come to mean to you in such a short time. Everything felt right with him. You were immersed so deeply in his world that this new piece of information just felt like a little blip on the radar of your lives. You would figure it out together. All of it.

“Well okay then, we’ll just keep doing what we’re doing until you feel ready.”

As soon as the words left your mouth his eyes were back on yours. He was giving you the most hopeful smile, it nearly melted you. God- you’d do anything for him.

“And if you never do, then I’ll just invest in a really good vibrator.”

You were joking to help lighten the mood. You didn’t want Mitchell to feel like you were judging him or disappointed in the new information regarding your sex life.

Your comment had Mitchell cracking a smile for the first time in last five minutes and the sight of it warmed your heart. You were both just sat there looking at each other with silly little grins plastered on your faces, the dark tension in the room slowly dissipating.

The silence between you lasted for a few seconds, Mitchell looked as if he was contemplating something before he finally spoke.

“Is that how you’ve been surviving this whole time?” There was a hint of laughter dancing in his words.

“My sweet girl gettin’ so frustrated she has to run home to relieve herself?”

His head was now cocked to the side as he probed you with a follow up question. He was smirking, clearly enjoying the effect his words had on you. If he couldn’t see the goosebumps on your skin, he sure as hell could hear your heart racing.

“I’m sorry baby, you shouldn’t have to take care of yourself like that.”

Mitchell’s voice was low, and he was moving his body closer to yours. He was hovering over you as your back rested against the warmth of his comforter. The sound of your heartbeat was amplified in his ears by the sudden closeness.

This was new, you thought.

Mitchell had never been this bold with his words. It was so filthy– so tempting.

“Do you think about me when you touch yourself?”

His eyes were heavy and his jaw tense as he awaited your response.

You thought about him every single time you touched yourself, which was more often than you’d like to admit given the current circumstances of your relationship. You had come up with one hundred different scenarios that involved you and Mitchell naked in his bed to aid you in your self-induced pleasure.

But instead of divulging all of that to him, you just nodded your head in a simple reply to his question.

“Show me.” His voice was dripping with desire, and you thought his eyes might burn a hole through you with how hard he was staring.

“Mitchell…”

You suddenly felt so shy. Just minutes ago, you were grinding down on his lap hungry to unbutton his jeans. Now he was asking to watch you touch yourself and your confidence was wavering.

“C’mon baby. I wanna see how you get off.” His tone was so sultry, you were nearly slipping your pants off at sound of it.

“Let me see baby.” He was intertwining his fingers in your hair and pulling you in for another messy kiss.

“Fuck- I think about it all the time. What it would be like to watch you cum.” His hands were now trailing down your body, his touch was more rough than usual, but you didn’t seem to mind.

“I touch myself thinkin’ about you too baby.” His gaze was scorching, as he watched you fumbling with your jeans in such hasty desperation to get them off.

“Always so worked up from not being able to touch you the way I want to. It drives me fuckin’ insane.”

Now he was assisting you; pulling your jeans down your thighs, just as needy to see your body freed from them.

Mitchell’s hands instantly found the exposed skin of your thighs as soon as your jeans came off. He was basking in the feeling of your warm skin, memorizing the way you felt in his hands as he gripped and kneaded the flesh of your upper leg all the way up to your hips.

You were pulling him back down in a frenzied kiss when you felt his hands at your sides teasing the material of your underwear. His fingers were hooked in the waistband of your panties, and you found the kiss getting sloppier the closer you got to being half naked on Mitchell’s bed. Your lips were moving in a chaotic harmony when he pulled back to speak again.

“Is this okay?”

It was as if he was breaking character for just a second. The dirty words of primal desire were replaced with a tender whisper. The man who was just ripping your jeans from your body was now searching your face for approval before going any further.

“Mhmm.” You were humming and nodding your head simultaneously placing your hands over his on your hips and helping him peel your underwear from your body.

“Jesus- fuck.”

Mitchell couldn’t help the profanities that fell from his mouth as you looked up at him with such an innocently sensual gaze while you guided his hands down your legs. You looked so desperate for him.

You were kicking your panties from your legs and instinctively closing your thighs, partially for the friction but mostly due to the nerves of your sudden vulnerability.

Mitchell could sense your brief hesitation and wanted nothing more than to make you feel comfortable. To tell you how fucking hot this was- because it was. He hadn’t had sex in so long he thought he might just cum in his pants from the sight of you like this.

He kissed you once more, deep and passionate while his hands found their place back on your thighs. He was running his fingers over your skin and grabbing each of your legs slowly pulling them apart as he situated himself between them. Then he broke the kiss and sat back on his knees to get a better view at your body all sprawled out on his sheets.

“Fuck you’re so perfect.” His voice was close to a groan as he gazed down at your exposed center. He was in a hypnotic state at seeing you spread open all for him, so wet and ready; he was losing his mind.

“I wanna see you baby.”

His fingertips were tracing your inner thighs, and you almost had to shut your legs again at the sensation; his touch causing you to let out a shaky breath.

“wanna see how you play with yourself when you think about me.”

You were closing your eyes and letting your hand trail down your stomach until it reached your core. If it weren’t for the fact that you were so pent up with sexual frustration from all the nights you had to leave Mitchell’s house after make-out sessions that led nowhere, you might have been more embarrassed by how quick you were to oblige with his directions. You were eager to finally get some sort of relief from him, even if it came in the form of his eyes on your body and his foul whispers in your ear.

Your fingers were circling your clit and the sounds that came from the man above you were utterly carnal.

“fuckkk.”

In a long, drawn-out groan Mitchell was releasing pent up frustrations of his own while watching your hand between your legs.

He had envisioned you like this a million times but not one of those images even came close to what he was witnessing right now. He’d intended on trying to keep his composure but as soon as your fingers met your cunt, he couldn’t contain himself.

“That’s it baby.”

Mitchell swooned, his body practically shaking as he watched you. All he wanted to do was replace your hand with is. He wanted to feel you. Needed to show you that the little scenarios of him you had conjured up in your head weren’t even comparable to the real thing.

“So pretty for me.”

His words were only pushing you further into the lust filled abyss that threatened to swallow you whole. Your fingers were working faster in tight little circles and moans were forming in your throat and fighting to fall from your lips.

“Look at me baby.”

You followed his command, looking up at him. He was going back and forth between looking into your eyes and watching the hand between your legs. He felt the familiar simmer of heat in his chest and the buzzing in his head– sensations that often came with his inability to stop himself from indulging in his deepest desires. He was teetering on the edge of losing all control when he found your eyes again, your tender stare bringing him back to reality.

“Do you wish it was me touchin’ you like that.” He kept talking, hoping it would help tether him to his humanity.

The low growl of his voice had you feeling brave enough to bring your hand lower, dipping a finger into yourself and whimpering out in pleasure at the thought of it being his touch instead.

“Bet I could make you feel so good with my fingers- fuck.”

The second he saw your hand venture lower he could feel his cock swelling in his pants. There was absolutely no way he would be able to keep his hands to himself now. Not while he watched you slipping your delicate little fingers into your cunt- something he had quite literally dreamed of doing for months now.

“Oh sweet girl I need to touch you.”

You watched as he palmed himself through his jeans, the look on his face was so needy it made you bite down on your lip to muffle the obscene sound that fought its way to your mouth.

“need to fuckin’ feel ya baby.”

And with that his lips were crashing into yours, your chests touching and moans mixing. You felt his hand on your inner thigh and nearly jumped when it skipped to your soaked core, his finger already pushing into you.

“So wet for me huh?.” He was gathering your arousal and spreading it at your opening as he easily added a second finger along with the first.

His head dipped down and his lips came in contact with the nape of your neck and you flinched.

Your earlier conversation was still fresh in your mind, and you couldn’t help the involuntary recoil. Having Mitchell so worked up and putting his mouth on your neck startled you.

He halted, every single one of his movements pausing as he drew his head back just enough to lock eyes with you. He had every intention of kissing down your neck, just wanting to envelop you in the feeling of his lips on your sensitive skin. He wasn’t even thinking about sinking his teeth into the flesh there, but once he felt you shrinking away from his touch, he felt awful. Shit did he scare you.

“Hey.”

He was searching your eyes, his expression full of worry.

“I won’t hurt you.” A flip had switched, and his voice was now soft and reserved.

“You’re safe.” He was reassuring you and now you felt bad for overreacting.

You pulled him back to you in an affectionate kiss.

“I’ve got you, I promise.” With that he was slowly moving his fingers inside you again. His thrusts were gentle, and he kept his eyes on you. He was being so careful, it was endearing.

He had never felt so in control. It was a strange feeling, to be physically intimate with someone and not have a single hunger driven thought. While he had plenty of unsavory thoughts about you running through his mind, not even one had to do with his thirst for blood. All of them centered around hearing the cute little sounds you were making and watching you cum all over his fingers.

He could sense your body relaxing under his touch and he watched your eyes flutter closed as his fingers curled into you. He was taking advantage of your comfort and switching to a faster pace.

You had to squeeze your eyes shut completely as his fingers worked faster and depper. You were doing your best to keep quiet, scared that maybe someone would come home and be able to hear you, but with the way Mitchell was touching you, you finally let go of your worries. A lengthy moan fell from your lips, and had him groaning in response.

“That’s it baby, don’t hold back.”

He was encouraging your noises of satisfaction as he brought his lips back to your neck. Only this time, instead of flinching from the sudden attention, you tilted your head to the side to give him better access. You could feel him smirking against your skin.

He was placing sweet kisses behind your ear while his fingers worked harder sliding in and out of you. His movements were perfectly executed, each thrust of his digits curling into you at the perfect spot and causing whispered profanities to form on your tongue. He knew exactly what he was doing, and it almost shocked you how close he had you to an orgasm already.

“You feel that baby?” His voice was a mumble against the crook of your neck.

You were whining out a pathetic “yes” as he kept his pace, not holding back. You could feel your release building higher and higher, Mitchell’s fingers getting deeper alongside it. The exposition to your climax felt more intense than you’d ever experienced, and you were reaching for Mitchell’s forearm attempting to steady his movements, but all you were doing was pushing him on further.

“Let it out for me baby.” His voice was shaky, and it sounded as if he was holding back moans of his own.

Hearing him get so aroused by talking you through your pleasure only added to the pressure building in your core.

“C’mon sweet girl I can feel you. So fuckin’ close.”

You were writhing below his touch, whimpering and allowing yourself to give into the feeling of Mitchell’s fingers as he deliberately made sure each stroke hit the right spot. The sensation forming in your belly was almost too much to bear.

Your relief was surging closer to release, like a wave it just kept building and you weren’t sure if you could handle it. And then, with Mitchell pushing into you, whispering little praises into your ear, you were coming undone. The floodgates were opened and your release was crashing over you, intense and all consuming. You were speechless as you felt yourself gushing over Mitchell’s fingers still deep inside you. He was coaxing you through your release, watching as you soaked his hand.

“Mmm look at that baby.” his voice was seeping with lust and he was looking between your bodies in a trance by the mess you were making beneath him.

“Good girl.” He was growling and slowing the movements as he watched you come down from your high.

You were out of breath and in a state of pure bliss as you stared up at Mitchell.

“Good fuckin’ girl.” With him looking back at you, you could see the look of pride in his expression, a smug smile on his lips.

“God I’m never gonna be able to get enough of you.” He brought his mouth down to you, locking his lips with yours in a hungrily passionate embrace.

You couldn’t bring yourself to care about the mess on Mitchell’s sheets or the fact that you didn’t think you could form words at the moment. All you wanted was to keep going, to make Mitchell feel just as good as he had made you feel.

You were pushing yourself onto your elbows and making every effort to find your way to the obvious erection in his jeans.

As much as Mitchell wanted to spend the entire night fucking you in every way imaginable, he knew it was too risky. Hell, he had almost lost his control before he even laid a finger on you.

While he felt excited by his newfound ability to venture further into this territory with you, he still wanted to take it step by step. He wanted to make sure he could trust himself– that you could trust him.

“next time.”

He was grabbing your hand and bringing it to his lips, sealing his promise with a kiss to your palm.

You were pouting, but also inwardly thankful for his guarantee of future sexual escapades.

“Don’t wanna bite off more than we can chew, yeah?”

He was grinning to himself and leaning down to place a quick kiss on your forehead before hoping off his bed and searching for a towel.

my masterlist

#hey so I kinda went off the rails a little bit there my bad #john mitchell #john mitchell x reader #john mitchell smut #being human uk #mitchell being human #being human fan fiction #aidan turner

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dreamquestofunknownkadath · 9 months ago

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Okay so I’m actually going to rb this again so these authentic period replies don’t get lost at the bottom of the notes

i swallow my mom's diamond but she doesn't understand?? i'm dragonkin and she is literally starving me

oh no! i totally understand where youre coming from but maybe next time you could eat some cheaper gems? maybe like rhinestones? i know it wont compare to real gems, but it could be a cheaper way to satisfy your hunger! or even better, you could make rock candy! i know how hard it can be to have humans not understand your kintype, and i wish you the best of luck with your hoard! (◡‿◡✿)

#ffiw anon is 100% trolling lol #others have talked abt this but during this time period there was this cycle in play where wannabe le epic 4chan trolls or whatever #would hear that tumblr was full of crazy SJWs and kinnies and ppl married to anime characters on the astral plane #come in do troll/bait posts like this. those posts would get screenshotted as evidence of the aforementioned crazy SJWs etc.#then more wanna be internet cool guys would come in make more bait posts.#and the other half of the equation the ppl that were genuine were all like 14-15 so of course they couldn’t tell they were being messed w/#it was a different time. a more innocent time. also a stupider one.#hellsite adventures

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lowkeyren · 2 months ago

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in which : alhaitham speaks to you in 5 different languages, unaware that you understand every word he says.

wc 7.3k (pls give it a chance lol), academic rivals to lovers, unrequited hate, attempt at humor, college au, denial + pinning.. crazy ik, he falls first (and harder), tw stalking by a drunkard, a genius on paper but a total dumbass when it comes to crushes, lil smau at the end!, ft. sumeru gang. art by @/gamegatchihaja on x.

ps. translations ay nasa maliliit na titik, katulad neto!!

ps. translations will be in small letters, like this!!

PROLOGUE: GOD I HATE THIS GUY! (DOES HE THINK IM STUPID?)

the semester is nearing its conclusion, and the imminent approach of finals marks the most critical period of the year; students rush through the halls, clutching their notes and textbooks like lifelines, while you pour every ounce of effort into your studies —not just for your grades, but also to surpass a certain arrogant scholar.

alhaitham.

the name tastes like spoiled milk on your tongue, a sour reminder of all the times he’s bested you, even if it’s just by a small margin, leaving you dumbfounded when the difference between your marks during the last exam was a mere 1%.

you were groveling in front of your professor, “please, just round the marks up?” you could practically feel your dignity slipping away. and the worst part? you were so desperate that you started mentally calculating how many odd jobs you’d be willing to do just to sweeten the deal.

(maybe you’ll help organize the office, run around the campus to buy him drinks every day, or even wipe down the windows of his car…)

disclaimer: he ultimately said no, but he did compliment your impeccable taste in coffee so, a win is a win?

anyhow, alhaitham’s nonchalance only adds to your frustration, especially when he switches to a different language mid-conversation. it feels like he’s rubbing salt in your wounds, why of course you can understand him perfectly —after all, you aren’t majoring in linguistics for no reason, plus he's not the only one who’s fluent in multiple languages.

though you keep that to yourself, perhaps because the things he says in those languages, which he assumes you don’t understand, are far from innocent, unknowingly letting you have a glimpse into his true feelings.

ACT I: WHOLEHEARTEDLY, I DETEST YOU.

alhaitham would never fall in love —such irrational and illogical emotions held no value to him.

that was what he always believed, but then he saw you.

the way you laughed so unapologetically at cyno’s jokes, how you always stood firm by your beliefs, your refusal to compromise who you are; you were a breath of fresh air in a world that often felt stifling.

as much as he tries to act unfazed, he can't help the heat prickling his skin nor the way his composure falters just slightly in your presence. and when his heart raced for the first time in what felt like forever, he knew —he was completely, utterly screwed.

(“fix me, kaveh.” / “hah. who do you think i am, ‘y/n’?”)

when kaveh told him that he just had a simple “crush”, he nearly rolled his eyes so hard he thought they might get stuck there permanently.)

likewise, this ugly arrogant handsome bastard here, is one you’ll never fall in love with.

he’s infuriating, completely insufferable, and yet there’s something about him, something hidden beneath that arrogance, that draws you in. the idea that you could ever fall for someone like him seems laughable, impossible even. he's exactly the kind of person you should avoid and you know better than to be charmed by someone like him. yet, there's that nagging feeling, deep down, that perhaps you’re not as immune to him as you think.

by some stroke of luck, you’re in the same major, same year, and even enrolled in the same lecture periods, which means you end up in the same place at the same time more often than not.

but you can’t deny that, in some twisted way, you admire him. his intellect is beyond impressive, even if it annoys you to admit it. so surely, in his eyes, you’re still inferior, and you often wonder if he even considers your ideas as worthy of attention.

(they are.)

ACT II: YOUR WATCHFUL EYES, I CAN’T IGNORE.

your pen glides across the pages as you jot down notes, fully absorbed in your studies, barely registering the faint sound of distant chatter.

unbeknownst to you, a group of students has gathered just outside the lecture hall, peeking in from the door with curious, amused expressions. they’re clearly there for you, exchanging glances and murmurs, waiting for the moment you step outside.

you don’t notice, but alhaitham, seated a few feet away, certainly does.

his eyes narrow slightly as he takes in the scene. he doesn’t say anything at first, but his jaw clenches ever so subtly. as you begin to pack up, you glance up to find him standing in front of you, his tall figure effectively blocking the group outside’s direct line of sight to you.

with a discreet glance over his shoulder, he shoots them a cold, unmistakable glare. they visibly shudder, seemingly getting the message as they awkwardly shuffle away.

“what was that about?”

alhaitham leans against your desk, “nothing important,” his tone is dismissive, laced with irritation, his gaze still fixed on the now-empty doorway.

you narrow your eyes, unimpressed. “really? you just scared them off for no reason?”

“just getting rid of some… distractions,” he says casually, turning his attention back towards you. you raise an eyebrow, clearly not believing his words. “distractions? they weren’t bothering me.”

his expression remains impassive, “khi họ cứ để ý đến em như vậy… em thấy không phiền, còn tôi thì có.”

“seeing them constantly paying attention to you… you're not bothered by it, but i am.”

“bởi vì cái cách mà em chú tâm hoàn toàn vào một việc gì đó… nó quyến rũ vô cùng.”

because the way you completely focus on something… is truly mesmerising.

you blink, feeling a momentary flush of confusion and surprise at the words slipping from his mouth. did he just—? but before you can fully process it, he continues.

“vậy nên tôi cũng không thể trách họ khi họ muốn nhìn em gần và lâu hơn được.”

so i don’t blame them when they want to look at you closer and longer.

his words linger in the air, a moment passes before it clicks —he doesn’t think you understand. that’s why he’s speaking so… freely; letting slip things he’d never say outright in a language you both speak fluently.

“nhưng mà… chắc không ai trong số bọn họ có thể sánh ngang với tôi, em nhỉ?”

but… none of them can compare to me, right?

your chest tightens as a surge of warmth courses through you.

his detached attitude only fuels your irritation. but there’s also a certain satisfaction in knowing something he doesn’t: you’ve understood every single word he’s said.

feigning ignorance, you raise an eyebrow, meeting his gaze with what you hope is a neutral expression. "what are you going on about?" you ask.

his expression remains as stoic as ever, not a single crack in his mask. he simply shrugs, eyes still on you, "just telling you to focus more.”

your grip on the pen tightens, there's a part of you that wants to wipe that smug look off his face, to show him you're not as clueless as he assumes. but not yet —you’re curious to see just how far he’s willing to push.

"right," you mutter under your breath, tapping the pen against your notebook. "focus. got it."

he leans down slightly, one arm resting on the back of your chair while the other presses against the table, effectively caging you in.

"you're wasting time, finals are coming up." he takes a brief pause before continuing, "i wish you the best of luck, you’ll need it.”

your eyes snap up to him in a glare, “don’t you have somewhere to be?" you bite back.

alhaitham straightens, giving you a final glance before turning towards the door. “naturally, i have studying to do.”

“bởi vì tôi sẽ chứng minh cho em thấy rằng chỉ có tôi mới xứng tầm làm đối thủ học thuật của em, không một ai khác.”

because i will prove to you that only i am worthy of being your rival, no one else.

why did he frame it as if it’s a privilege only he can claim? or is he trying to… flatter you?!

you shake your head, no way, that’s ridiculous. finals are coming up, there’s no time to dwell on whatever mind games he’s playing. though if the almighty alhaitham wants a rival, then you’ll show him exactly what it means to stand at the pinnacle.

ACT III: IN MY DREAMS, I SCORED HIGHER THAN YOU.

you’re tired, the kind of tired that seeps deep into your bones. every blink stretches longer than the last and you find it increasingly difficult to focus on the words in front of you. stifling a yawn, you feel the pull of sleep tugging at you, whispering sweet promises of rest.

there’s still time till your next class.

maybe you'll take a moment to close your eyes, just for a few seconds…

did you not get enough sleep last night, or did you stay up late studying again? alhaitham watches silently from across the room, his eyes narrowing as your head droops lower, your exhaustion becoming painfully obvious with each passing second. his gaze lingers on the way your pen pauses mid-sentence, the line on your notebook trailing off as your hand grows heavy.

he pushes himself up from his seat, and approaches your desk; he notices the sunlight streaming through the window, harsh and unrelenting, hitting right over the table where you’re sitting. he looks at you —eyes closed, with the faintest crease of discomfort on your brow.

without a word, he reaches out and slips the pen from your grip, the slight shift causing your fingers to twitch, but you don’t wake.

for a fleeting second, he considers waking you. but then, as you shift again, settling more comfortably into your chair, he decides against it. what good would that do, anyway? you’d probably just brush him off and keep going until you collapse from sheer fatigue. typical.

instead, he adjusts his stance slightly, positioning himself just right to make sure the sunlight is fully blocked from your face, casting you in a cool shadow.

you mumble something incoherent, and he can’t help but roll his eyes at your state. did you really think burning yourself out like this would help you focus?

“stubborn,” he mutters under his breath.

you're always like this, pushing yourself past your limits, and while part of him respects your determination to outdo him, he won’t allow it to come at the expense of your health.

you stir from your slumber, lifting your head, your gaze lands on a familiar figure standing to the side of your table. his back turned, facing the sunlight that streams in from the window.

alhaitham.

he’s close, so close that his broad shoulders completely block out the sunlight from the window. the sight sends a rush of confusion through your already sleep-addled mind. did he… stand there the whole time? why?

you shift slightly in your seat, your movement catching his attention. without turning, he speaks in that low, steady tone of his, “you’re awake.”

“alhaitham?” you murmur, your voice still thick with sleep.

he glances over his shoulder, just enough for you to catch a glimpse of the calm expression on his face. “you’ve been out for a while,” he comments, a hint of amusement in his voice. “i was starting to think you’d sleep through your next class.”

you rub the sleep from your eyes, “why didn’t you wake me up then?”

his shoulders shift slightly as he shrugs, still facing away from you. “you looked like you needed the rest. besides, it’s more entertaining to see how long you’d stay asleep.”

a flicker of annoyance courses through you as you roll your eyes, “oh, so you mean you care?”

he turns slightly, and you can see a hint of a smirk on his lips. “don’t read too much into it. i just prefer my competition functioning at their best.”

you wish you could roll your eyes harder because this man has an uncanny talent for grating on your nerves while somehow being insufferably charming at the same time.

“ah yes —because you need me to keep up with you,” you remark sarcastically.

“exactly.” you let out an exasperated sigh as you lean back in your chair. “you really think so highly of yourself, don’t you?”

“mushiro, kimi no koto o hijō ni takaku hyōka shiteiru yo.”

if anything, i think highly of you.

your brows knit together in surprise, and you can’t help but scoff. “what was that? i didn't catch it.”

“i said i won’t go easy on you.” oh, the audacity. he’s lying again, and he knows it.

the corners of your mouth twitch in disbelief as you scrutinise his expression. there’s that familiar glimmer in his eyes, a spark of mischief that tells you he’s enjoying this too much.

“whatever,” you retort, crossing your arms defiantly. “not like i want you to anyway.”

despite your words, you can't deny that his actions earlier were surprisingly endearing. you wonder how long he intends to keep this up. perhaps it’s time you let him know.

“ii ne, kimi ga iraira shite iru toki wa kawaiikara.”

good, because you’re cute when you’re all riled up.

you feel a blush creep into your cheeks at his words, okay maybe you shouldn’t let him know. you instinctively look away, as if avoiding his gaze can help you regain your composure.

cute? what does he mean “cute”?! he thinks he can get away with calling you cute —well… well, there’s not much you can do about it, you’re not ready to confront him about this either.

the mere thought of asking him directly makes your stomach twist with a year’s worth of embarrassment. yet, as you try to refocus on the book in front of you, you find yourself biting your lip, struggling to suppress a smile that threatens to break free.

ACT IV: I WOKE UP TODAY, AND A DREAM CAME TRUE.

the hallway buzzes with excitement as students gather around the large announcement board, eager to see the results of their theses. you push through the crowd, heart pounding, the low hum of chatter filling your ears.

when you reach the front, you quickly scan the list; the moment your eyes land on your name, your breath catches in your throat.

there it is, in bold red ink at the top of the board —a score higher than you’d ever hoped for, higher than his. and your name, on top of his.

alhaitham.

you glance over and spot him approaching the board, approaching you. his expression is, as always, unreadable. but you know him well enough by now to catch the slight pause in his movements, the brief moment where his eyes linger just a second too long on the board.

you try not to think too much about it as you collect your thesis, with alhaitham following closely behind, his fingers nearly grazing yours as you both sift through the stack of papers on the table.

you take in the glowing praise from your professor, each word making you feel like every all-nighter was worth it. you clutch the paper, resisting the urge to grin like an idiot.

glancing sideways, you wait for him to say something, maybe some backhanded comment, but he remains silent. your eyes meet, and there’s a shift in his gaze as the usual sharpness in his eyes dulls ever so slightly, your smile lingering like the first light of dawn breaking through the night's embrace.

it’s subtle —just a flicker —but you catch how his gaze falters, softening, if only for a heartbeat. the edges of his stare blur, drawn to the warmth of your expression as though it’s something he hadn’t meant to witness, yet can’t look away from.

at this moment,

"looks like i finally beat you," you say, not bothering to suppress the grin spreading across your face now.

he feels like

there’s no scowl, no sign of frustration —just the slightest raise of an eyebrow. “hmm. by a point.” he pauses, studying you for a second longer than necessary before returning his gaze to his paper. “enjoy it while it lasts.”

he's in heaven.

it’s as if he’s not bothered by the outcome at all. in fact, if anything, he seems... satisfied?

"hindi dapat ganito kalala ang epekto ng ngiti mo sa akin."

your smile shouldn't affect me this badly.

“—huh?” your mouth drops slightly open at his words; out of everything, you didn’t expect him to say that. it catches you off guard, making your heart race just a little faster. if you peer closely enough, you might catch a glimpse of the gentle arch of his lips, a ghost of a smile.

the silence stretches on for a beat too long before he clears his throat and shifts his gaze away from you. “ang iyong ngiti ang pinakamagandang tanawin ng aking araw.”

your smile is the most beautiful sight of my day.

“what?” the word slips from your lips, barely a breath, a soft gasp that hangs in the air. it feels almost surreal and you wonder if you’ve misheard him.

each heartbeat thunders in your ears, a rhythm that matches the erratic flutter in your chest. why is he saying these things, what for in a different language…? there’s no way that he—

"—tulad mo na ang hinangad ko na ligawan, ngunit sa bawat ngiti mo, halip ay mas lalo akong nahulog para sayo."

—like you, who i wish to court, but with every smile, i instead found myself falling for you.

your breath hitches as your heart stumbles, the implications of his words washing over you like a wave. a rush of heat floods your cheeks, “what… did you say?”

his shoulders stiffen, and there’s a subtle tension in the way his fingers curl against the paper he’s holding. “see you tomorrow, [name],” he mutters, his voice low but hurried, and before you know it, he’s already walking away.

two strange things happened today:

1. you finally beat your sworn enemy!

2. said enemy… complimented you?

huh, it’s as if the words slipped out before he could catch them, as if he’s been holding them in for far too long, as if… you notice the way his neck reddens, even as he turns away.

behind the door, alhaitham lets out a quiet breath.

“gago… nagkamali ba ako?”

stupid… did i make a mistake?

to his dismay, an annoyingly familiar voice cuts through the silence. kaveh, who had been waiting just down the hall, notices him standing there, a little too still.

“oh, what do we have here?" there's a slight pause, followed by a raised eyebrow. "is that—no way, your face is red!” kaveh teases, amusement dancing in his eyes. “what happened there?" he leans in, clearly enjoying himself. "come on, spill the tea..!”

"not a chance," alhaitham retorts, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms defensively.

just then, kaveh spots cyno and tighnari; grinning, he waves them over. “what’s going on? did alhaitham finally crack under pressure?”

alhaitham would rather reorganise the entire library than listen to kaveh recount what happened.

“i’m leaving.”

"no, i'm afraid you're not getting out of this one.” cyno steps forward, blocking alhaitham’s path; and tighnari, who has been quietly observing till now, chimes in, “don’t leave us hanging.”

“you’re outnumbered.”

alhaitham sighs and shakes his head. he hadn’t even thought it was physically possible for him, of all people, to do something as ridiculous as blushing —until today.

(on the other side of the door, their banter echoes through, and you can’t help but chuckle to yourself at alhaitham’s misery.)

ACT V: PLAUSIBLE DENIABILITY, YOU SAY? BUT EVERYONE CALLS IT FLIRTING.

“i think alhaitham likes [name].”

the whole table falls silent before kaveh dramatically slams his glass down on the table, causing a splash of alcohol to spill over the edge. “oh finally, it’s so obvious! have you all seen the way he looks at them?”

across the table, tighnari taps his fingers absentmindedly on his notebook, his attention only half on kaveh’s (incoming) rant but clearly invested enough, as shown by the slight twitching of his ears, to be listening.

cyno snickers, “you’re telling me the man who can dissect any philosophical argument can’t handle a little crush? that’s rich.”

kaveh waves a hand dismissively. “come on! remember that time they were partnered up for a project? he was so... uncharacteristically patient! i’d almost say it’s cute if it weren’t alhaitham we’re talking about!”

right, it’d be almost endearing —if it weren’t coming from the most stoic, intimidatingly aloof guy in the entire school. it’d be adorable —if it weren’t alhaitham, who instinctively covers the corner of your table with his hand when you drop your pencil, ensuring you won’t hit your head as you bend down to retrieve it.

oh, you don’t notice (of course not). but your friend dehya, sitting nearby, catches the whole scene out of the corner of her eye. she raises an eyebrow, nudging the girl beside her.

(“candace, do you see that shit.” / “yeah.”)

“a soft spot for [name], you say? well, i’ve got a story of my own, too.” cyno glances around, ensuring no one else is within earshot, then lowers his voice conspiratorially. “have you noticed? he doesn’t wear his earphones when he’s around them.”

kaveh pipes up, nodding eagerly.

“he’s got those earphones practically glued to his head, he doesn’t hear anything he doesn’t want to, and he certainly doesn’t talk unless he’s forced to. but around them?” cyno pauses, pretending to think for a while. “not once. he’ll put them away entirely, like he’s actually willing to be… present.”

sure it’s small, subtle, the kind of habit no one would pick up on unless they were looking closely. but to anyone who knew alhaitham well, it tells them more than words ever could.

for him, actions speak louder than words, even if he often doesn’t realise the meaning behind his own gestures.

his earphones slide down, resting forgotten around his neck, all so he can be close enough to catch the delightful lilt of your laughter. his chair inches a fraction closer, seemingly by accident. a subtle upward twitch at the corner of his mouth, so fleeting and often passing so quickly if one weren’t paying attention.

for him, it’s a language without words.

dehya laughs softly. "for someone who supposedly ‘doesn’t like being bothered,’ he sure seems invested in whatever [name] has to say."

and what sealed their suspicions?

definitely the time when kaveh complimented nilou’s new bracelet. he glanced over at the man beside him, nudging him lightly. “what do you think?”

alhaitham gave the bracelet a cursory glance, before replying, “it’s nice.” though his gaze flickered back; and almost absently, he added after a pause, “[name] has the same one too.”

oh… oh? well that was oddly specific. kaveh’s eyebrow quirked as he fought to suppress a grin.

alhaitham had noticed a detail seemingly insignificant about [name] —the kind of thing he never cared to show the slightest interest in when it came to anyone else.

the glint in nilou’s eyes seemed to mirror kaveh’s unspoken thoughts, silently agreeing with his suspicions.

now they’re certain —100% sure, in fact —that alhaitham has a crush on you.

“well, speak of the devil… lovely seeing you here, alhaitham,” kaveh quips. tighnari, ever observant, gives him a pointed look. “your jacket’s missing.”

“someone took it,” alhaitham replies, his tone as composed as always, giving nothing away.

—nothing until you walked past. draped over your shoulders, unmistakable, is alhaitham’s jacket. you don’t notice the way every pair of eyes follows you, or the way kaveh barely stifles a triumphant laugh.

...make that 110%.

(translation: he means he borrowed his jacket because [name] was cold.)

ACT VI: IT’S YOU, WHO COMES TO MY RESCUE.

the quiet night hangs heavy, the road empty and bathed in the dim glow of distant streetlights. you weave through the streets, but no matter how many twists and turns you take, that weirdo just won’t leave you alone.

he’s been trailing behind you for blocks now, his persistence grating on your nerves, cornering you with endless “compliments” and invasive questions. you’ve tried to shake him off, but his determination far exceeds your patience.

"come on, just give me a chance," he insists, stepping closer, a little too close for comfort. you take a step back. the smell of alcohol reeks from his breath, and his grin is making your skin crawl.

"i told you, i’m not interested," you say firmly, keeping your voice steady, but the panic was starting to creep in. you glance at the empty bottle in his hand —he’s definitely drunk out his mind.

“you sure?" he completely ignores your clear discomfort. "how about you just give me your number, yeah?" he slurs out.

"no, i have a boyfriend." you lie through your teeth, hoping that would be enough to make him back off.

unfortunately, he’s as insufferable as he is persistent.

he snorts dismissively, "yeah, right. a boyfriend? you’re just playing hard to get."

you sigh, you aren’t in the mood for this, not here, not now, and especially not with someone like him. "i already told you, i have a boyfriend," your voice now tinged with frustration. "so please, just leave me alone.”

"oh, don't be like that," he steps in front of you, blocking your way. "prove it. call your boyfriend. show me you’re not lying."

your heart races as the man reaches out for you, dodging his hand, you take the chance to look behind him for an escape. just then, you see an all-too-familiar figure in the distance.

alhaitham.

you barely manage to suppress a relieved sigh as you wave frantically in his direction. he spots you almost immediately and without hesitation, he rushes over.

"what, this your boyfriend?" the guy sneers with derision, still sounding a little too cocky for someone who was about to get a reality check.

alhaitham steps beside you, you can feel his eyes on you for just a brief moment, the faintest flicker of worry flashing across his face. it’s subtle, almost imperceptible, but you catch it—and it makes your chest tighten.

his voice is low, unmistakably carrying a warning, "yes, i’m their boyfriend. and if you don’t want things to escalate, i suggest you leave."

the man’s face twists as anger flares in his bloodshot eyes. he takes a step forward, his grip tightening around the neck of the bottle, the glass slightly cracking. "you think you can tell me what to do?" he slurs, gaze wild and unfocused. “y-you think you’re some kind of saviour? *hic* a-and you! how… how dare you reject me?!”

alhaitham doesn’t move, his expression cold and unbothered, and that only seems to make the man angrier. his frustration boils over, and with a snarl, he clumsily swings the bottle in his hand, aggressively lurching towards your direction.

the world seems to slow for a moment. though before you can even react, alhaitham pulls you firmly behind him with one swift motion, his other arm instinctively rising to shield the both of you from the blow. the sound of glass meeting his forearm is sharp and jarring —you can hear the high-pitched tinkle of glass scattering, the jagged shards bouncing off the pavement, and some skittering across the ground.

but he doesn’t even flinch, his stance unwavering as the man stumbles back, glass crunching underfoot. you’re still frozen from shock, your heart racing in your chest as you watch the scene unfold.

“big mistake,” he starts, and the man visibly falters. “harassment, assault —keep this up, and you’ll regret every choice that brought you here tonight.”

the man shifts around, clearly disoriented. his eyes dart between you and alhaitham, but it’s clear that the fight’s already left him. “you— you can’t do this!” the man stammers, trying to regain some semblance of courage; unfortunately for him, the tremor in his voice is unmistakable.

“do you really want to find out?” alhaitham asks, to which the man shakes his head vigorously. “get lost,” he mutters. the man, looking more pathetic than threatening now, quickly stumbles away, mumbling incoherent curses under his breath.

you’re breathless, still clutching the edge of his jacket, fingers trembling slightly as the adrenaline courses through you.

"are you alright?"

you nod, forcing a small, unconvincing smile."yeah... i’m fine. thanks to you."

alhaitham’s eyes narrow slightly, scanning you for any sign of injury. you follow his gaze instinctively, glancing down at yourself. that’s when you notice it —not on you, but on him.

streaks of red stain his forearm, where jagged shards of glass must have cut him during the confrontation. the gash bleeds steadily, a dark line of blood seeping through the fabric of his jacket.

"wait," you breathe, your heart sinking. "you're bleeding."

your stomach twists with guilt.

"why didn’t you say anything?" you exclaim.

he shakes his head, a dismissive gesture that does nothing to ease the knot forming in your stomach. "it’s nothing," he says, but the slight furrow in his brow and the tension in his jaw betray his words.

"nothing?" you fix him with a hard glare. "idiot… you just blocked a glass bottle with your arm, don’t try to downplay this."

you grab his sleeve, tugging it gently but firmly, the fabric sliding beneath your fingers as you pull it up. “—and unless you think an infection is ‘nothing’, you’ll let me take care of this."

"hold still," you murmur as you settle beside him on the couch, your supplies spread across the coffee table in front of you.

the scent of antiseptic fills the air as you take a disinfectant wipe and gently dab it against the gash. the sting of the alcohol makes him flinch slightly, but he doesn’t pull away. you mutter a soft apology, your movements slow and deliberate as you try to be as gentle as you can.

you open a tube of ointment, squeezing a small amount onto your finger before smoothing it carefully along the edges of the cut. the cool gel glides over his skin, and you can feel the tension in his arm ease ever so slightly under your touch.

“nǐ zhème guān xīn wǒ, huì ràng wǒ wù huì de.”

if you care so much about me, i might misunderstand you.

your fingers pause briefly, the words catching you off guard. you glance up at him, but he only averts his gaze, his eyes remaining fixed on a distant spot beyond the room.

misunderstand? misunderstand what, exactly?

the bandage wraps securely around his arm as you smooth it into place. as you tuck the end of the bandage, his voice comes again, just as soft, but no less clear.

“—wù huì nǐ duì wǒ yǒu gǎn jué.”

"—misunderstand that you have feelings for me."

your brain short-circuits, and in your shock, your hands jerk. in turn, the bandage tightens way too much, causing him to wince and tense up. before you can apologise, he lets out a light chuckle.

“suǒ yǐ nǐ dān xīn wǒ… nǐ shì bù shì gù yì ràng rén xīn dòng de?”

“so you're worried about me… are you purposely trying to make my heart race?”

his words only make you more flustered, and you find yourself fumbling to fix the bandage. “i’m sorry! i didn’t mean to—”

his chuckle only grows softer, and you catch the glint of amusement in his eyes. “it’s fine.”

you quickly finish adjusting the bandage, trying to focus on anything other than how your heart is now racing. (ironically)

“you seem flustered,” he comments casually, as if he isn’t the one who just made your head spin. “did i say something wrong?”

you shake your head quickly, hoping to hide the flush creeping up your neck. "no, not at all.”

his lips twitch into the faintest hint of a smirk.

"nǐ bù bì yǎn shì, wǒ xǐ huān nǐ hài xiū de yàng zǐ, tǐng kě ài de.”

“you don’t have to hide it. i like seeing your flustered expression, it’s quite cute.”

(oh this bastard!!!!)

you try to speak, but the words get stuck in your throat. what do you say when someone’s teasing you so openly —and they think you don’t even realise it?

after a long moment, he stands, “it’s getting late, i should get going.” alhaitham gives you a small, almost imperceptible nod, his eyes meeting yours for a brief moment —and there it was, that trace of softness reserved only for you.

he heads toward the door, you watch him, feeling a strange sense of emptiness when he turns away.

“i’ll see you,” he pauses. "...and thank you for tending to me."

you watch him leave, the door clicking softly behind him, and the silence settles back into the room.

you blink, taking a deep breath. what a rollercoaster of a day. yawning, you turn to start tidying up, but your eyes land on something on the couch.

it’s his jacket, draped over the armrest. you notice a tear on the sleeve, just where his injured forearm had been. what truly catches your attention, however, is a folded piece of paper slipping out of the pocket.

intrigued, you unfold it, revealing his neat, precise handwriting.

ACT VII: THE SECRET I’VE ALWAYS KNOWN.

To [Name], I once believed you to be little more than a nuisance. A bright, well-meaning nuisance, no doubt, but a nuisance nonetheless. One who seemed intent only on striving for perfection, always seeking to best me at every turn, not out of malice but out of some earnest desire to prove your worth. In my arrogance, I mistook your relentless pursuit for a need for recognition, as if you sought my attention in some petty rivalry. Though very quickly, you made me think otherwise. You saw the world differently, you also saw me differently. You didn’t treat me with the reverence others seemed to, nor did you shy away from challenging me. You refused to be seen as anything other than yourself; and that, in itself, was what made me admire you —what made me long to understand you more. Now, I find that I am standing with half a heart and an emptiness I never knew I could feel, because you showed me what it truly means to crave something more, something I never thought I deserved. You may think I’m a coward for not expressing my feelings more directly, perhaps you are right. I am a coward for fearing to lay bare the vulnerability of my heart. But even in my cowardice, know that my thoughts have always been of you. If you have seen through my silence and hesitation, if you understand my actions when my words fail me, then perhaps you have already known this truth. I care for you, more deeply than I can fully express. Though I may never be able to say these things as openly as I wish, I’d like you to know that my actions have always been my confession. Even now, I’m still a coward for you. So please, if you decide to give me a chance, I’ll be waiting at nightfall. Helplessly, Alhaitham.

you absentmindedly trace the edges of the letter with your fingers while your eyes skim over his writing for the nth time, the ink seeming to blur together with your thoughts as you try to process everything. your fingers curl around the fabric of his jacket, a foolish smile creeping onto your face.

tomorrow’s nightfall feels impossibly far away, yet you can’t wait for it.

alhaitham lays on his bed, his arm aches slightly from the injury, but it’s nothing he can’t ignore. plus, the bandage you had carefully wrapped around his arm is enough to keep the discomfort at bay.

(originally, he had only planned to meet you, slip you the note, and be on his way. things didn’t go exactly to plan, but either way, he hopes you’ve read it by now.)

of all the possibilities, he’s never accounted for the one he’d be at mercy of his own emotions; he had always prided himself on his rationality, his restraint. but now? he’s reckless, absurd, foolish even —he can admit that to himself. but he finds he doesn’t care in the slightest.

for as much as he is a coward in your presence, he is just as much a fool in your absence.

ACT VIII: UNDER THE RAIN, I HAVE SOMETHING TO SAY.

“alhaitham isn’t really an expressive person, so don’t worry if he comes off as distant or uninterested. it’s not that he doesn’t care, he just… shows it differently.”

ah well, ‘differently’ indeed.

“—most importantly, alhaitham doesn’t waste time on people he doesn’t care about, so you must mean a lot to him.”

maybe you didn’t mind how your heart raced when you heard that.

“don’t fuss over it [name], you’ll know when he’s in love.”

how so?

if he was in love, what would it look like? would you be able to tell, or would it be just another one of those things you had to catch on to?

you wrapped the his jacket tighter around yourself, a faint smile tugging at your lips. it wasn’t the answers to those questions that mattered, but asking them in the first place —that was what made you realize you already knew all along.

the evening air is cool against your skin; a gentle breeze stirs the trees, their leaves rustling quietly, and your heart beats louder than ever, urging you forward.

in the distance, you spot him, standing still in the dim light. and without a second thought, you quicken your pace.

“haitham.”

the sound of your voice catches his attention as he turns to face you; you can’t help but notice how his gaze flickers down for just a moment, his eyes taking in on how his jacket looks on you, before meeting yours.

his posture is unnervingly perfect, rigid almost to the point of stiffness …is he nervous?

“hey,” he finally says, clearing his throat. “there’s something i need to tell you… though you’ve probably already figured it out. you’ve always been sharp.”

“i… ” he falters, and it’s the first time you see him hesitate. “i’m not sure how to put it… since i’m not exactly great at this.”

you tilt your head, subtly urging him to continue.

“but you’ve managed to make me care about things i never thought i would. and now i can’t seem to stop thinking about it —about you.” his voice lowers, softer now, but there’s a rawness there that’s unmistakable.

“i’m telling you this now, because not saying it... doesn’t feel right anymore."

suddenly, you feel a soft mist that barely kisses your skin, a slight chill against your cheeks, then a few tiny drops, until they start to gather in your hair, the beads of water slipping down the back of your neck, but you don't move. neither does he.

his hair is damp, sticking to his forehead, droplets trailing down his temple. his clothes cling to his frame, soaked by the rain, yet his attention remains solely on you.

“[name], i am irrevocably in love with you.”

you stand there, the rain falling relentlessly around you, the pitter-patter mirroring the frantic beat of your heart. the water trails down his face, but it’s hard to tell if it’s just the rain, or something else.

his lips part, as though he wants to say more, but the words seem caught in the storm, swallowed up by the downpour. the rain is cold, but his gaze? his gaze feels impossibly warm.

it’s only when you feel the dampness of his jacket beneath your fingers, that the words finally come. “you don’t need to convince me of that.”

you take a step closer, and for a moment, the world outside seems to disappear.

“i’ve known,” you add. “but hearing you say it,” you pause, allowing yourself a small smile, “makes all the difference.”

reaching up, your fingers graze his damp skin as you gently push a wet strand of hair from his forehead, the warmth of your touch lingering against his cool skin.

“'uhibuk aydan, alhaitham.”

i love you too, alhaitham.

a single droplet slides down his cheek, tracing the line of his jaw before falling to the soaked fabric of his collar. another follows. and then another. his breath catches in his throat, and a shaky exhale leaves his mouth.

you wrap your arms around him, and he sinks into your embrace, his hair tickling your cheeks, as his chest rises and falls against yours.

“you’re gonna make me cry too, idiot,” you murmur, burying your face in his chest, your eyes glassy. “you really are a fool,” you tease softly, a slight smile playing on your lips. “but only for me.”

slowly, his hands rise, trembling slightly, until they cup your cheeks, gently stroking it.

“la yujad 'ahad akhar 'urid 'an 'akun 'ahmaq min 'ajlihi.”

there’s no one else i’d ever want to be a fool for.

his palms are surprisingly warm despite the weather. his thumb grazes your cheekbone as he leans in, and the world falls away —nothing but the warmth of his presence and the soft press of his lips against yours.

“this is my first time in ten years seeing this guy cry! can you believe it?!” kaveh whisper-shouts, peeking out from behind the shrub.

nodding along, cyno agrees, poking his head out just right below the blond’s. “[name] is truly exceptional. though i must say, seeing alhaitham cry is quite tear-rifying.”

kaveh rolls his eyes in exasperation. “ugh, you and your puns.” he mutters under his breath while zooming in on his phone, which is currently recording the whole scene.

“quiet down, you two!” a voice hisses from behind them —tighnari, face flushed with panic. “they’re literally right there, and you’re making more noise than a herd of goats.”

“relax, we’re out of their line of sight anyway!” kaveh raises his phone higher, almost giddily, eyes glued to the screen. “and damn this is a good angle.”

tighnari exhales sharply, “you’re incorrigible.”

“look who’s talking,” cyno raises an eyebrow at tighnari… who’s also peeking out from behind the bush. (what a hypocrite)

…

“they kissed oh my g—” kaveh’s voice rises in disbelief, but cyno quickly covers his mouth with a swift hand. the three of them scramble to duck behind the bush just as you turn to glance in their direction.

(“is that… senior kaveh?” you squint your eyes, “cyno, and tighnari?”

alhaitham clears his throat before glancing over at his friends with a deadpan expression. “yes and unfortunately, they’re very invested in my personal life. so please don’t mind them."

you laugh, finding the whole situation a bit too amusing. “not in the slightest, but i’m sure they’ll never let you hear the end of it.”)

EPILOGUE: IN EVERY LANGUAGE, I HEAR LOVE YOU.

“how long?”

you blink, feigning confusion. “how long what?”

alhaitham’s eyes narrow slightly, an expression you know well. “how long have you understood everything i’ve been saying?”

you bite back a smile and offer a small shrug, “...ever since you started?”

his lips press into a thin line, and for a moment, you can’t tell if he’s upset or impressed. then, he sighs, almost amused. “and you let me embarrass myself all this time?”

“you were being honest,” you shrug, a smirk forming. “plus i knew you’d figure it out eventually.”

he huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “may ideya ka ba kung ano ginawa mo?"

do you have any idea what you’ve done?

"mas lalong umibig sakin?"

made you fall in love with me even more?

you tease, but there’s a tenderness in your voice that softens the edge of your words.

“yes, and you really are insufferable,” he mutters with no malice. his tone is different now. softer. warmer, even.

you lean in slightly, a playful glint in your eyes. “that’s not what i heard you say before.” your fingers graze the skin of his cheek before you tenderly pinch it, giggling softly at the reaction you provoked.

in one smooth motion, he catches your hand before you can pull away and tugs you towards him, closing the distance between you in a heartbeat. you tilt your head back to meet alhaitham’s gaze.

you’ve often thought he’s the most-perfect boyfriend, undeniably handsome in every way —but there’s really just one flaw: his height.

“ugh, you’re too tall," you grumble, rubbing the back of your neck. "i’m having a neck sore just looking at you."

he quirks an eyebrow at your sudden words. “you could use a stepstool.”

"or," you counter, "you could get on your knees and save me the trouble.”

he slowly lets out a breath, his lips curling ever so slightly.

“'akida, 'antaziri hataa 'ashtari alkhatama.”

sure, just wait till i buy the ring.

"wh—"

he crosses his arms, "what’s wrong? isn’t that what people expect when someone gets on their knees?"

you roll your eyes, half-smiling. "fine, then i’ll eagerly wait for that day.”

his gaze softens as his hand reaches up, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face; his eyes drop to your lips for a moment, and you know what’s coming even before he speaks.

this fic was not sponsored by duolingo, but with the help of my beloved friends!! wouldn't have been possible w/o em please give them a round of applause xx

vietnamese — @https-sourlimes

tagalog / filipino — @vxnuslogy

arabic — @ughscara

chinese, japanese — me!

ty @mitsvriii for proofreading, love u all <3

and thank you for reading!! reblogs are appreciated ^^

pspspss check out the cool fanart / comic based on this fic here by @rei-plswork 🤍

MASTERLIST.

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yeahwellyourface · 1 month ago

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You know who I do feel bad for in all this?

The person who turned Luigi in. I don't agree with what they did, but I get it. If they are working for McDonald's, they are probably at minimum wage. Full time (which they probably weren't, cause fuck McDonalds probably doesnt want to have to give benefits)yearly pay for min wage is $15,000. The rewards together were $60,000.

Can you imagine how much that would change their life? FOUR TIMES their yearly wage. I am so incredibly privileged in comparison, but four times my yearly wage would change so many things for me.

You think about your family, and how much that could help. You think about your living situation. You think about rent and food prices and a vehicle. All of that would be so much easier, even for a little bit of time.

And then to find out that you probably won't get the money on technicalities. And if you do, you definitely won't get all of it. And even then, it will take at least a year.

Being told that you would get something that would change your life, the life of your children, and it's bullshit. Yet another reason you can't trust the cops.

And it also shows another way that authorities are so fucking stupid about this whole thing. Any trust people had in them is being blown out of the water. It is so incredibly clear the difference in ways people are treated. Children are being killed in school and nothing, but one CEO gets shot and it's considered terrorism. A CEO who profited off the deaths of thousands. But that person is more important than all us regular people. And now this reward BS. Do they actually think ANYONE is gonna help them again after seeing how they are screwing this person over

And eric fucking adams being in that fucking perp walk. That bastard has spent the past several months talking "innocent until proven guilty" and "due process"...but only when it comes to committing his own crimes. Not someone else's where he can pretend that he is some sort of hero.

It is amazing how people who are in power and people who think thay they can gain power by protecting the rich are so out of touch.

#luigi mangione #united healthcare #united healthcare shooting

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adelheidvonschicksal · 1 year ago

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The Love and Deepspace Boys Trying to Get You to Sleep ⋆｡°✩

Tags: Fluff, teasing, needy boys, mild sexual content, gender neutral reader (I had to re-write so please let me know if I messed up.)

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Xavier is surprisingly softer than you expected when you first met him on your mission together. He’s an incredibly powerful hunter but possesses a quiet and gentle, almost oblivious, aura when navigating everyday life, like a ghost floating through the space he takes up. It should also be understood that this very nature of his makes him affectionate, so much so, that he won’t unwrap his arms around your waist and stop pressing his head to your shoulder as you sit at the kitchen bar, typing on your laptop.

“Are you planning on staying up later than the stars?” he mumbles.

There’s a gentle yawn against your skin from the sluggish man, highlighting just how long he’s been trying to coax you into going to bed.

“I wanted to finish this report for work.”

“The report will be there tomorrow,” he says. You swat away his hand that reaches for the power button on the laptop causing him to pout. He grumbles. “You should go to bed. Otherwise, I can’t sleep.”

Smiling to yourself, you decide to tease him. “Oh, so you’re really trying to get me to go to bed for your own benefit?”

“Well, you can’t very well expect me to do it by myself anymore.” Xavier nuzzles his head into the slope of your neck, cuddling you. “It’s your responsibility since you ruined my sleeping habits.”

“Ruined?”

“Ramshackled,” he repeats quietly, causing you to giggle. With an airy sigh, he presses his weight into you more. “How do you expect me to sleep when I can’t hold you?”

Defeated, you save your work and close the laptop. You swivel in your chair, enough to meet his eye, and cup a hand to his cheek. It never stops being endearing to you how he cutely closes his eyes and angles his head to snuggle your palm.

“Alright, alright, you don’t have to beg.”

His eyes flutter open, and the smile on his face grows as he wraps his fingers around yours. Carefully, he pulls on your hand to bring it up enough to begin to lace your wrist with affectionate kisses, tracing your pulse.

“I thought you enjoyed my begging.”

“That’s different.”

“It isn’t,” Xavier mutters into your skin, pressing another light kiss.

“It is.”

“So, you're resolute about that position?” he questions “innocently”. There’s something mischievous about the glint in those arctic eyes, which makes your face warm. You find yourself breaking eye contact, or else you’d lose it.

“Yes.”

Xavier chuckles then begins to lead his kisses down your arm. “In that case, care to explain the difference in detail, love?”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

“Sleep.”

“But—”

“Sleep.”

Zayne narrows his eyes at you from his side of the bed. You can’t blame him for being a little annoyed right now but the movie you put on to fall asleep was much better than you expected; and instead of falling asleep, you were more awake than ever at a very late one in the morning.

“I’m almost done with the movie,” you tell him, hoping he’ll cut you a little slack this one time.

“Everyone dies at the end of their own stupidity,” he bluntly states and grabs the remote. The television turns off with an overly loud click, and you pout. “Now, sleep.”

Crossing your arms over your chest, you huff. “You’re the worst.”

“I’m fine with that title if it gets you to rest,” he explains with a smooth yawn. “Poor sleep habits lead to bad decision-making later. You’re more likely to develop high blood pressure, and with your heart in particular—”

“I get it. I get it,” you say, wanting to be spared the lecture. Zayne is a good person and a better doctor, but you wish he didn’t worry about you so much just because you might have a little big heart problem. Sighing, you squiggle onto your back and pull the sheets up to your collar, kicking them a little childishly in the process (totally not to let him know that you were not pleased with his spoiling). “I hope you’re proud of yourself.”

“Very.”

Zayne turns over onto his side, away from you, and you frown at the loneliness. Softly, you poke him in the back, once, then twice then a third time before you finally get a hum in response.

“Am I really not getting a good night kiss?”

“Do you need one to sleep?” he asks, his voice deeper from the lack of sleep, urging you to convince him to kiss you even more.

“Duh,” you explain. Slowly, he turns back over to look at you, propping himself up on one arm with a look that says “Is that so” as you continue to ramble. It makes you a little flustered when he watches you so intently. He’s always had this silent dominance that makes you obedient, but you could get what you want from him just as easily with the exact opposite strategy. Cutely, you puff your bottom lip out at him. “There has to be some health benefit to it. Kissing makes people all happy. Happy is good, right?”

It takes a second for him to take in what you say, those smokey eyes closing in on you with thought before he climbs over you. He places both hands at your sides and quickly boxes in your upper thighs with his knees.

“You’re thinking of dopamine,” he says.

“Huh?”

“That makes you “all happy”,” he explains and presses a deep kiss to your lips, leaving you thoughtless and breathless all at once. He moves to your jaw, and you begin to squirm from the pressure of his impassioned lips.

“And Serotonin.”

Another kiss, lower.

“Oxytocin.”

He’s at your shoulder when he starts to nip your skin, and one of his hands moves to ski up the back of your thigh.

“Reduced cortisol.”

Flustered, you grip his arms.

“Zayne, stop, it tickles,” you whine, but it’s the last thing you actually want as he readjusts his position and hovers above you.

His usually neat hair is messier and his breathing a little heavier judging by how his chest laboriously rises and falls. Groaning, you bite your bottom lip as he knowingly leans in and whispers,

“You need it to help you sleep, isn’t that what you said?”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

“Why don’t you just say you don’t love me anymore?”

You look up from your phone screen at the sudden accusation. You’re resting on the couch, your back propped up by the armrest and legs splayed out on the other cushion while Rafayel looks down at you with crossed arms and a less-than-pleased scowl on his face. You’re entirely confused as to what you could’ve done to make him think something like that.

“Huh?”

“You’ve been playing video games for what—the last two hours?” he says, uncrossing his arms to grab your phone. It’s too late to warn him as he glances at the screen, clicking a few times. “What are you playing anyway? An…otome? Sheesh, go ahead and say you want me gone. Come on, tell me you actually hate me.”

Holding in your smile, you shake your head and affectionately roll your eyes. It takes an enormous amount of effort to not laugh as he continues to rant. “So, it’s one of those things. I thought I was actually in trouble.”

And by those things, you mean his dramatics.

“Hush, my complaints are perfectly legitimate,” he demands as he pushes your legs aside and sits on the couch. Leaning over, he flashes the screen at you to show the evidence he has that you’re completely unfair, unfaithful, and downright mean. “What’s this game giving you that I’m not? Are my dashing good looks and even better personality not enough? Is that it?”

Gently, you take the phone from his hand and set it down on the end table. “You’re plenty, perfect even.”

He scoffs and refuses to look at you. “Apparently not. Don’t you ever think about anyone else? What if I want to cuddle with you one day but you’re too busy to notice because you’re playing silly games?”

Ah, there it is. His real want. You never know why he can never just come out and say it.

“Rafayel, do you want me to come to bed and cuddle with you?”

“Want is a strong word,” he remarks but you can see his resolve (can you call it that when he planned to give in all along?) crumbling as he slowly turns back to meet your gaze, “but I wouldn’t be opposed to it. Not that you deserve it or care.”

Humming, you sit up, wrap your arms around his shoulders, and pull him down onto you. Lovingly, you snuggle him, stopping to only take in how red his neck and ears start to get when you squeeze him and start to stroke through his hair. You’re not sure if Lumerians can blow happy bubbles like he claims, but he definitely hums and relaxes his entire body weight to lay on top of you like he wants to sink into your skin.

Teasingly, you coo at him. “You’re so needy.”

“I’d rather say you humans aren’t needy enough,” he fires back as he wraps an arm around your waist and kisses the corner of your lips. “Ah, the sweet taste of victory.”

Giving out a gentle and short laugh, you lightly tap his back. “Go to sleep.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

#zayne x reader #xavier x reader #rafayel x reader #love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace fluff #love and deepspace smut #adelssmut #notsfw

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nosyp · 1 month ago

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Care For Another Game?

Warning = smut🔞, gambling(?), destroying food, small spoilers, dubious consent

Pairing = Salesman (squid game) x fem! reader

Summary = A simple game of ddakji turns into something much more when he shows up at your door with a proposition. The stakes are higher, and this time, it’s not just about winning. Now it’s about control and desire.

Word count = 2.8k

Part 2

A/N = I'm genuinely so horny for this man please forgive me

“Excuse me, ma’am, would you like to play ddakji?”

You turned to face the voice, unsure if it was meant for you or someone else. A man stood just a few feet away, a small, polite smile on his face. You were sitting on the bench in the subway, waiting to catch the next one.

“M-me?” you muttered out.

“Yes.” he replied, very quickly. Damn, he’s so certain. How could I possibly reject it?

“Ehh? Sure I guess…” you mumbled, your words almost inaudible.

“Excellent,” he said, his smile widening just a fraction. He stepped closer, lowering himself to your level. Up close, you noticed how sharp his features were, it was like he was carved out so carefully. His suit didn’t even have a single wrinkle, and his posture was impossibly composed, as if he was used to winning in life.

He then knelt on the dusty subway floor and placed two folded paper squares in front of you. “The rules are simple,” he explained. “You use your tile to flip mine. If you succeed, you win.” You started to roll your eyes as he was explaining the preface of the game… well that was until he held up the stack of cash. Oh you’re not losing now.

“And if I lose?” you asked cautiously.

“Then…” His eyes flickered with something you couldn’t quite name. “You owe me.”

You blinked, your unease growing. “Owe you what?”

“Let’s not worry about that just yet.” His voice was calm, almost reassuring, but it only made you more aware of the trap you might be stepping into.

Your fingers fidgeted with the hem of your coat. You were unsure whether to back out now or follow through.

“Well?” he prompted, tilting his head slightly. “Which colour do you want?”

“Red please.” you responded, evoking a small smile from him.

You hesitated, then picked up one of the paper tiles. Its edges were surprisingly crisp, as though it had been folded just moments ago. Taking a deep breath, you crouched down to face him.

“Okay,” you said, steadying your hand. “Let’s do this.”

You both immediately got up and started playing. He seemed like an innocent guy from the outside but in the game, he seemed like a completely different person. The force he put into flipping the stupid tiles was so strong you swore you heard the ground shake beneath you.

Somehow, miraculously, you won most of the rounds and earned 500k won. You’d expect him to be a bit better if he was spending a bunch of time running around asking to play. You saw him a few days prior doing the same thing he did with you with other people. Though, they didn’t win much, mostly slaps to the face.

“Thank you,” you say, holding the stack of cash in both of your hands.

He still had that stupid smile plastered on his face. It never disappeared. How annoying.

“Mm. You’re welcome.” he responds, his face quickly darkening. And he walked away, without saying anything else. He also left the red paper tile with you.

With a satisfied hum, you skipped your way into the arriving subway.

—

Somehow, that didn’t end up being your last meeting with him.

A week later, you were strolling through the park, enjoying the rare peaceful silence. The chirping of birds and the rustling of leaves accompanied the sounds, but something disrupted the serene atmosphere. A sharp, rhythmic sound.

It was… stomping? And yelling? What the fuck?

Curious, you followed the noise, rounding a corner near the fountain. There, in the middle of an open patch of grass, stood the man from the subway—the Ddakji guy. He was dressed just as sharply as before, though his once-pristine shoes were now caked with crumbs.

You froze, watching in disbelief as he stomped repeatedly on a pile of bread scattered on the ground. It was like a massacre of carbs. He was literally stomping on it while screaming “this is your guys' fault” or some shit like that, in the middle of the park. Holy shit.

“What the hell?” you muttered under your breath while walking closer to him.

He looked up, pausing mid-stomp as if he’d heard you. His eyes locked onto yours, and that familiar polite smile spread across his face.

“Ah,” he said, straightening his posture as if he hadn’t just been waging war on baked goods. “We meet again.”

You blinked, pointing at the corpses of the bread. “What… are you doing?”

He glanced down, brushing a speck of flour off his pants. “An experiment,” he said simply.

“An experiment?” you echoed, incredulous. “In what? Angering pigeons?”

He chuckled softly, stepping away from the pile. “You wouldn’t understand. But it’s good to see you again, ma’am.”

“Okay, no.” You held up a hand, as if to stop whatever strange explanation he was about to give. “First, why are you stepping on bread? Second, why are you here, in this park, at the exact same time as me?”

His smile didn’t falter, but something in his gaze shifted. It became more calculated, as though he was about to beat you up– okay maybe not literally.

“Coincidence, perhaps,” he said, though the tone of his voice suggested otherwise. “Or maybe it’s fate.”

You took a step back, your instincts telling you that fate wasn’t the right answer. “You’re not stalking me, are you?”

“Stalking is such an ugly word.” He tilted his head, his expression almost amused. “Let’s just say… I find you interesting.”

Your stomach flipped, and not in a romantic way at all. “Right. Well, maybe don’t ‘find me’ again, okay?” you say, giving emphasis to the ‘find me’ with your two index and middle fingers on both hands.

He took a step closer, and you immediately regretted not leaving sooner. “I have a proposition,” he said smoothly, ignoring your obvious discomfort.

“Another game?” you guessed.

“Not quite.” He reached into his pocket, pulling out something that made your heart race—a single piece of folded paper. Ddakji.

“Nope, no way,” you said, backing away. “I’m not doing this again.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, his smile widening. “This time, the stakes are higher.”

Then you stopped. Halted in your position. “You really wanna try again after losing? You’ve got guts. Or maybe you’re just dumb. Who knows?”

He rolled his eyes at you and pulled out the same two tiles.

“Oh! You’ve got another one,” you mentioned, reminding him of the night.

“Yea yea… let’s start,” he demanded.

To your surprise, you won again. Well, won most of the rounds. He seemed a bit frustrated at the outcome.

“What? You upset?” you tease.

“...”

He didn’t respond.

You flipped the tile in your hands again, a smug grin plastered on your face. “You know, for someone who’s so insistent on playing, you’re really not that good at this.”

His jaw tightened, but the polite smile stayed in place. “Luck doesn’t last forever, ma’am.”

“Maybe not, but it sure seems to be holding up today,” you say while stuffing your winnings into your pocket. “Thanks for the cash, by the way. It’s not everyday someone bankrolls my coffee addiction.”

He didn’t respond right away, instead adjusting his cuffs with an almost mechanical precision. You could tell he was trying not to let your teasing get to him.

“So,” you continued, leaning against a nearby tree, “is this what you do for fun? Wander around challenging strangers to games you’re bad at?”

He glanced at you, his expression unreadable. “I wouldn’t say I’m bad.”

“Oh? The scoreboard says otherwise,” you shot back, gesturing to the imaginary tally in the air. “I’m up by, what, a hundred rounds?”

His smile faltered for the shortest moment, and you felt a spark of triumph. “You’re quite the character,” he said finally, his tone more measured.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” you said, shrugging. “Anyway, thanks for the game. I’ll be sure to tell my friends about the weird guy in the park who hands out money for getting owned at ddakji.”

His eyes narrowed slightly. “You won’t have to. They’ll find out for themselves.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He didn’t answer, instead stepping closer and plucking the tile from your hand with surprising speed. You blinked at the empty space where it had been.

“Hey! That’s mine!” you protested.

“Consider it a rematch token,” he said, tucking the tile neatly into his pocket. “When you’re ready to lose, find me.”

“Lose? You’re delusional,” you scoffed.

He gave you a slight bow, his polished demeanor back in full force. “Until next time, ma’am.”

And just like that, he turned and walked away, leaving you with a mix of irritation and amusement.

“Next time, I’m taking your shoes too!” you called after him.

He raised a hand in a lazy wave but didn’t look back.

You shook your head, letting out a breathy laugh. “What a weirdo.”

Still, as you walked back to your bench, you found yourself wondering if there really would be a next time. And if there was, you weren’t planning to lose.

—

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Three consecutive knocks at your door. You wondered who it was. You hesitated for a moment, eyeing the door warily. It was late, and you hadn’t been expecting anyone. You didn’t have many visitors… well, actually, you had no visitors, except for the occasional delivery or perhaps a neighbor. The knocks repeated again, a bit harsher this time.

"Who the hell is it?" you muttered under your breath before rising from the couch and moving cautiously towards the door. Then you peeked through the peephole, but the hallway was empty.

A chill ran down your spine, and for a moment, you considered not answering. Maybe it was just some mistake, or a knock meant for someone else. But then the thoughts of being too paranoid crept in, and you didn’t want to seem like an idiot ignoring a visitor.

You pulled the door open a bit, just enough to see who was there.

And behold, there he was—the ddakji guy. Of course. How the heck did he dodge the peephole? He’s quite tall.

His smile was as unnerving as always, that same polite grin he always wore that never failed to send a shiver through you. He was standing there, holding a small black briefcase in his right hand. His suit, crisp as always, was illuminated by the light, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something about his presence wasn’t exactly… safe.

“Ah, I knew you were home,” he said, as if he’d known the entire time you were debating whether or not to open the door.

“Are you… stalking me?” you asked, raising an eyebrow, trying to maintain your composure despite the strange situation.

“Stalking is such a harsh word,” he said smoothly, giving his usual tilt of the head. “I still much prefer… coincidence… or fate,”

You crossed your arms, still not entirely convinced. “Fate? That sounds like a line you use on people before you scam them into some ridiculous deal.”

He chuckled lightly. “I assure you, no deals. Just a proposition.” He took a step closer, his presence suddenly more intimidating than before. “I’ve come to finish what we started.”

You frowned, the memory of your last meeting flashing through your mind. From the look on his face after you won the game, and the way he seemed so nonchalant about everything.

“I’m pretty sure I already finished it,” you shot back, trying to sound unaffected. “I won. You lost. End of story.”

He didn’t seem fazed by your resistance. “Maybe. But I don’t think it’s over just yet. You see, I have another game in mind. One you might find… more interesting.”

You were about to shut the door, but then he grabbed hold of the side to stop you.

“Just wait a second,” he said, his strength much overpowering yours.

What the hell was this guy’s deal?

You frowned, the memory of your last meeting flashing through your mind. From the look on his face after you won the game, and the way he seemed so nonchalant about everything. But now... there was something in his eyes. Something darker. And it made your breath catch in your throat.

"How many times do I have to say it?I’m pretty sure I already finished it," you shot back, trying to sound as mean as possible to shoo him away, but you couldn’t silence the sound of your heart pounding loudly in your chest. "I won. You lost. End of story."

He didn’t seem fazed by your resistance. In fact, his smile only widened, an almost predatory glint in his eyes.

"Maybe. But I don’t think it’s over just yet. You see, I have another game in mind. One you might find… much more interesting."

Your breath hitched as he stepped closer. Too close. The air around you suddenly felt thick and heavy. Before you could react, he reached up, his fingers lightly brushing against your arm as he held the door open just a little wider, his grip surprisingly strong.

“Just wait a second,” he said in that low, smooth voice, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. "This time, there’s no escape."

You swallowed hard, a mix of confusion and arousal swirling inside you. Why was he doing this? Why were you still standing there? Why was your body betraying you, craving something you couldn’t quite put into words?

You tried to back away, but he was already pressing himself into the doorway, the scent of his cologne filling your senses. He leaned in closer, so close you could feel the heat radiating off his body. His hand reached up, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, his fingers lingering a little too long.

“I told you,” he whispered, his voice low and rough now. “I don’t lose.”

Before you could say anything, he closed the distance completely and pressed his lips into yours. It was fierce, demanding, his hands on your waist pulling you closer, the pressure of his body sending shockwaves through you. You gasped into the kiss, feeling the heat intensify as he deepened it, his tongue sweeping into your mouth.

Your hands, on instinct, found their way to his chest, but he was already guiding you back into your apartment, the door falling closed behind him with a soft thud. You barely noticed it as your body reacted to him. Instinctively, your hands were pulling him closer, your legs weak with need.

He paused only for a moment, pulling back just enough to look at you. The lust in his eyes made your pulse race. “You wanted a challenge, right?” he said, his voice husky. “Let’s see how far you’re willing to go now.”

And then, with a swift motion, he pushed you back against the wall, and his hands started to explore your body, touching every part of you. You let out a breathless laugh, caught between the strange tension and the undeniable pull between you two. You felt the weight of him press against you, the tent unmistakable in his pants.

“I think you’ve already won,” you said, breathless, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Is that so?” he asked, his voice laced with amusement. He pulled back slightly, giving you a look that sent a jolt of desire straight to your core. “Then let’s see if you’re ready to finish this game.”

His lips gradually moved to your neck, kissing and biting softly as his hands slid beneath your clothes, feeling the smoothness of your skin. Every touch made you shiver, every kiss igniting a fire within you. You gasped as his hands worked their way down, finding the heat between your legs, making you ache for him even more.

Without another word, he slowly undid your clothing, his movements deliberate and controlled, yet full of hunger. His lips trailed down your body, each touch, each caress, sending you into a spiral. By the time his hands found their way to your most sensitive spots, you were already a mess, your body aching for more.

“Do you want this?” he asked, his voice dark and velvety, as he hovered above you, his fingers teasing just at the edge of what you needed. You nodded, too far gone to hold back any longer.

"Then let's finish what we started," he says.

The game is much simpler now. The only rule being… the first to cum loses.

#salesman x reader #squid game #squid game salesman #squid game fanfic #gong yoo x reader #squid game spoilers #salesman smut #the salesman smut

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selfcarecap · 2 months ago

Text

Over Each Other [L.H.]

Logan Howlett x female!reader

summary: Logan and you are just friends – you have a boyfriend, after all. But sometimes when you and your boyfriend are arguing, Logan listens and jerks off to it. He knows you two will break up soon, and he’s just finding ways to patiently pass the time until you can be his. Until one night, you’ve fought your final argument with your boyfriend and are in need of some comfort that Logan is more than happy to provide.

warnings: smut 18+ like this is more sexual and less fluffy (or angsty) than the summary sounds tbh (m masturbation, oral sex f receiving, unprotected piv, creampie, Logan calls reader princess, good girl, bub, baby), kinda toxic i mean you read the summary but still a sweet fic, reader is vulnerable so Logan could be seen to be taking advantage of her so don’t read if you don’t like, excuse the dramatic title and a few lines (from Linkin Park’s Over Each Other) because this is also me working through some feelings lmao, this is obviously not at aaalllll a realistic depiction of healing from a break-up lol (although I sincerely believe it would work with Logan..), X-Mansion era

note: not the fic I was expecting to be my first fic in over a month but my heart needed this so here you go <3 i also only proofread once so lmk if there are any atrocious typos lmao | gorgeous dividers by @dollywons

word count: 3.9k oops wth

Logan knows he’s a bad man. He’s killed people, innocent people, committed countless crimes, done more evil things than he can ever remember. But now he knows he’s a bad man because of something entirely different.

Logan shamelessly jerks off to the sound of you and your boyfriend arguing.

He doesn’t even need to use his heightened hearing, that’s how loud you two are. Night after night after night he listens to you arguing, stroking his cock to the rhythm of your voice.

You always have the upper hand — he would never masturbate to your pain or to you being degraded. Your boyfriend is a fucking idiot and you’re not afraid to let him know. Logan is sure he’s not the only one who knows that your relationship will end soon, and he’s fine to give you the time you need. Logan is a patient man these days; he can wait. But he’ll make the wait worth his while.

He gains pleasure from knowing that soon you two will break up, and you’ll be all his.

Logan sees the way you look at him, senses the way your heartbeat speeds up that little bit when he smiles at you, smells a spike in your pheromones when he’s around. And he’s no different when it comes to you.

The more you and your stupid boyfriend argue, the closer you get to breaking up, and the closer Logan gets to his release.

He’s listening to your moans of frustration this evening and imagines turning them into moans of pleasure, imagines licking your pussy until you’ve forgot all about your little boyfriend. Logan’s fist speeds up around his dick, hips moving up to fuck into his hand as he thinks of you and your gorgeous face.

Logan cums with your voice in his head, with the thought of you and your boyfriend finally breaking up, and shoots cum all over his own hand, down his forearm, and over his abs. He jerks off until he’s satisfied, lying in his bed a mess for a second – his hand coated in his cum, his happy trail sticky.

When Logan’s breath slows down, he realises your voice has stopped. You’re not arguing anymore – you must have gone to sleep. Then he hears your voice again, this time much closer.

“Logan?” A quiet knock at his door, “It’s me, you still awake?”

He pulls his sweatpants back in place and reaches for a tissue, only for his hand to land in the empty box. In a panic, Logan takes off the shirt that he’d pushed up over his abs, and uses it to clean himself of his release, using his freshly washed shirt like a rag.

“One second!” He calls out as he rubs the bunched up shirt over his happy trail to get it all off. Logan throws the dirty shirt into the corner of the room, and opens the door shirtless.

His heart drops when he sees the state you’re in, cheeks wet with tears and clinging to a teddy bear Logan once got you.

“Um… we just broke up. Can I come in? I know it’s late…”

Logan ushers you inside before the sentence has fully left your lips. Now he feels a twinge of guilt – he was too busy trying to get off to realise it was a serious argument this time. Maybe he jerks off more to the concept of you and that dumb boyfriend (ex-boyfriend) arguing and how hot you sound putting that guy in his place all confidently, than the actual fight.

As much as it pains him to see you hurt, he has to smile behind your back for a second when he closes the door. But a shiver runs up his spine when you let your guard down once you’re alone with Logan, all teary-eyed and small and sad.

Logan sits you down on his bed as you tell him the full story.

I tried to find my patience…

All we did was talk over each other…

It was all a waste of time…

There was nothing underneath…

I'm so tired of talking over each other…

Logan hugs you while you cling to him, your words barely audible with how you’re smothered against his naked shoulder. He gently rubs your back, and it only makes you hold onto him tighter.

“Shh, shh baby, I’m here for you. It’s gonna be okay.” The pet name just slips out. Logan barely realises what he’s said until you look up at him all doe-eyed, nodding your head frantically.

“I’m okay,” you say, “For now. Thank you for listening.”

“Of course, do you want to stay here for the night?”

“If you don’t mind.”

“‘Course I don’t mind, bub. I like having you here. Even better if it means I can take care of you while you need someone,” Logan says, and watches a soft smile spread on your face.

You sit up to wipe your eyes, only to realise you have no tears left. It’s been an hour since you got here, and you’ve calmed down.

Logan held you, said all the right things, helped you see things clearly. You’re better off without that guy, and you know Logan will be here for you until you’re over him. More importantly, you’re sure he will be there for you beyond that too.

“Here you go,” Logan takes your teddy and gives him a special place on his nightstand, and lets you wrap your arms around him as you settle against his chest. He’s not sure what to do next, but it’s late and he assumes you have no energy to do anything other than sleep.

It surprises him when you speak up a few minutes later, though your voice is quiet.

“He couldn’t even make me cum…”

Logan looks at you and finds a pout on your lips but a glint in your eyes, the warm glow of his bedside lamp making you look like an angel.

He chuckles, “So you’re crying over a man that couldn’t even make his girl feel good?”

You nod your head and smile bashfully.

“When was the last time you were fucked well?”

You look away from Logan as you think, “Uh, I dunno.”

“Hhmm. You didn’t miss it in all that time you were together?”

You turn to your side to lean up on your elbow, more awake again, “Well, I did. But maybe now I can… find someone better.”

You’re looking up right at Logan through your pretty eyelashes, and it’s subtle but so seductive, but he knows you’re too shy to initiate something, especially now when you probably feel guilty for not mourning your relationship more. But Logan is proud of you for realising your worth and ending it. Your ex should be the only one sad right now, not you.

“Of course you will,” Logan tells you, “You’ll find someone who loves you more than that idiot ever could and someone who will fuck you as good as you deserve.”

“Hmm, you think so?”

“I know so, bub.”

You give him a smile and move to lie down on your belly, head resting on your folded up arms. Your scooting around moves the blanket, pulling it off of Logan’s lap, revealing the half-hard bulge under his sweatpants.

Logan pulls the blanket back in place, but he’s not sure if you saw.

“How will I know if I’m being fucked well? If I don’t have a reference…” you play with your hands, not looking at Logan.

“I could always show you,” Logan smiles, patiently waiting for you to gain the confidence to look back into his eyes, and you do.

“Only if you want to. But if I’m interpreting your signals right then..” you nod to his lap with a teasing smile.

“You saw…” Logan rolls his eyes at himself which earns him a sweet laugh from you, “Didn’t want you to think your pain makes me hard, or that I’m taking advantage of you.”

“Do I look like I’m in pain right now?” you giggle, a huge smile on your face, cheeks already getting warm with arousal, “And if you wanted to take advantage I’m sure you wouldn’t have waited for me to bring it up.”

“You sure about this, bub? We have all the time in the world.”

“I want you now, Logan. Been waiting to get the courage to break up with him so I could finally have a chance at being with you.”

“Really?” Logan asks, but you’re busy letting your gaze drift down his body, fixed on his lap now. Logan moves closer, and he takes your face in his hands, chuckling “You still with me, bub?”

You don’t reply. Instead, you push your mouth against his, and it’s the most intense kiss Logan has ever experienced. It’s like Logan can feel himself pulling all the pain from you with his lips, eating your pain alive and swallowing it, never to be seen again.

He doesn’t even have to open his eyes to know that you’re smiling more than you have in weeks. He can feel a new energy radiating off your body. Something is healing in you.

You kiss until you’re both breathless, smiling and horny. Logan’s erection is pressing against your leg, and he can practically smell how wet you are.

“Tell me what you need, baby,” Logan says, heart beating fast from how turned on he is.

You pause for a second, grinning and almost too needy to think, “Tell me what you want to do to me.”

“How about I show you?” Logan lies you on your back, slowly pushing your oversized sleep shirt over your hips, and kissing down your body, down to your knees and over your shins.

“Is this okay? Tell me if you wanna stop.”

“Don’t stop,” you breathe, skin heating up where he touches you to gently pull your knees apart, “Never stop.”

Logan chuckles against your warm skin where he kisses you, from the side of your knee to your upper inner thigh. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted you, how long I've needed you.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” It’s hard to talk, but you’re getting the words out somehow, “Could’ve been with you ages ago.”

“Didn’t want to intervene with anything. You needed your time to break up. And I know good things take time, and…” his words die in his throat when his lips move to your panties. They’re soaked with wetness, and Logan inhales you, something between a moan and a whimper leaving his mouth.

“God, baby…” he whispers, settling down between your legs and then lifting them up over his shoulders, “You have no idea how badly I need to eat your pussy right now. Can I?”

You nod, fighting the urge to rip your panties off yourself.

“Use your words, princess.”

“Yes, Logan.. yes, yes.” It’s the only word you can think of right now, with the heat of his mouth so close to your clothed pussy. He smirks at your words and nuzzles his cheek between your legs, leaving your clit throbbing and the spot on your panties growing larger.

You clench around nothing when Logan trails the tip of his tongue up and down your pussy over your panties, your legs squeezing around his head, hands finding his hair.

“You gonna be a good girl for me and stop squirming? I wanna take my time with you, baby.”

You nod and close your eyes for a moment, unsure if you can stop. But then Logan slowly pulls your panties to the side and seems to forget about wanting to take his time himself.

“Such a pretty fucking pussy, baby–” he interrupts his own words by burying his face between your legs, licking his way up from your pussy to the top of your clit and moaning as if it were the best meal he’s ever tasted.

You tighten your hand in his hair to pull him even closer and he obeys your silent command, burying his face in you more, his beard, lips and nose now wet with you. Logan licks into your pussy, tasting you like a man starved, one of his big hands coming up your body to place it over your tit.

“So fucking perfect,” he mumbles more to himself, finger playing with your nipple as his tongue plays with your clit. It’s been so long since you experienced this type of pleasure that you’re close already.

“Logan…” it comes out as a whimper, and he smirks as he lifts his head to look at you.

“Yes, princess?”

“Might not last long..” you say, and it takes everything in you not to push his head down.

“That’s the point, baby,” he smiles, and goes back down. He brings his hands between your legs to spread your pussy lips so that he can get even closer. You feel vulnerable spread open for him like this, but it’s a comfortable vulnerability. Your heart feels content. You know you can trust him. He won’t hurt you.

You’re so wet that you’re almost embarrassed by how loud it sounds when Logan eats your pussy. A pleasure you’ve been missing in your life for a while rushes through your body when Logan begins to suck on your clit, and your back arches off the bed.

You cum with Logan’s name a whisper on your lips, and he doesn’t stop until you’re seeing stars and pushing his head away.

Logan sits up from between your legs with a grin, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and then licking it clean right after.

“You okay?” He smiles, and you realise how hard you’re panting.

“Yeah. I almost forgot what that feels like,” you confess.

“What, cumming?”

You nod with a pout that Logan quickly kisses away, covering your body with his as he hovers over you.

“Trust me, bub, we’ll make you remember all of it. You up for more tonight?”

“Yes,” you reply embarrassingly fast. You’re not sure you could stop if you wanted to, your body pumped full with the happiness hormones you haven’t felt in all too long.

Logan holds himself up over you with one arm, pulling down his pants. You’d tease him about the wet spot of precum on them, but you’re far too horny to think of what to say.

“Good, because you taste so delicious, baby, you’re not getting rid of me between your legs any time soon,” he smirks, leaning down to kiss you as you grin against him. You don’t want him to leave, ever.

His big hand finds your thigh, and he gently pushes a finger in, then two, kissing you and watching your face for any signs of discomfort, but all you’re doing is arching your back for him to push deeper.

“You want it, baby?”

You look down Logan’s body, eyes settling on his hard and wanting cock, the tip glistening with precum, “Mhmm,” you nod frantically, “I want it.”

“Been a while though…” you add hesitantly.

“It’s okay, princess. I’ll be gentle. We’ve got all the time in the world, okay?” He leans his forehead against yours and a smile spreads over your face again.

“Okay.” You lean up to kiss him, both of you getting lost in the way your tongues feel against each other for a few moments.

“Here,” Logan rubs a few messy circles over your pussy, his palm getting slick with your wetness. He wraps a hand around his dick, stroking himself a few times to coat himself in the feeling of you.

“I’m ready,” you tell Logan before he can ask.

“Good girl.”

Logan trails his thumb over your cheek and gives you a chaste kiss, and butterflies erupt in your belly.

“You have no idea how happy I am right now,” he says, and all you can do is look back up at him lovingly.

“You want me to put it in?” he asks, teasingly slapping his cock against your clit a few times. Then, he suddenly pauses.

The warmth of him above you is gone, but he’s not far. He’s leaning over to his bedside table, turning your teddy bear away from you two.

“He doesn’t need to see this,” he says all seriously, and you giggle.

You help him take off your shirt, and you’re bare underneath, and as good as it feels to have Logan distracted by how good your boobs look for a bit, you need him somewhere else.

“Logan?” you ask, and he looks back up at you, a nipple still in his mouth.

“Yes?” he licks a broad stripe over your nipple as he says it, and it comes out muffled.

“Kind of need you somewhere else.”

“Oh, do you, princess?” Logan hovers over you again, leaning on one forearm as his other hand rests on your tit, and he’s smirking down at you, “Where would that be?”

You grin widely, biting your lip as you carefully take his hand off you, and bring it between your legs. You don’t even have to guide him all the way to your pussy before his hand is gone from yours and he’s cupping your wet, warm pussy.

“Here, baby?” he brings two fingers up to his mouth to suck your wetness off them, and you nod as if in a trance.

“Okay, bub, you sure?”

“Yesss, Logan,” you let out a pathetic groan of frustration, your chest vibrating with the sound.

He smirks, bringing his hand, still slick with his spit, to your cheeks and squishing them together, “You’re so adorable when you’re horny, you know that, princess?” You bat his hand away at his teasing, but your grin might be even bigger than his.

Logan finally lifts one of your legs and pushes it up against your chest, rubbing a few lazy circles on your clit before he rubs the tip of his cock through your folds. He’s doing it to tease you, but you see him lose his own composure, expression turning into a frown of neediness.

You share another quick but sloppy kiss during which you take Logan’s cock and rub it against your pussy. He only pulls away from the kiss to finally put the tip inside you.

“God,” he groans at just the first few inches, and you both calm yourself down to make sure this isn’t over immediately.

“I can take it,” you say, wrapping your arms around Logan’s neck.

“You’re my good girl, hm? Gonna take my cock? You sure?”

“Yes, Logan. Need all of it, please.”

“I got you, baby. I’ll give you anything you want.”

Logan slides his cock inside you, inch by inch, and you both moan when he bottoms out.

“You feel good?” He asks, and all you can do is nod. You groan, only at the fact that he’s not moving yet.

“Me too, baby, me too,” he smiles, slowly starting to move, beginning to fuck you. And he was right, he’s fucking you well. Better than anything you’ve ever felt.

He pulls out almost entirely for the first few thrusts, then stuffing you full of his big cock again, your wet pussy pulsing around him, sucking him back in. Your heart beats happily against your chest and he can feel it too; he’s slotted against your body as closely as he can be.

“Such a good girl, taking me so well. You still okay, princess?”

You grin and take his face to kiss him, his hips stilling just as he’s buried inside you as deeply as possible. You make out with him for a few seconds, pussy spasming around his uncontrollably, and you feel Logan squirm and pull out of you a bit because he doesn’t want to cum yet.

“That’s how good I feel,” you smile up at him.

Logan grins, burying his face in your neck to kiss you there as his hips begin to move again. He kisses over your jaw and your cheeks as a hand comes down to rub your clit. Together with his dick inside you, pulsing with warmth and pleasure, you suddenly feel all the energy of your body flowing between your thighs again.

You whimper against Logan’s face, your cheek catching against his.

“You close, baby?”

“Mhhm,” is the only sound you can muster as you cling to Logan, letting him fuck your pussy and play with your clit until you’re almost there.

“Such a good girl for me. Want you to cum for me, alright, princess? Gonna feel so fucking good, yeah?”

Your response is a whimper against his lips as you let go, and pleasure floods your body. Your pussy clenches around Logan’s dick, and while he’s still rubbing your clit, fucking you through your orgasm, he cums.

Logan cums so much you’re not sure where your orgasm ends and his begins, but you know you don’t stop feeling good until he’s drained until the last drop and your pussy is stuffed full with his cum.

You both slow down bit by bit, breathless and grinning at each other, not letting go. When Logan brings his hand back up between your faces, it’s slick with your wetness and covered in his cum, and you take his wrist to guide him towards your face.

You look Logan in the eyes as you suck his and your cum off his fingers, one by one, and Logan kisses you the second you’re done.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he whispers in your ear, slowly pulling out of you and pulling you into his arms when he lies down.

“Thank you,” you respond shyly, unsure what to say. You’re too happy to pay attention to your words.

“I’m always here for you, baby. You know that. And as soon as you’re ready to move on, I’ll take you on the best date of your life, okay?”

You grin, kissing his lips, “Okay. And until then?”

“Until then I’ll eat that pretty pussy of yours every evening, and you can sleep in my bed whenever you don’t feel like being alone. Sound good?”

You wrap your arms around his neck, cuddling against his chest, your heart warm and happy as you feel yourself getting tired, “Sounds good.”

P.S. thank you for reading <3 reblog and let me know what you liked most about this fic for Logan to come and eat your pussy out every night <3

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett smut #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #deadpool and wolverine #title is a bit misleading bc it’s about reader and her ex and not about Logan but I needed this title for me lol #fem!reader #wolverine smut #logan howlett x you #selfcarecap

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sturnlsstuff · 4 months ago

Text

MASK ON | ghostface!matt x fem!reader

— warnings: smut, dom!matt, sub!reader, cursing, knife play, choking, creampie, unprotected p in v, pet names, dirty talking, masturbation, mentions of murder, mdni

— a/n: matt is a bit crazy in this, it might be a lot so if u don't like, don't read xoxo

part two / part three

~~~~

saying that matt was obsessed was an understatement. he was going feral for you. losing his mind. every guy you talked to was found dead not even twenty four hours after your last interaction with him. it was making you think that maybe you have some kind of curse on you, but it was impossible... right?

matt was having his eye on you for a while now. but it was different. at first when he caught you at some party, he thought you will be his next victim. you guys talked, you thought he was funny and good looking. his tattoos caught your attention, you couldn't take your eyes of his arm. that's when matt's plans changed. he couldn't kill you, because he needed you. he craved you, wanted to put his hands all over your body, wanted to make you scream but from pleasure. but he was too anxious to start whatever, he didn't even know how. and you were so confident...

because matt was only shy without his mask on.

since this first and last interaction you both had, he started gaining informations about you. everytime your parents were at work and you were at school, he was in your room. he made a key to your house, allowing himself to come and go whenever he wanted. he stayed in your room for several hours, already knowing its layout by heart. he went through your drawers, smelled your sheets, stole your pretty lace underwear. but he also did something else. he installed a camera in your bathroom and in your room, to facilitate access to you. so every time you showered, every time you changed - he saw it. and he jerked off to the view, whimpering your name, with your panties wrapped around his dick.

he couldn't take it no more. his sick fantasies weren't enough.

he found himself in his car, parked down the road in your neighborhood. his phone in his hand as he kept watching you through the cameras. you were taking a shower, the water running down your perfect body. he couldn't stop staring at your beautiful curves, the way you soaped your skin, your wet hair sticking to your back... he wanted to be there with you, to press you against the wall and fuck you relentless, watching the pleasure forming on your face, listening to your sweet pretty sounds-

he was quick to pull out his painfully hard dick from his black jeans and start moving his hand up and down his length. having the perfect view on your tits, he kept imagining being there with you, being able to move his tongue around your nipples... he whimpers, thrusting into his fist, his dick pulsing desperately for some relief that he couldn't achieve. he was already struggling to cum, but it got worse when you got out of the shower and covered yourself with a towel, cutting off his view of your body. he groaned, stopping his movements and pulling his boxers and pants up. he was now on a mission. he had enough of just watching you.

leaving his car, he quickly made his way to your house and into the garden, hiding between the bushes. it was dark and he was dressed all black, so no one could spot him. he also knew that your parents were not at home. leaving you alone even though there is a crazy masked killer lurking nearby, looking for innocent girls like you? a bit stupid, he thought.

after putting on his ghostface mask and using a voice changer, he calls your number, waiting impatiently for you to answer. meanwhile you were in your room, still only covered by the towel and searching for some clean pajamas as you heard the phone buzzing. seeing the unknown number on the screen, you didn't think much of it and picked up.

"hello?"

"what's your favorite scary movie?" you hear a low, hoarse voice on the other end of the phone. frowning, you look at the screen of your phone before putting it to your ear again, thinking that someone is just making fun of you.

"what?"

"i asked... what's your favorite scary movie." the voice repeats, making you a bit confused.

"who's this?"

"that's not the answer for my question, sweetheart." the way he said 'sweetheart' makes you shiver. matt still hides in the bushes, watching you through the cameras on his other phone, seeing the confusion forming on your face and how you are still standing in your room just in a towel. this wasn't helping with his painfully hard cock that was straining against his jeans.

"uhmmm, i don't really watch scary movies..." you say unsure what to answer.

"yeah? then what do you watch?"

"i... i already answered your question so now you answer mine. who is this?" you ask again trying to sound confident even if the call was confusing you. was that one of your friends making fun of you?

matt lets out a low chuckle liking the attitude you're trying to put on. he knows he could make you change your act pretty quick. "isn't it a bit stupid? leaving you alone in the house when some psycho killer is nearby? maybe watching you? would be even a little unfortunate if he was talking to you right now, huh?"

your eyes widen and you look around as if you were going to find him. you understand the situation immediately. now you knew who you were talking to. it was him. and you felt your body rush through adrenaline. matt already was quietly unlocking your door downstairs to get inside. "what??? what do you want? please, leave me alone-"

"relax, sweetheart. i'm not gonna kill you. in fact you look too good right now to do anything to you other than making you moan while my cock is deep inside your pretty pussy."

"w-what??" you look around again as it could help you find him. processing his words, you frown your eyebrows, grabbing the top of the towel and pressing it tighter to your body. "how do you know how i look right now-"

"i know that you look incredibly hot in your pretty thin towel that isn't covering too much." matt smirks putting his second phone into his pocket and standing in front of the stairs. he didn't want to scare you too much, he needed to convince you to let him touch you.

panic starts filling you and you start looking around again. quickly walking to the closet, opening it, checking under the bed and in your bathroom. but he's nowhere to be found, obviously. "what do you want?!"

"i already told you sweetie. you aren't that dumb, are you? i just wished i could rip that towel off you... would you let me? hm?" as you hear his words, your eyes travel to the fabric covering your body, automatically pressing it against your chest. matt continues, "i'm not gonna hurt you, i promise. i just think you'd like this... i was watching you and i know what you watch when you touch yourself. naughty, aren't you? you like it rough and when the mask is on, huh?"

your eyes widen, your body shiver and neither of you says anything for a moment, your mind trying to process what you just heard. "you... what do you mean by saying..."

"yes, i watched you."

chewing on your bottom lip, you feel two things. panic and... something you definitely shouldn't feel right now. you actually liked watching home made porn when the guy had a mask on, while touching yourself. you knew it was fucked up, that you were fucked up and you had a lot of kinks that you would never tell anyone. but he knew. he watched you, took away your privacy. and something about this turns you on right now, making you more confused than ever.

"will you let me in, sweetheart?" you hear him ask and at the same time the stairs in the hall creak, indicating that someone was coming upstairs. but you were alone... right? matt knew your door were unlocked, he could easily get inside, but he needed to hear that you let him in. your body is literally frozen as you stand in the middle of the room, gripping the phone and looking at the door with wide eyes. heart pounding in your chest from the adrenaline and fear, yet the ache between your legs keeps growing when you think of every single thing he said. he was watching you, craved you and knew how fucked up your fantasies were because his were worse. "so? can i come in?" you see the door handle slowly turning, he was just outside the door to your room.

"y-yeah..." it slips out of your mouth faster than you can even realize. the call ends, you look at the screen confused, before your attention is turned towards the door which opens with a crack and a person dressed all in black, wearing a ghostface mask enters your room. he wasn't very tall, you checked him out, but couldn't notice much besides the knife he held in his hand. and that made your heart skip a beat and take a few steps back.

"oh c'mon, don't be shy now. you let me in, didn't you?" he speaks up, his voice a bit different than on the phone. it's almost like you recognize it, but you don't know from where. he slowly makes his way over to you but you continue backing away, with your heart pounding in your chest until you reach your bed, falling backwards onto the mattress, the towel loosens on your body, making matt smirk under the mask. he stops in front of your bed, looking down at you and tilting his head to the side a little. god, you were beautiful. he reaches his hand, running it slowly down your thigh, making you flinch a little. feeling your soft, smooth skin under his fingertips was like his dreams coming true. then with one quick movement he rips the towel off you, leaving you completely bare. you watch him with widen eyes, too stunned to speak because you're scared and that sends vibrations straight to your pussy. "what's the matter sweetie? you look like you've seen a ghost."

"i—" the words get stuck in your throat, even though you can't see his eyes, you can feel him looking at you. feeling it really intensely, not understanding how this situation can have such an effect on you, making goosebumps appear on your body, your pussy throbbing but at the same time the sight of the knife in his hand makes it slightly terrifying. "i... i j-just— what will you do...?"

a low, hoarse laugh leaves him, he places the non-sharp side of the knife between your tits and starts moving it downwards, but not in a way that will hurt you. looking at this with widen eyes, you can't believe how hot what he's doing is making you feel. matt was literally in heaven right now. seeing your terrified face but at the same time the lust in your eyes, the way your body reacted to his touch, it made him go crazy, his cock twitching in his jeans needing to feel you around him. needing to ruin you. "you've no idea how long i been wanting to do this...." he spreads your legs, a groan escapes him, seeing your pussy dripping with arosual, already ready for him. his fingers trace over your wet folds, spreading them open as he sees your pink dripping entrance and he inserts one finger inside you, the movement making you gasp silently and close your eyes for a moment. "...mmm, yeah.... so fuckin' pretty... wish i could taste you— fuckk, so wet f'me... and you didn't even see me— you're jus' a little slut, hm?"

he places the cold blade of that knife on your hard nipple, the feeling makes you let out a soft whimper and it's like a sudden wake-up call for him. he just made you let out a noise. and immediately want more. removing his finger out of you, holding your folds spread, he runs the handle of the knife along the entire length of your heat, making you whine again. "oh god..."

"you like it? i knew you might be into some crazy shit jus' when i first saw you...." matt throws the knife on the mattress and not wanting to waste more time, unzips his pants. "y'want it, yeah? tell me. tell me you want this---" he slaps your pussy making you squeal, the sound echoed throughout the room. did he really have to ask? you were dripping. for him. you should be scared of this psychopath in front of you, but instead you were turned on, which was sickening.

"mhm..." you hum, your eyes watching his movements very intensely. his pants were already down to his knees along with his boxers. swallowing nervously, your eyes stare at his hard cock, precum leaking from his red sensitive tip. damn, he was big. maybe even too big. "i-i do, but... i don't know if you're gonna fit---"

he felt his control slip away, those words making his cock harden more than possible. he just lets out, "--don'cha worry sweetheart.... i'll make it fit—", giving himself a few strokes and spreading your legs, pressing your knees against your stomach, he finally slides into you immediately feeling your slippery walls sucking him in and making him groan. you let out a muffled scream when he doesn't give you any time to adjust, he's just too desperate and feeling you around him makes his mind go blank. you feel his dick deep as he begins to move slowly inside you, brushing against your g-spot because of the position you two are in. your hands grab the sheets, eyes rolling back as he starts to pick up the pace immediately. it hurt, but at the same time it filled you with pleasure.

"oh--- 's too big... i can't—"

"yes you can." he growls thrusting into you harder, he can't get enough of the way your cunt feels around him so perfectly, the way you squirm beneath him, every single one of your moans leaving your lips, making him addicted. he looks down cursing to himself as he watches how his dick slip in and out of your sensitive pussy, each slap of skin makes you silently screaming and gripping the sheets as your life depended on it. "so fuckin' pretty... too big, huh? yet you take it all, like the good girl you are... fuck--"

"--mmmm, pleaseeee... oh my god—" you have no idea what even you're begging for. cutting yourself off, your eyes snap open looking at him, looking at the mask he was wearing, it just makes you clench around his dick.

"oh fuck, keep doin' that... s'fuckin' good f'me—" the headboard starts rocking against the wall with each movement of his hips and that's when you feel his hand wrapping around your neck, his fingers gripping gently at first as he picks up his pace even more making your mind spin. "that's right— take it... fuck-- take it all— make me fuckin' proud...i knew you aren't that innocent as you pretend to be.."

"oh- i... don't.... oh my—" you aren't even able to form a sentence as his fingers tighten around your neck, making you let out more muffled moans but still being able to breathe. his every thrust into you starts overwhelming you with pleasure, watching him while he ruined you, that mask on his face drawing out of you your deepest, most hidden fantasies. matt was too far gone, the look on your face, the way your brows were knitted together and mouth slack open letting out more sweet needy sounds, it all was imprinted in his brain and he won't forget this for a long time.

"don't hold back, sweetheart. let me— mmhh shit— let me hear you..." his fingers squeeze around your throat some more causing your breath hitch as he continues going on the unholy pace.

"feels so.. s-so good— oh! right there... plea--" another scream leaving your lips when matt keeps pounding into you, your stomach drops over and over and your pussy squeezes around him again. he's in total disbelief how good you feel, how your walls manage to strangle him more, it's even better than what he imagined. "---'m gonna.... fuck!"

"yeaah, that's it sweetie.... cum all over my cock... make a mess on it— shittttt.... y'like it that much? being fucked by the fuckin'.... ghostface.... huh? mmhmm—" matt growls when his dirty words just adds to your pleasure and suddenly the knot in your stomach releases. too far gone in the sensation he was giving you, you let out a shaky moan, your eyes rolling back while your body continues to shake.

"oh yeah, so good... perfect..." matt groans and just by your expression, the way your legs were shaking, he feels his dick twitches. he lets go of your neck, warm cum bursts from his tip inside of you as your walls sucks him in deep. your legs fall down onto the mattress, both of you catching your breath as he gives you a few more thrusts before stopping and pulling out, taking last look at your pussy now leaking with your own and his release. you open your eyes, but matt is quick to stop you. "no, don't. keep them closed f'me. don't you dare open 'em until i tell you. got it?"

you frown a bit but keeps your eyes closed. "wha-"

your words are cut off pretty fast when matt pulls his mask halfway up so that only his lips are exposed and presses them against yours, stealing a small, surprised whimper from you, but you quickly kiss him back. you can't even feel him properly, only feeling the soft texture of his lips as he immediately pulls away, leaving you a bit surprised. feeling a small gust of wind, as if you couldn't feel the warmth of his body anymore, you ask, "--can i open my eyes?"

but there's no response, so after a moment you find the courage to open your eyes, but the room is empty. a small frown appears between your eyebrows while propping yourself up on your elbow and looking around, but the mysterious ghostface guy was nowhere to be found. he disappeared as if... as if it was just your dream. your next sick fantasy. however, you touch your lips slightly with your fingers, still feeling the sweet taste of the kiss that lasted too short for your liking and you know it just couldn't be only your imagination. it has to be real.

right?

—————————————

a/n: this is lowkey inspired by some fanfic i read a looong time ago on ao3 but i can't find it rn and i have no idea what it was called 😭

#matt sturniolo #sturnlsstuff ❦ [ghostface!matt]#matthew sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo x fem reader #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #ghostface!matt

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thelostconsultant · 6 months ago

Text

A life well lived

pairing: Max Verstappen x Leclerc!reader

summary: Max has been in love with Charles's twin since they met as kids. When he finally has the chance to tell you how he feels years later, it turns out you feel the same. A wonderful life is ahead of the two of you, and Max couldn't love you and your son more.

note: 9k words + sm posts. I love them so much, I can barely put it into words. I hope you'll like this.

Whenever he was on the track, Max was competitive, and he didn’t lack the confidence he needed to win races. But he wasn’t the only one, Charles was equally good, and he also had everything a great driver needed to succeed. So the two of them naturally became rivals, the greatest of their generation, and despite their hate towards each other, Max couldn’t help but respect him deep down.

Throughout the years, he got to learn everything about him on and off the track, so he knew about his siblings. And he was painfully aware of his twin sister being there with him at every race, the sweet, lively girl who always had a bright smile on her face as she talked to her relatives. Every single time he laid his eyes on you, he wished he was the one you were talking to, he wished you would finally say more than just a brief hello or goodbye.

Whenever he did well in the race, Max liked to think your smiles and cheers were meant for him alone. They were always meant for your brother though, he knew that, but his stupid teenage brain assumed the fact you briefly glanced at him while smiling meant you would get married one day. That you were madly in love with him too, that you were yearning for his company just as much as he was.

If it was up to him, he would have talked to you. He wanted to learn more about you, he wanted to be near you, he wanted to experience the innocent love only a teenager could feel, but how could he do that under his father's strict control? He couldn't even play football on the weekends, how could he have a girlfriend? And then there was Charles who was already giving him death glares whenever they met, if he found out Max had a thing for his sister, who knows what he would have done. It was better not to risk a possible fist fight it would end with.

So he was destined to watch you from afar, letting his imagination run wild to cope with the pain he felt for not being able to talk to you. In his mind you were sitting next to him on top of a large crate, asking various questions to pass the time, giggling and feet dangling as you listened to him. His brain fed him with the image of you running up to him to hug him after the race, your bright smile being a much better prize than the trophy he had left on the ground.

And then he and Charles ended up in different series, meaning you weren’t there at his races anymore. His race weekends became much colder and emptier, he decided to focus solely on racing, pushing every single thought related to you to the back of his mind. He kept an eye on his rival, of course, he needed to know how he performed, if he was still good enough to one day catch up to him. He also wanted to know if you were still following him around like a shadow, if you still stood next to him on countless photos that he would later share on social media. He just wanted to see you, to know you were okay.

His mother was the only one who figured out he had a little crush on you. She noticed him staring at photos of you, and she was kind enough to start a conversation about you, giving him the chance to finally give someone a speech about how special you were to him, how nice you were to everyone, how pretty you were, and how much he wished he could talk to you. He didn’t even know why he told her everything without feeling embarrassed, but maybe he was just grateful to have the opportunity to get it off his chest after all those years. His mother told him to find you on social media and send you a message, after all that’s what those were made for.

But he didn’t do it. His confidence was usually nowhere to be found when it came to you, and even now all he could think about was making a fool of himself. What if you said no? What if you told your brother and he would reappear in his life to give him hell for making a move on you? He didn’t want to risk that, so he just returned to watching you from afar. Sad and lonely, with the kind of pain in his heart that couldn’t be healed so easily.

When he made it into F1, Max had a new challenge to face, and his head was always in the races, this cutthroat world forcing him to focus more than ever before. He knew it was only a matter of time before your brother debuted in the series as well, he just had to be patient and wait for it to happen, and once it did, you would be back in his life. So he waited and pushed himself, eventually winning his first race, and he couldn’t help but wonder if you saw him, if you were proud of him.

But then one day he noticed that you suddenly disappeared from social media, all of your accounts were deleted, and he began to panic. Seeing your posts–even though he didn’t follow you–was always the highlight of his day, so what was he supposed to do now? How was he supposed to know what was happening in your life? And to make things worse, you were studying abroad, he didn’t have the chance to accidentally bump into you on the streets of Monaco.

And then it happened. Charles finally caught up with him and joined F1. Max couldn’t have been happier. For one, he finally got his rival back, even a rush of adrenaline flowed through his veins at the thought of continuing their competition, and two, you would surely be back in the paddock. Maybe not at every race, but you would without doubt show up every now and then. So he began to count back the days to the first race of that season, having a feeling that you would not miss it, and then he spent the remaining time checking your family’s social media accounts to see if they shared any new photos of you.

liked by yourusername, arthur_leclerc and 245,175 others

charles_leclerc: I want to say thank you to my team and my family for the support. It was a great first race with a decent result. I missed my baby sister though, she used to be my lucky charm.

tagged: yourusername

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arthur_leclerc: Not bad.

pascale.leclerc.355: I'm so proud of you!

yourusername: What baby? I'm literally half an hour younger. That's not the baby category, you muppet.

⤷ charles_leclerc: You're a baby to me.

⤷ arthur_leclerc: You kinda are.

⤷ yourusername: Shut up, fetus.

⤷ charles_leclerc: And muppet? You spend too much time in London. Come back home.

⤷ yourusername: No.

You were back on Instagram apparently, and he had never tapped on a link faster before. His heart was racing from the excitement, expecting to see a bunch of photos of you, ones he hadn’t seen before, but to his disappointment, it was private. He couldn’t send you a request, he didn’t want you to know he was interested in your posts, and it was killing Max, because he was suffering from withdrawal symptoms by now. With your brother being back, he felt like that stupid kid again, which despite your absence came with the crushing feeling of a one-sided love he’d been suffering from for all those years.

Time passed, and he was just waiting and waiting, hoping one day you would show up, but you didn’t. There were posts on your family’s accounts, and you were glowing on every single photo, apparently having a happy life in London. He wondered if you were in a relationship. Did you have a special someone waiting for you? The thought of you being taken was devastating, because in his mind you were his, he truly believed that you were destined to be together.

[Nice to meet you, where you been?]

2023. He had to wait until the 2023 Azerbaijan Grand Prix to finally have you at a race.

It all started with a burner account he created years ago to keep an eye on the posts from your family and other people connected to them. Just to see if they had any new content about you without the risk of accidentally liking a photo with his real account. It’s not stalking. It’s not bad. Well, not that bad. So that day he checked the posts in the morning while he got ready to leave, and he saw a post from Alexandra that the two of you were having breakfast together before heading out to the track to see your brother.

His stomach did a flip, his heart rate jumped, and he suddenly felt like throwing up from the anxiety. He had always imagined this day would be easy. He catches you in the paddock, just “accidentally” bumping into you, greets you with a big, friendly smile with a short comment about how long it’s been, and he tells you how proud you must be of your brother. And then maybe they would have to talk about Charles for a while, but once you eased into the conversation, he could start to shift the conversation to you. How are you? Why haven’t you been to his races? Are you seeing anyone? If not, would you like to have dinner with him?

But now that it was time to actually do this, he felt sick from the thought. He couldn’t do it, he didn’t feel confident enough to talk to you. It felt like he had traveled back in time, turning into a nervous, awkward kid again. How stupid did he have to be to assume you would be interested? Sure, he and Charles didn’t hate each other on a cellular level these days, they could tolerate each other, but they were still each other’s biggest rivals, so why would you be with him?

Since it was sprint day, Max decided to focus on his job, but when he caught a glimpse of you as you celebrated your brother’s sprint qualifying win, he knew it was a futile attempt. You didn’t even look at him, even though he watched you for a few seconds with a stupid smile on his face and went over to congratulate Charles, which resulted in a kicked puppy feeling. The sprint race wasn’t any better, his head wasn’t really in it, but at least he could see you again. But then, just as he once again watched you with a smile, your eyes locked with his and you smiled back. Unlike back in the day, now he was sure this smile was meant for him.

He got drunk on this lovely feeling, and as pathetic as it probably was, he found himself lingering around the Ferrari motorhome after the interviews and the debrief. There would be photos and rumors, he was aware of that, but he had to see you. He had to give himself the chance to say hello, to see if you were also interested, if you were willing to talk to him. Deep down he hoped you would be looking at him starry-eyed, giggling like you used to, your bubbly personality coming to the surface as you talked.

Then he saw you step out on your own, looking around hesitantly as you probably tried to figure out where to go. You looked lost, but Max was more than happy to offer his services as a tour guide, so he walked over to you and stopped with a small smile on his face. “Need help?” he asked.

You turned to look at him with a surprised look, but then your features softened and you flashed the bright smile he missed so much at him. “I’m looking for the exit.”

“I can show you the way,” he offered, and he was surprised to see you quickly nod in response. As you began to walk in the right direction, Max’s brain worked in overdrive to figure out what to talk about, but in the end all he managed to come up with was a trivial question about why you were leaving on your own.

“I came with Alex, but now she’s going back to the hotel with Charles. I figured I could take a look around the city before dinner, so I won’t wait for them,” you replied as you pushed your sunglasses up to the top of your head.

This was his best chance to ask you out, he knew that, which is why he let out a low hum with his hands behind his back as if he seriously had to think about it. “I can show you around if you’d like. And I know a really good restaurant, one that’s not the crowded fancy kind,” he said as he glanced over at you.

He didn’t miss the way you blushed at the thought and he had to do his damn best to prevent a proud, cocky smile from appearing on his face. You clearly liked him, you were interested, what more could he wish for? After all those years here he was with you on his side, having a real conversation without your brother’s murderous looks, and on top of it all, he had the courage to ask you out on a date. Because he could tell you knew it would be a date, otherwise you wouldn’t be this shy all of a sudden.

Max came to a halt and gently put a hand on your arm to stop you. “I promise I won’t bite. Come on, just say yes,” he tried.

“All right, let's do this.”

A wide smile appeared on his face upon hearing this. “Great. Let's get my stuff then we can leave.”

His fingers slowly slid down from your elbow to your hand so he could take it, pulling you after him as he took a sharp turn and headed to the Red Bull motorhome with you by his side. When you were finally on your way out for real, it was you who reached out for his hand, the contact making him involuntary blush. It made you both nervous, unsure of what this meant, but it still felt so natural, like you've been tied to the other by some invisible string.

The two of you spent the following hours walking around the city, with him telling you interesting details he had picked up throughout the years, and you listened to him talk with shining eyes, accompanied by a big smile that sometimes temporarily made him forget how to speak. It was new, it was exciting, and he could have sworn it was just the two of you in the city that night. His eyes always found their way to your face, taking in every little detail as if he hadn’t studied it before as a kid or on the pictures he saw on social media.

When it was quite late, he took you back to the hotel you were staying in, but neither of you felt like saying goodbye just yet. For a minute or two you were just standing there in silence, waiting for the other to say something, to say what you both had on your mind out loud. He was the first to break under the sweet pressure, all because you nervously bit on your lower lip, a move that drew an almost animalistic growl out of him before he pressed his lips to yours in a kiss.

You didn’t hesitate to return it, getting so lost in it that your hands moved up to his neck, gently pulling him closer as if it was even possible. He only broke the kiss to let his lips pepper small kisses across your face, using this opportunity to tell you something that had been on his mind ever since you agreed to come with him. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this,” he whispered to you, his nose pressing against the shell of your ear.

“A whole twelve hours?” you asked with a delicate little giggle.

He leaned back to look you in the eye, his big palm resting on your flushed cheek as he flashed a playful smile at you. “More like twelve years,” he corrected you. Your eyes grew wide from surprise, pupils still blown, and he couldn’t help but press a kiss on the tip of your nose. “What can I say, I had a crush on my biggest rival’s sister. And I still have to this day.”

Gulping, you watched him in silence for a while, a reaction that made him worry. Did he say something wrong? He was terrified of the thought of you letting go of him and disappearing behind the entrance of the hotel, leaving him behind for good. But before he could get lost in this spiral, you kissed his chin and went, “Well, I might have had a crush on a stupid blond boy with his stupid blue eyes too. But he never talked to me and I was warned to keep a safe distance from him,” you added.

This made him kiss you again, and this time he didn’t hold back. He couldn’t care less about standing out on the street where everyone could see him, he couldn’t worry about photos emerging of the two of you. He wanted to claim you as his, making you understand that fate brought you together again, and if he had to do this in front of your damn hotel, then he was more than happy to do it right there with an audience.

Your safe little bubble was burst by the constant buzzing of your phone, soon followed by the ringtone, and while he wished you would just ignore it, you swore under your breath and quickly answered it. You were speaking with someone in French, upset that they were bothering you right now, but soon your expression and voice changed, mirroring the panic you probably felt, because the moment you ended the call, you began to type furiously. When he gave you an expectant look with a questioning hum, you let out a sigh and showed him the screen.

He took the device from your hand and scrolled over some posts that could be found under his name in the tags, showing the two of you kissing just a few minutes ago. Considering your brother was tagged in a few of them, it was quite obvious that he was the one who called you, and knowing him, he was probably fuming from anger. “I’m sorry,” he said as he gave you back your phone.

To his surprise, you just shook your head with a smile, then stood on your toes to give him a quick kiss. “Don’t be. He’ll calm down and people will move on. Also, I’m too happy to care about the fans. Screw them,” you said with a laugh.

Yeah, screw them. As long as you could think about this so casually, he was happy. Because the last thing he wanted was you being crushed by the pressure, deciding that this relationship wasn’t worth the effort it needed to work. He was willing to do whatever it took to make it work, he was ready to make sacrifices if needed, anything to keep you by his side. He was that lovesick teenage boy again, his brain clouded by a pink fog that affected his way of thinking. Was it wise to put rationality and logic aside? Not really, but he couldn’t care at the moment.

Not when after all those years he could finally tell you how he felt, and he could hear you say you felt the same.

“Does this mean you’ll give me your number?” he asked with a grin, already reaching for his phone. Shaking your head, you held out your hand, then typed it in, saving it under your name that you finished with a heart emoji. “Will you come to Miami with me? Then we could travel back to Monaco together and spend some time there until the race.”

You hesitated for the first time that night, looking away nervously as you fidgeted with your bracelet. “I wish I could, but I have to work. Maybe I can go to Monaco, but I’m not sure. I’m sorry, Max,” you told him when you finally turned back to him and saw the devastated look he probably had in his eyes.

He was so lost in his fantasy world that he failed to consider that you might have had a life back home he knew nothing about. He didn’t know what you did for work, he only knew you lived in London. At least he assumed you still did. What else did he not know? What if you had someone waiting for you back home? Panic took over at the thought of this kiss being nothing more to you than a fleeting memory in a few hours, because he didn’t want to lose you so soon, he didn’t want to be a plaything you get bored of so fast.

Somehow you picked up on his feelings, because you gently cupped his face to make him focus on you. “I have to be in L.A. next week, I don’t know when I’ll have a little break again,” you told him, eventually flashing a sweet smile at him. “But I’ll try to make it to Monaco on time, okay? I’ll even give ourselves a few days to relax together.”

“Promise?”

You nodded before burying your face into the crook of his neck. “I promise. I should get going, but I don’t want to leave you just yet,” you mumbled against his skin.

Max buried his fingers into your hair then grabbed a handful of it to gently pull your head back. “Get some sleep. And if you feel lonely tomorrow at the track, feel free to visit me. You’re always welcome,” he said before placing a soft kiss on your forehead. “Now, go before I change my mind and take you back to my hotel.”

You laughed at this, but nodded nonetheless. “Good luck for the race. I don’t want you to beat my brother, but still. Goodnight, Max.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” he said as he let you go.

He stood there for a while, watching you disappear behind the entrance of the building, but once he took a deep breath to calm his heart that was still beating fast from the excitement he felt because of you, he headed back to his hotel. In the taxi he pulled out his phone and sent you a message. Then you replied, and the written conversation didn’t stop until you announced you were dead tired around one in the morning.

You were his, he could feel it. After all those years, after all those dreams and sleepless nights, he could finally consider you to be more than just a precious memory. You were real. He could still taste you in his mouth. It felt like a dream, one he never wanted to wake up from.

In the morning, as he was heading to the track, Max received a message from his mother. All it said was, “I see you got the girl in the end.” He couldn’t hold back the big smile that wanted to creep on his face at the memory of that conversation they had all those years ago about you. After all that time, here he was, lost in the lavender haze because of you.

During the drivers parade he didn’t miss the same old murderous looks he had received as a kid, but at least this time he knew he was safe in front of all the cameras. A part of him wanted to discuss this with Charles, but something told him it would be better if he let you do the talking. Even as kids, you had your brother wrapped around your finger, he highly doubted that had changed over the years.

After the race he saw you congratulate your brother, but he didn’t miss the bright smile that you flashed at him. He considered walking over to you, stepping into Ferrari territory, but in the end decided not to risk it. If you came to a race as his guest, he would have the opportunity to get a tight hug from you before giving you a kiss in front of the whole world.

They were heading to the cooldown room when Charles suddenly appeared next to him and said, “If you hurt her, I’ll launch us both into the nearest barrier the next time we meet on the track.”

Max gulped and nodded. It was a fair warning. He was already afraid of fighting him on the track, but knowing he now had a good reason to attack him was truly terrifying.

In the following week, the two of you talked a lot. Once you even told him that you hadn’t written a word in over an hour because of your conversation, but he still didn’t let you get back to work. He was selfish, he needed to hear your voice to function, to feel alive and know that the weekend before wasn’t some fever dream. He considered suggesting a visit to L.A. after the race to spend some time with you before you traveled back to Monaco together, but he had a feeling that he would be pushing his luck with that.

The race weekend in Miami didn't start as planned. He was really mad and disappointed in himself after the qualifying, but talking to you made him feel a lot better. Even though you weren't there with him, knowing you cared so much helped him calm down and focus on the race ahead.

On Sunday morning, a bit over an hour before the drivers parade, Checo asked him to follow him, acting all secretive when he said he wanted to show him something. Max wasn't in the mood for surprises, but then he noticed you standing there in their motorhome and a wide smile appeared on his face. He rushed over to you to pull you into a tight hug before kissing you fiercely, recharging his batteries by doing so.

“What are you doing here?” he asked when he stepped away, although he held your hands and wasn't planning on letting go anytime soon.

You shrugged with that sweet smile on your lips. “Yesterday wasn't the best for you and I could tell you were frustrated. My brother got me a pass, and he decided to ask Checo to sneak me into your motorhome to surprise you,” you explained.

This was a surprise, sure, but not because you were here. “Charles organized this?” You nodded. “Why?”

“I don't know, ask him.”

“The last time we talked he told me he would push us both into a barricade if I hurt you,” Max admitted, earning a shocked look from you. “Hey, it's okay, I'm not planning on hurting you. Soooo, want me to give you a tour?”

When you nodded, he quickly thanked his teammate for helping your brother with this plan, then put a hand on the small of your back and showed you every interesting corner of the place, telling you different stories from the years he spent here, and conveniently ended the tour in his driver's room so you could have some privacy before he had to leave for the drivers parade.

Even though you were sitting on his bed with a mischievous smile on your lips, he kept talking about how he got ready for the races, answering a question he didn't realize was a hint until now. Because you were eyeing him as if you were planning to pounce at him or grab the front of his shirt and pull him on top of you.

With a sigh and a knowing smile he stood in front of you, grabbing your chin to make you look up at him. “Later, okay? This isn't the right time or place,” he told you.

“Why, what's the right time and place?”

He leaned down and kissed the top of your head. “Somewhere I can take my time with you. This is not it, trust me.” Nodding, you stood up and gave him a quick kiss. “Will you watch the race from our garage, or will you go back to Ferrari?”

As you wrapped your arms around his neck, you buried your face into his chest. “Where do you want me?”

“Do you really have to ask?”

“Red Bull it is,” you mumbled against him.

Soon he had to leave you behind to meet the other drivers for the parade, and his heart was beating in his throat from the nervousness caused by the upcoming chat with your brother. Because he had to talk to him, he had to find out if he was suddenly supporting you two, and why he helped him by bringing you here.

Charles was deep in a conversation with Pierre, but he wasn't afraid to interrupt them. “Can we talk?” he asked the Monegasque.

He nodded and followed him to a quieter corner. “I guess you met her,” he said with the hint of a smile.

“Why did you do this?”

“Because she was sad. And I don't like to see my sister like that. If being with you can make her happy, so be it,” Charles explained. “I remember how things used to be in our karting days. I remember how much she talked about you, and I remember the way you always watched her. Guess you found each other again. It doesn't mean we'll be best friends now, but maybe we should bury the hatchet.”

Max didn't even know what to say at first, which was new. Your brother's speech surprised him, he definitely wasn't expecting him to be okay with your relationship so soon after it had begun. Nodding, he offered his hand, and Charles shook it without hesitation.

He wanted to say something, he wanted to tell him how grateful he was for not making a scene or their lives a living hell, but the organizers told them it was time to go. So he waved goodbye and left to find his friends.

Sadly, he didn't have time to talk to you again, he only caught a glimpse of you before getting in the car, and he wanted to focus on the race ahead anyway. He knew you knew that, which is why he didn't feel like shit for not doing anything he could to squeeze in a few minutes to spend with you.

After he crossed the finish line, Max had a good feeling and he couldn't stop smiling in his helmet. He wasn't happy because he managed to win, no, he was happy because he knew you would be there with the team to greet him in the parc fermé. After all those years he could finally see you celebrate his good result instead of your brother's.

After he got out of the car, he quickly took off his helmet and balaclava, then ran over to his team to greet a few people before stopping in front of you, watching you with a wide grin as he waited for you to give him the green light. When you finally nodded, he pulled you into a fierce kiss, the adrenaline in his system working wonders.

“I hope we'll find the right place and time tonight, because post-race you is criminally hot,” you whispered into his ear with a cute laugh.

If it was up to him, he would have skipped the celebration and debrief parts of the day, but the best he could offer now was making everyone hurry so you could get back to his hotel as soon as possible. “We will, trust me,” he assured you eventually before being dragged away for interviews.

[It's you and me, that's my whole world]

Max knew that the Monaco grand prix would be the perfect time to ask you. But he wanted to do this right, and since he had learned in the past year how important your family was to you, he requested a meeting with your mother and Charles to discuss his intentions.

Maybe it was old fashioned, but your brother was a bit overprotective, he wanted to make sure he was comfortable with the idea of having him as a brother-in-law. Your mother wouldn't be a problem, he knew that, because she had often commented on how well he took care of you, and how happy she was that you found someone who was this enamored with you.

So now here he was in your mother's apartment, sitting across from her and Charles as if he was facing the Spanish Inquisition. He took a deep breath to steady his breathing and give himself a moment to figure out where to begin. In the end he decided to be direct, so he pulled out the little jewelry box from his pocket, and placed it on the table between them after he opened it to reveal the ring inside.

Pascale had her hands over her mouth as she gasped in surprise, but soon it was revealed that she was smiling happily when she reached for the box. “When are you planning to ask her?” she wondered as she took a closer look at the ring.

“After the race. Well, since I don't know what Sunday brings, I was aiming for Monday. I'm planning to take her out for lunch, then we would drive to a spot where I can ask her in peace. I already have an event planner getting a party ready for the evening,” Max explained with a shy smile.

And there was that trademark look again from Charles. He watched him with narrowed eyes as he leaned over to take a look at the jewelry in his mother's hand. “And if she says no?” Pascale poked his side with a disapproving look. “What? It's a possibility. They've only been dating for a year. It's too early.”

Your mother let out a sigh as she rolled her eyes. “Don't listen to him, Max, I'm sure she will say yes. She loves you very much. Oh, I'm so happy for you, come here,” she said as she stood up with her arms open.

With a relieved sigh, he stood up and walked around the table to hug her. “Does this mean you have no problem with my plan?” he asked hesitantly.

“Of course not!”

“I do,” Charles spoke up, earning a pointed look from his mother.

Pascale put his hands on her hips as she watched her son. “You would have a problem with any guy who tried to ask her to marry him, no matter how long they've been together. I know you want to protect her, but you can't do it forever. You have your own relationship to focus on, and I don't remember her ever having a problem with your decisions.”

Finally, your brother let out a long sigh, then nodded. “All right, you have my blessing. But remember what I told you last year,” he warned him.

“Yeah, I know, the barrier.”

Your mother's eyes moved back and forth between the two of them. “What barrier?”

When he saw the pointed look Charles gave him to shut him up, Max decided to lie. “It's more of a metaphor, nothing worth mentioning,” he said, forcing a smile on his face.

“I see,” she said, although it was clear she didn't believe a word he said. “I'm so happy for you. When will you ask Alex?” she suddenly turned to her son.

Charles almost choked on the water he was drinking. “Really? Just because she's getting engaged, I don't have to copy her right away,” he complained.

A few days later Max had his doubts about the timing. Charles won the race, becoming the national hero, so would it be fair to avert the attention away from him the next day? So he did the only thing he could think of and asked your brother if he would be okay with him going on with this as planned. He said yes, probably knowing two events with this magnitude would make you extremely happy.

Lunch was nice, you joked a lot about Oscar becoming an honorary Leclerc, but you were mostly talking about all the love your brother's been receiving since the race win. He understood that, and he truly believed this was a well-deserved win, one that's been a long time coming. He wished he had a car that could fight theirs, but right now they only had their special moments every now and then.

When you reached your destination and the two of you sat on a picnic blanket with a bottle of wine opened, Max began to feel nervous. He'd been dreaming about this for so long, even as a stupid kid he imagined spending your lives together, but now that he was supposed to pop the question he felt surprisingly uncertain.

You took a sip of your drink before snuggling up to him, even letting out a quiet giggle when you felt him wrap an arm around your body. He placed a soft kiss on the crown of your head while his free hand reached for the box in his pocket. He hesitated, wondering if this was the right time to do it, if he should give your relationship more time, but as he inhaled your sweet scent, he suddenly realized it would be foolish to waste your precious time.

So he moved his hand to yours and placed the little black box into your palm. You glanced at him with a surprised look on your face, and when he nodded to make you open it, you did exactly that. A small gasp left your lips when you realized what it was, what it meant, so he took this chance to tell you what was on his mind.

“I don't want to wait. I know we will have to sort a few things out, but I'm sure we can find a solution to everything. I travel around a lot, I know that, but if you could work remotely every now and then, we would just have to put effort into making our schedules work,” he said, his voice fading when you put up a finger to stop him.

He watched you examine the ring, taking in every little detail with a warm smile playing on your lips. “Maybe you should say those four words before giving me a speech about logistics,” you suddenly noted.

“What–Oh, right,” he said when realization hit him, then took the ring from you to do this right. “Will you marry me?”

You let out a low, thoughtful hum instead of answering. Did you really have to think about it? But then you looked up at him with that beaming smile of yours and said yes, making him the happiest man with this single word.

“We're going to our engagement party tonight. I invited everyone who's important to us,” he announced.

“A party? And if I said no?”

Rolling his eyes, Max let out a groan. “I swear you and Charles couldn't deny being twins if you wanted to,” he said, earning a questioning look. “That was his first question as well.”

The party in the evening was wonderful. Everyone was so happy to hear the news, and they had a lot of fun together. You and your mother disappeared for a while, and soon Charles and Arthur decided to join you in a private room, which gave him some time to talk to Alex. He needed to know what your brother truly thought of this engagement, and she surely knew something.

They sat on a couch next to each other, and she was watching him with a knowing smile over the cocktail in her hand. “What do you want to know?” she asked.

It took Max by surprise, but he was relieved to know she was willing to talk to him. “What does Charles think about this? I mean, really think? I'm sure he told you.”

“He thinks you're taking her away from him, but that's only because they're so close. Dating someone is one thing, but planning a wedding?” She shrugged, but the kind smile was still present. “Look, he understands that this is what she wants, he knows how much you love her, so he made peace with the idea.”

Nodding, he leaned back and drank some from his cocktail. “So I have nothing to worry about?”

“As long as you don't hurt her.”

“I'm not planning to do that,” he assured her.

Alex's smile grew even wider. “Then you have nothing to be afraid of.”

Their conversation went on for a little longer, but then it was interrupted by Lando who showed up with shots on a tray, planning to give him a speech while getting drunk together. He accepted his offer with a laugh, and Alex decided to give them space after sharing a drink with them.

Lando had an arm wrapped around Max’s shoulder after their third shot, animatedly explaining something related to marriage, some weird theory that didn't even make much sense. How much he had drunk before was a mystery, but he was his friend, so he just listened to him with a smile.

Hours later they all went home, and he was glad to finally have you all to himself. You spent the night talking, sleep somehow avoiding the both of you, but he didn't mind, it was nice to discuss things you were expecting from the wedding. Because you were already planning it in your head, trying to decide where to hold the reception, how many guests to invite, and what kind of dress you wanted.

And then you brought up the date. You were thinking about a month with a lower temperature, maybe in the spring, but he had a different idea. He didn't want to wait until next year. If it was up to him, the two of you would elope the next day, getting married without anyone knowing. But he knew you would want your family and friends to be there, so he was willing to settle with an alternative.

“How about this year? The beginning of September or the first half of October? We have short breaks then,” he suggested.

You looked surprised, but despite the frown, you seemed to consider the idea. “This soon? Planning a wedding takes time, even if we get help from a professional wedding planner–”

Max smiled at you before leaning forward to give you a quick kiss. “I already took care of that. She said even a September wedding is possible if we're open to a compromise when it comes to the venue,” he told you.

“I'm not even surprised to hear that,” you said with a laugh. “So September, huh? I'll need to start looking for a wedding dress right now then.”

The next few months were challenging when it came to the races, the car wasn't performing the way it should have, but his frustration always melted away the moment his eyes fell on you, whether you were there at the track or during a video call after the race. He was always reminded that he would get to marry you soon, that all he had to do was be patient.

When the time came, he was full of energy, he was as excited as a little kid on Christmas, and he couldn't wait to hear you say yes. The thought of Charles walking you down the aisle made him smile every time because you knew how important that was to you. To the both of you.

And when he tried to imagine what you would look like, how your dress would hug your body, how your hair and makeup would be done, he couldn't stop grinning. If there was one thing you and your brother had in common, it was the ability to look effortlessly pretty without trying.

But reality surpassed his wildest dreams, because you were breathtakingly beautiful. And his mind began to wander, he was already several steps ahead, planning to do something that could take your relationship to the next level, and his thoughts only returned to the present when the ceremony got the the I dos.

Before the reception began, he flagged down the photographer to ask for the photos he had taken not long ago, and once you both received the pictures, he immediately posted it on Instagram. He knew he should have waited and posted a photo dump, but he was too eager to share the news of his marriage with the world.

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maxverstappen1: My best friend, my soulmate, my WIFE. I love you, sweetheart.

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Your wedding was truly a celebration of your relationship, of your future together, and the love that tied you to all those people in your lives. He was one of the three people who knew a little secret; a secret he allowed to be announced to you and your family on your wedding day.

So you two and your family members gathered in the room you had gotten ready in, and you all watched Charles who was pale as a ghost, fidgeting with his watch until Alex reached for his hand with a supportive smile.

“I know this is your big day, sis,” he began, giving you an apologetic look, “but Max let us make the announcement today since you're all here.”

He stopped and looked over at his girlfriend, letting her be the one to get to the point. “I’m pregnant,” she said happily.

Max’s eyes never left you, he was waiting to see your reaction, and he didn't regret waiting, He saw that wide smile that appeared on your face, and heard that adorable happy squeal before you ran over to your brother to give them both a hug. That's exactly the reaction he was expecting from you, this is why he told them to make the announcement that day.

Once everyone left to have a drink while they told it to their friends too, the two of you remained in there alone, and he was quick to close the door and push your back against it before you could walk out as well. You gave him a surprised look, but he turned the lock as he kissed you fiercely, his hand moving down to your waist to keep you in place.

“I was thinking,” he began as his lips trailed along your jawline. “And before you say it, I'm definitely not turning this into some kind of competition with Charles. But remember when we talked about starting the baby project after the wedding? We are after the wedding technically, no?”

Now that you knew what he wanted, you reached up to tangle your fingers into his hair, pulling him into another kiss. “We’ll have to be quick if we don't want the guests to notice,” you mumbled when you pulled away for a moment.

He gave you a disapproving look at this. “I don't care about the guests. I will take my time with you. Now, buttons or zipper?”

“Buttons,” you replied with a quiet chuckle.

With a groan, he stepped back and moved his index finger in a circle. “Turn around,” he said. As he began the painfully slow and annoying task of unbuttoning your dress’ back, he added, “A zipper would have been so much better.”

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yourusername: Little Verstappen in the works.

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pascale.leclerc.355: I'm so glad my babies will soon have their own little families. All the best for you two!

alexandrasaintmleux: Our babies will be the best of friends ❤️

⤷ charles_leclerc: But our boy will be the better driver.

⤷ maxverstappen1: You wish.

maxverstappen1: I love the both of you so much ❤️ I'm lucky to have you in my life.

arthur_leclerc: Congratulations, sis!

[If you approach a Lyon lion hungry you will see teeth]

Max had always known he wouldn't race forever, and with his son in the picture, he always made sure you were okay with him going on. Because he would spend most part of the year traveling, leaving the two of you behind, but you always told him it was okay, that you could go to a few races with him to spend some time together.

When his son became old enough, he took him karting to see if he was even interested. He had grown up watching him in F1, he saw old videos of his races against his uncle, so neither of you were surprised when at the age of six he began to talk about starting to race himself. But it wasn't his idea only, Charles's son was also hell-bent on racing.

This is how their old rivalry continued with a new generation, although they definitely didn't hate each other off the track. It was truly heartwarming to see them celebrate together, hugging each other after a successful race. Of course, this came with the media's attention, they often wrote about the two being at the top of their category, but neither of them paid much attention to that.

The problems began when his son fell back into the midfield in the new season, because shortly after articles began to appear about his talent. Well, more like the lack of it. Some journalists thought he didn't have what it took to be as good as his father, and Max was fuming from anger every time he read one of these.

“Just don't read them,” you suggested one night after putting your son to bed.

You sat in his lap with your arms wrapped around his neck, and Max put down his phone with a sigh. “It's hard to ignore these idiots. They know absolutely nothing about him, they don't know what's going on with him behind the scenes,” he said before giving you a soft kiss.

It was true. During the break, your nephew proudly showed him an article about the two of them, so he figured he should do his own research. And all he saw were articles where journalists were comparing him to his father, analyzing his every move on the track. It put pressure on him, pressure that he apparently couldn't handle.

He didn't hesitate to take him to a psychologist, knowing perfectly well his mental health came first, but it was a slow process. The two of you did your best to help him, you always told him how good he was, that he just needed a little time to ease back into racing after the break. And you both also assured him that you would love him more than anything even if he stopped racing altogether.

“Did you read what my father said?” he asked you suddenly, and you shook your head in response. “He said that I wasn't pushing him hard enough. I swear he's out of his goddamn mind,” he said angrily.

You placed a soft kiss on his temple, then rested your chin on top of his head. “You know what he's like. As long as you don't start acting like him–”

“I would never,” he was quick to assure you.

“I know. Limiting contact between him and our son was the best decision we could make. Let's just hope these comments don't reach our boy.”

Max began to place soft kisses on your neck, his hand slowly moving up your back under the shirt. “I love you two so much,” he mumbled against your skin. “I'll discuss what to do tomorrow. I know some journalists have been trying to reach me for a comment, if the team says it's okay to talk to them, I will. Nobody should mess with my family.”

“Just try to stay calm. I know it's been a long time since Mad Max came out to play, but we're doing fine without him,” you said with a short laugh.

He looked up at you as he captured your lips in a kiss. “I can't make any promises.”

The next day the team gave him the green light to comment on the speculations under the condition of every single word being sent via email to have proof later. Though the PR people tried to tone down his harsh reaction, Max wasn't about to let them. He wanted the journalists to know he wasn't about to let them write that bullshit about his son anymore.

If they had a problem, they should come to him first for comment instead of publishing these pieces so anyone, including his son, could see it. If they wrote something like that, he wanted to have a quote from himself there too, mostly because he wanted his son to know his father was always in his corner.

As he waited for news about the journalists who received his comment from his team, Max saw his phone buzz on the table to signal a new message. When he checked it, he saw it was from Charles, and since he had nothing better to do, he quickly checked it.

Just as he hoped, some of the articles were extended with his comment, or in some cases brand new pieces were published. They visibly toned down the vitriol, probably understanding that they were talking about a kid, not an adult who could protect himself. He even received a message or two in which journalists apologized for the way they handled this topic.

The perks of including two off the record sentences to make them think. “If it was your child, would you be happy to read this? Wouldn't you worry how it affects them?” he wrote.

When he got home, the first thing he did was hugging his son tightly, telling him how much he loved him, promising to play against him in the sim rig after dinner. You were watching them with a loving smile on your lips, one that drew him closer and made him kiss you softly.

“Have you checked Instagram lately?” you asked him. Raising an eyebrow, Max shook his head. With a smile, you opened it on your phone and navigated to your brother's account before giving it to him. “We can count on our family, no matter what. As long as our son has this support, everything's gonna be okay.”

When he read the caption, he couldn't help but smile. “We should show him,” he said, motioning towards your son who was writing his homework.

You shook your head as you took back your phone. “He was the one who saw it first.”

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charles_leclerc: Like fathers, like sons. They will carry on our legacy because they are both insanely talented, and we are proud of them, no matter what happens in their careers. We love you, boys!

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yourusername: ❤️

arthur_leclerc: My nephews are badasses, don't mess with them.

user1: Those articles are disgusting, I don't get how anyone in their right mind can write that about a kid.

⤷ user2: No wonder Max finally commented on them. But it's so good to see how much he loves his son.

⤷ user3: Mad Max is back!

note 2: That's all, folks. What do you think? Feedback is always welcome.

#yes the title is a reference to rick and morty #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen #formula 1 #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #charles leclerc

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t-a-a-1 · 1 month ago

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Counting Stars

TFP Optimus x Female Reader

Summary: After a dangerous mission where you almost die, Optimus breaks up with you without knowing you are carrying his sparkling. It's not until seven months later that the universe allows you both to meet once again.

A/N: Lots of yearning, jealousy, delusions, craving, fluff. All that good stuff.

Counting Stars

...

He almost lost you.

And yet he had to act like he didn't care.

It was to everyone's surprise when he announced that you will no longer be living at the base. It was simple. Due to inner conflicts, you won't be a part of Team Prime any longer.

No one believed it until you came to pick up your things and said your last goodbyes.

Optimus was nowhere to be found.

And no one dared to ask him why.

Only Optimus knows the reason.

He was well aware of his limits. Knowing that the moment he sees you, he would break down. Throw away his pride and ask you to stay forever with him. That he was a complete idiot to believe he could live a single day without you.

What an idiot he indeed is.

It's been a week and he can't do it. Primus, give him strength. He sees you everywhere. He smells you in the flowers, feels your touch in the wind, hears your voice in nature and sees you in the stars. How much he misses to taste your lips once more.

"One more day and I think you will go offline, old friend."

Out of embarrassment, Optimus tries to close the windows in the data-pad screen, he was too focused on looking at pictures of you to notice Ratchet walking close to him.

“What, um-” He keeps closing tabs, each one having a different picture of you. From different angles and expressions. Blurry and not. “What are you referring to, old friend?”

Ratchet doesn't know how to react to this. He has always been aware of Optimus' massive love for you. Of course he knew. Even more now that the bearer of the Matrix can’t seem to function properly without your presence.

Optimus keeps closing taps and Ratchet gets a glimpse of Orion Pax. Trying his best to hide the fact that he messed up.

From innocent pictures, more intimate ones appeared.

“Would you please close your optics?” There is some panic and concern in his voice. But also an authoritative tone to it. “I do not wish for you to see her the way I used to.”

Ratchet just turns around, giving Optimus enough privacy to conclude his activity.

“I had just wanted to check up on your well-being due to recent events. But I am afraid that you are in a worse state than I thought possible.”

He hears more clicking and typing before hearing a heavy ex-vent coming from the Autobot leader.

“You can turn around now.”

“Optimus, you can’t continue like this,” the robot medic takes a look at the screen again. It’s empty but the blue blush on Optimus’ face is still evident. “It’s only been a week. But have you truthly imagined what your life will be after living an eternity without (y/n)?”

Of course he doesn’t think about it. He might be an idiot but not entirely stupid. If he spirals and thinks too much about it he’ll probably lose all sense of responsibility and sanity. He can’t think about no longer being able to see the stars in your eyes. Of not longer hearing the sweetness of your voice or caressing the softness of your skin–

“There’s nothing I can do about it,” Optimus quickly stops thinking. “My fate is sealed and so is hers. Our paths shall never meet again.”

Knowing Optimus for such a long time, Ratchet knows when he is lying. Even he should be aware of how full of scrap that lie is. Still, he wishes to push it further and see for how long Optimus will keep it up.

“If you truthly think that way then delete all of those frames and we shall never speak of her again.”

Their optics met for a few seconds and the gentle look in Optimus’ optics let Ratchet know everything he needed. However, he wanted his friend to be the one to realize it. Some things have to be lived and pain is the best teacher.

“I … I-”

Looking back at the screen, there are no pictures of you. The thought of never seeing you again crosses his mind. He doesn’t have much to remember you by. You had taken all of your things. No longer can he phantom words to deny the truth.

“Why are you putting yourself through all of this pain, old friend? When you and I are aware that you cannot pass a second without thinking of her?”

It was late night at the hangar and all other Autobots had gone to recharge. It was only the two of them and no one dared to ask Optimus about past occurrences that included you.

“I told her … I wish I had never met her.”

Ratchet slowly opens his intake the moment the words slips Optimus’ glossa.

“Even if my spark wishes nothing more but to see her again … I am afraid I have severed the relationship beyond repay.”

There is a pause in which Ratchet wanted to comfort his friend, to say some words of encouragement but he doesn’t know if it will be good enough.

“If only you had seen her face, Ratchet … You would know. I have no right to ask for forgiveness.”

You are the strongest person he knows. He has yet to see you shed a tear, no amount of injuries have made you do so. But that night, between discussions and arguments, he saw your eyes become crystal. The only thing he could do was to look away. He knew he would break as well if he ever became the reason for your suffering.

Seven months passed.

Not a single word from you.

Sometimes, however, Optimus would hear Fowler speak about you. A simple ‘She’s doing fine’ and ‘She has made new friends.’

But that was enough to make him wonder about you. Your new life, friends, if you had found anyone who was of your interest.

“We need the Autobot assistance in transporting a highly classified product across the state.”

He finds himself enjoying putting his life in danger. To take on difficult missions so his mind can be occupied. For those moments he is free from the thoughts of you. Any other second he is busy indulging in his torment from your parting.

Apparently, MECH was extremely interested in this product and had plans to steal it from the CIA. It was the Autobots’ job to prevent that from happening.

The bots surrounded a black bulletproof truck. They weren’t allowed to look at what was inside which did not please them. If they were to protect something, they wanted to know what it was. However, Optimus gave it a one time pass. After all, Fowler has proved himself to be a trusted ally.

The first couple of miles went by easily. With no interruptions.

It wasn’t until it started to go dark that trouble appeared.

MECH had interjected the mission. Using every single gun, missile and bombs at their dispossession. Whatever that black truck was carrying, they wanted it no matter what.

“At this rate we are going to lose the target!”

Arcee screamed through her comm-link as she tried her best to take down as many helicopters as possible without hurting any human in the process. Pretty much against her will but orders were orders.

“These guys are really fighting it out!” Bulkhead was against a few tanks, he had stayed behind to keep them busy while the truck made an attempt to go out of sight. “Are we even sure this thing we are protecting is worth our lives?!”

Optimus was the one closest to the truck, keeping direct contact in case of a disaster.

“Optimus! We won’t be able to keep them away for long!”

Bumblebee chirped in morse code and the Autobot leader knew he had to do something.

He drives faster, facing the two officers that were driving the truck. Side to side, they look at the driverless vehicle.

“Open the trunk and I’ll take the cargo. We won’t be able to hold them for long. I’ll take the cargo somewhere safe while you serve as a distraction. If we don’t do this, you’ll lose it all.”

The military officers look at each other for a small second. Giving a knowing look, they knew what they had to do. They open up the trunk and Optimus slows his driving, taking a look, finally, at what’s inside.

The cargo is you.

He quickly transforms back to his robot mode. Running towards you. He extended a sevo, he wanted you to jump.

You were holding onto the walls of the truck as if your life depended on it. And it did. This was definitely not the encounter you were expecting after not seeing him for seven months. But now it wasn’t the moment to think about that. What happened between the two of you was over. But you still trusted Optimus Prime, the leader he has always been.

“Quickly!”

You run towards him and jump as the trunk is in fast motion. Your feet land on his servo and in less than a second, he transforms back to his vehicle mode. Now you sat safely in the passenger seat. Optimus moves out of the road and drives off into the forest. Getting lost into the massiveness of nature and tall pine trees.

No longer being able to hear chaos, Optimus assumed it was safe to talk.

“Would you care to explain your status and the reasoning to why you are being transported by the American military?”

You weren’t fond of his voice, much less how this conversation started.

“Not even a ‘how are you’ first? You really haven’t changed at all, Prime.”

You say as you cross your arms in front of your chest. Looking outside the window, you wished you were being chased again by MECH.

“Do not dare to call me by titles.”

There were times you called him by his last name. When you were angry and when the two of you were yet to form a relationship. He doesn’t like to reminisce about those times.

“Just let me out. I’ll walk.”

“But–”

“I said … I’ll walk.”

Optimus stops and opens the door for you. You hop out of his vehicle mode and start walking without anywhere in mind.

You put your hands in your oversize hoodie. The last thing you wanted was for him to take a deep look at you. Much less if he starts analyzing your body with stats.

“I don’t think you know where you are supposed to be located,” he says as he transforms back to his regular robot mode.

“I’ll figure it out.”

Optimus begins to panic as you start to walk away. This wasn’t how the reunion was supposed to be. He had dreamt of the next time he saw you. Maybe on a field of flowers and running towards each other. Ending it with an embrace and a passionate kiss.

“Would you listen to reason for once?”

He tries again to engage but he only makes himself sound rude without having those intentions.

“No.”

Would please look at him? It’s been seven months since he last saw you. He’s only seen your eyes through the pictures of his data-pad but they didn’t compare to seeing them in person–

“Why are you following me? I thought you didn’t care.”

You finally turn to look at him.

He can’t control his processor at your sight. Your hair was a nice mess, you were wearing clothes too big for you, maybe to hide the few pounds you gained during this time. Your cheeks were pinker and plumber. Dark circles under your eyes but skin glowing and those beautiful eyes that could put any star in the universe to shame.

Optimus stumbles on his pedes and almost falls on his knees, your beauty too distracting for any living being to be witness of.

“I .. I –”

He can’t believe you are talking to him. This was too soon and no words could leave his voice box as if had forgotten how to speak entirely.

He wanted to say it all. How much he missed you, how desperately he needed you. How there hasn’t been a single day he didn’t think about you. How everything reminded him of you. And how painful has it been every second you are not with him.

But before he could rant about his undying love for you, he sees a painful expression on your face. Followed by you, placing your arms around your belly and bending as if the cause of your physical pain was located in your stomach.

“Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

“Just,” you take a moment to breathe as you slowly make your way towards a tree. “Just leave me alone.”

With sad and curious optics, he sees you put a hand on your stomach. Whispering comforting words. ‘It’s alright’ and ‘It’s ok’ you kept talking to yourself to make you believe those words.

“We’ll be safe.”

“I am going to run a quick analysis–”

“No,” you interrupt him again. “You know I hate it when you do that.”

Optimus dislikes going against your wishes. But the way you are breathing heavily, your sweating and trembling doesn’t look like a good sign. He can manage to live without you if it guarantees that you can live a long happy life. But not the same can be said if your life is cut short for whatever reason.

“My apologies but my mission is to keep you safe and that’s exactly what I tend to do.”

“I am pregnant,” you had no other choice. “Thankfully, you are not the father.”

That was a lie but at least the shock will prevent and confuse him enough. If Optimus were to do an analysis on your body, he would find anomalies only a Cybertronian would know.

Finally getting the strength you need, you stand up and walk past Optimus whose face you did not dare to look. Your swollen belly still hurts but you didn’t want to worry him. The reason why you are not with him in the first place is because he thought of you as a liability. You no longer want to be seen as such.

“Who’s the father of the child?”

The question infuriated you. Of all the things he could have asked, he asks such a selfish question. He shouldn’t care and certainly you are tired of Optimus pretending he does.

“You know, on Earth, is customary to say ‘congratulations,” you turn to look at him.

A fatal mistake.

His optics reflected a grief unknown to you. The type you do not know nor wish to ever experience. Then there is a pain you recognize, that of a broken heart. You knew that feeling very well. He had been the one responsible for it after all. A part of you is happy to know that he is experiencing karma, that he is hopefully experiencing a fraction of the pain he made you go through.

But that wasn’t you. You didn’t want to inflect any type of suffering in him. Not now. Not ever.

“I am sorry.”

There wasn’t anything else you could say. You look down, disappointed at your own feelings.

“No. My apologies,” Optimus noticed your sudden change and he too feels unworthy to be of your presence. Having his ill feelings and jealousy overtake his processor instead of worrying about your well being. “I did not think it was possible for you to find a suitable partner with whom … to mate with … and so soon.”

“Well, humans do not live for long and we only have a few years until we are no longer able to ‘mate’”

You didn’t like using the word ‘mate’ . It made humans sound like animals but you used it so Optimus could be spoken to in terms he could understand.

“But do you have … feelings for this individual?”

“Yes,” you lied again, trying to see what you can get away with. “He is just and kind. Tall and handsome.”

Optimus puts a servo on his hip and looks to the other side. Not looking at anything in particular rather he didn’t want to show his evident discomfort.

“Yet it seems he is unable to do the most important duty … to protect you.”

“He is quite adequate, actually,” you tease him again. The Autobot leader might be a smart war tactician but is terrible at understanding hints. “He is the strongest and fierce when needed.”

“Well, I’ll have you know that I have as well found someone else to keep my time occupied,” he stutters, unable to lie. “She’s strong, a good talker and a listener. Kind and has the most beautiful eyes in the entire universe.”

Now he was being too specific for your liking. What if he was telling the truth and he had indeed found someone else? You didn't know how not. After all, Optimus Prime was the most extraordinary being on Earth and probably in the entire universe.

All of your doubts and insecurities began to fill your heart. You were just a human, easily replaceable. But Optimus? There’s only one of him. You were insignificant compared to him. It has always been this way.

“Then I hope she is better than I ever was.”

You turn to keep walking into the woods with no destination whatsoever but you didn’t care.

“It seems we made the right choice to part ways.”

Optimus wouldn’t have it. He can’t phantom it and it’s probably selfish thinking. But he can’t understand how easily you can say that while there hasn’t been a single day he is not tormented by your absence. When every second of his life has been torture without you.

“Is that really how you feel?” His voice is indignant. Every circuit in his processor, begged him to hold you. To tell you how much he craves you and how unfair has life been. Taking you away only when you have become the most beautiful of beings. “After everything?”

“You have someone and I have someone,” you don’t turn around, putting a hand again on your stomach. Giving it a small rub and looking down at it. “And I am with a child as you can see and very happy.”

“A child that should have been born from our bond. I should have been the father of that sparkling, I-”

“You wished we had never met,” you whisper quietly but you know he can hear you. He always listened. “So please, stop talking like you care.”

“(Y/N)?”

He looks at you and notices your distraught. Your breathing has become slower.

“Are you alright?”

You fall but before your body could touch the ground, Optimus catches you on his servo. He studies you for a second. You have pink cheeks and breathing seems difficult. He doesn’t hesitate to use his comm-link.

“Ratchet, I request an immediate groundbridge.”

“Vitals are stable but I’ll stay alert tonight to watch over her.”

Ratchet was glad to have you back at the base although he wished it was in different circumstances. After a couple of hours, everyone went back to their private quarters. The only ones left were the medic and the leader of the autobots.

They watched over you as you slept soundly in the medical berth. Your vital signs displayed on the data-screen. Although everything seems fine, the two of them were known to overthink and worry.

“I waited for everyone to leave to tell you something of an extremely important matter.”

“What is it, old friend?”

��While doing some analyses in (Y/N)’s body, I distinguished an anomaly,” Ratchet clicks on keys and rapidly two sound frames appear. There are many lines, short and big, all close together. Together they create a different pattern from each other.

“(Y/N) appears to have two different heart beats. But, of course, that goes against human biology. So I did further testing.”

“I made a discovery. The second beat has a different frequency of that of a human heart,” the medic played the sound, Optimus recognized this as your heartbeat. “But this other one has the same frequency and energy as a spark.”

“I do not understand.”

Trying to be tactful was hard for Ratchet as it is. He didn’t want to downplay the situation either. It was a serious matter but he has to admit that not even himself can’t contain his exhilaration.

“Cybertron hasn’t had a single sparkling in centuries so coming to this conclusion took some time”

The medic ex-vents, somehow it helped with his tension. He has been alive for quite some time and yet he can’t remember the last time he helped bring a new life to Cybertron. It was all the culmination of his studies and practices. Maybe finally he will have a chance to create life instead of just curing it.

“After all, I had to look through some old archives and Human-Cybertronian hybrids is a first. But seeing that humans have the ability to create life and combining that with Cybertronian transmission genes … I believe I have a definite conclusion.”

Ratchet presses a key, making the data-screen play a distinct sound. A sound similar to static but a distinct rhythm could be heard. Gentle and soft. Pure.

“(Y/N) is carrying a sparkling.”

“By the AllSpark,” Optimus blinks multiple times as he always does when he is excited or perplexed about something. He looks at you. Your small fragile body. “How?”

“How are humans able to create life with a soul, conscious mind and a body?” Ratchet doesn’t know how to explain it, because even he can't fully understand how. “Primus may have heard our prayers and has blessed us with an opportunity to welcome a new life to our race.”

“Agent Fowler must have known this and MECH as well. That’s why they were so precautious when transporting her from one place to the other.”

Optimus made a mental note to ask Fowler about this and his reasoning as to why he wasn’t informed of such an important matter.

“If MECH lay hands on (Y/N) they would experiment on her and the sparkling as soon as it’s born,” Ratchet says as he walks towards you with a tender expression in his faceplace. “Half Human, half Cybertronian. This child will change everything.”

“Conceived from a son of Primus and a daughter of Unicron.”

The situation was out of legends and myths. The kind of thing that sounds impossible but maybe this little hope inside of you is what is needed to light up their darkest hour.

“And this may also explain your sudden urge to nest,” the medic’s voice is more light-hearted now. Having flashbacks of Optimus picking up random flowers, pretty rocks and good-looking metal to bring back to the base. When questioned about it, the leader of the Autobots simply responded that he had an urge to do so.

“I thought you were going crazy when you started to bring earthly materials to the base.”

“I thought so too.”

Optimus sees you sleep. He has the need to touch your swollen belly, to feel the growing spark within you. You have always been amazing, he knew that much. But he never thought you were capable of conceiving life like their own. What a beautiful sight. One he never thought possible. Now, it’s right in front of him. Hope. The complete personification of it, staring right at him.

“Will she be alright?”

“She’s stable but she definitely needs to be watched over. Her weakened state is due to the fact that the sparkling is taking too much of her energy,” Ratchet also has his optics on you. The happiest Optimus has ever seen. Knowing that there is hope for their race to continue to grow must be the first real sign of hope Ratchet has had since eons ago.

“Energon is mostly toxic to humans but the sparkling has created anti-mechs for (y/n)’s immune system to withstand it. We are going to have to start supplying her with energon if we wish for the sparkling to be born healthy.”

“And most importantly,” he takes a moment to look at his old friend. His optics now showed a more hostile gaze. “A sparkling needs the electromagnetic waves of a caregiver to copy growing behaviors.”

“She needs you, Optimus.”

It was the middle of the night when you woke up. You feel thirsty but need more than water. Your body has had strange cravings lately but you were not about to randomly drink energon just because the baby wanted to.

You knew this place too well. The smell of metal and bots was everywhere. The soft vans of the air conditioner are comforting. The orange light coming from Ratchet’s data screen illuminated the room enough for you not to be scared. Although you didn’t want to admit it, you missed this place. Even when you much preferred to be sleeping in the coach instead of the medical berth.

“Do you need something?”

Optimus came back from behind you. You shake your body and back away a few centimeters.

“My apologies, I did not want to scare you.”

He had mass-displaced. Still over 10 feet and really tall compared to any regular human. He tries to be delicate even when you know he is not fond of this form. Optimus had told you before that it was a bit uncomfortable for him. Of course, he never seemed to complain whenever he mass shifted to lay on your bed.

You look down and caress your stomach. It would be stupid to believe that Ratchet did not find out about your little secret and told Optimus about it.

“It’s alright.”

Awkwardly, he sits next to you. You thought he might be furious with you. For lying to him in the first place. But now you feel ashamed for a reason you can’t understand. The mere fact of deceiving Optimus Prime is an unpleasant experience.

“(Y/N) …”

“I am sorry I didn’t tell you,” you don’t look at him. Instead, you look down at your feet and how they hang from the medical berth. “Don’t get angry at Fowler, please. I was the one who told him not to tell you.”

“Why didn’t you want to share such important information?”

“Because you said … You wished you had never met me,” you feel a knot forming on your throat. It hurts to speak, to even form thoughts and remember what happened seven months ago. His voice is still very present in your memories. The pain is still in your heart. “So I thought, you wouldn’t want our child either.”

Clenching his servo into a fist, Optimus fights the urge to hold you. You were so close, yet the only thing he can indulge himself with is your scent. It's different now. It was your smell combined with a new aroma. That of his sparkling.

“I have made many hard decisions in my life,” it was difficult for him to look at you. Now, he feels indignant to stand before you. You were to him what the gods were to their subjects. Devotion is not enough for him to satisfy his service to you.

“But the hardest decision was to let you go and I did it because I was scared. Even now, I doubt myself. Maybe you’ll be safer somewhere else. Away from me, away from all of this,”

Reminiscing about the past is painful to him. Most memories of you are lovely, unforgettable. But that time seven months ago when the Decepticons had captured you. The screams, the terror in your face, Megatron ordering you to tell him how scared you were. How he couldn’t do anything. Helpless. Pathetic.

And for a small second. For a fraction he really believed he had lost you. That was enough for him to know he won’t function without you.

“If something were to happen to you … I won’t be able to … I can’t-”

He feels his entire core shake. His servos trembling as they remember holding your almost lifeless body.

“I am sorry,” his voice glitches. “I said unforgivable things with hopes that they would push you away. To protect you. I can live with you hating me but I cannot envision the day the universe takes your soul from me.”

May Primus have mercy on his spark. May he forgive him but Optimus would throw everything away just to hold you. Just for his words to reach your heart. To feel your touch once again.

“But I was a fool to believe I could stay away from you. To think that my restraint was as strong as my morals.”

There is silence and although he doesn’t dare to look at you, he can feel your presence. For now it was enough to have you next to him.

“You may not believe in my words but believe this; the only good thing this fool has ever done is love you. It's the only thing … the only decision I have no doubts about.”

Suddenly, softness meets his faceplate. Immediately, his optics were on the blink of releasing energon. With a simple touch, you had healed him. A part of his spark that felt empty was full again. The meaning to his life was restored.

“Do you even know how much I missed you?”

You ask him with a gentle voice. Caressing every sense of his audials, engraving them in his processor. To forever remain in the deepest part of his mind.

He can’t even begin to tell you what he truly feels. He had given up. Come to realize that no words, no language in the present, past nor future could ever be vast enough to express the love he has for you.

Optimus could try with his actions. That may not be enough either. But he will have all of eternity to make for it.

“Everyday after you left, I would go to the rooftop on the base and I would count each star in the sky,” he puts a servo on top of your hand and his dermas brush against your skin, a small kiss. “To try and relieve the nights I would count the stars in your eyes.”

You didn’t say anything. Whenever it came to talking, Optimus was always more proficient. You never felt the need to say something either, he always knew what you meant. What you were feeling. Words were not necessary. Not when he can read your eyes so easily.

“And not even the timeless company of the entire universe could compare to one second with you.”

That night, you rested in his chassis. Missing your warmth, he embraced you. Your stomach pressed lightly against him. This experience was something new to him and he was terrified of it. Afraid he won’t be good enough to be a partner or a father. But as long as you were with him, the impossible became possible. So maybe becoming someone worthy of a sparkling could also be feasible.

Optimus will try his very best. For you, for the sparkling. For himself. Failing it's not an option and being a father was a greater honor than being a Prime. A title he would give up if only you would ask him. Of course, you will never ask him such a thing. He knew you better than that.

Optimus believes in Primus, fully. But he is thankful to whatever gods created you. If he could and knew how, he would pray and thank them.

He now has another chance. Another opportunity. To give you what he has been collecting.

Maybe tomorrow he will give you all the dandelions he found for you.

A/N: Sorry for the late Christmas post. Merry Christmas and Happy New Years I hope y’all enjoyed this. As always, for any questions, comments, concerns or prompt ideas you can send me an inbox. For all the love and support … Thank you! See you next year!

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interloved · 10 months ago

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nerdy!anakin skywalker who’s secretly a freak

requested by poll!

description box; the nerd with the glasses that tutors you turns out to be not so innocent after all. and he looks even more delicious without his glasses.

warning; heavy nsfw warning, mentions of cheating and an affair, porn with a bit of plot, anakin is a total pervert and freakyyyy, smut under the cut!, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

ANAKIN SKYWALKER IS A nerd, and it’s by default that he doesn’t associate with ‘your kind’.

the popular kind, the pretty kind.

the ones that run around with the football players, the kind of people that have this certain aura that just makes everyone look at them the second they walk into the room.

most of the popular people at your school were known to be arrogant douchebags, unintelligent jerks and vain bitches who thought they were above everyone else. but not you, though.

you were different. you were popular, really uniquely and breathtakingly beautiful, but your heart and soul were just as pretty as you. you also had a jerk of a boyfriend, and you really sucked at mathematics and physics. but luckily for you, your desk mate anakin skywalker, who also happens to sit next to you in physics classes, knows that. and also happens to be a very valued tutor.

“another D?”

anakin’s gaze is deplorable, his lips are pressed together in a pitiful way.

“yeah,” you wince as you examine the big, red D on your paper, “can’t say i didn’t expect it though. i thought the questions were really easy—maybe that should’ve given it away.”

anakin is hesitant, he doesn’t want to upset you—he knows you’ve been called stupid and dumb plenty of times by teachers, but really, he knows you’re not. really, you excel at subjects like history, english or music, you just… need a little tutoring. but he also knows you’re too prideful for that. you’ve never been bad enough at a subject to need tutoring, but you’ve been consistently getting D’s the whole year and there’s nothing anakin can do.

he would’ve let you copy his answers, but the teachers never look away during exams. he wouldn’t have done for just anyone—he would’ve only done it for you.

you’re the kindest person he’s ever met. you probably don’t remember but about four years ago, maybe a little more, he was getting bullied really bad. and not just by anyone, a guy named dylan. he was your boyfriend at the time. and still is. fucking asshole. anakin hated him passionately.

but you’d broken up with him after you’d caught him throwing punches into anakin’s stomach. you had yelled at him, even slapped him, you had taken anakin by the hand and went to the school nurse with him. and you were so kind to him. so sweet. so nice.

honestly, it shouldn’t have come as a surprise when he developed a huge crush on you. but he never confessed, he knew you were out of his league, and not his. especially after your (shitty asshole! anakin would treat you so much better) boyfriend dylan had apologised to him and you in a heartbreaking manner through a big gesture, and you had forgiven him.

ever since, dylan and anakin still give each other dirty glances and nasty glares, but he never laid hand on him again.

anakin would like to describe you and him as friends. you talked to each other in every class you had together, especially physics, because you sat next to each other, and you always greeted each other in the hallways.

but you guys have never hung out together and you’ve never been to his place, or he to yours.

“listen, maybe you… maybe i can study with you.” anakin muttered gently, carefully studying your face expressions as he made his suggestion.

your eyebrows formed into a frown, “you think that’ll help?”

anakin nodded, relieved you weren’t taking this as badly as he’d thought you would, “yeah, sure. i’m a tutor, you know? i can explain stuff pretty well.”

“oh, i wouldn’t want to impose—” you’re quick to deny, you hate bothering people.

fuck, you’re the sweetest person there is. truly an angel sent down from heaven. anakin made up his mind, right there. he would do anything to make you his.

“no, you’re not imposing. i want to. i want to do this for you.” he smiled, but seeing your hesitant face, he added, “besides, we’re friends. isn’t that what friends do for each other?”

a small smile tugged at your lips. “really? you… you’d do that for me? but i really don’t want to be a bother! you’re so smart and clever, you probably have so many tutees and you’re probably so busy—”

anakin would be replaying those words in his mind tonight. non-stop.

“listen, i really don’t mind. it’ll be like us hanging out. ‘kay? you don’t need to worry about it, i’m happy to be at your service.”

you hesitated for a second. and then you smiled, and anakin knew he’d won. “OK, then. it’ll be like a hangout.”

“it’s settled then,” he smirked at you, “my place? tomorrow afternoon?”

you laugh.

“your place, tomorrow afternoon.”

YOU HAD ABSOLUTELY NO idea how you ended up like this. in his bed. in this position. moaning and whimpering his name.

you were on all fours, legs trembling and quivering, your arms weak and the only thing that was holding you up was anakin’s toned arm, hooked under your waist, holding you up firmly as he thrusted into you.

you had never noticed it before, but his arm… looked so… delicious when it was flexed.

“that feel good, darling?” the smirk in his voice is all too evident, he got off on the way you were so fucking responsive to his every touch.

his hands went from caressing your thighs and kneading your ass to playing with your nipples and tugging back your hair.

“haven’t even begun properly fucking you and you’re already so soaked. does your boyfriend not fuck you, darling?”

your mind is nothing but chaos, and your stomach all fuzzy, and the only thing you can do is whine around his cock, writhing underneath him. you nod, you just nod because your boyfriend’s cock doesn’t kiss your cervix like this, your boyfriend’s cock doesn’t fit into your womb so fucking well, because your boyfriend doesn’t make you feel so, so, so good.

“n-need you to go faster…”

he kisses his teeth with his one, making a quiet ‘tsk’ sound. “that’s not very polite, demanding others like that. what’s happened to your manners, angel?”

he’s fucking you agonisingly and painfully slowly from behind, the question papers he brought and physics notes he made for you, just for you, carelessly scattered in front of you. your hands are gripping them as you moan.

“f-fuck, ani—please just… won’t fuck me faster? can’t… can’t, ‘m not—hah—”

“all right, all right, doll,” he replies to you sweetly, bending over next to your ear, still thrusting into so painfully slowly, “only if you admit that you love me more than your boyfriend.”

your eyes widen. “b-but—”

“ah-ah. no buts. say it or i won’t let you cum.”

you loved your boyfriend. you did! but anakin just made you feel so, so good…

“love you more than my boyfriend,” you moan quietly, closing your eyes in shame.

“‘m sorry, what? i didn’t catch that.” he grinned teasingly.

“ani,” you whine, “don’t be like that.”

he laughs. “all right, all right. cum for me, doll.”

author’s note;

i have never written smut like this before. please have mercy on me 😭😭

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randomshyperson · 9 months ago

Text

The Bed Issue - Wanda Maximoff Oneshots

Summary: Another retake of Wandavision, this time, the scene with the two single beds.

Warnings: (+18) pure smut, enchanted strap, fingering, creampie, wanda is in charge but r tops, dirty talking, some typical Westview angst (brief reality alteration) but purely sinful | Words: 3.284k

A/N-> At this point, I feel I should start a new collection with all the scenes I rewrote. I miss writing series people, where are my ideas. Also, sorry if there are too many spelling errors, I wrote this on my phone (it's hard to be poor and busy). But good reading!

General Masterlist | AO3

-&-

The sign of two single beds in the room made you giggle right away.

Wanda, who walked in first, looked back at you with curiosity. Her gaze scanned your face as she asked: “What's funny, darling?”

Your eyes found her and a deep sigh escaped your lips, the ghost of that giggle still present in your expression.

“The beds, Wanda.” You replied quickly, almost offended she couldn't see the absurdity of that. Maybe she was playing innocent. Or at least, that's what her confused gaze looked like. Another sign escaped you. “Why would a married couple sleep on different beds, side by side?”

“Well, I…” but she cut herself mid-sentence, her gaze shifted as if she realized that really didn't make any sense. “I guess you're right.”

The bed moved as quickly as her fingers - the wood jumping to the side to connect and transform into one bed. You smile, moving forward to kiss your wife's cheek.

“Lovely tricks as always, darling.” You praise, catching the soft color rising up her skin before you step to the bathroom. But you comment again, giggling: “How odd that was, two beds.”

Distracted by your own joke, you didn't catch Wanda's shoulder tension. And she could only force a smile, giving a quick gaze at your figure brushing your teeth while mentality praying that for the sake of her poor heart, you wouldn't notice any other weirdness tonight.

-&-

A stupid tree.

A stupid tree branch against the window and things got out of hand completely. At least this time, in a good sense of things.

That is because Wanda found herself pressed into the bed, giggling at our bold hands under her clothes.

She remembers this teasing all too well. Beyond the sexual tension, and the teenage hormones, there was intimacy. You could always make her laugh, no matter the situation. Often, you would do that in inappropriate ones that's for sure. Just for the satisfaction of making her blush deeply when apologizing to whoever was around to testify you making a mess out of her. And then when in a situation like tonight, where it was too hard to breathe and too warm for a coherent thought - teasing fingers where she had tickles was the perfect way to ease her anxiety. To anchor her back and remember it's just you. Her best friend. Warming your way around her skin.

But things were a little - a lot - different in Westview. Neither of you knows why or how, or better saying, Wanda knew to a different extent than you.

When she brought the covers up your bodies, taking the lead for the night and expecting to meet your eagerness to kiss her again, she was met with more giggles.

She stared down at your shiny eyes, leaning into the hand you brought to her cheek.

“It's too warm here.” You let her know softy, and yes, Wanda was quite aware. Kissing you was more than enough to heat her entirely, but doing this under the covers was a challenge. She could feel the sweat starting to drip. She was ready to say she didn't mind, maybe even kiss you to change the subject when you added: “Why would you cover us anyway, darling? There's no one watching.”

It was meant to be a joke, obviously. You don't know. You couldn't know. And your eyes were innocent and your smile was sincere and Wanda hesitated.

Your hand remains on her cheek, the caress never stopping.

“Did I say something wrong? Where did you go just now?”

She went outside. Outside the hex, all the way to monitors transmitting her sitcom of a fake life. But not really. Because she didn't consciously know about any of this. Yet, some part of her mind did know, and all the TVs that once exhibited her little show, now hold a Stand By sign.

Wanda was the one who threw the covers aside. The fresh air was well welcome but you're now distracted with the gorgeous woman moving to straddle your hips.

“You're right, there's no one watching.” She says with the same urgency she burst open your pajama shirt. You don't understand the rush, but she looks too pretty for you to disagree. And Wanda purrs at the sight of your naked skin, biting her lips like a naughty child. “I missed you.”

You chuckle breathlessly, some confusion in your eyes. “I was with you all day.”

She shook her head, deciding now to control her tongue. If she doesn't want you questioning, she needs to stop saying things like this. So she forces a smile, shifting against your hips in a way that makes your breath catch in your throat. “I always miss my wife, I mean. Whenever she's not touching me.”

Even though you offer her a grin, there's a blush in your cheeks that goes down your chest and Wanda suddenly doesn't feel like talking anymore.

A feeling you two seem to share as you bring a hand to her face only to pull her down at you again. It's a heated kiss. With tongue and breathy whispers that turn her into needy sounds.

Even without the covers, it's soon too hot to keep clothes on.

You're the one who takes her nightgown off. Pulling down as your tongues dance together, until the item no longer hides the tits you started to play it.

Wanda's eyes are tightly closed as your mouth sucks her nipple. Your hand plays with the other while she struggles to breathe.

Her top needs to go, but so does all the other clothing. The nightgown barely reached the floor and you're already pulling at her soaked panties, eager to feel her inside.

“Need this off you now, witchy.” The nickname makes her gasp. You haven't used it until now and it has been way too long since she heard. Since you-

No. No thinking about this, not now.

She forces herself back to the present, an easy task when she feels every inch of her skin burning with your touch. She needs to move away to take the item off but your hands hold her tight by the waist at the mere attempt of breaking apart.

She giggles breathlessly, aware of the new wave of wetness that dripped down with the feeling of your strong hands manhandling her back at her position, keeping her restless hips still. “But you said you wanted it off.” She tries to ration, receiving only a growl in return. The next second, when your hands shift, the item is torn off her without ceremony.

“Hey! It was my favorite.” She pouts in protest but you merely give her a husky chuckle.

“I'm sure you can fix it.” Comes as a teasing answer that Wanda couldn't contradict even if she wanted to - all previous thoughts are gone when your fingers reach her front and penetrate between her warm folds without a warning. You groan at the delirious feeling of her pussy against your fingertips while Wanda whimpers at the ceiling, trying to get used to the sudden invasion.

“Fuck, you're so tight.” Your remark with a sultry voice against her ear. Wanda's arm circles your shoulder for some support while she feels the stretch of your fingers inside her. It's been a while since last time but dear God how she missed this. Her hips move on instinct and you have to chuckle at her impatience with herself. Your free hand moves to her lower back, caressing her skin while your fingers start to press your way inside her.

“Easy darling, I got you.” You guide, too deeply for her to give you any replies other than pleas and whimpers. The position might not be the most comfortable for you but it's amazing to her. Wanda can grind down and ride your fingers as she pleases and you can feel how close she's coming to her climax so you don't dare to stop. Your thumb moves to her clit, circling the nerve and she nearly loses it. The bedroom lights start to flash with the build of this orgasm and you stare at her in amazement only to be rewarded with her gorgeous flushed face while she grinds into your hand in nearly despair.

“Fuck you're so beautiful.” You gasp, increasing the speed. The depth. Wanda breaks in a sob, her back arching. The first one is a charm. Your name is being screamed at the ceiling while you feel her wetness dripping down your hand. Unfortunately - or fortunately - it only makes you crave her more. She's still recovering from the intensity of this climax, all sweaty and flushed when you shift your hand. You're still inside her tight walls and your fingers start to pick up a pace again. She squeaks at the overstimulation, but her protest dies in your tongue sucking hers when you kiss her again.

Wanda's almost too distracted by the filthy of this kiss to notice how quickly her second climax is building - almost. There's a bite against your bottom lip that makes you groan when she breaks the kiss, unable to keep it up. Her hands grab at you for some grounding when she feels how close she is to come, stronger than the last time. You feel her nails piercing your skin when her orgasm washes over her and it's your time to moan at her ear.

Her body goes limp for a moment after this. It was two intense orgasms in a row after all. She just needs to take a breath.

You move your fingers out, sucking them clean and murmuring satisfied at her taste while Wanda struggles to recognize her surroundings.

When you can hold her with both hands again, you nuzzle at her cheek.

“Enjoying yourself, witchy?” You dare to tease her when she can feel how she's still leaking in your lap. Honestly, the nerve. Wanda let out a deep breath, pushing her momentarily tiredness away.

There's an easy smile on her lips when she finds your eyes again. “I am but I've been so selfish.” She starts with a particular accentuation of her ascent that she knows you drive you insane. She also watches as your breath catches and your eyes drift to her lips, mesmerized by every word. “You must be needing me as well.”

But you tense at her nails screeching your belly, a worried frown coming at your expression.

“Wanda… my powers.” The fear in your eyes is like a cold buck of water. Oh, yes, she forgot.

For the whole day, she forgot you had no idea of the life you two shared. Nothing outside Westview and this lovely fantasy. None of the creative ways you two once used to bypass the super strength issue. Your fear and hesitation at hurting her made perfect sense but the fact that she was the only one who could remember the whole history you two shared was still painful. Her expression probably gave her away and confused you even more. “I promise you this is more than enough for me. Bringing you pleasure is enough.” You add gently, but Wanda shakes her head, leaning in to kiss you. She leaves you breathlessly before breaking apart, taking some pride in the way you're blushing.

“Don't be silly, darling, there's plenty of things for us to do together. To please one another.” You gulp at her words and tone of voice, eyes following all of her movements. From the shift of her hips to the teasing of her fingers on the way down your pants. “I wanna try something I think you'll love it. Do you trust me?”

You nod immediately, watching as Wanda's fingers play with the hem of your pants. She giggles naughty at your anticipation and brings one finger up to your chin, to make you look at her eyes again.

“Can you use your words?”

“Y-yeah.” You swallow, trying to win some composure back. It's not easy when Wanda Maximoff is naked and sitting on your tight. But you smile anyway. “Of course I trust you, witchy.”

She smiles at you, her eyes flashing a glimmer of naughtiness that makes your heart leap. You can't worry too much about that anyway - Wanda leans in to kiss you again. And it's the dirtiest one of the night. She takes the lead, pulling back now and then just to tease your tongue with the tip of hers, reveling at the way you pant and struggle to keep your hips still.

But suddenly, you feel the new pressure inside your pants. The odd sensation shifts your attention entirely but Wanda brings her hands to your neck and kisses you hard. You moan into her tongue, hands holding her tight by the waist until her spell is complete. She presses down into you and the kiss is broken with your needy awareness.

“F-fuck, is that…?” You open surprised and aroused eyes at her, looking down where your middles connect only to watch Wanda's equal affected state. Her trembling hands reach down at your pants, trying to pull the garment off.

“Yeah, and I really need you inside now, alright baby? Think you're ready for me?” Her words are rushed as her fingers. Your pants and underwear are stuck in an awkward position on your thighs because Wanda is too impatient to wait another second. She grabs the hardness - barely giving you time to get used to the image or more important the feeling - of that scarlet strap magically placed there - before she sinks down.

It's a form of revenge, maybe. For the way you didn't give her time to prepare before, but what a sweet revenge that was.

The nearly animalistic grunt that escaped you when Wanda's cunt squeezed around you was a sound you didn't know you could make. She, on the other hand, rewards your ears with a pleasant deep moan while she adjusts to the fullness. There's also a new stretch. The toy is obviously larger than your fingers and goes deliciously deeper so Wanda needs to take a deep breath while she welcomes you in.

To her delight, not that you can remember this, but just like the first time you two tried, it's too much of a new overwhelming pleasure for you to handle. You came almost the same second you're bottom up. Tensing and shaking at the new feeling. You gasp, hands falling at the sides to grab the sheets that are torn apart while you hide your face into her neck and your climax washes over you.

Wanda giggles in amusement. The hot shot inside her feels as good as she remembers and you haven't changed. But the toy softening causes you to panic.

“S-sorry, god, I'm so sorry. I don't-”

“Shh, it's okay.” She cuts your anxious babbling immediately, firming her legs around you and bringing her hands to hold your cheeks. “I know it feels like a real one, but it's not a real one.” She says and without any warning, grinds down at you, stealing all the air of your lungs. Wanda bites her lip before adding “See? You're hard again already.”

You can't give her words. The only thing that leaves your mouth is a whine that makes her clench around you.

Suddenly, she's moving. Rough grinding before she's undeniably riding your strap and it's dirty and maddeningly sexy so your hands hold her hips and help her when her body starts to betray her wishes to keep going.

“Oh, Wanda, you feel so nice.” You moan with your eyes closed, outside the shared grunts and your words, the only sounds of the room are the bed creaking and the soaked toy coming in and out of her. Your lovely wife decides to give you a reason to be louder. Her hands push you back at the bed and now you can see her in all of her glory. Her pretty tits bounce with the hard pace she takes on top of you. “W-wait. Easy, I can't hold it if you-”

Her hands move yours - trying to slow her by the waist - away, locking your fingers together at each side of your head. Her hair makes a curtain for your faces but Wanda kisses you again. Your tongues are still moving together when you come first.

Because you're strong - stronger than her that is - scarlet magic holds you still, wrists and ankles when Wanda can't. She holds her climax just a little longer, enough to put on a show for your breathless figure under her when you are able to look up at it.

It's divine when it occurs - The silent scream, her frown before the blissed worn-out expression. The flags of the light, the room vibrating and her eyes bright red before the dark green meets your gaze again.

She smiles down at you, still shaking but somehow ready for another.

“Enjoying yourself aren't you, Avenger?” she repeats your words from before, but the nickname so often used for teasing makes you frown in confusion.

“What is…? But she changed that before you could finish the question.

As quickly as it happened, the scene shifted as if the words never left her lips. You were staring at her, with uneven breathing and adoring eyes.

“Is this really necessary?” For a second, her heart leaped in fear. The possibility that you could tell she altered things. But your gaze shifted to the magic holding you still, and you offered her a pleading stare. “Won’t you let me touch you?”

Wanda sighs, adjusting your hips and seeing the way your jaw tenses at the slight movement. You're still inside her, always magically stimulated to be hard no matter how many times you come. It made sense that you might be sensitive.

She bit her bottom lip, hands resting on your chest.

“But you look so pretty like this…” She starts, leaning in as if going for a kiss. You sigh as her lips meet your cheeks instead, closing your eyes when you feel her smiling before moving down. “I like having you at my mercy.”

You hum, somewhat distracted by her soft grind against you. If you're hard again, that's not only the magic to blame but Wanda's warm pussy squeezing you still.

“But I'm like this all the time.” you joke earning a husky giggle before she puts some distance between your faces again.

You let out a deep sigh when she pulls out the next second, catching her own soft groan at the emptiness. But your words fail you when you look down and see the mixed cum leaking from her and dripping down your abs.

Cursing under your breath a single “fuck.” at the image, you are not surprised at Wanda's naughty giggle.

“You made such a mess, babe.” She teases, the toy still vibrating and it occurs to you that it doesn't just answer to your arousal, but hers as well.

“Me? You're the one who, you know… ride it. I didn't even know I would come through it.” You tried to defend yourself with rosy cheeks but Wanda is clearly teasing you. She giggles again, adjusting herself and causing you to shut up immediately.

“I think you should stop babbling and start cleaning your mess.”

You swallow hard when you realize she's still moving. Up towards your face. The bed makes a strong crack sound when you use all your strength to pull your hands free from her magic chains.

Wanda allows you to break free. Mainly because she loves to feel your hands holding her thighs open when you eat her out.

Some old habits never die.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #marvel imagines #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff imagines #wanda maximoff oneshots #wanda maximoff smut

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xogiulianna · 2 months ago

Text

THAT'S ALL YOU, BABY

hamzah's too busy to help you out.

"god.." you hear grumbling coming from the corner of your room, where your boyfriend's sat at his desk. "fuckin'.. stupid shit.."

you sit up, your gaze landing on hamzah's face, illuminated by the bright white glow of his computer screen. the clack of keys is loud in the quiet atmosphere of the dark bedroom, and if you squint, you're able to make out the thumbnails of numerous video clips on his screen.

you've been waiting for him to come to bed for hours - you were restless, and you began to toss and turn as he deals with editing a new video, one that he was hell-bent on finishing tonight.

hamzah hears the rustling of the comforter, his head whirling around to see you staring over at him. "shit.." he murmurs. "sorry, baby. i'm almost done, i promise."

"s'fine," you mumble, flinging the sheets to the side, dragging yourself out of bed and walking over to where he's slumped in his desk chair. "what's taking so long?"

"martin," he sighs, sliding his glasses off the bridge of his nose, setting them down before rubbing his temples. "he was supposed to help me out with this, but he's not responding."

"oh," you mutter, peering over his shoulder at the monitor. "you want company?" i ask, my voice low in his ear.

he peers at you, tilting his head back. "sure," he says, somewhat hesitantly, like he's reading your mind - seeing right through you, knowing that you want something.

you grab the armrest of his chair, swiveling it toward you. his eyes meet yours with an accusatory look underneath his dark lashes as you stand over him.

"what?" you ask innocently, a scoff escaping your lips as you slowly place yourself on top of his thigh, your legs folded up on either side of his leg. your body fits against his like a puzzle piece in the cushioned desk chair.

you can sense that he's already onto you, he just knows you that well.

"what're you doin'?" he whispers, resting his hands on top of your thighs, his middle finger tracing small circles against your skin.

"nothin'." you respond simply, reaching behind you to grab his glasses off the desk and slide them back onto his face, quickly kissing him on the cheek. "keep working."

"mm." he hums, obviously not believing you. he turns the chair back toward his desk anyway, scooting in and reaching around your body to keep clicking around the editing program.

you keep still for a few minutes, letting him edit while you cling to him. as you rest your head on his shoulder, you grow more impatient with each passing moment. the close proximity you placed on your bodies only weakens your grasp on your self control.

the truth is - you and hamzah haven't had sex in two weeks. his work stole away entirely too much time, he was constantly filming and working on projects, especially with the upcoming christmas series that he had planned for his channel. you had a job of your own, too, which was an entirely different story.

you two also have been hosting people at your apartment for the holidays. your friends - as well as his - have constantly been visiting and using your home as a place to crash for the night.

between all of this, you didn’t get much time alone with your boyfriend. your schedules just didn’t align, and when they did, you only made plans that involved other people.

point being, you had some pent up feelings, naturally.

suddenly, a groan in your ear sends a cold shiver down your spine, snapping you out of your spaced out mind. you now feel a bruising grip on each side of your waist.

your hips come to a still.

“mph, stop.. doin’ that..” hamzah growls, shifting his leg underneath you, holding you tightly to stop your subconscious grinding.

“shit,” you whisper, your body tensing. “i.. i didn’t even realize..”

hamzah keeps silent for a moment, breathing heavily.

eventually you feel his arm slightly flex as he lifts his hand away from his keyboard, his fingers sliding up your back and threading into your hair.

he tugs on the roots, picking your head up off his shoulder with a little bit of force, making you gasp. “look at me,” he rasps, sounding weak.

you peer down at him nervously, seeing his dark eyes scrutinizing you.

he tightens his hold on your hair as he speaks, “i’m busy.” he states. “but if you’re really that fucking desperate, then you can deal with it yourself.”

your stomach floods with heat at his words.

“what?” you whisper.

“you heard me,” he mutters darkly. “you wanna get off? go ahead, that’s all you, baby.”

“like.. you mean..” your eyes flick down to his thigh, where you’re straddling him.

“mhm, use it.” he says, letting go of your hair, his hand instead cradling your face. brushing his thumb against your bottom lip, he smirks. “do the work by yourself for once.”

you almost wanted to roll your eyes - sure, you could be a bit of a pillow princess sometimes, but that was because hamzah never necessarily wants you to put in an excessive amount of effort during your activities.

he always tells you to ‘just relax’ and ‘let him take care of you’ - so you just sit back and allow him do what he does so well.

he gets off on giving you pleasure. simple as that.

but this time, when he refuses to give you any of that attentiveness, you’re feeling so desperate that you’re actually going to have to listen to what he's telling you.

it’s no use protesting his ask, you know you’re going to give in.

you just can’t help yourself when it comes to him.

“are you serious?” you ask quietly, just to confirm.

“hundred percent,” he replies, dropping his hand from your face, pressing a kiss to your neck as his fingers trail down the sides of your body. “what, d’you think you can’t handle it?”

“no,” you answer immediately. “no.. i can do it.”

“that’s my girl,” he whispers, squeezing your thighs before he reaches around you once more, going back to his work, seemingly without a second thought.

you take this as a sign for permission to do whatever you wanted - whatever you needed. even if he didn’t have the time to pay attention, hamzah still wants you to feel good, no matter how much of a careless exterior he displays.

starting slow, you wrap your arms around his neck, burying your face into the crook of his shoulder as you start rocking your hips slowly against his thigh, the friction of fabric hitting your clit in the most perfect way possible.

but gradually, you get desperate. soft whimpers and moans slip past your lips, your body setting a quicker pace as you ride hamzah’s leg.

it was a little embarrassing, slowly becoming a mess on top of him while he sits and does work, only murmuring a few lazy words of endearment here and there.

your breathing becomes shallow as your arousal builds, your fingers quickly making their way down to tug your sleep shorts and panties to the side, needing to feel more.

your slick soaks the fabric of his sweatpants, fingers digging into his shoulders with frustration as the pace of your hips becomes delayed and erratic.

a low moan rumbles in your throat, your skin burning hot with the frustration of basically knocking yourself out over the pursuit of your own satisfaction - thinking hamzah's not paying attention, but he is.

with each little noise and movement you've made, his work continuously seems to be less and less important to him.

“why’re you slowing down, huh?” he rasps, noticing your vexation.

you can only whine in response, not necessarily wanting to admit that you were getting tired.

“poor thing,” he smirks. “just need me to do everything for you, don’t you?” he teases, taking hold of your waist.

“please,” you sigh sensually, directly into his ear, feeling him slightly shiver underneath you.

it doesn’t take much convincing for him to help you out. you know he wants to, anyways.

he can’t resist you just as much as you can’t resist him.

he keeps his grip steady on you while starting to press your hips down, slightly lifting his leg up into your core - and the immediate increase of pressure has you squirming.

he starts aiding in the guidance of your movements, rocking you back and forth as your body basically melts into him.

“fuckin’ needy girl..” he groans, his jaw clenched. “had to use my thigh to fuck yourself. so desperate.”

all the stimulation on your clit is enough to have you trembling with an building orgasm already, and hamzah can feel it.

“you're close already?” he growls, yanking on your hair again to get your eyes fixated on him.

he relishes in seeing the angelic expression on your face. your parted lips and the blush dusting your cheeks - just the mere sight of you makes him want to give you the world.

his work completely forgotten, he becomes dead set on making you cum on his thigh. “c’mon baby,” he urges, picking up the speed at which he’s rolling your hips. “finish what you started.”

"hamzah.." you cry out in exasperation, your head lolling back. "fuck.. fuck, feels so good."

"i know, angel, i know.." he coos, staring up at you in complete awe as you writhe on top of him. "you're doing so good.. making a mess like this.

you're to the point of no return - your lower stomach feels like it's twisted into a knot. "m'gonna.. oh, shit, hamzah!" you moan, high-pitched and whiny.

"uh-huh, that's it," he groans, hands slipping underneath your shirt, cold fingertips meeting your warm skin as you unravel underneath his touch. "fuckin' dirty, finishing on me so fast."

dizzy with lust, your orgasm courses through you in lengthy waves, practically making you see stars. your head falls forward, your damp forehead pressing against hamzah's, your mind blissfully dropping into pure relaxation.

"oh, my good girl.." hamzah's faint voice penetrates your clouded mind. he brings you down from your high, his thumbs brushing across your tensed abdomen. "so perfect."

your body twitches slightly as you melt against him, breathing in short gasps, trying to piece yourself back together.

"still working..?" you murmur the question teasingly, peeking up at him. you lazily slide your hand up his chest and across his face, your index finger pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose where they'd begun to slip down.

he chuckles, the rumbling in his chest vibrating against you. "no, baby. you're so distracting, y'know that? how would i be able to focus after this?" he says, sliding an arm underneath you and scooping you up. "let's go to bed."

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a/n: please message me with anything you want me to write !! i wanna try and start writing for the sturniolos so if there's anything you want to see i'm open to all ideas

xo giulia

#hamzahthefantastic #hamzah x reader #hamzah imagines #slushy noobz #xogiulianna

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