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kasagia · 9 months ago

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Right hand

Pairing: Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!exBeneGesserit! reader Summary: You were his right-hand (wo)man after he saw you in combat during your training on the Bene Gesserit. He freed you from them and turned you from a Bene Gesserit into a faithful soldier who took care of all his dirty business. Getting rid of the bodies of the people he killed, organising opponents for him to fight, poor people on whom he could vent his anger and desire for bloodshed, or even concubines. You were his eyes and ears in the baron's court. You reported everything to him, being more effective than any Bene Gesserit. But he wants more... much more. Warning: 18+; violence; blood; Feyd Rautha; death; fight; brutality; smut; bathing together; dagger play; breeding kink? I guess; a lot things happening; my first time for Feyd so I'm a little nervous😅; enjoy!; Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ PART II ~•♤♤♤•~

It wasn't your choice to undergo Bene Gesserit training. Your mother abandoned you when you were a little baby and took you to these terrible women, leaving you to their mercy.

You hated them. Their entire organisation, which included planned breeding, aimed at creating the Kwisatz Haderach. To you, these women were a sick cult that you were reluctant to be a part of. You trembled with fear, thinking of the day when they would send you to extend the genetic line of a nobel family by lending your womb or to ensure that their plans succeeded.

However, you realised that you had little say in the matter. The Bene Gesserit would find you anywhere if you tried to run and hide. You were doomed to follow the orders of your crazy old reverend mother and wait in fear for the day when you could prove your usefulness.

But one day, you crossed paths with Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen. And for a very long time, you considered it a real gift from fate. The first happy turn of events in your tragic life.

He was on a diplomatic mission. He was being shown around by the princess of your planet, and they happened to be attending the training of the Bene Gesserit sisters. You immediately caught his attention. Your movements were smoother, full of the passion of a true warrior. You charmed him so much that, at first, he thought you had put a spell on him. After seeing your potential and your obvious dislike for your sisters, he took you with him to Giedi Prime.

He faked your death so the Bene Gesserit sisters wouldn't come looking for you. He made you his right hand, his most trusted soldier. It was only after years of service under the Na-Baron that you realised that you had entered a much worse hell than any plans the Bene Gesserit had for you.

Feyd Rautha was supposed to be your personal devil. But first, you saw him as your saviour.

An animalistic, bloodthirsty scream resounds throughout the na-baron's private training room as his 'toy' falls dead under the blow she received from the furious man. You enter the room just as Feyd pierces him with his sword, causing drops of blood to land on your face.

You wipe them away, undeterred by the na-baron's brutality. Years of service had accustomed you to all the acts of cruelty he was capable of. At least this time, the dead man's entrails didn't spill around him. You hated calling his harpies to the feast. Despite so many years spent at the side of the baron's favourite nephew, you never got used to his concubines. They made you feel strangely uneasy.

"My lord, na-baron." You say, announcing your presence. Feyd breathes heavily and shifts his mad, furious gaze to you, not noticing your entrance until you speak.

You walk past the body, avoiding the pool of blood, and hand him a towel. He takes it from you without a word, wiping the sweat and blood from his head, chest, and back. You ignore his exposed muscles and kneel next to the man on whom he took out his anger, preparing to carry him out of the room before the next opponent/toy shows up.

"You were right. That old fool entrusted Arrakis to my brother. He will embarrass our family in one day. Ha! Even half is enough for him! This wretch doesn't know how to manage a small province, let alone an entire planet with fremen ready to attack at any corner." He says, rubbing himself furiously. He throws a towel into the corner of the room and walks to the table to pour himself something to drink.

"He gives him a chance to prove himself. When he wastes it, you will get it and prove to the baron and the lords that you are rightfully entitled to the title of baron." You say, securing the body so the guards at the door can carry it out.

"Every fool knows that. It's obvious that I'm a better choice than this scoundrel, who will sell the secrets of our family and swear allegiance to anyone who threatens his life. Baron throws a party in his honor. To the success of his mission. He's just doing it to piss me off. He doesn't give a damn about Rabban or whether he succeeds. This is just another of his tests on me. That's why you're coming with me. I've already sent for a dress for you." You look up at him with your surprised gaze. You're even more shocked when he reaches out his hand to help you up—something you didn't expect from him in his white, burning rage state.

"A dress?" You ask, taking his hand. You hold your breath, keeping yourself from gasping, as he lifts you off the floor with one strong pull. Unprepared, you bump completely onto his chest, not being able to keep your balance.

You freeze at the feeling of his muscled body close to yours. You can feel his heart pounding in his chest from the adrenaline he felt while killing this poor man. You tense up, seeing his icy-blue eyes already staring at yours. He starts giggling darkly as he presses you tighter against him so you can feel every muscle of his.

"Is there a problem? Would you prefer to come naked? I wouldn't mind, but…”

"I'm simply surprised that you want me there officially. I usually sneak there. I watch from the shadows. Well, you know." You interrupt me before he can insinuate anything, and with his silent permission, you move a decent distance away from him, leaving his arms.

You always had to be careful when making moves like this. You saw how he punished for minor offences, just for breathing. And you didn't run away from the Bene Gesserit with him to lose your life because of one of his… impulses. Although he has never put you in any serious danger, which was strangly amazing, since all of the servants who worked for him (and are still alive) have experienced his wrath on their bodies at least once.

"I know. But this time, I need you by my side. Not in hiding. My birthday is coming up—the most important of them all. I want to know what my uncle will come up with. Maybe you can find out something from the Lords. Besides, why wouldn't I want to have such beauty on my arm?"

"You want a woman by your side so you can humiliate your brother before he leaves? Perpetuate in him a sense of belief that you are superior, even if you don't have power over Arrakis right now?"

You see his hands tighten on his blades. You purse your lips, realising you were too quick to question his intentions. Basic mistake. You shouldn't have tested the waters when you knew Feyd was already on the end of his patience.

He takes a step towards you, entering your personal space. You swallow and lift your head to meet his gaze. This wasn't the first time he had intimidated you, tested you, carefully gauged your reaction, and waited until he finally saw the fear in your eyes. But you never gave him that satisfaction. If the Bene Gesserit taught you anything, it was that fear was weakness. A weakness you could tame... at least enough not to show it to anyone else.

So you endure his piercing, burning gaze with indifference. You stay like that even after a small smirk starts to appear on his face. You wonder how many people before you saw that smirk and stared into those night-black eyes on Giedi Prime as they passed from this world.

"That pink little tongue of yours will get you into trouble one day, my little witch." He purrs, his tone low and dangerous. He reaches up to your face with his free hand and gently runs his hand through your hair, caressing your cheek and jaw with the pad of his thumb. "Possible. I'm a na-baron... don't I deserve the best?" He looks defiantly at you, throwing you the proverbial gauntlet. He's waiting for you to stumble. For open defiance of his order.

You don't understand why, but he's been acting like this more and more lately. He made ambiguous comments, carefully watching your reaction. It was something new—a change in his behaviour that you hadn't figured out the reason for yet. But you had too much on your mind to think about it any longer.

"I can prepare you a beautiful concubine perfect for Giedi Prime standards." You suggest at which he shakes his head, laughing hoarsely. He turns his back to you and pours himself another glass of water.

"It's not necessary. I want you. Go and get ready. I'll join you in two hours when I'm done here." He says just as the door opens to reveal the soldiers you called for to take the body away and who have brought him a new drugged opponent. Feyd licks his lips, flips the blade up, and catches it, making a little show before lunging at his toy.

"As you wish, my na-baron." You say before leaving him to get ready for the party. Another warrior's scream echoes off the walls of the chamber as Feyd unleashes his anger on him.

You scan the room carefully, standing with your glass against the wall in a more crowded part of the room. You try your best to blend in with the crowd, but with your hair down, it's not that easy. Even if you try to cover your hair, you can feel people's curious gazes on you. But the worst ones are the burning gazes of the lords on you, some of them too lustful to be able to feel comfortable.

If you could, you would hide in the shadows, as usual, and observe them without being the centre of attention. You felt like a monkey in a circus or an exotic animal at an exhibition. The cold hand on your shoulder reminds you why you can't do this. You turn around to once again meet the na-baron's intense gaze today.

"You look good." He says as his eyes carefully scan the black latex dress with cutouts on the sides that reach down to your hipbones. "But I don't remember having that metal corset disguised as armour and that ridiculous chain veil sent to you along with the dress."

"I almost mistook this rag for a nightgown. I had to wear something on it. They think I'm your whore anyway; we don't have to prove it to them." You respond to his taunt and turn towards him. He is wearing black, formal armour, which is perfect as an official outfit.

"Do you find it scandalous to be my whore, little witch? Maybe even disgusting?" You meet his gaze to roll your eyes at him, at which he chuckles, wrapping his arms around your waist. You don't like this closeness, but there's nothing you can do to push his hand off of you. You are in public. Such a gesture towards him would be equivalent to a death sentence.

"I see nothing... honourable or good in being anyone's whore, my na-baron." You say, gently moving away from him so as not to lean on him as much.

"Have you seen anything noteworthy?" He asks, unfazed by your trying to move away from him. He pulls you up, wrapping his arms around your waist tighter and making your back rest against his chest. His fingertips brush against the exposed skin, caressing your hipbone.

You frown, turning your head to look at him. He's never been so... clingy before. He always respected your personal space and never touched you. You blame it on his desire to tease his brother, who is staring at you intently from across the room, and you shift your gaze to the people present at the party.

"Several lords congratulated your brother. However, there are rumours and beliefs that he will not be up to the task. Some also believe that you will slit his throat before his ship leaves for Arrakis."

"This idea crossed my mind. If you hadn't brought this information to me earlier, you would probably have had to deal with making the public believe in his… tragic and sudden death from natural causes."

"Natural causes; I wish I could see that." You scoff, finishing your drink. You turn around, leaving his arms, and set your glass down on the table. When you turn to him again, he holds out his hand for you to take.

"You'll see if you don't entertain me. I'm bored, and looking at this smug idiot isn't helping my patience or my ability to restrain myself. Dance with me, my little witch."

"You're interrupting my work." You complain, taking his hand. He leads you to the dance floor and spins you around, pulling you tight against his chest. He holds you close to him, perfectly placing his steps and moving to the beat of the music. He is as fluid in dancing as he is in fighting. Flawless as always.

"I'm your work. You are my right hand; you meet all my needs. I don't think I need to remind you of that, do I?" He asks in challenge, taking your chin between his two fingers as he looks at you carefully. You only smile at him in a sweet, artificial way. He laughs, fully aware of how fake this act is, and drops your chin.

Over the years, you discovered that he liked it when you teased him and responded to his taunts with your own. Of course, only when no one could hear it, and not very often. He had a reputation to uphold. He couldn't afford for anyone to see his right-hand (wo)man mocking him. Unbeknownst to you, he found it adorable the way your eyes lit up whenever you did something mischievous.

"Of course not, my na-baron."

"Good." He nods at your words. He takes his eyes off you for a moment and focuses on something behind your shoulder. He leans down, his cheek brushing against yours. You shiver at the sudden closeness, his scent becoming more distinct as you inhale it wholeheartedly. It's captivating. Sweet. Intoxicating. Dangerous. Just like him. "Do you have your daggers?" His hot whisper reaches your ear. He's so close, you can almost feel his full lips brush against your earlobe.

"Yes, why?" You ask, perfectly masking the tremble in your voice. But you doubt whether you can hide from him how your heartbeat speeds up. You blame it on the adrenaline rush. Not fear caused by his proximity.

"It seems to me that you will soon have to prove to these imbeciles once again why I chose you to be my right-hand man." He explains as the song ends.

You feel him reluctantly release you from his embrace and take a step away from you. You turn around and see his brother walking towards you, his right hand following him, giving you a mischievous look and a lecherous, mocking smile when he sees your outfit. You straighten up, lifting your head proudly at the man in a similar position to yours. The difference between you was that you served the stronger Harkonnen. It would give you an inviolably higher position if, like them, you had a penis between your legs.

"Brother. You finally brought your pet to play with us." Rabban says, nodding to his brother. You feel a wave of disgust as his gaze lingers on you longer.

Feyd tenses, furious, as his brother's eyes are all on you. You wouldn't have noticed if his hand hadn't been on your hip bone a moment later, hiding some of your exposed skin from his brother's eyes. You wonder what his problem might be. After all, he chose this dress for you by himself.

"Be careful. She doesn't have a muzzle. I would prefer that no harm come to you before you go to Arrakis. She's got some pretty... sharp teeth." He says it condescendingly, pulling you closer to him. In a perfect world, you'd kick them both in the groin. Unfortunately, you don't have that luxury. You can only imagine putting these two pseudo-alpha males in their place. But how sweet these dreams are...

"What about a small competition? My man against yours? Let's see what this mysterious beauty that you keep hidden can really do." Rabban's right-hand man gives you a cocky, confident look. He plays with the dagger in his hand, making a poor show that was intended to intimidate you. You roll your eyes behind your metal chain veil and shift your gaze to Feyd. You are only subject to his orders. Not some weak, pathetic creatures.

"This party is already dead. Do you want to kill also YOUR pet?" Feyd mocks him, and you almost break your unflappable, emotionless attitude, barely holding back your laughter. Na-baron sees this and smiles to himself, rubbing circles with the pad of his thumb on your hipbone.

"Are you afraid that she won't heat your bed anymore?" Feyd narrows his eyes at him. You feel his fingertips dig painfully into your hip as he tries to keep himself from lunging at his brother with the blade. You know full well that the eyes of the lords, the baron, and most of the people at the party are turned towards you.

"I have no doubt whatsoever about the outcome of this little skirmish. She will just sweat unnecessarily. And I would rather have her in full strength tonight." He says it in a mocking tone, shifting his gaze towards you. He licks his lips and tightens his grip to make his lewd intentions towards you clear to the two men.

Despite his famous reputation, he never touched you. Giedi Prime society might have thought otherwise, but in the years you had served as his right-hand man, he had never once taken you to bed or had you entertain him at night. You appreciated it immensely, which is why you accepted such behaviour from him without batting an eyelid whenever you were in public. It was all a game to maintain the reputation he had built over the years. Or so you thought.

"Feyd, boy, release your pet. Let her entertain us." The baron's words interrupt any skirmish that might have developed between the brothers.

It was not uncommon at Giedi Prime parties for soldiers to fight against each other to entertain the crowd. You just didn't think that you would have to fight someone during your first official arrival at the party. Although you should have anticipated such an unexpected turn of events. The baron and Rabban would not miss the opportunity to find out how much you were really worth and why Feyd, out of all the talented soldiers, chose the Bene Gesserit as his right-hand man.

You send a quick glance at Feyd. He gives you a small nod, so you bow to the baron and prepare to fight. The crowd around you parts to form a circle. You feel people's excitement as you flip the metal chains from your face to your hair, revealing more of your face. You wrap the shawl around your hair, tying it tighter and making sure it won't get in the way of your fight.

You look at your opponent, who is also preparing, trying to spot any of his weak points before the fight even begins. Rabban says something in his ear, which causes the manly smile to grow. Feyd stands in front of you, blocking your view of them. You look into his steel blue eyes as he leans towards you.

"Don't hold back." He whispers in your ear, handing you his blade. "And finish it quickly. We have other things to do."

You nod at him. He walks away from you, sending a mocking smirk at your opponent. He spreads his arms, taking a few steps back, as if inviting him to try his hand at you. You feel the burning gaze of his eyes on your back as you position yourself in front of the man.

"Don't worry, witch. If I win, I won't kill you. It's a shame to waste such a pretty face. I wonder if you're as good as the rumours say. Your pussy must be good to keep the na-baron entertained for so long." He says, waiting for you to activate your shield. But you don't do this. You want to completely humiliate him and give everyone in the room a clear message about your power and that you didn't secure your place just by having a pretty face. The crowd cheers, but you think you can hear Feyd growl furiously amidst the shouts of approval.

"I doubt you'll have the chance to find out." You say, and without waiting for his next words, you attack.

After the first few attacks, you figure out his tactics. He is physically strong, it's true, but that's his only advantage. It attacks you in a learned way, repeating its patterns. You read him quickly and position yourself to use his strength and mass against him. You could have walked up to him a long time ago and slit his throat, but you know it would be much better if you had some fun with him. You will show that you have complete control over the course of this fight.

You dodge the man's punches, and after a few minutes, you quickly get bored when you once again manage to kick him and send him to his knees. You take advantage of the moment he gets up from the floor to glance at your na-baron. Feyd doesn't look happy with your introduction. Of course, you see his interested look and how he appreciates your skills, but he doesn't look at you like he usually does. He doesn't wait with bated breath for your next move, like the crowd around you does. You can tell from his face that he wants you to finish this as soon as possible. You frown, surprised that he of all people doesn't enjoy watching the fight. You wonder what the hell is wrong with him.

Your moment of inattention is, of course, immediately exploited by your opponent. You manage to fend off the man's blade, but not his kick, which sends you landing on your butt on the floor. You feel rage more than pain; you only see red when you hear the cocky laugh of the man you are fighting with. You're so focused on driving the blade into his body that you don't notice Feyd's angry look, the murder in his eyes, and the desire to rip your opponent apart with his own hands as you fall to the floor. And you certainly don't see the trembling of his hand, as he instinctively wanted to grab you and pull you safely behind him.

You strike once, quickly driving the blade into the man's stomach and leaving it there. You push him to his knees, push away the hand that holds the sword, and reach for the dagger hidden in the sleeve of your dress. You strike a second time, piercing his shoulder. You stick the second dagger into his hand and knock the weapon out of his hand, taking it from him. You grab the man's throat in a tight grip and tilt his head back. You lean over him, a mocking smirk on your face as he struggles to breathe.

"I didn't even take off my high heels." You mocked him as you slit his throat.

You smile victoriously as you decapitate him. His head rolls at your feet, blood splattering your dress and face as you breathe heavily. You sigh, feeling your heart pound in your chest, as you bow to the crowd surrounding you as they shout and applaud you. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Rabban's sour, angry expression. You kick the head of his right hand towards him and give him a small smirk. You stand upright as you meet the eyes of your na-baron.

And then you saw it. Hunger in his eyes. Pure lust and desire, as his pupils were wide and solemnly focused on you.

You knew that gaze. He only looked like that at things he really wanted. Only his favourite concubines got THAT look from him or a beautiful, precisely made weapon that fit perfectly in his hands. Usually he had that look in his eyes right after the great battle he won. He would lock himself with his concubines and then spend long hours in his chambers, giving himself completely to his primal instincts.

You shiver as he walks towards you, ignoring anything else in the room. He grabs you tightly by the throat, and, to the delight of the drunken crowd who are screaming madly with excitement after the show you had made, he kisses you.

It is hard, hungry, and passionate. His hand completely removes the metal chains and shawl that were covering your head, and he pulls you to him as close as possible. His grip on your hair and throat is tight as he demands that your mouth be opened for him by biting your lower lip. You moan involuntarily, causing his tongue to slip into your mouth, as he is exploring new territory with a zeal you've never seen from him.

He pulls away from you when you're completely out of breath. Your vision is blurry, your heart is pounding from the adrenaline of the fight, and you can only stare at him stupidly and blankly while trying to understand what just happened.

Your eyes widen as he licks his lips, lust still burning in his eyes as he takes in your panting form and swollen, red lips. A trickle of blood drips from your mouth after he bit into it a few minutes ago. As you taste your blood on your tongue, you realise the terrifying truth.

Feyd Rautha Harkonnen desired you.

Feyd strokes your neck, which is still in his tight grip. His eyes travel from your lips to your neck, to your collarbones, to the valley of your breasts, and to your hips, which were starting to bruise from how tightly he held them in the moments before your fight. Suddenly, everything starts to fall into place for you. His strange, unusual behaviour, the flirtatious comments, the long stares, and his more frequent attempts to hold you close to him and touch your exposed skin are starting to make sense.

You were screwed.

Completely and utterly fucked up.

You've been avoiding him since that night. More than any Reverend Mother or Bene Gesserit. Which was a very difficult task, considering how many things you had to do as his right hand.

But, luckily, you managed to avoid being alone with him. Of course, it couldn't last long. You knew him very well, and you knew that eventually he would try something and come for you. But you tried to deceive yourself by living the lie that his desire would pass and his concubines would effectively take care of him.

If he noticed your attempts to stay away from him, he never mentioned it. Of course, he chased after you when he saw you walking alone down the hall, but you never gave him a chance to catch up with you. He may have grown up here, but you knew the palace like the back of your hand. And all the nooks and crannies you could hide in from him.

So you actually managed not to get close to him for a very long time. Until it was time to train a unit of soldiers directly subordinate to him.

"Y/N!!!" You're sure all of Giedi Prime could have heard his scream. You sigh, calming down as you continue your walk to the arena. You step out into the black sun, carefully watching the men training. You walk up to him and bow to him.

"My lord na-baron." You say it politely, unfazed by the fact that he's practically seething with rage. You were more used to dealing with him like this than when he was horny... or worse, kind. You would turn on your shield if you knew it wouldn't make him fall over the edge and start murdering everyone he could.

"Take your blade. None of these piles of useless muscles know basic defensive moves. Look, you all! You have to learn this by the end of the day, or next time you will enter this arena as my opponent!" He walks over to one of them, probably to either stab him or adjust his position, leaving you to get ready. You tie your hair up so it doesn't bother you during a fight and choose your blade.

You gasp in surprise when you are suddenly pushed. You turn around quickly, trying to keep your balance as you face the na-baron. You move your hand to activate your shield, but his voice stops you:

"Don't. I have to show them how to do it. No shield." You know he's lying, and that's not why he doesn't want you to turn on your shield, but you don't say anything. You just nod and prepare to get into a defensive position.

He attacks you quickly. Very quickly. You've trained with him before, and you have to admit, he's never been this… brutal with you.

You go through different positions with him until you finally stop following the textbook fighting patterns and start fighting seriously. You keep up with his movements for a long time, blocking his blade with yours and dodging attacks that you have no physical ability to block, but he keeps pressing against you, not letting you rest or trying to return the favour with one of your attacks.

You gasp in surprise when he trips you, sending you to the ground. You block his swing at you with your blade and kneel in the sand, trying to get up, but he's pressing too hard against you with his sword for you to move. You use all your strength to push him away from you. Feyd growls, throwing his sword aside, and simply lunges at you. You're too shocked to do anything as he snatches the blade from your hand and sits on top of you.

You fight him, sending both of you rolling in the sand. Eventually, he gets impatient and wraps his hand around your throat. You take a hoarse breath as he blocks your airway. You grab his hand around your neck and try to pull it away. You dig your nails into his palm, but he remains unmoved, pinning you to the sand.

He leans closer to you, and you take the opportunity to wrap your hand around his neck. He laughs, showing you his black teeth as he practically lays on top of you. His erection presses hard against your thigh as he grinds against you, grunting as he too begins to feel the need for air... and something more. You see black spots in front of your eyes, and you feel tears welling up in your eyes as you struggle to breathe.

You let go of his neck completely, your hand falling next to your head, and you desperately try to use the remaining air to try and use your Bene Gesserit voice on him. But before you try to say anything, he loosens his grip so you can breathe, but his fingers are still lightly holding your neck.

Too busy breathing, you don't notice how he tilts his face towards you. Only when you feel his tongue on your neck do you realise how close he is to you. You freeze when he runs his tongue from your neck, from jaw to cheek, to taste your tears. You hear him moan softly. To confirm that your brain, stunned by lack of oxygen, didn't make it all up on its own, he rubs against you, and his hardness in his pants is clearly felt by you.

You just fucking hope he doesn't fuck you in front of those soldiers.

You meet his black eyes with yours. You shiver as he leans in, his bare chest pressed completely against you as he whispers into your ear.

"Damn you, witch... if you taste as sweet as your tears..." He growls. You feel dizzy, and you're not sure if it's because of the heat of the moment, the fact that he cut you off from oxygen for a while, or because you're overwhelmed by his scent and the warmth that radiates from the two of you.

You thank whoever is above you as he finally pulls away from you and stands up. He gives you his hand and helps you stand on your two feet. The soldiers obediently look at the ground, not daring to face the na-baron's gaze. You swallow hard, pulling your hand from his grasp.

Feyd barks orders at them, herding them back to training. You breathe a sigh of relief when he stops paying attention to you. You use your shawl to wipe his saliva and your sweat from your neck. You take your blade and are about to leave the arena to do the rest of your duties. But a tight grip on your wrist stops you. You tense up and turn around to face him again.

"Y/N." He murmurs, watching you carefully. You're sure that bruises are starting to appear on your neck from his tight squeeze. "Come to my chambers tonight." A cold shiver runs through you, but all you can do is nod and watch his retreating figure as he leaves to continue the training.

You hoped he didn't mean what you thought he meant by that... invitation. Otherwise, this could be your last night on Giedi Prime or the last night of your life. You're not sure yet.

For the first time, you feel fear as you walk to his chambers. He had called for you at such times before, but it never occurred to you that he wanted to do with you something else than discuss with you matters that were related to the Giedi Prime Court, the baron's plans, or other political matters and plots.

You shudder, wondering what might be waiting behind that door. You saw the condition in which some of his concubines left him. You didn't want to become one of them; you didn't want to be reduced to being his lover. It was fine as it was. You felt very good as his shadow, ears, and eyes. You liked conspiring together with him, making plans, and that hrill each time you managed to take down the enemies that were standing in your way. He was supposed to be your savior, not your persecutor. Were you that naive from the beginning, or has everything started going to shit recently?

The guards let you through without saying a word. With your heart pounding, you enter his chambers.

He's sitting on the bed. His harpies finish taking off his clothes, and at first you want to back away, but as soon as his gaze meets yours, you freeze. Feyd snaps at one of them. She hands him a glass of his wine while the others look at you furiously.

"Leave." He tells them, never taking his eyes off you. The women look at each other, not wanting to leave him, especially leave him alone with you. You guess that if it weren't for Feyd's presence, they would have attacked you long ago, trying to eat you before their master got a chance to touch you. Disgust arouses in you as you think that you may be soon reduced to their role and turned into one of them. "I said something." He growls at them, shifting his gaze from you to give them an angry glare.

The harpies are going out obediently, but they are not wasting an opportunity to hiss at you as they pass you to get to the exit. You hear one of them scream in pain as Feyd suddenly throws a knife at them right before they close the door behind them.

You were more used to his brutal reflexes than to his tender gestures. You actually preferred him being aggressive more. At least you could have predicted his movement. That's why you didn't even blink when he threw a blade at his pets.

"You wanted to see me." You start when you are alone. If you could impress him with anything other than your fighting skills and the ability to obtain various information by staying in the shadows, it would be that you never showed fear or insecurity. At least not to those who don't know you. Almost no one could read you. Almost.

However, Feyd saw that you were behaving differently. But he was tired of controlling himself around you. He couldn't do it anymore after tasting your lips, tasting your skin mixed with tears, and feeling your curves press against him. He wanted more. Much more than he ever got from you. And he was going to take it, whether you wanted it or not. He won't go crazy with lust for you... or at least not with as much longing for you each night as he used to.

"I did..." He stands up, and you're grateful he's at least wearing underwear as he walks over to his bar and pours a second glass of wine. He hands it to you and taps it with his own. He takes a few sips and looks at you. After a while, he sits down on his bed again and swirls his glass, playing with the remains of the wine. "Baron wants me to find a wife." He announces calmly, staring at you intently as he finishes his wine with one big sip.

You almost choke on your drink. You place your glass on the table and meet the careful gaze of his cold, blue eyes. You feel yourself starting to get hot with nerves.

"I beg you pardon?" You ask, still reeling from the shock of this sudden information.

"He wants me to find a broodmare who will bear my heirs since I am getting close to the appropriate age." He repeats, standing up gracefully. He approaches you, his steps slow and measured, as if he were approaching his prey in an arena. And for a moment, that's exactly how you feel. But you show no fear or any other emotion as he stops a few inches in front of you. You straighten up, your muscles tensing as you think about any answer.

"I… I can make the necessary preparations and check which high families…"

"Strip." He orders you. His tone is hoarse, leaving no room for any objection. He talks just as if he were asking you to pass him the dagger rather than to stand naked in front of him. As if it was an order he carried out every day and something you should be used to following.

"What?" You ask stupidly, unable to process what he said to you in your head.

"Have you gone deaf? Undress. Take your clothes off." He repeats mockingly. He crosses his arms, takes a few steps back, and leans against the wooden post of his bed as he watches you carefully, waiting for you to either obey his order or openly disobey him, giving him the opportunity to punish you... as if he even needed a reason to do so.

"My na-baron, I..."

"Exactly, Y/N. I am your na-baron. So follow my order. Now. I'm not in the mood for our games. You think I haven't noticed you've been playing hide-and-seek lately? I have given much worse punishments for such disobedience and attempts at self-indulgence. Take your clothes off, or I'll rip them from you."

For a moment, there is a deathly silence in his chambers. Only your breathing can be heard as you try to find any way out of this situation. But you can't think of anything. Your mind is empty, your hands are shaking a little, and all you can do is look at him, silently begging him to change his mind. A frown of impatience appears on his forehead, and you know you have to do something before he gets irritated and cuts you with one of his blades.

You sigh softly as you reach for the laces of your shirt. You take your time, slowly untying your bindings. Feyd devours every bit of skin you expose to him, and you swear you hear him hold his breath as your shirt lands on the floor. You get out of your shoes and socks very slowly.

Luckily, he doesn't comment on it and lets you get out of his clothes at your own pace. He knows he will win anyway. Tonight, he will finally stop playing cat and mouse with you and put his hands on what is rightfully his. So he savours every moment, making a plan in his head for what he will do to you tonight for this small act of rebellion.

He licks his lips as you stand in front of him in nothing but black underwear. His eyes take in your every curve, skin lesions, and scars that mark your warrior body. Oh yes. He was going to enjoy this night and finally unwrap his early birthday present.

"Good girl. You know where the bathroom is, right?" Without waiting for your response, he goes there, expecting you to follow him.

You swallow hard. You're glad that at least you managed to stay in your underwear and that you're not completely naked in front of him. You get out of your pile of clothes and leisurely follow him to the bathroom.

As soon as you enter, the door closes itself behind you. You sigh, the sweet smell of bath salts reaching your nostrils. But you don't feel so relaxed when the coolness of the bathroom and the black marble you stand barefoot on make you shiver and your nipples harden.

The na-baron's dark chuckle catches your attention. He's in a large, black bathtub, his hands resting on its edges as he enjoys the warm water, watching you closely, a spark of amusement shining in his icy blue eyes. He looks like a vulture waiting for the best moment to kill his prey.

"It had been a long day. Join me." He says, lifting his hand for you to take and step into the tub.

Having no choice, you obediently reach for his hand and release it as quickly as you can, sitting on the other side of the bathtub with your legs tucked under you so as not to accidentally touch him. He laughs, shaking his head in amusement.

"Not so far, my little mouse. Closer. I won't bite… well, not yet."

"I'm not a mouse." You snap at him. If you're going to die, at least die with dignity. Blinded by your anger at him, you sit on his lap before you can think it through. It's only his hardness pressing against your ass that makes you realize what a mistake you've made. You don't show your discomfort, though; you even lean against his chest, letting your head rest on his shoulder.

He laughs softly, wrapping his arms around you just as the skin of your back meets his chest. You feel like you're in a cage, even though he's trying to calm you down by lazily drawing patterns on the skin of your arms. Your underwear soaks up the water and sticks to you, making you feel even more uncomfortable.

"Hand me my dagger."

You much prefer receiving such orders from him. You get up from the bathtub to get away from him for a moment, but he stops you by grabbing your hips tightly. He shakes his head and nods towards the dagger, which is literally at his fingertips. You bite your lip, keeping yourself from talking back at him, and reach for the weapon, handing it to him. You do this carefully, not wanting to cut the skin of your fingertips with the very sharp blade.

He cuts through the fabric of your bra with surgical grace. You gasp in outrage but don't move, knowing full well that you are only millimetres away from him taking your blood. You don't have to turn around to know he's smiling cockily as he traces the tip of his dagger across your skin to your panties.

"You know I can take it off by myself?" You ask as he traces patterns with the tip of his dagger on your stomach, around your navel. You hold your breath as he rests his chin on your shoulder and pulls you closer to him, rubbing against your still-clothed ass. You learn the hard way that the rumours about his... greatness were true.

"You had your chance at the beginning, now it's my turn. You're lucky that I'm not taking it off of you with my teeth anyway." He growls in your ear. You shiver as he presses a wet kiss on your shoulder, peppering kisses on your skin, down to your neck, and down to your jawbone before he rests his chin on your shoulder again.

"Sorry for interrupting your fun, my na-baron." You growl as he hooks the tip of his dagger against the fabric of your panties.

"No worries; you will compensate me in another way." He says, cutting your panties. He throws them behind him and lazily presses the dagger against your jawbone, forcing you to turn your head to look at him.

You meet his blue eyes with yours. His irises are practically non-existent, giving way entirely to his dilated, black pupils. He stares at you hungrily, licking his lips. He looks lost and indecisive, as if he didn't know what to do first.

His other hand, the one not holding the dagger pressed against your neck and jaw, explores your body, caressing your skin as if it were some kind of precious silk. You sigh as he cups your breast, which, of course, fits perfectly in his hand. You want to punch him in the face, but the dagger at your throat reminds you that one wrong move could cost you dearly. So you take his hand in yours instead, stopping him from over-exploring.

"You know... I tried to stay away from you. From the first moment I saw you... fighting with those daggers of yours... you're not as graceful in dancing as you are with them in your hands, taking down all your enemies. But you are Bene Gesserit. I know you're dangerous. So damn dangerous... if I were anyone else, you'd use your voice on me and tell me to castrate myself. Or you could make me magically disappear by throwing myself off some tall tower just because I thwarted your plans or looked at you wrong. Surprised? You may live in the shadows, my little witch, but I won't miss anything you do. You know I have trouble controlling myself... so how can I do that when you're so damn irresistible? The fact that I've endured all these years and not gotten close to you the way I wanted—the way I dreamed so many times at night—is quite a success, don't you think?"

He massages your breast, playing with it. You bite your lip, holding back a moan as he pinches your nipple. He leans closer to you, pressing his nose against your neck and inhaling your scent deeply. He removes his hand from your breast and moves your connected body along your body. You gasp, tightening your grip on his as he brushes your clit gently with his fingertip.

"I… I should go." You mumble, squirming in his grip, which is, of course, pointless and only makes him groan in pleasure as your ass rubs against his hard, leaking member.

"Stay. You won't oppose your na-baron, will you?" The bastard knows well that you won't openly oppose him, and he uses it as best he can. He moves your joined hands to his length, forcing you to wrap your hand around him. He hisses, pressing the blade closer to your throat and tightening his grip on your hand as he guides yours along his length the way he wants. "Your skin is so soft… and that beautiful hair that you needlessly hide… you don't know how many times I imagined pulling you by it." He mumbles into your neck. The hand with the dagger now presses against your chest, only causing your heart to beat much faster. A wave of heat washes over you, your traitorous pussy clenching desperately as you hear his moans in your ear.

"Feyd..." You moan as his hand releases yours and works at your desperate pussy. He growls, feeling the warmth of your walls around his fingers and the wetness he caused. You remove your hand from his member and tighten your grip on his hand, trying to push him away from your private parts in a desperate attempt to regain control of the situation.

"Don't fight. Just give yourself to me, Y/N. Let me show you how much you've lost while trying to hide yourself from me in your shadows…" He growls, pressing the tip of the dagger to your nipple. You freeze, moaning as he becomes stiffened by the sheer movement of his blade.

He bites into your neck, making you moan loudly and throwing your head back. He licks and sucks your neck, rubbing his painfully hard cock against your pussy. The water splashes around you, some of it spilling out of the tub due to his sudden movements. A few inches deeper, and he would have slammed into you, bisecting you with his huge cock, which stood ready for you from the moment he saw you in your underwear.

"Can you feel it? Can you feel what you're doing to me? How hard I am because of you? It's like this every time you hand me my blade, perfectly balanced and sharpened, every time you meet all my needs without even communicating with me, you just know what I want by looking at me, my little witch. So tell me, who is a better partner for me than my right hand? Who can I trust more than you? Who should I fuck, full of my heirs, if not you?"

You don't respond; you can't find any words as your brain desperately tries to shout out the pleasure he's giving you and force you to resist him. Unsuccessfully. The warmth of the water, his body, his scent, and his precise, deliberate movements cut off your thoughts. Feyd is practically salivating at the sight of you so lost in lust and desire as he witnesses you lose control for the first time.

He throws away the dagger, which falls with a crash onto the marble floor. Neither of you care as he grabs your hips and, in one smooth, quick movement, turns you around so you can face him.

You only have time to draw in a quick breath before he demands your mouth. You moan into his lips as he kisses you with the same passion and intensity as he did a few weeks ago at the party after you won the fight. You try to pull away from him, but he holds you tightly, placing his hands on your back as he presses you against him. You don't stand a chance against his strength. You can resist him, but you know it won't be long before you collapse from exhaustion. You bite his lip until you draw blood, which only causes him to groan and have him grind against you, the tip of his cock teasing your entrance.

You gasp as he leaves your lips for a while and pulls your hair, exposing your throat to him so he can mark it even more. He sucks on your skin, littering it with hickeys as you feel him slowly move, positioning himself beneath you so that his member presses against the entrance of your pussy.

And just as he's about to join your bodies, to make you two one, to feel your hot, wet, tight walls around him, there's a knock on the bathroom door.

This time, he's the one who freezes, tightening his hold on you. You feel like he's making sure he hasn't misheard or imagined it in this heated moment between you, but when the knocking sounds a second time, he realises it's real.

You pray with gratitude for the soul of the fool who dared to interrupt him, because you know that even if it were something important, he would not live to see the morning.

"What?!" He growls furiously, not letting you go, not letting you move an inch from him, still believing that he can quickly get rid of the intruder and go back to ravaging you, maybe even fucking you while he talks to whoever is standing in front of that damned door. Though Feyd preferred to be fully focused on you when he took you for the first time. However, he was convinced that if he didn't feel you around him soon, he would go crazy. He is so close... all he had to do was push a little more...

"My lord na-baron. The Baron wants to see you. It's very important."

You see pure rage bubbling in his eyes. He growls, shifting you from his lap as he stands up. You look down as you see all of him very clearly, especially what you were exposed to a few moments ago. He throws a towel at you, and you automatically catch it. He wraps one around his waist before he comes back to you again and grabs your throat. He gives you a crazy, passionate kiss, stroking your neck and appreciating the marks he made before pulling away from you.

"We'll come back to it, little witch." He leaves you with that promise, closing the door behind him with a bang.

You hear him shouting something at his harpies, and you shudder at the thought of having to walk past them to get out of here. You lean back against the tub, still sitting in the now-cold water, as you slowly process everything that happened.

You succeeded this time, but you know you won't be so lucky next time. You could either accept... your new responsibilities and his expectations of you, or you could try to break free from him, risking your life.

It was a decision to be made in the privacy of your own chambers. For now, you let yourself lie in the cool water, fully aware that if you weren't interrupted now, he would fuck you silly, likely planting his seed inside you.

You ran away from the Bene Gesserit with him because you didn't want to be a whore, a vessel for their crazy breeding plan. Apparently, you just changed the owner of your womb. You had to do something if you didn't want to end up as originally intended—as the mother of the future Kwisatz Haderach.

3K notes · View notes

astonmartinii · 5 months ago

Text

match my freak | yuki tsunoda social media au

pairing: yuki tsunoda x fem rugby player reader

there's only one person who can match the yuki tsunoda radio freak...

MAIN MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

.・゜゜・ part of the aston martini summer olympics ・゜゜・．

yukitsunoda0511

liked by pierregasly, danielricciardo and 384,098 others

tagged: yourusername

yukitsunoda0511: spa was fine i guess, time to spend my summer break in france (ew) supporting the love of my life (yay)

view all comments

user1: 'fine i guess' as if we didn't get YOINTS

user2: tbf if my gf looked like that, points also wouldn't matter to me

pierregasly: FRANCE (EW)??? DID OUR HOMOEROTIC TENSION MEAN NOTHING???

yukitsunoda0511: oh so when i diss france we had homoerotic tension but when i said we were boyfriends i went too far 🤨

pierregasly: diss me all you want but not the homeland?

yukitsunoda0511: fine, i will from 5pm tomorrow

pierregasly: ???

yukitsunoda0511: because y/n will be there and therefore it will be the ONLY country in existence

pierregasly: i give up

user3: i need a man this down bad for me asap

user4: maybe it's time to lower my height requirements :(

yourusername: it's not how tall you are but how you are tall

user5: idk what the fuck that means

yourusername: IT MEANS SHORT KINGS PUT IN A LOT OF EFFORT WHY DO I HAVE TO SPELL OUT EVERYTHING? WHERE IS THE MEDIA LITERACY? THE READ COMPREHENSION?

user6: okay i think i now know ^^ why y/n and yuki are so good together

user7: i need someone to edit together their most iconic on field and radio moments together please for my mental health

yourusername: that's a crazy coincidence because the love of MY life will also be in paris 🤨

yukitsunoda0511: well i bet i love my love of my life more than you love your love of your life

yourusername: NUH UH

yukitsunoda0511: yep :PPPPPPP

yourusername: u wanna fight?

yukitsunoda0511: yes actually!

yourusername: well soz babe i can't get all hot and bothered before competing 🤷‍♀️

yukitsunoda0511: BORING

yourusername

liked by danielricciardo, pierregasly and 318,905 others

tagged: yukitsunoda

yourusername: seeing yuki again: 10/10 ... realising he's not allowed in the olympic village and there's only cardboard beds anyway -100,000/10

view all comments

user12: so i suddenly understand why they give out so many condoms at the olympics

user13: why do they all go so feral?

yourusername: have you seen my man?

yourusername: AND THAT'S A RHETORICAL QUESTION TO SHOW OFF MY HANDSOME LITTLE MAN NOT AN INVITATION FOR YOU BITCHES TO THIRST

user14: noted 😔

pierregasly: i'm the one with a bad digital footprint but you're out here being just as horny as me on main

yourusername: i am allowed to ?

pierregasly: and i'm not allowed to?

yourusername: no

pierregasly: so fuck me i guess?

yourusername: let me be a woman in a male dominated field (being gross online)

yukitsunoda0511: yeah pierre stop trying to minimise womens' voices

pierregasly: how am i the bad guy again?

yourusername: man ❤️

pierregasly: yuki is a man?

yourusername: he's MY man which means he's been closely vetted and is basically one of the girls now

user14: i know visa cashapp rb or whatever the fuck they're called hate to see them coming

user15: it's the fact she's taller than most of the mechanics and she is always watching over them

yukitsunoda0511: i missed you so much but i can't wait to watch you beat the shit out of the competition

yourusername: for you, anything

yukitsunoda0511: a gold? so at least one of us can be world champion 🥺

yourusername: i'll win gold for you and then schedule in a friendly visit to see helmut

yukitsunoda0511: i think your mere presence could give him a heart attack

yourusername: oh well

user16: so real of her

olympics

liked by yukitsunoda0511, landonorris and 1,209,678 others

tagged: newzealandrubgy

olympics: the women's rugby final saw gold go home to new zealand!

view all comments

user17: okay yuki i am SEEING THE VISION

user18: i watched this game to see her and i am a changed woman

user19: i am no better than a man

danielricciardo: my personal favourite moment was when y/n clotheslined that poor girl, laughed in her face and said if she tried to get past her again she'd make trinket dishes out of her knee caps

yourusername: why thank you, i think my wit is my least appreciated part of my game

danielricciardo: i think we should honestly get you in the commentary box

yourusername: i'd make mince meat of crofty, he'd never say anything about yuki's radios again

danielricciardo: can you tell them to stop telling me to retire while you're at it?

yourusername: sure, i'm feeling generous

danielricciardo: a gold medal will do that to you

user20: so they weren't joking when they said that her and yuki are just the same person in different fonts ?

user21: my commentary team apologised about 20 times for her swearing on the broadcast but then they kept bursting out laughing whenever she said anything

yukitsunoda0511: HOLY FUCKING SHIT

yukitsunoda0511: GOAT GOAT GOAT MY GIRLFRIEND IS THE GOAT

yukitsunoda0511: i'm so proud, i love you y/n 🫶🏻🥹❤️‍🩹

yourusername: i love you too boo

yukitsunoda0511: can they let me in the room now? i'm getting withdrawal symptoms :(

yourusername: of course, i can't celebrate properly without you

yukitsunoda0511: 😄😄😄😄😄😄😄😄😄😄😄😄😄😄😄😄😄😄

user22: picturing yuki waiting outside the team room is so cute

user23: the nz team instagram posted a pic of it on their story he had flowers and balloons (∩˃o˂∩)♡

yukitsunoda0511

liked by pierregasly, maxverstappen1 and 893,401 others

tagged: yourusername

yukitsunoda0511: she matches my freak :)

view all comments

user25: oh believe me we know

user26: i'm like a confusing mix of scared AND turned on

yukitsunoda0511: you keep that to yourself

user27: okay sir 🤨

yukitsunoda0511: you can look but you can't touch :P

yukitsunoda0511: actually don't even look

yukitsunoda0511: don't even think about her ( ｡ •̀ ᴖ •́ ｡)

user28: this man is insane, i love him

yourusername: you LIKE HIM YOU APPRECIATE HIM FROM AFAR YOU MAYBE HAVE A PARASOCIAL RELATIONSHIP YOU DON'T LOVE HIM THAT'S FOR ME AND ME ONLY

user29: oh they weren't joking about matching each other's freaks

yourusername: there's no one else i'd like to be a lil gremlin with :3

yukitsunoda0511: gremlins forever with you <3

yourusername: sounds like paradise to me !!

yukitsunoda0511: i'm on it ✍🏻

user30: is he going to propose ???

user31: hopefully (ㅅ •᷄ ₃•᷅ )

pierregasly: yeah i guess you guys are kinda cute

yukitsunoda0511: kINDA?

yourusername: i know this man ain't speaking on us

yourusername: kika is the face economy in that relationship

yourusername: her back must hurt from carrying the style in this couple

francisca.cgomez: well 🥹

pierregasly: WHAT ? HOW ?

yukitsunoda0511: don't call my girlfriend kinda cute then 🤨

user32: good lord

fin.

note: she's back !!!!!

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 instagram au #f1 x you #f1 #f1 social media au #yuki tsunoda instagram au #yuki tsunoda x you #yuki tsunoda x reader #yuki tsunoda imagine #yuki tsunoda

1K notes · View notes

giannaln4 · 6 months ago

Text

Nursed By Love

lando norris x fem reader

summary: Lando got sick during the first race of the triple header and you made it your mission to take care of him. (2.7k words)

warnings: stablished relationship, fluff, sick!lando, taking a shower together (not in a sexual way), use of Y/N

a/n: not gonna lie, this turned out shorter than i expected 😭 i wanted to write more and include the entire weekend but i literally couldn't come up with more, i’m sorry if it feels a little rushed but i hope you still like it!

check out the original request here! also, this is somewhat of a prequel to my fic Sick; it has a couple of references here and there but it can be read as a standalone.

↺ back to navigation — send me a request!

Lando woke up before you, something that was normal in your relationship given the strict agenda he had to follow almost on a daily basis. He checked his phone to see how much time left he had before having to get up, sighing when he realised his alarm would go off soon.

He valued his sleep, like a lot, so he figured he wouldn't let those few minutes go to waste, so he pulled the covers again up to his neck, but he was feeling a little colder than usual, so he did what he usually does: he reached for you and pulled you into him, embracing you so lovingly.

This made you wake up, slowly opening your eyes to get used to the light. “Hey,” you whispered, not completely sure if he was awake.

"Sorry, baby,” he said with a sleepy voice as his nose nudged into the crook of your neck.

“It’s okay. What time is it?”

“Almost time to go, actually.”

“Okay, let’s get going then.” You said, pulling away from his embrace, making him whine as he quickly reached for your arm.

“No, let’s stay in bed a little longer,” he looked at you with his sweet eyes as he tried to convince you to go back to him.

“I don’t want us to be late again.”

“We won’t. We still have a few minutes, I promise.”

With that, you cuddled him again, this time facing him. After all, how could you possibly say no to him? “Okay, but as soon as the alarm goes off, we are getting up.”

"Yes, ma’am,” he replied happily as he buried his face on your neck again, enjoying the way you were scratching his scalp.

Truth is, he was feeling more tired than usual. Sure, he always hated having to wake up early, but something about the way he was feeling that day wasn’t right. You felt it too; his skin against your neck was hotter than it normally was.

“You okay?”

He shook his head, hugging you tighter. “I think I’m getting sick.”

You pulled away again, the back of your hand falling on his forehead. “Baby, you have a fever.” He just hummed in response as he tried to get you to go back to your previous position. “Lando, I’m being serious. You can’t just ignore it.”

“It’s not like I can call in sick.”

“I know, but you can’t go around all day without at least taking something. What else are you feeling?” You asked, worried eyes looking back at him.

“I’m just cold… and tired.”

“Okay, I’ll run to get you something, and you start getting ready. Sounds good?”

He immediately shook his head and, once again, tried to cuddle you. “You promised we’d stay here until the alarm went off.”

“I know, my love, but this is the first race of the triple header, and you need to be okay. You shouldn’t do it while being sick,” you said, rubbing his check softly. “I’ll meet you at the track, yeah?”

“No, please. Let’s just cuddle for a bit longer,” he insisted.

You sighed, debating in your mind what you should do. On one hand, you knew he wouldn’t give up, and it really couldn’t hurt to just cuddle him for a little while; he really needed it after all, but on the other, he really needed to take something so he wouldn’t feel that way for the rest of the weekend—not only that, but the two other weekends he had ahead of him.

“It’s only media day. I’ll be okay.”

“Okay,” you finally gave in, “but I’m serious, you have to take something.”

“I will. I will get checked later today at the track. Don’t worry,” he reassured you.

“Yeah, I’ll make sure of that.” You went back to your cuddly position as your hand caressed the back of his head.

“I know you will.”

The minutes went by too quickly to his liking, the alarm going off just moments later. To him, it felt like 5 seconds, not 5 minutes. He groaned when you started to get up, leaving the warmth and comfort of the hotel bed to start getting ready for the day.

“We had a deal, c’mon,” you said, offering him your hand. He took it, but that didn’t mean he wanted to.

“I wish we could stay here all day.” He stood in front of you and cupped your face as his thumbs caressed your cheeks.

“Aw, I know, my love, but the day will be over before you know it, and we can come back later to cuddle a little more, okay?”

He just nodded and made his way to the bathroom. You both started getting ready quickly, knowing the car that would take you to the track was probably already downstairs waiting for you.

Once you had everything you needed, he took your hand and gave it a little kiss, whispering a soft “Okay, time to go” before leaving the room.

You got to the track, and he immediately had to start doing things for the weekend that awaited him; you knew he wouldn’t get checked or take something unless you were on his hair about it, so you thought telling Jon would be a good idea.

It was hard to find a moment to go to the clinic due to their busy schedule, but you were able to finally drag him there.

You were standing close to him as he dangled his feet on the small bed, getting his throat checked by the doctor.

“It seems like you have a cough, nothing too serious,” the doctor said as she stepped away from him, writing something on the piece of paper attached to the wooden board where she was writing down his symptoms. “I will give you some medicine; take this right now, and then make sure you take it every 8 hours. Something for the fever too, in case you feel sick later, but only take one, and only if you get a fever. Also some painkillers; have you had any headaches?”

“A little bit, last night.”

“Any other thing you have been feeling?”

“I think that’s all.”

“Alright, that should be all then. Drink a lot of fluids and stay away from any alcohol or smoking. It’s not too bad, but if anything comes up, you know where to find me.”

Lando was just nodding, but you paid attention to everything she said, making a mental note of how to take care of him.

Once they were done with all the paperwork, you left the clinic, Lando holding everything the doctor had prescribed.

“I will hold on to those, thank you,” you said, taking all the medicine and putting it in your bag, safe and sound. You checked the time and set a reminder for 8 hours, so you didn’t forget about the cough medicine.

“Thank you, my love,” he said before kissing the top of your head.

You looked up at him with a smile, feeling sad that he got sick at the beginning of the triple header. You knew how demanding his job was and how demanding he was on himself, so it wouldn’t be a smooth recovery, so the least you could do was help him however you could.

“Lando, we have to get going. I think they are already waiting for us,” Jon said as he typed something on his phone.

The rest of the day was a little boring, which was expected considering Lando and Oscar had to spend all day talking to people or recording some videos and interviews, but you never left his side, just in case he needed something or started to feel sick again. Any time he was away from the people or cameras, you immediately ran up to him, your hand landing somewhere on his skin to make sure he didn’t have a fever.

“How are you feeling?”

“Still a little tired, and my throat is starting to bother me again. But other than that, all good.”

“Oh, is it too bad?”

“Not too bad; I guess all the talking isn’t really helping,” he chuckled, in hopes of not worrying you too much, but you couldn’t help it, and he knew that.

“I figured. You should drink some water,” you handed him the bottle you had been holding all day. He took it and drank the water that was left, thankful that you made sure to have it on you the whole time. “Where are we going now?”

“We are staying here. We have a couple more things to do.” You nodded, holding his hand for just a moment since someone called his name from the other side of the room. “I’ll see you in a bit, yeah?”

“Okay.” You let go of his hand, watching as he joined Oscar and some other people on a big couch. They were talking about the next video they had to film, so since he was busy with his job, you figured you could step away for a moment.

You wandered around as you looked up what the best tea was to help with a sore throat. Once you settled on ginger, you looked everywhere for it, but it wasn’t as common as you hoped. You did manage to find some, finally, and you ran back to the McLaren hospitality so you could give it to him. Thankfully, when you found him, he was just scrolling on his phone, sitting away from everyone.

“Hey, I brought you some tea. This should help your sore throat.” He looked up from his phone to take the disposable cup you were holding. “It might not be as hot as it should be, but it should still do the trick,” you said nervously.

“What is it?” He asked, sniffing it.

“Ginger.”

“Ginger? Where did you find ginger tea?”

“You don’t wanna know,” you said as you sat on his lap.

“Thanks, darling,” he whispered before taking a sip, clearing his throat afterwards.

“You should drink all of it.”

“It’s a little spicy. Do you want to try?” He said, offering you the cup.

“No, I don’t want your germs,” you joked, making him laugh. You laughed with him, enjoying the little glimpse of his dimple.

“I’m afraid you got those when we kissed.”

It wasn’t instant, but the tea definitely helped. The rest of the day went on quicker since all the major stuff got done in the morning, so before you knew it, you were already back at the hotel.

“Lando, take this.” You were taking out the bag of medicine you got from the doctor that morning, picking up the bottle that he was supposed to drink every 8 hours.

“What is it?”

“Your medicine, silly. It’s time.”

He made a disgusted face as he took it. “It tastes horrible.”

“I know, but you can’t skip it.” You stood there until he was done, an even more disgusted look adorning his face. “Are you feeling better than this morning?”

He nodded, giving you back the bottle since he knew you wanted to keep all his medicine together. “Will you take a shower with me?” He asked out of nowhere. You raised your eyebrows at his question, and he realized how it came across so immediately clarified. “Not for that reason.”

You couldn’t hold your laugh, but you quickly realised he just needed help. “Do you want me to help wash your hair?”

“Please.If you are okay with it.”

You followed him to the bathroom, turning on the water and making sure it was warm and nice while he discarded his clothes. He stepped in first, letting out a small moan when the warm water started to cover his body. He offered you his hand once you got naked, his strong arms wrapping around your body when you joined him.

You stayed like that for a moment, until you pulled away to gently massage his scalp.

“This is nice,” he cooed, his eyes closing as he relaxed at the feeling.

“Mhmm, I’m glad, baby.”

“Are we going to sleep after this?” His eyes met yours as he awaited for your answer, smiling when you nodded. “Good, you promised some cuddles this morning.”

“I know, I haven’t forgotten.” It warmed your heart that he had been looking forward to it, but it broke it at the same time because, even though he always asked for it, you knew it was different this time. “Bent down a little for me,” you instructed as you reached for the shampoo and squeezed some on your hand. He did as you asked, leaving his head in perfect reach for you.

Your fingertips went back to massage his scalp gently as you made sure you covered all of it. He was humming at your touch, his eyes closing as he enjoyed the soothing sensation.

“Does your head hurt?”

“A little,” he admitted, “not too bad, though.” You looked at him with sad eyes, wishing you could take his pain away and take it yourself.

“Okay, I will give you something for that, and then we can go to bed, okay?”

You continued helping him for the rest of the shower, and then he offered to help you the same way you did. You accepted, but it did take a little longer considering you had a lot more hair than he did, but he was happy to do it. When you were both done, you stepped back into the bathroom, handing him a towel and making him sit on the little stool in front of one of the mirrors.

With tired eyes, Lando met your gaze through the mirror, paying attention to your every move as you dried his hair. He loved the way your face scrunched when you were focused, sticking out your tongue from time to time. You were being so gentle with him that he almost felt like crying, but he held those emotions back, not wanting to worry you even more than you already were.

Once his hair was fully dried and you helped him with most of his nightly routine, you guided him to the bedroom and gave him a pill for his headache, letting him get under the covers afterwards. He dragged you with him, pulling you into a hug as soon as you got there.

“Can we do this every night?” He asked, his face burying in your neck as he usually does.

“Of course. Anything you want, my love. Are you comfortable?” You asked, a smile spreading across your face when he nodded.

“Thank you,” he whispered after a moment of silence, his mind drifting off into a peaceful sleep as you massaged his muscles.

Lando fell asleep almost instantly, allowing you to go to sleep once you made sure he was fully knocked out for the night.

A few hours went by, both of you enjoying each other’s warmth, until the sound of an alarm interrupted your sleep. You groaned as you reached for your phone to turn it off, but immediately sat up and grabbed his medicine.

Lando shuffled next to you, groaning too as he slightly opened his eyes to quickly scan the room. “It’s still dark outside, why do you have an alarm?” He asked, his voice sleepy and his eyes half closed as he looked at you.

“Sorry, love, it’s time for your medicine again.”

He sat up and took the little spoon you were offering him, his sleepy state saving him from the terrible taste it had. Once he was done, he fell on his pillow again and pulled into him, going back to your previous position.

“Thank you for taking care of me. I don’t know what I would do without you.” Even though the sleep was evident in his voice, you could still hear how truly thankful he was.

You placed your hands on each of his cheeks, causing his eyes to flutter shut in contentment. “Of course, what type of girlfriend would I be if I didn’t?” A soft kiss was pressed to his forehead before he brought you closer to him, a little ‘I love you’ scaping his lips as he went back to sleep.

#lando norris #ln4 #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris smut #lando norris fanfic #lando norris x you #lando norris fluff #formula 1 #f1 #lando norris x y/n #mclaren #giannaln4 writes

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nikovraskol · 10 days ago

Note

this is gonna be very long winded so apologies in advance!

I’ve noticed that the readers ages of 16, 18 and 21 feel more important since they’re like a checkpoint for important parts of their lives. 18 is when they butted heads with their family more often, 21 is when they died and 16, well that’s the age that the returned to.

what would it have been say at 16 they were on autopilot so they went to breakfast and Alfred (and by extension the rest of the family ) didn’t realise something was off about them until later?

what if they returned at 18 instead of 16 when their relationships were more volatile with the bat fam?

or heck maybe at 21 a month, week, day or hour before getting shot- say if they were able to contact the police beforehand or at least call Alfred for help if they were shot but the last timeline warned them enough that they avoided lethal wounds?

(bonus: Bruce or the others - I’d expect Jason to pop up from a seedy alley- finds them after being shot and on the verge of dying, but they’re saved just in the nick of time)

(bonus bonus: they get greedy and kidnap surprise adopt multiple different versions of reader and their batfams go nuts because they “went missing”)

GRR come over here and kiss me on my hot mouth i'm feeling romantical also i will carress you for picking up on the age thing.. like damn u actually read my shi

masterlist

at sixteen, if you were to go to breakfast and act on autopilot! then congrats! you'd be able to leave (for a month). it'd be difficult because bruce wouldn't check on you so you couldn't ask him for funds. but if you were to ask alfred maybeee he'd give it to you, so long as you don't say what it's for, of course.

so then, you're living happily, peacefully even. for two months, you live your life like a normal person! until one fateful evening when you're casually lounging about -- someone knocks on your door. weird, but okay.

you open the door, and there stands fucking batman and robin just. standing there.

"we're here to--"

you slam the door on their face. now, because you've acted on auto-pilot, they didn't interact with you in the same way they did in the og story, so you're understandably confuddled. because? why the FLIP is your estranged family at your door?

over the course of the next few days, strange events occur. you go to the diner down the road to get some food and red hood slides into your booth wordlessy. you're walking home after going to the store and nightwing literally APPEARS and offers to carry your groceries. your phone's battery is mysteriously depleting fast, flipping orphan and spoiler show up at your school, hanging around.

worst of all, no matter where you go -- there's that bat-shaped shadow following you. if you look up, you'll see the outline of his cowl, and if you lock eyes he will swoop in, to save you -- of course! so keep your head down, savour your freedom for as long as possible but don't ever get too comfortable.

at eighteen? ooh i feel like a fly mischeviously rubbing it's hands together.

twenty-one year old you waking up eighteen, well, dare i say, it's better than waking up sixteen.

eighteen you had preemptively distanced yourself from the family for you. you're a legal adult, so you can work -- and best of all? (you can smoke ciggerattes) you have actual friends.

up until your eighteenth birthday, your every waking thought was on how to be better, to get better -- so with you becoming a legal adult -- well you understood that there isn't much for you to do anymore, you began to focus less on yourself and more on you. despite that, there was still the nagging feeling heavy in your chest that you'll never be accepted, never be apart of them -- there was a part that yearned for that acceptance, however late it maybe.

so your sudden disinterest wasn't alarming, not really. until you've finally found a good place, in a nice area. you're packing your stuff casually when bruce walks into your room for the first time in fuuck knows how long (because alfred asked him to).

"where are you going?" he is flabbergasted, but keeps a cool expression on his face as you give him the most diabolic side glare ever.

"i'm... leaving?"

lmao, no you're not! all of a sudden this calm procedure turns into a whole thing. give bruce the name of your landlord, he wants to see if they're good -- in fact, he can buy the house off of them so you don't have to pay a thing!

dick and jason are literally scanning every part of your new apartment, top to bottom, every single thing.

"this is not safe, these windows don't even have locks." jason sighs, analysing your windows with such scrutiny it makes you uncomfortable.

"this chain is broken! tut, tut, you can't live here!" dick adds on, ignoring the fact that the chain on your door is fine and that one chip on it won't get you killed.

tim begins to talk to you about finances, but he overexplains it using words you can't even begin to comprehend -- you're pretty sure he's doing it on purpose, what with the smug grin on his face.

"didn't bruce buy the building?" you ask, your eyes narrowed as you watch him scribble down numbers and whatnot.

"..no comment."

while those buffoons are doing that, you're being pressured by damian to stay.

"why must you leave? to live in a crappy old shack? just stay in the manor, it's safer for you." he's literally DOWN your neck with these types of comments. meanwhile, you're reeling 'cause what the fuck is going on?!

whether you give in or not is up to you -- just know, you will one way or another return to the manor.

as for the last one, let's say you get transported back five minutes before getting shock. which pisses you off 'cause what're you supposed to do in five minutes!?

nonetheless, you manage to get away with being shot once instead of five times, so you have enough energy to limp away -- and then you bump into red hood.

oh damn, oh damn, wow, so he's going to shoot you to -- or that's what you think, what you don't expect is for him to pick you up and literally shoot your offenders.

wow, okay.

you get taken back to the manor and you're literally reeling as they fuss over you, "how could you be out so late!?" this or "why do you need a job!?" that.

it's a shortcut to being locked in the manor, they take care of you like you're incapable, dick spoonfeeding you despite your protests, tim sitting silently besides you which makes you stress because he's so unnerving, cass hovering around you -- bringing you everything you need, sometimes you don't even realise you need it until she brings you a glass of water because you 'looked thirsty' (???).

this isn't just restricted to when you're recovering. you nearly died because of their negligence! so they pay extra attention to you, just so you don't get any silly ideas about walking gotham alone at night. honestly? what were you thinking, it's a good thing they're here to protect you.

(also side note ; the idea of jason being NEAR (name) when they died, but not knowing is so eghsudg to me, like he'll learn about where they died after finding the crime scene and he falls into a pit of despair because if he had taken the right route, if he had followed his instincts, he could have saved you.)

as for the last, last one. let's say you're a random variant of (name) from another universe and you've gotten transported without knowing it, you walk home morosely.

as you open the door, you are greeted with countless different versions of you -- all of them wearing the same expression of confusion. you don't know how to react when dick spots you and shouts, "we got another one"

guys if u sent an ask or request I WILL get them done.. i'm just being a lazy bum, thank u for the kind words tho everyone <3

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bettymylove · 1 year ago

Text

best game

pairing: mattheo riddle x reader x theodore nott

content: 18+ mdni, p in v, oral(male receiving), shotgunning, making out. based on this ask

a/n: I'm still learning how to write poly!relationships, hope you like it<33

Maybe it was the fire whisky or maybe it was the thrilling game of truth and dare you had going on, but if the one factor you were sure was what resulted in what happened it was the pretty boys you call your bestfriends.

It had started as an innocent game, just between you, Mattheo, and Theo. All three of you were childhood best friends and that was it, you definitely weren't attracted to them at all.

The bottle spun around, slowing down until the tip of it was clearly facing you, indicating that it was your turn to choose between paths that were both dangerous.

But you had just drunk a lot of fire whisky, and it was a thrilling game plus their faces were really pretty and so the daredevil inside you awoke and you chose dare.

A mischievous smirk formed on both their faces and you knew nothing good was going to happen after that.

"Makeout with mattheo, for at least five minutes" Theo had spoken and even if it weren't for the game you would have still done it, who wouldn't?

You crept forward, lifting your body so you were on your knees, you carefully placed yourself on his lap and his breath hitched.

"Nervous?" you questioned him your hand tracing down his cheek to his collar pulling him even closer.

Both of your lips were brushing, but it was you that deepened it, your tongue delved into his mouth and his hand was gripping your waist tightly.

You could feel him under you, probing you and you as an instinct began to grind on him. He groaned in your mouth and you broke off for a second before delving in again.

You two broke off and you slowly returned back to your seat, a slight blush on your cheeks. Theo had widened eyes and was visibly hard.

His fingers holding the cigarette, quickly met his lips taking a long drag, none of you made a move to spin the bottle.

It was a long moment of silence which Theo broke by asking you to come to him. You sat beside him, your hands in your lap desperate to be closer to him.

His hands met your thigh lifting it so that you were almost on his lap, he tilted your chin up and it was at that moment you realised what he was going to do.

His eyebrows raised as if asking you if you're sure, and you answered with a simple nod. Being childhood bestfriends had allowed you to communicate without saying a single word.

His lips inched closer and you opened your mouth and he did the same, the smoke past his lips going into yours while you wished you could kiss him, both of them.

A hand slithered on your waist, and you knew by the roughness of his touch that it was Mattheo. He jerked your body back, his hand traveling to your neck gripping on it, forcing you to look back and meet his eyes.

"You want us don't you darling?," he whispered in your ear while his grip became hard, "If Theo puts his hands in your panties, he'll find you wet, won't he?"

His lips had started, leaving kisses down your throat, and you had started grinding on Theo's thigh. "I want you," you had choked out "please just-"

You were cut off by Theo's lips on yours, his tongue being welcomed in your mouth, your hand pulled Mattheo's head closer to your neck so he could continue.

All of a sudden, you were picked up by Mattheo and then just the next moment you were thrown on the bed, Theo joining you.

Both of them had lifted their shirts off their head and were in the process of doing the same to you, each inch which was revealed was kissed by both of your boys.

Finally your top was off and Theo's hand instantly went to your boobs, grabbing them, squeezing them and finally licking them.

Mattheo had started working on your bottoms, making fast work to remove them, his hands delving inside your panties, teasing your folds his fingers getting drenched in the process.

"You're so wet, we're gonna slip right past you" and you smiled at the thought of being full of their cocks.

Theo had undone his pants and your hand reached his boxers, palming him until he was a moaning mess. You took his cock out and it sprung out and you were more than ready to take him in your mouth.

Mattheo was too fully naked, he was palming his cock just in front of your cunt ready to feel you around him, "Are you sure?" he asked before he did so.

You replied affirmatively, and his tip was inside of you, and you were already moaning, he entered fully inside you and you moaned asking him to move.

Theo's cock came into sight and you held it in your hand, slowly taking him in your mouth, hollowing out your cheeks.

Both boys began a rhythm you were definetly happy with, Theo came inside your mouth and you too were on the verge of doing so until the feeling of Mattheo left you and you whined.

"Calm down, baby Theo's coming" he had started fisting his cock aiming for your lower belly, and soon the feeling of being full returned.

All three of you were moaning, Mattheo was playing with your nipples and just then, you came along with Theo.

Mattheo also finished on your belly and laid down with a sigh, both of them pulled on their boxers and helped you clean up.

You laid on mattheo's chest while Theo was laying his head on your lower back, all three of you fully content to be here.

"That was the best game I have ever played" you said while tucking yourself into Mattheo while both of them chuckled at your statement

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jambalaya-enthusiast · 1 month ago

Note

Just had another Jimmy thought...

If Curly had a daughter he would definitely introduce Jimmy as an uncle of sorts... Cutting it short once shes of age Uncle Jimmy about to get a whole lot creepier.

First he pulls you on his lap while He and your dad Curly are watching football or something, and you feel something but you dont say anything... but your dad needed to run to the store to grab some more beer. -Cupcake anon

Your own age.

Uncle! Jimmy x Curly's Daughter! Reader.

warnings: age gap(reader is an adult),toxic relationship themes, jimmy is a major creep, non-consensual touching. curly is an oblivious single father.

a/n; cupcake anon, you're a fucking genius. love you for sharing this prompt with me,hope I was able to do it justice!

It wasn't fun being a well respected captain's daughter. Especially after your mom left, your dad would leave for shipments for months on end,and you had to spend a good chunk of your childhood with nannies rather than your parents.

But that was when he came along,Jimmy... Or Jim,as your dad would call him. He was your dad's closest friend since childhood,and now he was gonna be... Living with the two of you? Your dad said that it was due to the shortage of leases on the market currently,but you know damn well it was because that jimmy person was just a broke guy.

"hey,so you're the daughter I keep hearing my friend talk about,huh?".

"uh yeah,my name is y/n".

"y/n huh? well that's a pretty name for a pretty little girl".

you did think it was strange as to how,Jimmy... or well,uncle jimmy as your dad advised you to call him, was so Frank and open minded with you,but you realised that's just how men in his situation were. Open-minded,and careless.

Uncle jimmy... was an interesting man to say the least,you hadn't really had the luck of having any fun 'relatives' for that matter so you thought this was the best as it was gonna get. Jimmy would offer you cigarettes. Something that your father had clearly mentioned in front of him was off limits for you.

"C'mon aren't you a big girl now? some rules are meant to be broken y'know?

"but dad would kill me if he ever found out..."

"it's alright,it will be our little secret".

All in all you started warming up to him,you thought that hey,this guy is already down on his luck,and he's also so fun to be around! wouldn't hurt to be friendly with him.

It didn't matter how unnecessarily long his hugs were,or how suffocating they were. he would always hug you so tight that you had to physically wriggle your way out of his grasp. on some occasions you could've sworn you heard him say something under his breath.

It didn't matter how he would stare at you for long periods of time if the two of you were in the same room,you thought maybe it's just a middle aged man thing

It didn't matter how during road trips,he would sit in the backseat beside you instead of sitting beside his best friend in the front. How somehow his hands would always find it's way to be on your thigh.

He was a fun guy after all! He lets you drink,smoke,and sneak out. Do all the things which your dad would have crucified you for.

Seeing both of you so close would have your dad asking you—

"wow you sure are having fun with uncle jimmy,huh? you guys seem to be close".

"yeah he's so cool! it's super fun to be around him".

"fun huh? Well im hoping it's a good kind of fun,honey".

But curly shouldn't be worried! His best friend was just taking care of his daughter... Right? He wouldn't do anything,wrong... Right? That much faith curly should have in his best friend... Should he not?

Your dad and uncle had a habit of watching football games during weekend nights,and you decided to join them one such night.

While watching the game,jimmy suddenly turned to you,and said.

'oi y/n, c'mere and sit" as he motioned towards his lap,he turned towards curly and said. "For old times sake,eh? You remember how I used to carry ya around? I'm feelin nostalgic".

Curly was already feeling tipsy from the 3rd pint of beer he was chugging,so he just laughter and said "haha,you guys are so adorable!".

Albeit,a strange request,you decided to do as your uncle asked anyway,and you went to him and plopped on his lap. No matter his lanky figure,he was still strong enough to carry your weight. So he had no problem in adjusting himself to have you sir on his lap while still getting a comfortable view of the ongoing game.

everybody was focusing on the game,but you,your focus was on something else entirely,all the while you were sitting on his lap, you could feel Jimmy's hot breath on your shoulder,how his left hand was rested at your side,firmly placing a grip, you could feel his heart beating, and you don't know what got over you,but you decided to do something risky, somthing vulgar which you hadn't even properly processed in your mind.

You grinded against him just a little,and that was enough to get his heart beating 10 times faster,you could practically feel his breath hitch,and him letting out the quietest groan. And you felt something hard between you legs,you realised that you had just gotten him rock hard. you felt accomplished for some reason. But that's when your dad decided to drop off the bomb.

"wait,fuck we're out of beer,jimmy look after y/n while I make a quick trip to the store to get few more".

"you got it boss".

You knew that it was wraps the moment your dad walked out the front door and closed it behind him. You blinked and suddenly you were pinned down onto the sofa, your uncle had both your hands pressed firmly above your head,he stared at you like a wild animal on the prowl, hunting its prey.

"damn,I didn't know that you were so dirty, grinding against me like that,you know how 'fuckin hard it was for me to keep from moaning?,you deserve to get punished for it don't you think?".

• you intently stared him,not knowing what to do,excited yet scared of what he was going to do next.

And then without a warning,he smashed his lips against yours,into a rough, messy, hungry kiss. he tasted like liquor with a hint of cigarettes,the cheap brand which he smokes all the time. His tongue was wildly exploring every inch of your mouth, he felt like an animal in heat.

then in between the kiss he said, "you don't know how long I've been wanting to do this,kid".

you already knew that this was going to be quick as your dad would be back from the store in no time,but you also knew,that this was the beginning of something,very long, something very vulgar. and even though it might be wrong,you felt eager,you felt excited. you were looking forward to whatever was going to happen next.

#never underestimate my freak guys #mouthwashing #mouthwashing wrong organ #jimmy mouthwashing #mouthwashing jimmy #mouthwashing x reader #jimmy x reader #dark content #mouthwashing jimmy x reader #mouthwashing smut #jimmy x reader smut #jimmy

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endless-ineffabilities · 29 days ago

Text

It's not like I'm falling in love, I just want ya to do me no good (and you look like you could) (18+)

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

Ewan Mitchell isn't one for parties, but for you? He'd make an exception. Surrounded by stars at the GQ party, his revered muse on the big screen becomes a twisted angel in his arms—leaving him seeing stars again as he finds bliss within your warmth.

word count: 6.7k

main masterlist ▪︎ teaser

Ewan thought he could keep up the celebrity facade, just for the night at least, but the ceaseless barrage of mingling is starting to get to him.

The boo hurled at him right outside the establishment still echoes in his ears. Maybe it wasn't even about him, but his annoyance had been triggered. He decides that it all has gotten to him. What a load of bull.

He had been on the fence about being tapped as an honouree of a lifestyle magazine. Like it means anything. What does this have to do with being an actor? How is this supposed to help his craft? He might as well have been tapped to do one of those videos where he shows everyone what's in his bag.

"It's exposure," his team had chirped in unison, practically reading from a PR handbook.

This wasn't the industry he'd envisioned when he first fell in love with the craft. But none of this is about craft. It's all publicity fodder, all noise.

What he really wants—what his entire being craves—is a BAFTA, a Golden Globe, a SAG award. Hell, he would trade every glitzy dinner party invite for the faintest whiff of Oscar buzz. That was the dream.

Instead, here he is, tethered to a seat at one of four long tables, littered with stars of every calibre—from industry titans to the disposable nobodies who would be forgotten by this time next month.

He had been encouraged to make connections. Socialize. He translated this as a polite way of being told to suck up to people. Maybe a casting director would remember him. Maybe some producer would pass his name along. Easy.

Flattery will get you everywhere in this business.

But at any given time, he would much rather suck on a bloody spliff.

Leaning over to Davey, he says, "I might sneak out for a smoke or something. That's fine, right?"

Davey snickers, sensing Ewan's agitation. "Oh, if you're asking me, I say do whatever you want, mate."

But then someone from his team, straight-laced, precious Lindsay, lets him know otherwise. "Ewan, I'd advise you to sit still for now. What if they call you up some time during dinner?"

Ewan doubles down, his leg anxiously shaking under the table. "Are they going to call on me?"

Lindsay balks. She hasn't heard Ewan sound this pressed before. "Well, we weren't told but—"

"Then I can go. They wouldn't care."

"Ewan, just—"

"Sorry, Lind, but I gotta take a breather. This is all just—"

Lindsay waves him off, resigned. Ewan has always been an easy client to manage, so she can't bring herself to begrudge him this. "Fine, whatever. Just make sure to hide the cigarette if the photographer shows up."

"Sure," he mutters, not meaning it in the slightest. Nobody would care if he is spotted smoking. They should be grateful he is not among the deviants doing lines in the bathroom.

He abruptly gets up from his seat, and backs right into... you.

Of all people. Ewan feels the blood drain from his face, his breath hitching as disbelief engulfs him. His hand instinctively rises, brushing against the silken warmth of flawless skin exposed by your backless dress. The contact sends a jolt through him, and for a moment, he's certain he might pass out. You—right here, in the flesh.

You flash him a dazzling, effortless smile and murmur, "Oops, excuse me," your voice a melodic tease that leaves him utterly undone.

"Oh, no... no problem." He stammers, fully aware that he should be the one begging pardon.

You hold his gaze, ensnaring him so effortlessly. He realises how stupid he must look, with his mouth parted and his eyes wide. He should say his name. He should introduce himself, goddamnit.

But the moment shatters when someone calls your name. You step away without hesitation, and Ewan feels the loss acutely, like an unhooked fish left gasping on dry land.

Then it comes. That fucking sound.

The high-pitched squeal you let out is sharp, almost grating, but somehow it still strikes him as endearing. He'd probably hate it if it didn't come from you.

"Hi! Oh my god, how are you? I haven't seen you since our ski trip in Courmayeur!" Your voice carries, your excitement encroaching his space like an air of warmth.

Ewan follows your trajectory, his eyes trailing as you glide over to Eve Hewson. The two of you embrace like old friends, giggling like co-conspirators, your champagne glasses clinking softly.

He nearly rolls his eyes but catches himself. He knows he's being ridiculous, standing there like a sulking idiot, but the irritation bites anyway. He wants to blame the squeal, or the scene you're making, or the way you seem so goddamn comfortable in this world of chatter and pomp.

But that's not quite it.

He knows the truth, and it gnaws at him like a persistent itch he can't scratch. He's annoyed because he wanted you—your dazzling smile, your undivided attention—to be aimed at him.

He forces his feet to move, making his way down the side hall, where the din of the party fades into muffled chaos. He needs a breather, a moment to reset, but even here, your presence clings to him like static.

It's maddening.

Ewan has spent years watching you. On screens, in interviews, on magazine covers. You're like an open book he's memorised, every detail imprinted on his mind.

That birthmark beneath your right shoulder blade, briefly exposed in that love scene with Glen Powell. He remembers it, even though the camera barely lingered. The way your laugh bursts out unguarded, lighting up every corner of a room.

In one interview, you mentioned Meisner as your go-to technique, and it stuck with him. Of course you'd say Meisner, he thought at the time, like you were someone close to him, because you're all about connection, about living truthfully in the moment.

And here you are, in the same place as him, vibrant and ever so magnetic. Princess of every party, muse of the silver screen.

But you don't know him.

You didn't think you would be attending the British GQ party, but one of your Londoner friends happened to be throwing their birthday bash the night before, so you thought—why the hell not?

You were, of course, invited. Originally, the invite had been for the American GQ Men of the Year party the week prior, but filming schedules had other ideas. For the past two months, you'd been stranded in the icy landscapes of Winnipeg, immersed in the demanding shoot of David Lowery's latest thriller.

Grueling days and endless takes had left you with little energy for glamour. But now, with a few weeks off and the American crew taking a well-earned Thanksgiving break, you finally have some breathing room.

The London event seems like a perfect way to ease back into the whirlwind. And it doesn't disappoint.

The Roof Gardens is buzzing, the atmosphere heavy with the scent of expensive perfume and free-flowing champagne. You glide through it like you belong—because you do. Years of this kind of schmoozing have taught you how to navigate these waters. A charming smile here, a fleeting hug there, a bit of banter with a photographer who asks for the best angle.

You find yourself talking to your old castmate Eve Hewson near the bar, the two of you imbibing something bubbly and dry. She looks luminous as always, her dark hair framing her sharp, mischievous grin.

"Winnipeg, though?" Eve says, her tone incredulous as she leans in. "What the hell is Lowery making you do out there? Freeze to death for art?"

"Pretty much," you laugh, savouring the chill of your drink. "But it's worth it, trust me. The script is absolutely incredible. I just wish the weather wasn't trying to kill me."

"Classic Lowery. He probably thinks the suffering adds authenticity or some shit."

"Probably," you agree, rolling your eyes. For some reason, you find yourself circling back to an earlier incident.

"By the way," you say, leaning a little closer to Eve, "do you know who that guy was? The one I bumped into earlier?"

"Which guy?"

"Clip-on earring. Tall, kind of broody-looking in an overcoat? Wasn't talking much, just sort of... cruising awkwardly."

Eve shrugs, clearly drawing a blank. "I have no idea. Was he hot?"

It only takes you a second to consider this. "I mean, sure. In a tortured artist kind of way. Poor schmuck looked like he'd rather be anywhere but here."

"Oh!" Eve says, snapping her fingers. "Wait, he might be one of the honourees."

You arch a brow. "Not a goddamn influencer, right?"

Eve shakes her head. "No, don't worry. I think he's in that Game of Thrones spinoff. What's it called? House of Dragons?"

"Never saw it." You didn't have the time, truth be told. Also, the last seasons of its predecessor had been enough to edge it off your watchlist.

She taps her chin, thinking. "Wait... oh! Wasn't he that nerd in the movie with Jacob and Barry? Saltburn!"

"Oh my god. That's him? He did great in that role."

"Right? I could not have pointed him out. Kind of a chameleon, I guess."

"Guess so," you agree, the curiosity lingering.

The night unfolds exactly as expected. You exchange quips with Harris Dickinson, who flirts with you just enough to keep things interesting. You catch up with Nicole Kidman, who had been somewhat of a mentor to you when you acted alongside her in your third film at just 16. Jude Law joins your circle at one point, his charm as effortless as ever, and for a while, it feels like just another night on the circuit.

By the time you step outside into the crisp evening air, you're craving a bit of quiet. The gardens around the pavilion are softly lit, the gentle glow of fairy light casting long shadows over the manicured hedges. You pull your vape from your Loewe clutch, taking a long drag as you lean against a cold marble railing.

That's when you notice him again.

He's standing a few feet away, partially obscured by a stone pillar, a cigarette burning between his fingers. The faint smell of tobacco taints the pristine air, and you catch the same restless energy he had earlier.

You wander closer, the soft click of your heels against the stone catching his attention. He glances up, startled, as if he hadn't expected anyone else to venture out here.

"Hey," you say casually, holding your vape up as you stop beside him. "Can you hold this for a sec?"

Before he can respond, you hand him your purse, crouching slightly to tighten the strap on your heel.

He freezes, staring at the outstretched object. "Uh... sure," he relents, albeit hesitantly.

You straighten after a minute, taking the purse back with a quick "Thanks," and give him a once-over. Up close, he's sharper, more distinct. There's something remarkably intense about him that wasn't obvious before.

"I'm Ewan... Mitchell," he blurts, his words a little rushed.

You smile, tilting your head. "Nice to meet you, Ewan."

He fumbles for a response, his cigarette dangling precariously from his fingers. "I, uh, think we bumped into each other earlier. Inside."

"Yeah," you say lightly, your lips curving into a faint smirk. "I like your outfit, by the way. Very vampiric. Dior, right?"

He blinks, then chuckles softly, almost self-deprecatingly. "Yeah. Thanks. I like you too... I mean, I like... I like your dress, too."

You laugh at the accidental remark. There's something undeniably charming about him, despite his nervousness. "Why, thank you, Ewan."

The blush that creeps on his cheeks shows through the powder. He must have felt it, because he immediately trained his gaze down to his polished shoes.

Cute. So you make it your mission to break through his shell. These events tend to get repetitive after a while, but maybe tonight will be a lovely exception.

And so the game begins.

The two of you peacefully take hits of your respective choices of poison, your bubblegum-flavoured vapour melding in the air with his Marlboro red.

"You're quiet," you point out the obvious eventually, a teasing grin playing at your lips.

He almost laughs at the understatement but only shrugs. "Not much to say, I suppose."

"Oh, I doubt that." You lean against the balustrade, studying him. Ewan feels his pulse quicken under the weight of it.

You're so at ease. It's infuriatingly attractive. Your disarming allure, your grace in this world of make-believe, only deepens his self-consciousness. He knows what he must look like: an odd man out, fumbling at the edges of fame while you shine at the centre of it all.

He exhales shakily and finally replies, "Don't let me bore you."

"You're not boring me," you reassure him, before playfully adding, "Not yet at least."

There's a flicker of something unclear behind your eyes when you move closer and ask, "So what are you thinking?"

What he's thinking is that he's out of his depth, that he hasn't felt this kind of raw attraction in years—if ever. He's thinking you're the kind of woman who doesn't even have to command attention, and he's already hopelessly drawn in. But what he says is, "Just... wondering how I got here."

Your laugh is soft, rich with amusement. "To this party?"

"Or this moment."

His words surprise him, his ears burning as they register. You don't say anything, causing Ewan's nerves to spike. Did he sound too eager? Too pathetic?

But then, you smile. That damned megawatt smile that looks even better in person than on screen. "Well, it's a good place to be, isn't it?"

You lean a fraction closer, and could swear his heart is about to burst out of his chest.

"Do you always look so serious?" you ask, your gaze flicking to his lips, admiring the way they seem to be in a state of being perpetually curled. "Or is it just the brooding artist thing?"

"I'll take it if it works," he manages, his voice uneven.

"Oh, it's working," you say softly.

Ewan shifts his weight, tapping the cigarette against the edge of the balustrade. "Sorry, I just... I don't get it. These things. Everyone pretending they know everyone, like it's all some bloody performance."

You exhale a stream of vapour, watching it swirl into the night. He's finally opening up, and there is no way you're letting this slide. "It is a performance," you reply. "That's the point."

He shakes his head, gazing at you with a genuine softness you haven't been at the receiving end of in far too long. "But why? Why not just let the work speak for itself?"

There's something innocent in the way he says it, and it's endearing and definitely rare among your crowd. Ewan Mitchell isn't like the men you usually find at these industry events. He's no preening peacock, no walking cologne ad praying to be noticed.

There's something boyish in the way he fidgets, and yet also something undeniably grown in the way his eyes linger on you when he thinks you're not looking.

You reply, "It's so people know who you are. Why would anyone want to go see your movie if they don't give a shit about you?"

"You see, darling, that's where talent comes into play."

"Hmm, okay. But do you not know how many thousands upon thousands of aspiring actors come to LA every year just to witness the death of their dreams, because nobody gave a shit about who they are? And I'm certain that a lot of them can outact us under the table."

Ewan takes a slow drag from his cigarette, buying himself time. The way you said "us" sends a thrill through him he's desperately trying to smother. "Well," he begins, "if you're talented enough, you'll eventually catch a break. People notice, don't they?"

"Talent isn't everything," you point out. "You need to have drive."

"That I have," he counters quickly, his voice laced with quiet conviction. He wouldn't have been able to climb out of a life of near-guaranteed anonymity in Derbyshire if he didn't possess drive. There's a confidence in him now, a spark you seem to notice, judging by the faint curve of your lips.

"And charisma," you add, your smile widening, "which, clearly, you also have."

"Thank you," he says on instinct. There's a pause, just long enough for him to wonder if he's again blushing under your watchful gaze.

"And," you continue, dragging the word out with deliberate weight, "in this day and age, you need to get people talking."

Ewan exhales, the corner of his mouth quirking up. "How do I do that, superstar?"

"A big, fat scandal usually does the trick." Your voice is casual, but your eyes gleam with mischief.

"Oh, brilliant," he deadpans. His sarcasm earns him another laugh, and he feels it in his chest like a warm shockwave.

"Or... you could date someone famous. Get on the PR train."

Ewan shakes his head, his brow furrowing. "Not for me, I think."

You drift closer, eyes narrowing slightly as if you're sizing him up. "Oh really? You wouldn't get with me if you had the chance?"

The question lands like a lit match in the conversation. He swallows nervously, "Of... of course I would. But I don't want it to be manufactured."

"How would it go then?" There's no mocking in your question, no cruelty in your smile—just curiosity, maybe a touch of challenge.

He falters, betraying the battle waging between his nerves and his growing comfort in your company. "How would what go?"

"How would you, Ewan Mitchell, get me?"

His throat goes dry. He considers dodging it, turning the conversation back to you with one of the rehearsed quips he uses for interviews. But that feels cheap in the face of your boldness, so unabashed and expectant. "Well, I'd ask you on a date."

"And I'd say yes... go on."

"And we'll go to... the cinema," he says simply, and for the first time tonight, he doesn't feel like treading water.

You laugh, shaking your head. "Oh, you're such a purist."

"What's wrong with that?" he asks, a touch defensive but also playful, emboldened by your attention.

"Nothing, you tortured artist, you," you tease, your tone lilting. "And then what?"

"Then... we could grab dinner or—"

"Would you kiss me?" you interrupt, your voice low and threaded with something heavier. Most would hesitate, worrying they'd gone too far, but you're not like most people. You never have been.

"If you... if you wanted me to," he replies, his own voice rough with honesty.

"But would you want to?"

His gaze flickers to your lips for the briefest of moments before snapping back to your eyes. The words spill out of him. "I'd be a fucking idiot not to want to kiss you, darling."

Back in the pavilion, music from the DJ booth intensifies, signalling the post-dinner stage of the festivities. But the booming bass that reverberates is nothing compared to the beating of your hearts.

"On this hypothetical date... do we take it a step further?"

Ewan's thoughts run wild, and they are betrayed by the way his pupils dilate. "What do you mean?"

"I am talking about hooking up." Your words are relaxed, but the way you say them is anything but. They drip with intention, with heat, as if you're privy to the fact that he has pictured that scenario a hundred times over.

"What do you take me for?"

"A warm-blooded man who's clearly attracted to me... and who I'm also attracted to."

"You like me?" he whispers hoarsely.

Instead of answering, you close the distance, your lips brushing featherlight against his. The tentative touch sets him ablaze. When you press harder, surer, he melts into you. His hands tremble as they come up to your waist, anchoring himself in the reality of you.

"Fuck me," he breathes when you pull back, leaving him dazed. "I can't—"

"Do this?" you ask, your lips hovering over his, pulling at the fringes of his restraint.

"No... I mean, I can't believe I'm kissing you." He stumbles over his words, clearly in awe. "I love you."

It's your turn to be taken aback. "Woah, what?"

"I mean, I've loved your work," he stammers. "You inspire me as an actor, you know. I've watched you since your early days. You're fucking amazing."

"Mmm." When he allows his hand to drift along your spine, you ask, "Have you ever... fantasized about... sleeping with me?"

"I... I don't—"

"I'm used to it. Being looked at. Thought of, in that way." There's a tinge of raw sensitivity in your admission, letting him see the real you.

Ewan wants more of it. After just a taste of who you are underneath the surface, he is left craving the rest. "Then I think you know my answer," he says.

You let out a low hum. "I know."

"You're such a goddamn liability," he murmurs, managing to sound equal parts affectionate and exasperated.

"I know that too. Come with me," you say, your tone suddenly commanding. You grab his hand, lacing your fingers through his, and tug him towards the pavilion. He follows without a shred of hesitation, his heart pounding so hard it feels like it might burst out of his chest.

The two of you weave through the edges of the party, slipping past clusters of inebriated guests until you find yourself in the dimly lit, unattended coatroom. The small space is as luxurious as the rest of the venue, the perfect backdrop for the tension threatening to explode.

The moment the lock on the door clicks shut, Ewan's restraint snaps like a taut wire. His hands cradle your face as he initiates the kiss this time, his hunger for you bleeding through every press of his lips.

The rest of the party fades away, and there is only you. He didn't care about any of it anyway.

"You are so fucking hot," he groans into the kiss. "I can't believe this is happening."

"Believe it, handsome," you purr, sliding your hands down the material of his coat.

"Are you sure about this?" His question comes out as a whisper, his forehead resting against yours, his cigarette-scented breath fanning your face.

"Ewan," you say, "get on with it before they all notice we've been gone too long."

He huffs out a nervous laugh. "The way you talk makes me think you wouldn't give a shit."

"No, I wouldn't," you confirm, your grin wicked. "They should fucking wait for us."

"You have an attitude, princess," he mutters, his fingers digging into your exposed back.

"Been told I have a big head," you joke.

He hums, before dropping a line that floors you. "Bet you have a sweet pussy, too."

Your eyes flash with amusement, drawing closer until your lips graze his Dior earring. "Wanna find out?"

"Fuckin' hell," his breath shudders out of him, "yes... yes... yes." He knew it might make him come across as desperate, as a damn simp, but he could not bring himself to give a single flying fuck. Not when you perch atop the gleaming marble edge of the table, and spread each leg out to the side, tantalisingly slow. A precious flower to be plucked, right there for the taking.

For him. He feels unworthy. He has half a mind to check the room for cameras—maybe this is all a prank. But what a lascivious, cruel prank that would be.

Is this some twisted initiation ritual into the Hollywood elite?

You trail a smooth, manicured finger along his jawline, igniting a shiver that ripples down his spine. His nerves come alive under your touch, each one crackling with electric anticipation, flipping a switch deep within him directly connected to his cock.

As he has revered you as a goddess on the silver screen all these years, he now reveres you in reality, sinking to his knees.

"Don't keep me waiting," you whisper silkily.

Ewan takes a steadying breath, before diving in. His hands lift the smooth material of your dress, revealing the sacred area between your legs, barely covered in a white sliver of a thong. You might as well have come with no underwear.

The coat suddenly feels too constricting, so he unbuttons it with a sharp motion, letting the heavy garment slide to the floor. But almost immediately, a flicker of concern crosses his face. The Dior number is a rental, and if it gets damaged, it won't be his head on the block—it'll be Davey's. With a hint of sheepishness, he retrieves it, carefully draping it over the back of an upholstered chair.

You notice the gesture, subtle but telling. He doesn’t quite belong to your world—or perhaps he does, but he moves through it without succumbing to its superficial trappings. Your friend Timothée wouldn’t have spared the coat a second glance, long since desensitized to the weight of designer labels.

But Ewan? He handles it all with a kind of quiet reverence, as if even in a borrowed piece of luxury, he remains grounded in something real.

And it only intensifies your desire for him.

There's a wanton intrigue in your eyes as you take in the bareness of his torso. His muscles are defined, but not in the off-putting gym rat kind of way. Instead, there's a natural leanness to his form—a testament to a body honed not for vanity, but for purpose.

Kneeling before you, eyes bright with awe, he gets right down to work. He pushes the fabric of your dress higher, out of his way, and you help him along, your fist bunching the skirt to one side.

"God, you're... perfect," he whispers. His palms rest on your thighs, and when his lips press to the sensitive skin just above your knee, you let out an involuntary sound that draws a low groan from his throat.

"Ewan," you breathe impatiently, unable to conceal your need for him. But he doesn't rush, dragging his mouth higher, trailing kisses along your inner thigh, his eyes fluttering closed as he savours the sensation.

He pauses just before pulling down the waistband of your thong, glancing up at you with wide, darkened eyes. "Tell me if I'm... if I'm doing too much," he says, almost shyly.

"You're not doing enough," you reply. "Keep going."

So he does. He slides the white lace down your ankles, then presses his mouth to your core, his tongue pushing between your folds with a fervour that makes your head fall back. His guttural moan is muffled as he goes down on you, the vibration of it causing heat to pool in your lower belly. You press the flat stem of your heel to the back of his head, drawing him closer.

"Fuck, Ewan," you gasp aloud, your hips rolling instinctively against his mouth as he works you over. He licks you, sloppy and desperate, his inexperience showing but somehow making it even better. He's so determined to give you pleasure, so eager to make you come undone, that he doesn't care about anything else.

He doesn't care about acting like a starved animal as he sucks on your pussy. All Ewan wishes for, in that very moment, is that you cum all over him—the sweet substance flooding his tongue, dripping down his chin, far more sumptuous than everything they have on offer in the party's banquet.

He's seen you fake an orgasm for a scene before, but this is real.

His tongue flicks over your bud, and when you cry out, he doubles his efforts. He wraps his lips around the aching nub to suck gently, then slides a finger into you, curling it just right. Adding another, he increases the pace, his fingertips pulsing into that damned spot within your walls each time.

The defined bridge of his nose is flush against your clit as he moves, augmenting your pleasure. The whole thing is messy, unrefined, and so damn good that it has you teetering on the edge in no time.

Your thighs quiver around his head, and when your orgasm crashes over you, you clamp a hand over your mouth to stifle the sound. Ewan keeps going, his tongue and fingers refusing to let up, coaxing every last shudder from you until you're trembling and gasping for air.

"Holy. Shit." You lean back on your elbows to recuperate as white spots flood your vision.

"Did I... was that... was that good?" he asks with his lips shiny and swollen, practically yearning for your approval.

"Yeah," you manage, but it escapes your lips as a small, incoherent sigh.

"Hmm? What? What was that... baby?"

Baby, he says. But with the way, he's being so sweet, so dumbstruck, he's certainly the baby in this dynamic.

"More," you give him a better answer, "C'mere." You pull him up to your level, tasting yourself on his lips. Leveraging your legs around his waist, you keep him caged in. The outline of his hardened cock presses against your pelvis, and when you grind into him, his teeth clamp down on your bottom lip.

"Aghhh, hey!"

"Shit, I'm sorry—"

"It's okay," you whisper, not letting him pull away. "I liked it. And I want more."

"Anything, baby," he promises, and the raw honesty in his tone makes your chest tighten. "Anything you want. I'll—fuck—I'll give it to you. I'm all yours."

You nod once, before he claims your lips again in a bruising kiss. One of the thin straps of your dress falls from your shoulder, and he visibly shivers in excitement at the sight of your exposed breast.

"Fuck," he sighs, his hand coming up almost hesitantly to cup you. His thumb brushes over your nipple, as he takes you in with lust-clouded eyes. He leans down and captures the flesh with his mouth, his tongue swirling around your tender peak until you're left squirming.

You reach for him, fumbling with his belt and his zipper, and he helps you, his movements even more hurried and uncoordinated than yours.

When he frees himself, you can't help but stare—his cock is long and hard, already slick with precum. The sight makes your mouth water, and when you drag your gaze back up to his face, you find him watching you, his expression somewhere between bashful and utterly wrecked.

Ewan's hair, once gelled to immaculate perfection, now lies in disarray. He'll need to borrow your comb before he dares rejoin the party. The lower half of his face bears the unmistakable traces of cum and smudged rouge, a vivid testament to the chaotic indulgences of the evening. And somewhere in the frenzy of fumbling and fondling, his clip-on Dior earring has gone astray. He feels the absence keenly, like a phantom limb, yet he resigns himself to the loss—for now, it's a dilemma best left for another moment.

"You're staring," he says, an uneasy laugh escaping him, but there's heat in his gaze, a newfound confidence grounding his nerves.

"Because I like what I see," you reply.

"Tell me if this is too much," he says, his anxiety resurfacing through the haze of lust. It's endearing—so much so that you can't help but smile.

"Ewan," you say firmly. "I want everything."

He groans faintly as he lines himself up. Carefully, he pushes into you, and the stretch is exquisite, sending a shiver rippling up your spine. You both moan, the sound echoing in the quiet of the room. He buries himself to the hilt, pausing to catch his breath, his fingers digging into your hips.

"Fuck, oh fuck," he murmurs, looking down at where your bodies meet. "Your pussy feels so good."

The compliment makes you feel something you can't pinpoint, but there’s no time to dwell on it. He starts to move, his thrusts tentative at first, testing the waters. But the whorish mewls spilling from your lips spur him on, and soon, he finds a rhythm—deep, steady, and just rough enough to leave you begging for more.

"Fuck, Ewan," you gasp, your nails scraping lightly against his back. "Yeah... just like that."

Your words are the only encouragement he needs. His pace quickens, and his grip on you tightens as if he's about to confess that he wants to own you. He's already yours, so it's only fair, isn't it?

He's spent years fantasizing about how your pussy would feel, squeezing his cock like a goddamn vice, and he's happy to find out that his imagination is nothing compared to the real thing.

"So sexy, baby," he mutters, his voice muffled as he nips at your neck. "Better than I ever—" He cuts himself off with a groan, his teeth grazing your skin.

You raise your legs higher up his torso to draw him deeper. The angle sends a bolt of pleasure through you, and your moans grow louder despite your attempts to keep quiet.

Then, suddenly, the doorknob rattles.

Both of you freeze, Ewan still buried deep inside your fleshy walls, his eyes wide with panic. The sound of a familiar voice seeps through the door, followed by a frustrated sigh.

"Where the hell did I leave my phone?" It's your friend, Florence Pugh. Her voice is unmistakable, and the realisation makes your stomach drop.

Ewan’s lips form a silent oh my God. You bite back a laugh, pressing a hand over your mouth as Florence jiggles the doorknob again.

"Seriously?" she mutters. "Locked? For fuck's sake."

You hear her footsteps retreat, her voice fading as she calls out to someone else. "Have you seen my phone? I swear I left it out here."

The moment the coast is clear, you both exhale in unison, the tension breaking into a mix of laughter and relief. Ewan drops his forehead to your shoulder, shaking his head. "This is insane," he whispers, though he doesn't feel a single ounce of regret.

"You're the one who couldn't keep it in his pants," you tease, rolling your hips slightly to remind him of your still-connected bodies.

His response is a low growl, and he resumes his thrusts, harder this time, filled with unfiltered desire. The near-miss only seems to have fueled him, the snap of his hips more frantic, more intense. The sound of your bodies colliding fills the room—mumbled curses, breathless moans, sticky slapping of flesh meeting flesh.

"God, you're incredible," he says, his voice strained. "I can't get enough of you."

You feel the coil in your belly tightening again, the pressure building with each thrust. Your delicate fingers dig into his shoulders, and he groans at the sensation, his cock twitching deep inside you. His rhythm falters for only a second before he recovers.

"Ewan," you gasp, your voice breaking. "I'm so close—don't stop."

"Come for me, baby," he says, his hand slipping between your bodies to find your clit. It sends you spiraling, your climax crashing over you like a tidal wave. You cry out, your body tensing and shuddering beneath him as he continues to move, chasing his own release.

He reaches up and twists your nipple, the sharp sensation making you gasp just before he comes. The sight of you—head thrown back, breast bouncing free from your designer gown, your smudged red lips parted in bliss—drives him to the brink. With a strangled growl, he slams into you one final time. His body shakes as he spills inside you, the warmth of his release flooding you completely. You both tremble in the aftermath, caught in the intensity of the moment, gasping for air, drenched in sweat and tangled in raw desire.

You blink lazily at him, a beautiful mess of tousled hair and make-up in dire need of a retouch. "Still think I'm a liability?" you ask.

"Oh, absolutely. But one worth keeping anyway."

Ewan sits in his dimly lit London apartment, the glow of his phone the only other source of light in the room. A half-empty bottle of Guinness sits forgotten on his coffee table. The screen displays your Instagram profile—your impossibly gorgeous face beaming at him from your latest post, which happens to be a professional photograph of you at the GQ party.

His finger hovers above the Follow button like it's the trigger of a detonator.

His newly-created account is laughably barren—no posts, no followers, no following. Just a desperate, last-ditch attempt to tether himself back to you, even if only digitally.

Ewan had always sworn off social media, claiming it wasn't his style, that he preferred the privacy and the mystique. Yet, here he is, spiraling, drunk on the memory of you and of that night.

The coatroom had been a blur. The attendant had returned far too soon, a flurry of apologies as Florence appeared behind her, claiming her phone from her coat pocket with a triumphant smirk.

Ewan remembers how Florence had tugged you aside, your laughter ringing out as she swiped her thumb across your lips, erasing the evidence of that kiss—or maybe just rearranging it. You had been whisked away to the ladies' room, leaving him standing there, disheveled, speechless, and utterly entranced. He hadn't even managed to get your number.

It's been days since, but he still feels the ghost of your touch, the echo of your moans, the scent of you on his skin. He's tried to focus, tried to pick up his scripts, but his mind keeps replaying the way you looked as you came.

He has even rewatched a film of yours, with special attention paid to a particular love scene. Watching it over and over, repeatedly going back to the timestamp where you're seen riding your male costar.

He felt aroused watching you. Also, incredibly fucking jealous.

"Pathetic," he mutters to himself, his finger still hovering. His thumb twitches, brushing the screen, but before he can commit to his descent into full-blown thirst, his phone buzzes violently, the vibration startling him into dropping it onto the couch.

"Shit." He snatches it back up, squinting at the screen. It's a call from his agent.

"Ewan," comes the voice on the other end, crisp and faintly incredulous. "What the hell did you do at that party?"

His heart stops for a beat. "Uh... what?"

"The party. The GQ one. The one where you disappeared for, what, an hour? Maybe more?"

Ewan's brain scrambles. "I don't—I mean, I just mingled. Like you suggested,” he stammers, his voice cracking slightly. "Why?"

"Because," the agent says, drawing out the word like it's a prize reveal, "you've been shortlisted for a chemistry test next week."

"A chemistry test?" Ewan echoes, blinking. "For what?"

"For her film," his agent says, emphasizing the pronoun like it's blasphemous not to know who you are. "It's one of those secret big-budget Hollywood projects only top actors are getting called for. We didn't submit you because—well, not to be rude, but you're not exactly on their radar for that level yet."

Ewan's heart starts pounding. He sits up straighter, gripping the phone tighter. "Wait, wait. What film? Who's—who's her?"

But he already knows the answer.

His agent drops your name, exasperated now. "Apparently she petitioned for you, Ewan. Said you'd be perfect. So what did you do?”

Ewan is stunned into silence. He leans back against the couch, a slow grin spreading across his face as the pieces click into place. You. You'd done this. You’d reached out and used your pull to bring him into your orbit again.

"What did I do?" he repeats. "Oh, nothing much. Just... made an impression."

"Well, whatever it was, it worked. Chemistry tests are next week in L.A. They'll send over the details. And Ewan," the agent pauses, lowering their voice slightly, "don't screw this up. This is huge."

"I won't," Ewan says, his tone confident now. "I promise."

When the call ends, he stares at his phone for a long moment, the grin still lingering. He glances back at your Instagram profile, his thumb poised over the Follow button again. Then he snorts, tossing the phone onto the cushion beside him.

"What's the point?” he mutters to himself, his grin turning into a full-on self-satisfied smirk. "I'll see you soon enough."

He reaches for the bottle of Guinness instead, lifting it in a silent toast to fate—or whatever it is that's tied you two together.

Something came out of all that mingling after all.

taglist: @bitchception @insideyourimagination @angels-wouldnt-help-youu @seamaiden @silverdragonfly @powpowjinxlife @starfishjellyfish5 @shellysa14 @delespresso @notsurewhattocallthisblog8888 @ninihrtss @believeinthefireflies95 @peachysunrize @darktrashsoulbear

#do me no good #ewan mitchell imagine #ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell x reader #ewan mitchell smut #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #hotd

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crescenthistory · 2 months ago

Note

I saw that you wanted to write the girlies into your fics more often, so I wanted to make a request 8) Can I request a reader x Regulus where reader is crushing BAD on Reggie, and the girlies take it upon themselves to try and do a little matchmaking? I love your work, and your recent Barty fic was AMAZING btw!!!

the girlies<333 oh how i love them and their silly little adventures, thank you for giving me an excuse to write them babes! and for being soso sweet omg you're an angel

Summary: Dorcas has had it with two of her best friends walking on eggshells around each other to avoid their feelings. So, she puts her best meddlers on the case to end it once and for all, and make the idiots kiss.

Words: 5.7k (i am unwell)

Warnings: not proofread, mutual pining believed to be unrequited love, use of y/n, slytherin!fem!reader, background girlies, rosekiller and dorlene, teasing, awkwardness, language, confessions of love, really cliche but makes up for it in sweetness?

Note: who wouldn't be down bad crying at the gym for reggie?

Though you believed being humble was virtuous, you did pride yourself with being a particularly kind person.

Most people in the castle got over well with you, and you had been able to float in and out of all the major friend groups in your year. The self-declared Marauders often ran to hide with you when chased by a consequence in one form or another, and the Hufflepuff quidditch team seemingly adopted you after you cheered them up after their first loss of the season. With all the pressures of Hogwarts and the lives you were soon to embark on afterwards, it was the least you could do to spread some joy, and perhaps receive a bit in return.

At the end of the day, you always came back to your friend group, though – a heap of entangled limbs and snickering, usually found in the same trusted corner of the Slytherin common room. Barty was always in some way or another physically on top of Evan, rarely conventional cuddling positions, while Pandora sat cross-legged on the floor by them, preferably braiding someone’s hair. Dorcas would sit on the table or lounge chair, waving her arms emphatically, often hitting either you or her girlfriend Marlene – the one Gryffindor you all collectively accepted – square in the face, multiple times throughout the night.

Oh, how you loved them.

And if their cheers every time you returned to them from your little friendship tours, as Barty called them, were anything to go by – they loved you too.

Then, there was Regulus Black.

The victim of whatever positions Evan and Barty felt like sitting in, as he always sat at the other end of the sofa they inhabited. The calm and collected of the bunch, except for when Dorcas or Barty said something particularly outlandish he just had to argue with. The multitasker, always with a book in hand, whether for personal enjoyment or study-related, somehow devouring them while catching every word around him. The wittiest one, well-timed remarks hitting people – usually Barty – square in the chest.

The object of all your desires.

Because while you were a kind person, and arguably well-liked, Regulus was the one person you never managed to get quite close to. You were in the same little circle of friends, sure, and had been having friendly conversation and banter for the past 7 years. In theory, you know each other like the backs of your hands, but in practice you had never been alone in a room with him for more than a few minutes before he runs off.

It hurt you once upon a time, wondering what was wrong with you to make him seemingly be repelled from you like oil from water. Over the years though, you realised that is just kind of how Regulus operates. There is some reason behind all the mechanics, but they are not for others to know, just him to sulk over, and you have to accept what you’re given until he’s ready to offer more. Though you tried not to dwell on the fact that it was only you he seemed to avoid to that extent. You had to leave it to him to figure it out, you had decided.

You could live with that, but distance unfortunately made your heart grow fonder. Painfully so.

Regulus Black with his gorgeous black curls that have been so soft to the touch every time you have been close to it during your late nights around the fireplace. Regulus Black with his flowy white shirts and silver rings, gleaming in the glow of Hogwarts’s many candles. Regulus Black with his stupidly beautiful laugh whenever one of his friends could withdraw a real one from him, as if fished from the depths of his chest. Regulus Black with his striking grey eyes that you could get lost in, and have embarrassingly so, many a time. Regulus Black with his–

“Y/N would you quit pining for just a second and listen to me!” Dorcas’s exasperated voice cut through your musings, as you looked up at her with a non quizzical hum, only causing her to groan louder.

You were laying on your bed, almost ready for the night, while Dorcas apparently had tried to get through to you from her own bed mere metres from yours. Your best friend was sat on her bedside, hands on her knees as she looked just about ready to tackle you. Lovingly, of course.

“How’d you know I was even thinking about that?” you challenge, but there is no real fight in you as Dorcas’s gaze has already levelled you.

“You think about much else?”

“Rude.”

“Ruder to call him ‘that’. Put some respect on Reggie’s name.” You rolled your eyes, and had to fight the urge to shush her.

“Oh, don’t worry, he can’t hear us all the way from the boys’ dormitories.” 7 years of friendship had taught her almost too much about you.

“Would you stop trying to read my mind?” You climbed over in her bed to give her the attention she so craved. “It’s a bit intense.”

Dorcas flopped down on her back, sighing at nothing in particular. “You love that I know you so well. And someone ought to read your mind, if you’re not going to speak it.”

“Maybe some things are better left unsaid,” you teased her, but she kept giving you a narrow stare.

“I simply refuse to believe that.”

“Hey, where’s Marls?” you ask, not necessarily because you missed the blonde and pink haired menace you had come to view as a sister. Mostly just to shift the topic at hand. “Wasn't she supposed to stay the night?”

“Yeah, but she’s running an errand for me.”

“An errand?” You quirked a brow at her, looking over at a clock you kept by your bedside. “12 minutes before curfew?”

“Yes,” Dorcas said, giving you a duh look. Stupid you.

As if on cue, Marlene all but kicked down your door with a grin plastered on her face. “How ya doin’ ladies? I brought friends.” In behind her came Pandora and Lily, smiling a bit more softly, though there was a mischievous glint in Lily’s eyes that could only be a poor habit picked up from a certain Gryffindor bunch.

You gave enthusiastic greetings in return, happy to see your friends, but your brow still furrowed at the unexpected guests. A quick glance at Dorcas, whose lips curled into a grin so innocent that it immediately raised suspicions, only deepened your confusion.

“What’s this about?” you asked, voice laced with curiosity but also a growing sense of foreboding. A roomful of your closest friends this late at night – this had all the hallmarks of an ambush.

“Oh, nothing,” Dorcas said, too casually. She was still sprawled on her back, her eyes half-closed, but you didn’t miss the smirk playing on her lips. “We just thought it would be super fun to have a little... chat.”

Pandora was already situated on the floor right in front of you, humming some unfamiliar tune as she twisted her locs absentmindedly, while Lily leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, a knowing smile dancing across her face. Marlene, never one for subtlety, was practically bouncing on the spot, barely containing her excitement.

“A chat?” You narrowed your eyes at them, already sensing that you were the centre of whatever this was. “That everyone knows about beforehand except me? I think that's called an intervention.”

Marlene’s grin widened. “You’re smarter than you look.”

“Hey!” You threw a pillow at her, which she easily dodged, cackling. “Okay, seriously girls. What’s going on?”

Lily stepped forward, eyes twinkling with mischief. “We’ve been talking. Well, more like observing.”

“Observing what exactly?” you asked, a sinking feeling creeping into your stomach. You knew these girls, and you knew when they were up to something.

“More like observing who,” Marlene interjected with a wink, as she casually threw herself onto Dorcas’s bed beside you, almost kicking her girlfriend in the face.

Pandora hummed softly, eyes now trained on her chipping purple nailpolish. “It’s just… you’ve been staring at Regulus like a lovesick puppy for years, and he’s been acting all distant and broody in response. Now that we're in our final year, the harmony should be set right before we all leave.”

You sat up straighter. “I have not–”

“Oh, come off it, Y/N.” Dorcas finally sat up, folding her legs beneath her. “You practically melt every time he so much as glances your way, and we’ve all seen the way you fawn over his hair like it’s spun silk. It’s borderline painful.”

Your face flushed, but you tried to play it off with a wave of your hand. “I don’t fawn.”

“You do,” Lily said, with the smallest hint of a smirk. “And Regulus? Merlin, that boy has been pining for you for too long. If you're a lovesick puppy, he's a kicked street dog.”

Your heart stumbled in your chest. “Wait– what?”

Marlene clapped her hands together in delight, as if she had been waiting for this exact moment. “Oh, darling, it’s so obvious. He’s completely smitten. Why do you think he’s always avoiding you? The boy’s terrified he’ll do something stupid like… I don’t know, confess his undying love for you in front of everyone.”

You blinked, completely taken aback. You expected them to give you a get it together speech, not... whatever this is.

“But– but, what, no, he’s always so cold around me. I thought–”

“That’s because he’s a socially inept idiot when it comes to feelings,” Dorcas interjected with a shrug, never one to sugarcoat it, though her voice softened when she took in your confused face. “Look, Regulus has spent his whole life trying to remain in control, but when he's around you he can't. So, if he can’t figure out how to act, he just… doesn’t.”

Lily nodded. “He’s not used to wanting something as much as he wants you.”

"Oh, he would not be happy knowing you're psychoanalysing him like this," you mumbled, mind whirling, to which Marlene and Dorcas just cackled.

Humour at the expense of their friend – what could be better?

You struggled to process this new information. You had left your relationship with Regulus to fate, an open invitation for friendship without pursuing anything more than that. As long as you could admire him from afar, you figured it was enough. The thought that he might have felt the same, but not know how to go about it felt foreign to you. It seemed impossible, and yet, when you thought back, the signs were there. The way his eyes lingered on you just a bit too long when he thought you weren't looking. The way his laughter – rare and beautiful – sounded a little softer, a little more genuine, when you were around. The way he physically ran away from you when you got too close, always some handy excuse ready...

You had chalked it up to his aloofness, to his enigmatic nature. A large part of you, fragile and uncertain, still wanted to.

“I don’t know…” you started, still hesitant. “What if you’re wrong?”

Pandora smiled softly at you, her eyes gentle but firm. “We’re not wrong, Y/N. The stars told me as much. But if your heart needs proof, we’re going to help you get it.”

Your gaze snapped to her, as blood rushed through your head. “Help me… how?”

“That’s the best part!” Marlene all but squealed, bouncing up from the bed and throwing her arm around you. “We’re going to play matchmaker!”

You stared at them, wide-eyed. “What? No! You’re not– no meddling! You’ll make things worse.”

Dorcas just gave you a knowing look, leaning back on her hands. “How can we make things worse if there is nothing at fuck all going on between you right now because you can't get your heads out of your asses?"

"We're friends, Dorcas!"

She sighed, as if you were a child, but gave you a soft look. You think she was trying to be reassuring. "We’re not going to make things worse. We’re going to force you two to face each other, and maybe then you’ll finally stop dancing around your feelings.”

“I don’t–”

“Too late, darling,” Marlene interrupted, her grin wicked. “Plans are already in motion.”

Lily smirked. “We’ve got it all figured out.”

You were about to protest again when Pandora placed a soft hand on your shoulder. “Trust us,” she said, her voice a soothing balm against the rising anxiety in your chest. “This is going to work.”

You sighed, rubbing your temples. There was no stopping them, you knew that much. Once this group had an idea in their heads, there was no turning back. Still, the thought of whatever they had planned made your stomach twist in both excitement and dread.

Marlene clapped her hands together once more. “Right, first things first. Tomorrow, we’re going to get you two alone.”

“And then what?”

Dorcas’s grin widened. “Then, you’re going to talk to him.”

"Talk?" you repeated, your voice squeaking slightly.

"Yep," Lily said with a satisfied nod. "Just talk."

"That's the worst plan I've ever heard in my life. Scratch that, not even really a plan. Just the worst I've ever heard."

"You're lashing out 'cause you're scared." Marlene said in a fake-hurt voice, wiping invisible tears from her eyes as Dorcas shoved her.

You swallowed hard, your mind spinning with a hundred different emotions.

“Don’t worry, love," Lily almost cooed at you. "We’ll make sure everything goes perfectly.”

"How?"

"We'll see where the day takes us."

Your eyes flitted between the four of them, realising then that there was no getting out of this, and that you were not sure any of you even knew what this was yet.

You let out a groan as you flopped ceremoniously down on the bed, hiding your face in your eyes.

All girls cheered as they knew that was your sound of defeat, and thus their green flag to go crazy.

The next day, your nerves were buzzing like a poorly-executed Cheering Charm gone wrong. The plan – their plan – was apparently in full swing, and you had absolutely no control over it. In fact, your only plan was to somehow avoid being alone with Regulus Black at all costs.

Despite Dorcas's little lecture to you this morning about just ripping the fucking bandaid off love, gosh, you were entirely not on board anymore. Not that you ever were.

You had tried pleading with them again at breakfast, but they had brushed you off with reassuring pats and sly grins, as if your rising panic was nothing but a trivial detail. And so, here you were, pacing in the common room while the rest of the girls casually lounged, casting side glances at you and whispering like they weren’t blatantly scheming.

“Stop fussing, would you,” Marlene drawled, draped across one of the armchairs, looking far too pleased with herself. “We’ve got it all handled.”

“You’ve got nothing handled,” you hissed, feeling the dread creep up your spine. “You’re going to ruin everything. I mean, what if he freaks out? Or worse – what if he laughs at me?”

Lily, who was lounging with a book in her lap, raised an eyebrow over the top of it. “Y/N, Regulus Black doesn’t laugh at anything that isn’t Junior falling down the stairs. You’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, and even if he does freak out,” Dorcas added, casually tossing an apple in the air, “it’s because he’s an emotionally stunted mess, not because he doesn’t like you.”

Your face burned. “That’s not exactly comforting.”

“Trust us, Y/N. We wouldn’t be doing this if we weren’t sure," Marlene groans. "He likes you, okay? He’s just too much of a brooding, melodramatic git to do anything about it.”

You opened your mouth to protest again, but before you could, Pandora, ever the quiet voice of reason, gave you a soft smile. “It’ll be okay. Just be honest. You might be surprised by what he says.”

For half a second you dwelled on the fact that Pandora was the one everyone went to as their little therapist, and maybe her reassurance is not just speculation, as with the other girls.

You didn't allow that second to drag out, lest your head explode.

The sincerity in her voice almost made you believe them, though. Yet the idea of being locked in a room with Regulus, of all people, and forced to confront the swirling mess of emotions you had been harbouring for years? That was terrifying.

“I don’t know,” you said, backing toward the door in a desperate attempt to flee. “Maybe we should just–"

Dorcas was quicker than she looked. She slid in front of the exit, blocking your escape route with a triumphant grin. “Nope. You’re staying put.”

Before you could make a break for it, Marlene hopped to her feet, suddenly all business. “Right. It’s time. Pandora, Lily, you ready?”

“Ready,” they both said in unison, as if this were a Quidditch match and not the absolute destruction of your sanity.

“Wait– what’s happening?” you asked, voice rising with panic.

“We’re just going to have a little chat with Regulus,” Lily said with a wink, standing up and smoothing her skirt. “Should only take a minute.”

You watched in horror as the three of them sauntered out of the common room, leaving you in a state of rising dread. Dorcas remained blocking the door, arms crossed and a gleam of determination in her eyes.

“You don’t have to do this,” you said, trying one last desperate appeal to her better nature.

“Oh, I really think I do,” she replied with a grin. “Now, be a good sport. You’ll thank me later.”

Dorcas with her quidditch strength, picked you up and carried you to your dormitory despite your many loud protests. She practically shoved you inside, landing awkwardly on the floor, heart pounding in your chest.

“Just… read something and try to relax,” Dorcas called over her shoulder, slamming the door shut behind you. “We’ll handle everything.”

“Dorcas!” you yelped, but she was already gone.

You groaned, pushing yourself up off the floor and onto one of the beds, grabbing a random book from the bedside table in a futile attempt to calm your racing thoughts. It didn’t help.

Not even five minutes later, you heard the faint sound of footsteps outside the door, accompanied by hushed whispers that made your stomach drop.

“Marlene, what are you up to?” you muttered to yourself, sinking lower into the bed. You barely had time to brace yourself before Marlene’s voice echoed from the hallway, far too chipper for the situation.

“Oh, Reggie!” she called out in a sing-song voice that was dripping with false innocence. "I think I saw the creature run in here!"

Your heart immediately stuttered in your chest. No, no, no–

“In behind this... closed door?” came Regulus’s unmistakable voice, low and suspicious. There was always something about his tone, that subtle roughness to his otherwise smooth words, that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

“Ugh, yes, please go fetch it,” Lily chimed in, her tone too casual to be convincing.

There was a beat of silence, and you could practically feel Regulus’s confusion through the door. “In the girls’s dormitory?” His voice was flat, unimpressed. "Can't you guys?"

"No, you're the one who got an Outstanding in Care of Magical Creatures. Please."

They couldn't be serious. What a master plan.

“It's important, Reg,” Pandora added, ever so softly, but with an edge of persistence that could sway anyone who wasn’t keen on questioning her.

There was another pause, and you held your breath. You could picture Regulus now – his sharp, silver eyes narrowing, a flicker of doubt crossing his face, his brain probably piecing together that whatever this was, it wasn’t something he should agree to. Not even Regulus is immune to charm and coercion from his friends though –and he probably couldn’t fathom the idea of Marlene calling for his help if it weren’t truly necessary – and you clearly heard his reluctant sigh through the door.

“Fine,” he muttered, footsteps nearing the door.

You had just enough time to consider how humiliating it would be to try and throw yourself out the window, but alas, Hogwarts windows didn’t accommodate such escapes.

The door creaked open, and there he was.

Standing in the doorway, looking like the very embodiment of a storm in human form, all brooding energy and understated elegance. His black curls were slightly dishevelled, his usual pristine appearance marred just enough by the casual looseness of his shirt collar, which somehow made him look even more effortlessly intimidating.

He looked around the room, eyes landing on you and widening slightly.

"Oh, hey Y/N, have you seen–"

Before you could answer or before he could even finish his sentence – slam. The door shut behind him with a loud click, the lock snapping into place.

Regulus’s head whipped around, his hand immediately going to the doorknob, shaking it lightly. “What the bloody hell?”

You watched in horror as the unmistakable sounds of footsteps retreated down the hallway, followed by Marlene’s faint, gleeful laughter.

“I’ll kill her,” you whispered, more to yourself than anyone.

Regulus sighed deeply, his hand dropping from the door. He turned back to you, jaw tight, a muscle twitching at the corner of his mouth. "That makes two of us," he said, having clearly heard you across the room that felt increasingly smaller.

You laughed lowly, but couldn't quite meet his eyes.

“So… I’m assuming this beast was part of some master plan.”

You nodded, feeling your face heat up. “Yeah, pretty much.”

There was a heavy silence between you, the kind that felt both unbearably awkward and strangely charged. Regulus stayed by the door, leaning against it as though contemplating whether he could somehow break through it with sheer willpower. You, meanwhile, sat on the bed with your heart pounding in your chest like it was trying to escape the mess your friends had created.

Regulus’s eyes flicked to you, his expression guarded but curious. “You don’t… know what this is about, do you?”

You tried to swallow past the sudden lump in your throat, your fingers gripping the edge of the book like it might anchor you to reality. “I have a guess.”

He raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest in that way that made him look even more imposing. “And?”

“And,” you echoed, your voice faltering under the weight of what you were about to say, “they seem to think that locking us in a room together is the perfect opportunity for us to, uh… talk.”

Regulus let out a humourless chuckle, shaking his head as he leaned his back fully against the door. “Talk. Of course. That sounds exactly like something Marlene would come up with.”

There was a pause, and his gaze, which had flickered away momentarily, settled on you again. You could swear his eyes softened ever so slightly as they swept over you – taking in the awkward way you sat on the bed, your hands still gripping the book like it was a lifeline. You noticed the way his shoulders, usually squared with tension, seemed to relax just a fraction, as though being here, with you, wasn’t as unbearable as you had feared.

He cleared his throat, clearly struggling to find something to say. “So… what were you reading?”

“Oh, uh…” You squinted at the title, stifling a laughter as you realised what it was. “It’s, um… Hogwarts, A History.”

Regulus’s lips twitched, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Really? You’re reading that?”

Your face heated even more, and you quickly abandoned the book, tossing it to the side. “Okay, no. I was trying to look busy while panicking over the fact that I was about to be locked in a room with you.”

"You knew?"

"I got a small warning after I was thrown in here."

"By Dorcas or Marlene?" he asked, amusement gleaming in his eyes because he knew you meant it literally.

"Dorcas."

He hummed in approval before his brows furrowed, as if registering your whole conversation, and he took a step closer, his usual guarded exterior slipping just a bit. “Why would that make you panic?”

The one question you didn’t have a safe answer for. You could feel your heart racing again, but there was something about the way he looked at you, something soft and searching in his gaze, that made it impossible to retreat.

You swallowed hard. “Because… I don't know. You’re Regulus Black.”

The words came out in a rush, like they explained everything, and to you, they did. Regulus, though, just stared at you, his expression unreadable.

“I don’t understand,” he said quietly, his voice low but noticeably not cold. “Why would my family matter?”

You laughed nervously, standing up from the bed as if that might help calm the chaotic swirl of emotions in your chest. “Not your family. You. Regulus. You’re just... you. You’re smart and brilliant and intimidatingly beautiful and–” You stopped yourself, suddenly horrified by the direction your rant was going. “And it just didn’t seem like you’d ever want to be stuck in a room with me.”

Regulus blinked, his posture stiffening as if your words had physically hit him. For a moment, the usual cool facade he wore cracked, revealing something vulnerable beneath.

“You think I don’t want to be around you?” His voice was barely above a whisper, but there was an edge of disbelief in it.

You looked away, unable to bear the intensity of his gaze. “I mean, yeah. You always seem so distant when I’m around. Like you can’t wait to get away.”

Regulus was silent for a moment, the air between you growing thick with tension. When he finally spoke, his voice was softer, quieter. “That’s not because I don’t want to be around you.”

You lifted your eyes to meet his, surprised by the raw honesty in his voice.

He stepped closer, his movements slower, more deliberate, like he was unsure of what he was doing for the first time in his life. “I… avoid you because I don’t know how to be around you without making a fool of myself.”

You blinked, completely thrown by his confession. “What?”

Regulus exhaled a shaky breath, running a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated with himself. “I’m not good at this – at feelings. At talking, like the girls wanted. You make me feel things I don’t know how to handle. So, I do the only thing I know how to do. I keep my distance.”

Your heart thudded in your chest, a mix of disbelief and hope rising in your throat. “Regulus…”

He met your gaze, and for the first time in the years you had known him, you felt as if you actually saw him in his eyes. The real him.

“I’ve liked you for longer than I care to admit,” he said, his voice low and steady now. “And it scares the hell out of me.”

You felt your breath catch, his words sinking into your chest and settling there, warm and heavy. It was as if the entire world had shifted in that moment, the tension between you now a living, breathing thing, pulsing with the weight of everything left unsaid.

"L– liked me?"

Regulus couldn't do anything but nod.

Without thinking, you closed the distance between you, stepping closer until you were just a breath away from him. You could see the way his chest rose and fell, his eyes flickering down to your lips for the briefest second before he caught himself, jaw tightening.

“Regulus,” you whispered, the world narrowing to just the space between you. “I’ve liked you too. For so long.”

His breath hitched ever so slightly, eyes wild.

He didn’t respond with words – he didn’t have to. In one swift motion, he closed the remaining gap between you, his hands gently cupping your face as he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours.

The kiss was tentative, as if both of you were still testing the waters of something too fragile to fully comprehend. Regulus’s hands, cool but steady, cradled your face with a gentleness that sent shivers down your spine. The rest of the world faded away – your racing thoughts, your anxieties, the locked door behind you – none of it mattered in that moment.

It was just him. It had always been him.

As the kiss deepened, Regulus’s usual restraint seemed to dissolve, replaced by something raw and urgent. His fingers curled against your skin, one hand suddenly on the small of your back, drawing you closer until there was barely any space left between you. You felt his heart beating against your chest, fast and unsteady, matching the erratic rhythm of your own.

It was everything you had imagined, everything you needed.

You melted into him, lips, body and soul, before you pulled away breathless. The room felt impossibly still around you.

You were both standing there, eyes wide, inches apart, as if neither of you could quite believe what had just happened. Regulus’s lips were still parted, his gaze flickering from your eyes to your lips and back again, as though he was trying to memorise everything about this moment.

"Do you mean it?" he murmured. You felt his lips brush yours as he spoke.

You didn't need to ask what he meant. Instead you whispered a passionate yes before kissing him again, lingering against him. You could feel him begin to smile against you.

"This is not what I expected to come out of this," you whispered, your voice shaky but filled with a quiet, disbelieving laugh.

Regulus let out a breathless chuckle, one that sounded almost surprised, like he couldn’t quite believe it either. “I can't say I did either.” He paused, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheek. “But I’m not complaining.”

You smiled, warmth flooding your chest, and for the first time in what felt like forever, there was no uncertainty hanging between you. Just you and Regulus, and the quiet realisation that maybe, just maybe, all those years of longing and misunderstanding had led you exactly where you were meant to be.

You were about to say something – something witty, maybe, to break the tension – but then–

BANG!

The door flew open, slamming against the wall with such force that both you and Regulus jumped apart, your heads whipping toward the entrance just in time to see Marlene, Lily, Dorcas, and Pandora tumble inside, practically tripping over each other in their mad dash to get through the door.

“There they are!” Marlene shouted, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. She pointed dramatically at the two of you, looking like she had just witnessed the Quidditch World Cup. “I told you it would work!”

Lily snorted, pushing past Marlene and raising an eyebrow as she glanced between you and Regulus, both still slightly dishevelled and very much caught in the act. “Honestly, Marlene, you could have given them a few more minutes.”

You groaned, heat rushing to your face as you buried it in your hands. “Were you all just waiting outside the entire time?”

Pandora gave you an apologetic smile, but there was a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. It made her look all the more like Evan. “We were just… keeping an eye on things.”

Regulus, who had taken a deliberate step back when the door burst open, gravitated slightly more towards you again as he ran a hand through his hair. “I can’t believe you lot talked me into this.” For all intents and purposes he looked exasperated – but his lips twitched in amusement.

“Oh, don’t act like you hated it,” Dorcas teased. “You’re welcome for the facilitation by the way.”

“Facilitation?” Regulus repeated, his voice dry as he glanced around the room full of over-enthusiastic matchmakers. “That’s one word for it.”

Marlene was practically bouncing on the balls of her feet. “I have no words for how pleased I am with myself right now.”

"Evidently." You and Dorcas chorused at the same time, causing you both to giggle, though you tried to stifle it.

“You’re all completely insufferable," you said through an ever-growing smile.

“And yet,” Marlene drawled, throwing an arm around Dorcas’s shoulders, “you love us anyway.”

Regulus caught your eye, and despite the absurdity of the situation and the embarrassment of being ambushed by your meddlesome friends, you couldn’t help but laugh. His lips quirked up in that rare, almost-hidden smile he reserved for moments like this.

“Alright, alright,” Lily said, clapping her hands together as if trying to herd a group of first-years. “Now that this mission is accomplished –” she shot a pointed look at you and Regulus, “– we should probably leave them alone.”

Marlene looked like she was about to protest, but Pandora nudged her toward the door. “Give them some space.”

As they filed out, Marlene shot you one last wink over her shoulder. “Don’t worry, I expect all the juicy details later.”

You groaned again, shaking your head as they finally disappeared down the hallway, their laughter echoing faintly behind them. When the door closed with a soft thud, the room seemed impossibly quiet again, save for the soft crackle of the fire in the corner.

You turned back to Regulus, who was watching you with a look that was both amused and affectionate, his usual mask of indifference nowhere to be found. He stepped closer to you, arms circling around your waist.

"Your friends are idiots," he said with no real malice in his tone.

"Yeah, but so are we."

In privacy with you, Regulus's smile widened in a way that made your stomach flip, as he leaned in for another kiss.

477 notes · View notes

purinfelix · 2 months ago

Text

just for the weekend ᯓᡣ𐭩.ᐟ - franco colapinto

summary: your teammate has an absolutely ridiculous plan to bring your team back from the dead - but it might be just crazy enough to work w/c: 5.5k + some smau style tweets warnings: a little angst, some uncomfortable touching/kissing since it's fake dating (not too bad but better safe than sorry), some miscommunication - just two idiots in love i fear

a/n: WOW it's finally here, fake dating is literally a guilty pleasure trope for me so i hope yall enjoy this HAHA - also sorry to Williams fans bc there's a lot of slander in this but trust its all for the plot <333 (also holy shit this is the longest fic I've ever written WOW)

"You're actually insane."

"Oh c'mon, at least think about it for a minute, it's perfect!"

You fold your arms over your chest and try your best to look uninterested in whatever it is your teammate has to say. The two of you had been racing together for a little over half a year now, and you had witnessed him make (at least in your opinion) a grand fool of himself. Flirting with interviewers, winking at cameras, having absolutely no filter during press conferences - but this, this was by far the craziest thing you had heard come out of his mouth.

"A fake relationship?"

"Ah ah ah," he tuts, jutting a finger in your face, "a media relationship, one that will draw the attention away from how crap we're doing and onto the personalities of the team. Think about it, McLaren has whatever Oscar and Lando have got going on and Ferrari basically has two models for drivers. We need something to put us on the map, to make people care about us!"

You pause, and for a minute you seriously consider his outrageous proposition - he isn't completely wrong. For the two of you, making it into the points range was a rare occurrence, and even though the team always made sure to celebrate it like a podium there was something that stung about constantly being at the bottom.

"Do you realise how much trouble we could get into?"

"Ah," he sighs, and it's starting to annoy you how lightly he's talking about this, "ever the pragmatist."

"Well one of us has to be if the other's going to keep saying stupid shit," you huff before turning around and beelining out of his driver's room.

Seriously, a fake relationship? Had he lost his mind? Maybe if he focused more on his racing you wouldn't be constantly outperforming him.

"At least think about it, okay?" You hear him call out from behind you, and consider yourself lucky to be facing the other way so that he doesn't catch your obnoxious eye roll. Surely he had to be kidding because there was no way you were going to devote any amount of time to this ridiculous thought.

God fucking damnit.

It was frustratingly confusing, the kind of power Franco had. You had witnessed it first hand with how smoothly he spoke to anyone and managed to get his way almost instantly - but this was your first time experiencing it first-hand. It was another weekend, another country, another race, but the only thing you could think of was his stupid consideration - which, with each passing moment, seemed increasingly genius.

You had almost a year of experience with the team over your teammate, and with that, your fair share of embarrassment and disappointment. Sure, his idea was a little out there but you were close to being at your wits end and if nothing else, you hoped this would at least be a little fun. Plus you were pretty sure at this point if you didn't act on this thought soon, it would start interfering with your performance.

"Fine," you said a little breathlessly as you burst into his driver's room ahead of a race.

"Hey!" he exclaimed, looking at you with a shocked look, "whatever happened to knocking? I could've been naked in here!"

You roll your eyes before continuing, "You still up to the ..." You pause, thinking of how best to word it, "Fake relationship thing?"

His eyes light up immediately, "Ah, I knew you'd come around eventually."

Letting out a soft huff, just to let him know that you still aren't fully convinced this will work, you sit down on his couch. "I think we should lay down some ground rules first."

"Yes ma'am." He nods, straightening up and forcing a serious expression you can only assume is mocking yours.

"Firstly, no kissing."

"Understood."

"Actually no public affection at all, holding hands, hugging, nothing."

"Oh sure and how exactly are we going to convince people then?"

You pause, thinking for a little, "Okay maybe hand-holding and hugs are fine, but you better not push it - that goes for the pet names as well." He nods with a satisfied smile.

"And no one other than us two can know this is fake, alright? Otherwise, it'll spoil the plan."

"Trust me, I don't need anyone knowing I'm going along with something as ridiculous as this. It'll be our little secret."

"Our little secret," he repeats with a hum, a sly sort of smile spreading across his face as he gets up from his spot. "See you after the race, my love."

You sighed in exasperation, tossing your phone to the side of the couch in your driver's room where it fell with a light thud. You had about a thousand other things to be worrying about - your pretty disappointing result in qualifying for one - but for some reason, the main thing on your mind was your 'relationship' with Franco. Somehow, it had proved even more intense than you had expected, which planted a seed of worry in your mind as you realised how hard this was actually going to be to pull off. Since his not-so-subtle announcement to a hoard of hungry press members at last week's race, the media had managed up a flurry about the two of you.

There were supportive fans who liked you both enough not to see any problem with two teammates dating, as well as others who were more sceptical about how it might impact your performance. However, what really seemed to get to you were those who doubted you more than the relationship.

Your social media had been bombarded with comments and theories about the reason behind your relationship, doubting your place on the grid, and calling you names that - after shedding the status of 'first girl rookie', you thought you had left behind. Regardless, you feel a little stupid for being so unprepared for all this - not just the tweets but the harsh articles, the questions during press interviews and even shouting fans. Maybe if you had done a little more thinking about it first, you would've realised this was a stupid idea that should've been left at just that.

Throwing your head back you let out an exasperated sigh, trying to clear your head so that you could move on and focus on the race that was happening tomorrow. The last thing you wanted was for this plan to start impacting your driving. But Franco always seemed to have the worst timing - or best, depending on who you asked.

"Hello?" A couple quick knocks alert you of his presence before he cracks the door just wide enough to peek in. "There's my beautiful girlfriend." The way the pet names and affection seem to come to him so easily makes you simultaneously impressed and concerned, unsure of whether it's an indication of his great acting or flirting skills.

"What do you want?" You try to make it as obvious as you can that you're not in the mood, and he realises this right away.

"Oh, nothing, I just wanted to ask if you were free after this."

"You know I'm not really a huge fan of the big team dinners, especially not when we have a race tomorrow."

"Oh it's not like that, I was just going to go check out a restaurant near our hotel and wondered if you wanted to join me."

When you finally speak it's just above a whisper, "Is this a part of the fake dating thing?"

He laughs softly, his ability to find everything entertaining has always amazed you. "If you want to, it can be. If that gives you a reason to come hang out with me, though if you don't it's totally fine."

"No, I'll come, not like I've got anything better to do." You hate how every word you've said so far has sounded so pathetic.

"Great, I'll meet you by the paddock entry in ten?"

"See you then."

The street lights were dim, just bright enough to illuminate the street the two of you were walking down. The night was cool and still, and there were barely any people out other than you. You weren't sure why, but you had ended up telling Franco a lot more than you had expected. Maybe it was the extremely fancy restaurant you had initially gone to or the local one the two of you agreed to ditch it for instead, or maybe it was just the freeing feeling of being in another country.

The two of you had talked before, of course - as teammates it was difficult to avoid. But beyond the casual small talk, discussions about strategies or banter during challenges your relationship never extended beyond casual co-existence. It was one of the reasons you were glad your higher-ups had never tried to force the two of you into a professional friendship. There was something about Franco, his ability to strike up a conversation and maintain it even when the topic clearly strayed far beyond his interests, that made him so likeable, so easy to get along with. And the support he got from fans and the media reflected this well. You just never felt like there was any room for you in that equation.

But here, away from the cameras and shedding the roles of drivers, the two of you became normal people. You spoke, you laughed, you vented to him everything that worried you about your 'relationship' and he listened throughout all of it - all the while the two of you shared the biggest, best, pizza you had ever had.

"I have to say, I don't know if our engineers will appreciate the extra weight I've just put on," he jokes, breaking the comfortable silence that had been lingering around you two as you walked.

"Me neither, they might have to roll me into the car at this rate."

"You know, I think this is the first time the two of us have hung out, just us two."

You think for a little before answering, "You're right."

"Do you think there's a reason for that?"

"You mean besides us both being extremely busy people and already seeing each other pretty often? Not really, no."

"Good point, though with our little plan, we're definitely going to be seeing each other a lot more."

There's a beat of silence. "This is nice though, right?" He asks, and his voice is so tentative you almost find it endearing.

"It is nice, this was fun." You try not to think too much about the fact the two of you could be mistaken by any passer-by as a couple of lovebirds on a first date - or that fact that even to those who knew you, you were.

"I appreciate you telling me all that stuff, you know, about what people are saying about you."

"Oh, if anything I should be thanking you for listening to me vent about it."

"It is serious though, I'm so stupid for not even thinking about what you'd have to deal with."

"Well I don't think either of us gave it enough thought but," you pause and look up at him, "we're too far in to back out now."

He shoots you a comforting smile, one that shows how reassured he feels that you seem to finally be coming around to his idea. That is, at least, before his face morphs into one of discomfort.

"God, I'm so full."

"We're almost back at the hotel now, let's just sleep and then we can wake up early tomorrow morning to-"

"Wait, is that ice cream?" Franco interrupts you to point out a street vendor who's about to pack up for the night, and before you know it he's running up to the man eagerly. You can only follow suit with a sigh, knowing full well you wouldn't mind some dessert either.

"You two are lucky, you'll be my last customers for the night," the moustachioed owner of the cart says with a warm smile.

"Thanks," you reply kindly, before turning to Franco, "what flavour do you think you'll get."

"Hm, not sure, maybe chocolate?"

"Wow, boring."

He scoffs, "Oh yeah? And what exotic flavour are you going to get then?"

"Mint choc," you smile, but your face drops once you see your teammate's disgusted expression.

"You've got to be kidding me, that's like the worst choice."

You feign offence, "How dare you insult the best ice cream flavour of all time?"

"Ah, you two are quite the couple," the man laughs and you watch as Franco's eyes widen in embarrassment.

"Oh we're not-"

"Thank you," it's your turn to interrupt him, turning to the man with a smile. "One chocolate and one mint choc chip please."

You go to reach for your wallet to pay but you feel a hand on yours, stopping you.

"No, it's okay, I got this."

"Wh- Franco c'mon you know full well both of us could afford about a thousand of these ice cream cones don't be ridiculous."

"I know," he smiles and even though he's trying to be serious you know he's also trying not to laugh, "but I just figured you know, I'm the one who dragged you out here and like, got you into this whole fake dating mess."

You furrow your brows, a little confused at what exactly he's getting at.

"I guess I just want to say thank you, you know?"

"Alright, alright," you laugh softly, watching as he pays and takes both of the cones, handing you yours. Once you grab yours, you instinctively loop your arm around his, pulling him close and resting your head against his shoulder. The ice cream man laughs endearingly at the two of you.

"You're the best boyfriend ever!" you say in as high and cute a voice you can manage, cringing a little but determined to keep up the bit - you don't even bother to think about how fast you can feel Franco's heart race when you do.

Last night was really nice. You're sitting next to your race engineer, nodding along as she points to various multi-coloured dots and lines on the screen. You hear yourself agreeing with a couple quick "mhms", "of course" and "yep"s even though you can barely hear what she's saying. You're mere minutes away from getting in your car for a race, getting briefed on your strategy, and the only thing you can think of is the 'date' you had with Franco last night - if you can even call it that.

You had thought that getting everything off your chest, the hate comments, the doubt you had, would help you feel better and relieve any worries you had. And it did, at least until you got back to your hotel room alone and caught yourself smiling at the thought of seeing your teammate again the next day. How, even as you washed up and got ready for bed, you found yourself thinking - pizza, ice cream, walking at night together, isn't that something a real couple would do?

"Are you listening to me?" your race engineer's voice cuts through the haze of your thoughts, causing you to straighten up immediately.

"Yes! Sorry," you mumble, but just at that moment, you see him walk into the garage, greeting a couple of the mechanics warmly. Before you realise it, he's beelining straight for you, his arm coming around your waist as he leans in close to your ear.

"There's a ton of cameras, I just wanted to be believable," he whispers, and when he pulls back you can see the smile on his face. You nod curtly, fully aware of how red your face feels over such a small interaction as he waltzes away.

"Okay, so as I was saying," your race engineer pipes up again, though you couldn't be paying her less of your attention - watching as your 'boyfriend' walks off, his brown hair illuminating in the afternoon light. For a fake relationship, the quickening pace of your heart felt far too real.

"Well you two have been teammates since the beginning of this year, can you tell us a little about when you realised you might be more?"

Your struggle was never-ending - or at least, that's what it felt like, finding yourself at the centre of an impromptu interview with Franco. Around you, the other drivers were getting questions about their place in their teams, how they felt about their current strategy and about their racing futures. And there the two of you were, getting thrown question after question about your 'relationship'.

"Well," you begin, before being saved by your teammate. You had to give it to him - he was great at making stuff up on the spot.

"Well, I think it was somewhere around a month after I first joined the team, and met her. It was just something about her, she's sort of electric in this almost untouchable way, you know?"

You try not to look too awkward standing next to him as he talks, feigning your best-interested smile - though a part of you is extremely intrigued by this fake story he's creating.

"At first I thought I just wanted to be like her, her passion and talent were just so respectable, but the more time I spent with her the more I realised it was something completely different."

He turns to look at you, his arm wrapping around your waist and pulling you close to him. Your expression falters a little as you're caught off guard by the sudden contact and as you turn away from the journalists and towards him, your eyes widen in shock at the sight of his pursed lips nearing yours. Before you realise it, his lips are against yours and you're pulling away as quickly as possible, face bright red. You're just barely aware of the thousands of flashing camera lights as you turn to quickly excuse yourself.

"Thank you all for coming, it was nice talking to you but, uhm, I have to go!" You hurriedly blurt out before slipping out of Franco's grip and darting off to your driver's room.

You hear his footsteps following closely behind you, as well as the sound of him calling out your name. When you near the door of your room, you turn around and grab his wrist to yank him in before you shut the door.

"What the hell was that?" is all you can muster out, "I thought we agreed no kissing?"

"Look, I can explain!"

You cross your arms with a huff, looking at him expectedly.

"I was just going to peck you quickly on the cheek, you know because we were getting all romantic and I wanted it to be believable! B-but then you turned, and then we," he's struggling not to ramble and his quickly moving hands do little to help. That's when you also realise his face is bright red as well, and he doesn't seem any less flustered by it than you do. "I'm really, really sorry I really shouldn't have done that."

You'd be lying if you said his explanation didn't make you feel any better. You're not actually upset about the kiss itself though, in fact, it's the opposite - actually, the grudge you're holding is doing little to help the internal struggle going on in your head. The kiss didn't make you angry, but the realisation that you wanted it to be real, did.

You sigh, rubbing your temples as you slump down in the nearest chair. Franco does the same on the adjacent couch, though his gaze stays carefully on you, almost afraid of what you might say next.

"It's fine, I think we just need to coordinate our PDA a little better then."

"Yes, of course," he nods quickly.

There's a beat of silence. "You're really good at acting though."

"What?"

"That whole story you made up about how you fell in love with me, it was really believable." You laugh lightheartedly trying to lighten the situation and alleviate the awkwardness that's settled between you two.

"Well it's pretty easy, I didn't need to make up much of it," his eyes catch yours and his gaze is soft when he smiles at you.

"What?" you're confused.

"Never mind," he scoffs lightly, his gaze dropping to the floor as he rubs the back of his neck. He looks almost disappointed at something, though you can't realise what. "Well, I'll leave you alone now. I really am sorry about what happened before." You watch as he pushes himself up from the couch, his head hanging guiltily - looking almost like a scolded puppy.

"It's fine Franco, really, please don't feel too bad about it." He nods thankfully before slipping out the door, leaving you alone.

Being a driver, hotel rooms had come to be a companion you knew far too familiarly. Their high ceilings, plush sterile white bedsheets, the empty bathroom - almost everything about them felt a sign of loneliness, of temporality, a house that never felt like home. Even though you knew how ridiculous it would be to complain about something that others would see as a privilege, it was hard to deny the isolation you felt whenever in a new country, away from most of your family or friends.

Maybe that's why you had been so eager to latch onto Franco's idea - it made sense, he had become the person you spent the most time with so why not give yourself some ridiculous reason to be around him even more? However somewhere along the way you stopped needing the reason of fake dating, somewhere in between hushed conversations, planned posts and candid photos - and instead found yourself genuinely enjoying his company. It was a little strange and sometimes acted as a sour reminder of how lonely you'd become but more than anything it felt like a blessing in disguise.

You were reminded of this fact as you lay, wrapped in a plush white hotel robe, across your messy bedsheets - laughing to yourself at the tweets your boyfriend had sent you. They were all about you, or the two of you, of course. Comments on the tiniest things, the way the two of you looked at each other, the way Franco held your hand, the way you worried about him.

"I feel a little bad, they're all so gullible," you typed quickly.

"Oh, so now you feel bad?" His response was almost instant.

"Don't you?"

"It's fun, isn't it? All this playing pretend."

Right, pretend. You rolled onto your back with a deep sigh, staring up at the tall hotel ceiling. All of this was just so confusing - as if figuring out how you felt about someone wasn't difficult enough, the two of you had complicated it by tricking the entire world into thinking you were in love. Whether you truly liked him or not, the idea was doomed for failure - and the more you thought about it, the more it seemed like the former.

"You're right," you typed back, watching intently as the three tiny dots appeared, disappeared then reappeared. What could he be saying that would need so much thinking?

"Can we talk tomorrow, after the race?"

You felt your stomach drop, had he finally caught on to how obvious you were being about how you truly felt, and decided that actually it might be better to just drop this whole act and go on as just teammates? With trembling hands, you typed back.

"Sure, what about?"

"I'll tell you then, for now, we should sleep."

"Goodnight Franco."

"Goodnight mi amor." You laughed softly to yourself at the nickname he had given you, though a small part of you took it as salt to the wound - almost as if he was dangling the possibility of something that could never happen right in front of your desperate little face.

However, not like you had a choice - all you could do now was get ready for bed and brace yourself for whatever tomorrow brought.

You couldn't believe it. The sounds of celebration erupted around you, but you sat completely still in your car, silent, attempting to process what had just happened. Your first win, and, your first double podium, with Franco. Your head was spinning as the never-ending stream of thoughts raced through your mind. Suddenly, you heard a voice coming from above your car's halo, muffled by your helmet. You flick the visor up, lifting your head as highly as you could - locking eyes with your teammate.

"We did it! Oh my god!" The excitement on his face is enough to send a slight surge of energy through you as he offers you his hand, helping you out of the car. When you do though, you stumble a little - the nerves are almost too much for you.

"Woah, you alright?" Even through the fog clouding your mind you can make out the concern in Franco's voice and feel his arms steadying you.

"Yeah, just-" you mumble, gesturing to your helmet and making weak attempts to undo the clasps underneath it. It's almost suffocating you, and the chaos going on around you isn't helping the pounding headache.

"Oh, let me," he reacts immediately, dropping his own helmet and bringing his hands below your chin to swiftly undo the clasps and pull the helmet off of you. You take a deep breath of air as you pull off your fireproof mask, though it sounds more like a desperate gasp.

Around you, the crowds roar with excitement, both your team and others as they make attempts to gesture at the two of you to join them. Your head spins though, and you wobble backwards into Franco.

"It's too loud," is all you can stutter out, though he understands you almost immediately, a strong hand gripping your wrist and pulling you away from the noise and somewhere quieter. You're not entirely sure where he's taking you but at that moment you feel as though you'd follow him just about anywhere.

Luckily though, when your eyes refocus you're in his driver's room, and even though outside you can hear the cheers continuing, you're offered some solace here, the walls muffling the sound. You sigh, sinking into his couch as you throw your head back, panting still.

You feel like it's all just too much - not just the physicality of the race, but the feeling of winning it, winning it with Franco, just Franco himself. When you finally manage to catch your breath you lift your head to see him standing over you, watching intently.

"Better?"

"Much better, thank you." You smile earnestly, "Though I don't think we'll be able to hide in here much longer, there is a cooldown room for this exact reason."

"Oh, I mentioned it to someone, not sure who but he looked important, and he said it would be okay."

You laugh softly, amazed at how he can seem so calm even at a moment like this.

"We did it," you say, still not being able to believe it.

"We did," he smiles, sitting on the couch next to you, "a couples podium."

You feel your heart skip a beat at the sudden reminder of your conversation last night, him mentioning he had something to tell you. Was this it? The two of you had achieved what you had been wanting this entire time, and there was no better time to let this ridiculous bit go than now.

You stare at the wall of his room, the gigantic flag of his home country, and let out a shaky breath, mustering up the courage to break the silence. "So..."

He turns to you, one eyebrow raised in interest.

"What was it you wanted to talk to me about?" You're trying your best to keep your voice lighthearted, "it sounded serious."

"Oh, well about that," he seems to have forgotten it temporarily as well, but the fact that he turns to look at the flag as well, almost unable to maintain eye contact with you, isn't a good sign.

Maybe it's the adrenaline from the race, maybe it's the fact that both of you are going to be needed out on the podium in about ten minutes - or maybe it's the fact that you're so desperate to get out these feelings and make him understand how you feel, but you start talking before you even realise it.

"Look, Franco, I," you start, not entirely sure of where you're going to end up, "I know you asked me to do this whole fake dating thing with you and I completely understand if you want to end it now, I mean why wouldn't we? It's perfect!"

He looks at you confused, lips parted as if about to interrupt you but you continue anyway, stupidly.

"But, look, here's the thing," you turn to him now, and you're sure your face is bright red, "I don't want this to end!"

You let out a deep sigh, and clutch your hands together to stop them from shaking, though it doesn't help that Franco looks even more confused now.

"What?" he says, and your heart drops.

"I," you pause, struggling to find the right words, and struggling to get them out, "I think I like you, like, for real." Okay, not exactly the best choice of words but it'll do.

"Like, not for the whole fake relationship thing?" his tone is still concerned and he leans in a little for clarification.

"Yes! Okay, I know it's not exactly what we thought would happen and it'll probably jeopardise our relationship as teammates but there, I like you okay."

"When did you realise?"

"A couple days ago, I'm sorry."

There's a beat of silence, and you're left with the agonising feeling of your heart racing in your chest, waiting eagerly for his response - for him to laugh in your face, for him to get mad, for him to reject you.

But instead, you watch as Franco's confused expression melts into one of pure relief as he sinks back into the couch with a sigh. "Oh, thank God."

It's your turn to be confused. "I'm sorry, what?"

"You have no idea how long I've waited to hear you say that," he says, eyes fixed on the ceiling with the widest smile you've ever seen.

"Wait you mean you-"

"I win!"

You're absolutely speechless, not a single coherent thought on what is going on or how to respond. All you can get out is a confused sort of grunt.

"I win, I've liked you for longer!" he laughs, sitting up and grabbing your hands in his.

You feel as though your jaw is going to dislocate at how fast it drops, "I'm sorry?"

"Oh c'mon, we've been teammates for a year I know you're not that oblivious."

"Well, apparently I am because I'm really confused."

"I've liked you since the moment I met you, you idiot."

"Wh-" You're about to be offended at the name-calling until what he says finally hits you. He likes you. He has liked you. For ages. You idiot.

"Even when you proposed this to me?"

"Yep."

"Even when we went to get ice cream?"

"Yep."

"Even when you kissed me?"

"Y- well wait no that was completely unintentional," he holds his hands out in defence. You slump back, trying your best to process everything today has entailed, it's almost too much. That is until you feel Franco move a little closer to you, his arm stretching around your shoulders and gently moving your head to lay on his. At that moment, it all becomes clear, and you're suddenly unsure about why you ever felt confused about any of this.

"What now?" You say, barely above a whisper.

"We go and get our trophies," even though you're not looking you can hear the smile in his voice. "Though, before then."

You lift your head up off his shoulder to turn to him with raised brows. "Hm?"

"Now that we aren't fake dating, do the rules still apply?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I'd really like to kiss you right now," he whispers, and there's a hint of nerves as you watch his eyes dart in between yours and your lips.

"Really can't wait can you," you tease, though you still move to close the space in between you to. But just before your lips can touch his there's a knock at the door, causing you both to slump back with a sigh.

"Hey, are you two in there?" it's your race mechanic, "you're needed, you know, on the podium."

You roll your eyes to show your obvious disappointment at being interrupted, though Franco just watches you with an endeared smile.

"What are you thinking about?" you ask, not being able to hide your own smile.

"I'm just thinking about how beautiful you're going to look up on that podium, and how I won't have to pretend not to be in love with you anymore."

Taglist : @spreadyourwings-my-smiling-angel @cinderellawithashoe @vanicogh @taasgirl @claudiajacobs

@dripostsstuff @boiolay @earth-to-lottie @dejavuontrack @dudududu-fangirl

@kravitzwhore @gavisuntiedboot @reiofsuns2001 @musicmie @danielle12002x-blog

@alelo23 @corrodeddeadlydoll @aliwritex @nina-or-anna-or-nora

@5sospenguinqueen @araunahj @sbrn0905 @halleest @lottieliveslife

@lovestruck-sky @im-an-op81-fan @blubra @vienoiserieetc

(don't ask me why it's formatted so weird, tumblr hates me)

#franco colapinto #franco colapinto x reader #franco colapinto x you #franco colapinto imagine #franco colapinto fanfic #franco colapinto fluff #franco colapinto oneshot #williams racing #williams f1 #formula one fanfic #formula one x reader #formula one fluff #formula one #purinfelix #jet writes ★

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monabee-draws · 6 months ago

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Dorian confessing his intention to return to Tevinter for good is so heartbreaking in the Tresspasser DLC. Because of course he does! It doesn't come out of nowhere, he tells the inquisitor as much before they even defeat Corypheus - he loves his home country and knows that he personally needs to be the one to fix it. Not any foreign power (including you and the Inquisition) but through internal change. And he's so blasé about it when he tells you, keeping his tone light, excited for his future work with Maevaris and the Lucerni! Of course, he didn't want you to find out like that but this is a good thing. He's happy! He's practically jovial!

And then you think about how familiar that tone of voice is. And remember his romance scene, and the nonchalant way he asks you if this whole relationship is just a one-time thing. And how he jokes and jibes with you in the bad-end future during In Hushed Whispers, to the point where Leliana calls him out on the obvious attempt at levity. Barring your brushes with his family, who elicit a kind of knee-jerk anger that cracks his usual mask, Dorian is very good at maintaining that emotional wall. So you listen as your heart breaks, as you consider how to respond to the lightness of him in this devastating moment, and you realise-

Dorian is terrified. The kind of scared where you can't really voice it, not in public, not even in private spaces when you aren't 100% in control. It's scary losing a parent, even one you're not quite reconciled with. To have to take his place and fill a role you've never fit, and somehow finally actually push forward with all the ideals you've been imagining to be so far away for many years. And to do all that on the opposite side of the world from the people who all made you finally believe it could be possible in the first place?

Dorian is so very used to being the brave one, the optimistically realistic one, that he can't possibly burden you - whose heart is breaking, whose Inquisition is failing, whose body is slowly killing them - with all of his own ugly fear. That wouldn't be very charming and dependable and Dorian of him, would it? More to the point, leaning on you would be both more burdensome to you and chafe against his own stubborn pride - not accepting favours is well-established during his romance-specific quest to retrieve his birthright. So instead of taking you aside somewhere quiet, consulting you about his final decision on the matter, and giving both of you the space to grieve, he...

Well he tells Varric. And Sera, and Bull, and Cole. Part of it is practice - how might they react? Part of it is in hope for advice on how to break the news. Varric and Bull are adept speakers. Cole's whole job is compassion. Even Sera's bluntness might help when you're chronically incapable of not sugarcoating things. But all it really does it make things worse, because its a distancing tactic. Nothing can truly prepare him for the crack in your voice, the sharp sting of your flinch and the perceived betrayal.

It's almost ironic, that his romantic lock-in asks you to decide if you're in for the long haul, when Dorian's entire arc is one that will inevitably draw him back to Tevinter. And specifically in such a way as to leave you. Because he does not want you tagging along (at least not now, not as the Inquisitor.) Dorian's fear in this moment is not fully centered on you, the man he loves, but there is certainly a part of him that is back in the Inquisitor's chambers on the opposite side of that question of 'do you want me to stay.'

Dorian Pavus' greatest fear is temptation, emblazoned on his tombstone in the Fade for all to see. And there you are, with your political power, ready to jump in and save the day once again on his behalf. And he's tempted. There you are with your familiarity and a space for him in the South that accepts him for who he is. And he's tempted.

There you are. Loving him. And well...

So he doesn't lower his voice to whisper to you, or hold you too close. He confesses in public where the crowds prohibit hysterics, he sips on precious wine, and he gifts you his sending stone. It is both distance and closeness all tied with a bow. A temptation that he can just about handle. Fear under wraps. Because if he lets you, you will - without even knowing - stop his entire life in its tracks. You represent everything he can never afford to lose to. And it is wretched how desperately he doesn't want to lose you.

#dorian pavus #dai #dragon age inquisition #dorian x inquisitor #dragon age meta #rambles #dorian crying out that he knew the inquisitor would break his heart #is such a beautifully bittersweet moment #because of course he will #but i get the sense that part of him cannot believe his absence #would ever break the inquisitor's heart in return #that his hope for just a little while longer #would truly be reciprocated #even if it can't happen #dorian pavus when i find the men who hurt you and toyed with your heart

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luvwestwood · 1 year ago

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"Head Empty" - Gojo Satoru

3,043 words.

warnings. nsfw (18+), satoru is your tutor, resolved sexual tension, semi-public sex, he fingers you so you could focus on your studying, sex depr!ved reader, oral (under the table), he eats you out again, library setting, unprotected sex, praising, creampie, fucking you against the library shelves.

notes. i'm literally dripping like a waterfall as I write this. ugh I wish gojo was my tutor, I'd pass all my exams to make sure I receive that good dicking as a reward when I get an A++++.

art used is by @/yunonoai!

The days would only and inevitably count-down until the start of your finals week. You realised you were too much of a procrastinator - someone or something had to tell you to get your shit together to start studying, or at least to receive that ounce of motivation.

You knew who to call for that. A high grade achiever, ladies man, and the college's example of an ideal student. Gojo Satoru. Oh, and boy was he fine. Maybe, getting a little too fine.

You were majoring in law and history, and fuck, was it doing your head in. Luckily, your classmate Satoru offered some help - free of charge. Knowing you were in a sticky situation, of course you accepted the offer. I mean, who wouldn't? Tutoring from the smartest guy in your year is like learning a ground-breaking ability from a top class sorcerer.

Although, you were starting to regret it at some point.

Being with Satoru in the library - almost all day, every day of the week. Your thoughts were clouded with him. Filthy, or pure, the scenarios were endless.

Chin on your palm, eyes dazed into his own. Head empty. You would find yourself staring at his lips for too long, just to be able to hear him scold you playfully for not paying attention. But then having regret when you had to review the same day's topic for the third time cause you just wouldn't listen.

Nothing he taught you would go into that little brain of yours. Not one bit.

You wondered if he was a different type of smart. Intelligent enough to notice how you'd stamp your thighs together after thinking such vulgar thoughts. Like him bending you over the library's table, then and there, just pounding into you in front of ev-

..A slender hand waves in front of your face. "Hey, are you listening?" your train of thought had come to an end as his voice broke you out of your trance.

Your eyes widen, turning to the white haired man beside you. "..Yeah, of course I am." you quickly pull away your chin off your palm, picking your pen up just to stare blankly at the case study in front of you.

He groans, over the fact that this is a recurring thing every time the two of you study. "Then tell me," he continued, "What was I talking about?"

Your eyes flicker into an eyeroll in defeat, and Satoru just grins. Unfortunately you were unable to catch that.

"..Alright," He gently sighed. "Let's just do some quick drilling questions to get you more warmed up."

You stay quiet, mentally slapping yourself before you think; how does he even put up with me.

You fiddle with your biro as you watch his every move. The filthy thoughts come flooding in again as you watched his fingers turn the pages, and you just imagine that the pages were your fo-

"So, tell me. What was the inqu!s!t!on during the Reformation?" Satoru's lips pursed together in hopes of a correct answer from you.

"..That's easy. It was a court..” Developing your answer, your heart thumped as you awaited a 'correct' or 'wrong' result from Satoru. Why were you nervous anyways..? Were you.. seeking validation from him?

He smiled as you gave him the answer, which was in fact, correct. "Good girl," Satoru put a small tick beside the question to note you had it correct. "I knew you had it in you."

You just smile back, no verbal response. His praise towards you immediately had your legs clamped together like always, making you move around in your chair. Fiddling with the fabric of your mini skirt that you just put on for him to see your bare legs.

Satoru goes off on a tangent about another topic in relation to the reformation, and so forth. The words coming out of his mouth just ran straight through your ears, and to some trash can in the library. The thought of him praising you as you please him kept replaying in your head like a broken record player.

Feet tapping out of nervousness underneath the table, your poor biro was so chewed to the point it didn't look like a pen anymore.

A slam of a book was heard on your left, and it was Satoru. Luckily a few people have left the library, so the only person left was someone on the far end of the table, with their headphones on too.

The tapping of your foot had long ended, as you were faced with a distressed Gojo. His hand remained on the cover of the textbook.

"Okay, I know this is hard. You accepted my offer to tutor you, but if you wanted to study on your own that's fine with me." You weren't sure if he hated you, or was just fed up, but no response came out of your mouth.

His hand leaves the cover, and instead his whole body turns to you on the chair. "It always seems like- you're distracted. You're barely listening to me 70% of the time, could you tell me why?" Oh God, if only he knew why.

You lied, hoping you could get away with it. "I'm just tired. Finals week coming up just has me stressed, so I can't sleep." You mutter under your breath, but the library was quiet enough for Satoru to hear it perfectly fine.

"I don't think that's the issue." He slightly leans in closer to your face to whisper sternly. "You act like I don't see you biting your lip, squeezing your legs together or fiddling with the ends of that tiny skirt of yours every time you look at me."

You could've sworn that your throat went dry as your skirt hypothesis was proven true. "..I swear.. I'm not lying."

Satoru pinches his nose bridge in denial. "Look, I doubt that you would want to fail your finals because you were horny the whole time you were being tutored."

I honestly hope there's something playing in that persons headphones.

The two of you take a few breaths to recollect yourselves, until Satoru quietly speaks again.

"How about, we just ease back into reviewing the same material. Just please, give me your undivided attention. Just for now."

With Satoru knowing your dirty little secrets, there's no hiding now. You had no choice but to oblige. "Yeah okay. I'm all ears."

He opens the textbook again, returning to the same chapter. This time he goes on about the results of the reformation.

But something was different.

His warm hand rested on your bare thigh, almost under your skirt. Dangerously creeping into your inner leg, to the point that his pinky finger could graze against your underwear if he wanted to. Your feet tapping also managed to stop. This was enough to form a pool between your legs.

He paused his reading for a moment to turn to you. "Are you alright with my hand there? I mean, this is the only way I could get you to listen." Satoru caressed the soft flesh of your leg with his thumb. All you were able to do was nod, like an obeying puppy. "..Just, follow along with your textbook like a good girl."

Satoru's fingers brushed against your cotton underwear. He whispered under his breath, "You're so needy, aren't you huh?" Your hand swiftly held onto his wrist out of nervousness, his index finger toying with your panties to move them to the side.

"Just relax, and give me a summary of what you had just learnt."

You coughed, clearing your throat. "W-well, I believe it was for a good cause.. and..." Your breath suddenly hitched, stopping you mid-sentence. You felt Satoru's fingers slide between your folds, only slightly pushing his middle finger into your dripping hole.

Words couldn't describe how embarrassed you felt about the fact you and your panties were absolutely soaked.

Faint squelching noises were heard as he slowly fucked at this rate, two fingers into you under the table. Your words caught up in your throat one after the other, "..And.. attitudes to trade.."

You stopped talking, and your hand rested against your forehead as you felt his fingers curl up inside of you. The way you were squirming about in your chair, and the fact that your slick was fully coating his fingers had Satoru's cock straining against his pants.

"That's it.. you're 100% correct. Keep going." The curling of his middle and ring finger picked up its pace, his thumb now lazily rubbing circles on your clit.

You pulled away your forehead from your hand, moving to place it back against his own arm. "Satoru..I can't.. you're gonna.. make me cum.." You swallowed your spit to suppress a moan.

As soon as you said that, he pulled his fingers out. You could almost whimper out loud at the sudden emptiness in your hole, and that he denied you from getting off on his fingers.

"..What the fuck, Satoru?" You whispered angrily, a grin curling up on his face.

You watched as he wrapped his mouth around his fingers, sucking your juices off them before looking around the library. He pulls out a few papers from his backpack, which was another question and answer activity sheet.

"Do these for me, and by the time I'm back it better be finished, and I expect it to all be answered correctly." He slid the sheet to your side, before glancing around the library again.

Confused, you questioned him. "..Where are you off to?"

You could only see another smirk form on his face before he went underneath the table, disappearing off to somewhere. Oh no. You cautiously looked around your surroundings too. Still that one same person from earlier sitting at the end of the table.

A yelp escapes your mouth little too loudly as you felt him tickling the sides of your thighs with his hands, a creaking noise ringing throughout the library as he dragged your chair closer to the table and to him. Luckily no one regarded that.

Trying not to be obvious, you carried on with your work, making an attempt at the questions.

You could still feel him moving about underneath the table, his hands taking a hold under your thigh, placing both above each of his shoulders.

A playful giggle came out of your mouth as his soft hair tickled your legs, your hand sliding down his arm as they made their way behind you on the chair, cupping the back of your ass. His head now underneath your skirt, his pointer fingers going back under as well to tug on your panties, pulling them off and down your legs.

A wet kiss was immediately planted on your bare pussy, your legs jittering about on his shoulders at the ticklish feeling.

Another creak of the chairs legs against the floor was made as Satoru moved you closer to the edge of the chair to have full access to your pussy.

At one point, your thighs almost locked around his head as soon as his tongue made contact with your clit, and as he sucked on it with his lips before using his tongue to fuck your hole.

The writing on the activity sheet turned in to squiggles, now illegible. Your fingers instead twisted the corner of the paper, ruining the quality all together as it became wrinkly.

Your mouth formed an 'O' shape as you felt him fucking you with his fingers, and lapping at your clit at the same time. You had only covered your mouth with your fist to mask it as a yawn.

Meanwhile your other hand repeatedly tapped on his sculpted shoulder, letting him know you were about to cum. And if he didn't move, there'd be a mess all over the library hard-flooring.

The coil in your stomach had finally snap, your silent orgasm washing over you as Satoru lapped at your juices underneath, making sure not to miss a drop.

Satoru's face so messy and wet, it dripped down his chin as he sucked on your clit one last time for good luck.

You felt Satoru gently grab your thighs, placing them back down on the ground and off his shoulders. You honestly felt like you were gloop, your legs felt as if they were made of dough and unable to stand up on their own.

He crawled back up onto his chair, I don't know how the person on the other end of the table didn't suspect anything like at all. Maybe they're just acting dumb or perhaps just genuinely focused on their work.

You slightly looked down underneath the table, seeing your poor underwear left on the cold ground. I'll.. get that later.

"So, did you finish the sheet?" Satoru glanced over to the sheet, wiping and licking around his lips for any excess on his face.

He almost chuckled out loud as he saw the squiggly lines all over the answer boxes. "I'll take that as a no."

You roll your eyes, unamused. "I couldn't focus."

"Really? Well, that beats the purpose of me trying to help you less than thirty seconds ago." Satoru teases, turning around to the book aisles around him. "Ah- think we need to get a certain book. Come with me."

The two of you immediately knew what that meant, and at the speed of light you both got up from your chairs. The textbooks, bags and stationary were just left on the study tables. You remembered to tug on your skirt to make sure your ass wasn't on show before getting up.

Both you and Satoru scurried away into a book aisle deeper into the library, far away from where everyone was studying. Luckily the library was quiet today, and there are literally no cameras here. You always wondered why, but at this moment there was no way in hell you were complaining.

Reaching the 'Ecology' aisle, which was completely irrelevant to what both of you were studying, the two of you jokingly went separately on each side of the shelf, your eyes watching each other like a hawk through the gaps between the books.

Your heart was about to leap out of your chest as you got closer to the other end of the entire shelf. The last step, and Satoru comes jumping at you, pushing you against the entire shelf and started sloppily kissing each other. Almost like you both were yearning for this.

A whimper and grunt came from yours and Satoru's lips as you both melted into each other, a string of saliva connected your tongues as soon as he pulled away.

Your hand quickly snaked down to the waistband of his pants as he planted hot, wet kisses down your neck making you both giggle.

You just couldn’t believe this was happening right now. His heavy cock hanging and pre-cum leaking from the tip as you pulled it out from his pants. Picking you up, Satoru's hands cupped beneath your bare ass as your legs wrapped around his waist.

His weight fully pressed you back against the shelf, to be able to use his free hand to align his tip with your hole before slowly sliding in. You let out a gasp, you imagined him to be big but not so big in girth, as well as length. His cock stretched you out enough that it will probably remember his shape, and only his.

A long grunt came from his mouth as he felt you sink down on him, sliding in and out slowly - allowing you to adjust before immediately rutting into you at an inhumane pace, the shelves slightly shaking from how hard he was drilling into you.

Satoru's hands now had full support on your legs behind your knees, an 'Ecology 101' book falling off the shelf behind you as you moaned his name into his ear like it was a prayer, only to result in him panting against your neck.

"You drive me crazy," Satoru moans out, sounding feral as he panted between each sentence. "Got me pounding into you against the shelves at this library?" The two of you fucked like rabbits. His lips couldn't last ten seconds without yours.

Your ass would ripple each time he deeped into you, noises of your skin slapping against each other echoing throughout the library.

At one point, he thrusted deep enough to hit your sweet spots that you moaned a bit too loud. The two of you just bursted into a small giggle as he placed his palm over your mouth.

Another book, "All about Aquatic Ecology" falls off the shelf behind you. You wonder how someone hasn't check on you two yet, thinking the falling books were a sign of paranormal activity. I mean, you guys chose the shelves far away from people for a reason.

"F-Fuck, Satoru- I'm gonna.." Beads of sweat were starting to form on your forehead from how hard he was fucking your brains out, you were bound to cry, but you felt him place more kisses against your jaw. "Too fast.. Satoru-"

"I know baby, tell me," Satoru whispered, his thrusts getting slow and staggered. "What is it, you gonna cum?"

Your hands moved from behind his neck to clutching onto the fabric of his shirt on his shoulders. "..Please... let me cum.." Your head fell back against the wooden panel of the shelf. "And your cum.. I want it in me."

You felt Satoru give you one last deep thrust into your pussy, bottoming into you as he let out his thick load into your hole non stop, some of it leaking out and dripping down his cock.

The two of you moaned as quietly as you can as your orgasms washed over the both you, Satoru resting his forehead against your chest, his balls throbbing as his cum pumped into you continuously.

His arms still underneath your legs, Satoru slowly slid his cock out before grunting at the cum that dripped and leaked out of you, onto the library floor. What a mess.

He planted another kiss on your lips before gently placing your legs back down onto the ground, holding your hand for support.

"Fuck, Satoru. You literally blew my back out."

You could feel his warm cum slowly trickle down your inner leg, regretting the fact that you said you'll pick up your panties later on.

Satoru slapped your ass, grabbing a handful afterwards. "Think we'll need to start tutoring back at your place."

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⤳ © luvwestwood ‘24. all works are owned by me, and originally come from my own head. please do not re-post on a third party platform without my permission!

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⤳ as always, thank you for the love on each and every one of my posts. 🎀🩷

#gojo satoru smut #jujutsu gojo #satoru gojo #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo x you #jjk gojo #gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen

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