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cosmictheo · 9 months ago

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𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐒 | feyd-rautha

( gif credits to @wondrousashes )

—summary: on a calm day back at your home, you shattered away the serenity as you decide to confront feyd about his alleged concubines and the little secrets he seemed so cautious to hide, pushing him further and further to the edge. —pairing: feyd-rautha harkonnen x female!atreides!reader —word count: 4k —warnings: arranged marriage, jealousy, a bit of implied smut (the actual smut is coming up in the next and last chapter !!!), mentions of sex, mentions of cannibalism, feyd being a slut for the reader (as he should), mentions of killing and death, hot and very passionate love confessions, definitely ooc!feyd.

writer’s note: english is not my mother tongue, so please forgive me if there is a grammatical error. hope you like it!

ᯓ★ part one ── part two ── part three (coming soon)

The week at Giedi Prime went by so fast that you hardly noticed any of it. The first day had been a bit slow and tedious, but the ones that followed turned out to be more than agreeable and enjoyable, Feyd-Rautha had been very concerned about keeping you entertained and as comfortable as possible, showing you every corner of the palace and walking you around the city.

But for now, you were back at your home for the last visit you would have there before becoming a Harkonnen. Feyd was staying close to you through all the reunion, naturally, diplomatically greeting your family.

“You met his cannibal lovers yet?” Paul's voice echoed inside your head between Feyd's conversations with Duke Leto, your gaze drifting to your brother in absolute alarm, horrified at the question and relieved that, so far, the answer was negative.

“There are rumors that tell how his concubines feed on the hearts of his dead opponents.” Your brother propelled you with the oh-so-cute information about your future husband. “The bastard has not one, but three. I guess you'll have to battle it out with them for his love, that was Duncan said.”

“Stop it, don't be an idiot.” You snapped back at him, averting your gaze from him to Feyd-Rautha, who was conversing ever so formally with Lady Jessica now.

You couldn't imagine him eating of human flesh, nor fucking three different women at the same time. Although, rumors always started from something and during the few times you had been able to get inside Feyd's head, you hadn't seen anything that was remotely pretty or light.

Paul's words managed to resonate in your head, lingering between the walls with a sense of suspicion.

Maybe that was why he never showed you the intimacy of his chambers... because on his bed lay three women compliantly awaiting for his attention and lust.

For some reason, the false image of him fucking them, bodies intertwined and interlinked, voices whimpering and moaning, made you feel respulsive, your guts twisting like a serpent.

You didn't want to believe it was jealousy, but again, your mind never wanted you to believe anything at all.

The palace of the Atreides stood majestically between rocky mountains, with the golden sunlight falling beautifully on the grayish stone walls, bringing in a warm afternoon. Rising magnificently behind your back, standing like a rocky guardian.

Your gaze was on Feyd-Rautha as you walked together along the outskirts balconies of the castle, your greenish dress swaying in the sea breeze, as did your hair, which you wore unusually loose that day, the sweet smell of it had him crazy.

“Do you like it?” You asked him after a few moments of silence, with a hint of a smile that Feyd noticed as he turned to look at you, noticing as well how you waited expectantly for his opinion of your home, which he knew you always held close to your heart.

After a second, he nodded his head, looking at you intently. “I do.”

His blue eyes, which looked as clear as ever under the natural glow of the place followed you as you walked beside him, keeping himself close to you, he could feel the natural warmth of your body and the sweet smell of your scent.

It was the first time you saw his eyes showing their true color, for back in his home, they rarely reflected so much brightness and his orbs glowed so beautifully in the sunlight. They possessed the most beautiful shade of blue, reminding you of the ocean, of home.

“It's nothing like my home.” Feyd-Rautha added in a more amused, lighter tone of voice, with a tiny smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, lowering his gaze to the ground, noting how the grass softened each of his steps on it.

“Obviously. Caladan is everything that Giedi Prime and Arrakis are not.” You answered him, snorting the words out with a soft chuckle that was carried away by the wind, turning your head to look at him once you stopped at the edge of a greenish cliff after descending one of the many rocky staircases that rose up through the hills.

The sea stretched into the immensity of the horizon and the water was uncommonly calm, waves lapping the shore relentlessly. It was a calm and peaceful scene out there, quite the opposite of what you felt inside, as you felt a tempest of emotions raging in your soul.

“Have you been with someone else like this?”

There was another one of your little questions again.

And he pondered the answer, dragging his eyes as blue as the ocean itself in front of them, back to you.

But Feyd-Rautha was rather certain that you already knew the answer, that you already had it, you could tell by the way he looked at you and the way he addressed you. Because it was enough to be clear that he had never been this way with anyone before, he had never spoken to anyone like this and he had never been so pleased to be in someone's company, basically in his entire life.

“The only people I've ever had this close to me are my family or my enemies, neither of whom I think entertain my presence very much.” Was his reply, honest and respectful. His husky voice, in contrast to the graceful sea breeze was a pleasant and comforting noise to you.

His words were masked with a touch of amusement, as he used to do in the last days when he spoke to you, it seemed as if you brought back that inner child he had, a stranger who felt increasingly closer.

But even using that tone, his eyes told you that he was not lying, that he was giving you the pure truth.

Yet, somehow you were not satisfied with his response. And he knew it.

“Have you been with other women?”

Feyd drew in a breath, half-opening his lips, air hissing between his teeth.

“So I'm assuming you've heard about the rumors about me?”

And there he was, answering you with another question to challenge you back, to play with your head as he had grown to love to do during the short time you had been in each other's company. Your conversations always ended up being a game of back and forth, a game of a tension that would be cut with the least sharp blade.

“My future wife likes to guide what she believes by mere rumors?” He pressed further.

And as always, you exhaled the air held inside you, twisting your head slightly, looking at him with incredulous eyes. “These are not rumors, Feyd —I've seen it.”

His blue eyes narrowed as he walked closer to you, expression both intrigued and yet defiant. “What do you mean you've seen it? Don't play games with me now, woman.”

“Don't threaten me, man,” You squinted your eyes as you pronounced the word like poison, almost coming out like an insult. “I'm not afraid of you.” With your own response to his defiance, this immediately silenced him, stopping him in his tracks right in front of you, as you stepped closer to him, your presence growing menacing now. You were really upset. “Do you think that when I marry you I will allow you to go on screwing around with them?”

“You met them and they threatened you?” Feyd asked in a low tone, maintaining a calm demeanor, though he wanted to know if any of his concubines had dared to even glance at you during your stay at Giedi Prime. His orbs reflected a sensation that ranged to a murderous, bloodthirsty urge, not at you, but at anyone who was stupid enough to threaten you. “Tell me, did they say anything to you?”

You crooked your head very slightly, looking genuinely offended by his questioning.

“Do you think I would allow any of your concubines —anyone at all— to threaten me and go on with their lives?” You replied instantly, looking him up and holding his gaze, as brave as ever. You seemed to be the only one in the whole universe who dared to answer him and put him in his place. And he was loving it, he felt the desire to be broken by you, to let you destroy all his walls and reach his soul. “They'd already be dead if they did.”

An amused grimace twisted his lips, gaze darkening with pride, desire even, approving of your words, feeling suddenly small under the vastness of your aura, dark and menacing now.

“Don't worry about them.” His words sounded humorous this time, just as his fingers laced between yours, he gave your hand a gentle squeeze, an attempt to reassure you. “Soon I'll be all yours, sweet girl.”

You frowned your brow slightly, as did your lips, still looking offended. He squinted his eyes, hissing as he realized he had said the wrong thing, yet again.

“I'm not sweet.” Your hand released his, your annoyance rising with the seconds. “I'm not one of your pets you can treat as sweet, Feyd-Rautha.”

He raised his brow, following you with his gaze, puzzled, as you turned around and began to walk back to the palace, turning your back on him and leaving him to talk alone.

“One of my pets?” He questioned, with that amused grimace plastered on his mouth again, as he began to follow your hurried footsteps, his pale face reflected a blend of frustration and irritation. “Do you think I would treat you like one of my pets?”

His voice sounded so husky and frustrated and delicious that you felt like just stopping and jumping on him right there. But your own self-respect and pride were more important, you wanted to believe.

Seeing that you weren't planning to stop, Feyd tried to stop you by grabbing your arm, but his hand remained over your smooth skin, with no major result in trying to calm you down, so he cleared his voice, making the attempt to be as cautious and reassuring with his words.

“I think you must understand that desire and lust is something we all possess, my lady, not just men.”

He was physically relieved when you stopped to be able to look at him, with his hand lingering on your forearm.

But your eyes were still dark with discomfort when they met his once again. “I won't be one of your girls, Feyd-Rautha.”

His lips parted, brow furrowing slightly, his voice kept low. “(Y/N)—”

He stood right there, utterly speechless, with his voice caught in his throat, watching you walk away from him, striding with steps that exuded pure anger up to your rocky palace. His hand dropped from your arm and returned to his side, now far from your warmth and heartbeat.

It took Feyd-Rautha a couple of minutes to pull himself together, sighing heavily, a small smirk curving his lips as he began to walk the path back to the Atreides' palace.

He was absolutely thrilled to discover this side of you that he hadn't previously seen. You were truly frightening and he was loving it.

By the time the moon was bright in the center of the dark sky, shining through the thickness of black, a pair of soft knocks sounded against your chamber door and you didn't have to use any hint of your skills to know who it was.

He looked at you with those now dark blue eyes from across the threshold, arm resting lightly against the grayish stone. He looked strangely troubled, look shadowed.

“Have you always been such a perfect seductress?”Feyd asked you just as you made a questioning gesture with your head. “How many men have you seduced like this?”

You looked him up with doubting eyes, frown slightly furrowed. “What are you talking about—”

He interrupted you in a scratchy voice, fearing somehow, that someone else might hear him, that someone else might witness how desperately vulnerable he was being, for you.

“You've broken me. All I can think about is you.”

Feyd took one step forward and you one step back, so you two moved as if you were in a kind of dance until he eventually entered your chambers, pulling the door shut behind him.

“I can't handle not touching you. It's a rule I'm on the brink of breaking for you.” He whispered and your breath caught in your throat, exhaling air in a stuttering gasp. “And I should— I'm expected to be a gentleman. I'm supposed to behave myself, keep my composure. But you… you are driving me crazy, woman, you play with my head, you've bewitched me.”

You could really see that he was trying to explain himself for you, attempting to articulate everything that was going through his head and you knew that it was very unusual for him to speak out loud about his feelings. And now, you were the one who couldn't say anything at all.

It was true, the most important rule your mother had emphasized to you was that you were not to get involved sexually, or in any way with your betrothed, until the very day of the actual wedding, as that particular night was meant to be consumed.

“Y—you shouldn't be here, my lord.” You managed to utter out after a few hesitant stutters, feeling your back brush against the wall and having him in front of you, trapping you against his body. He seemed to be struggling against his body, against his desire and instinct, hesitant hands twitching at his sides, nearly reaching out instinctively for your body.

“You were so bold back there talking back to me, what happened now? Aw, what happened, pretty?” He asked in a more teasing tone of voice, holding your gaze. “We could put that mouth of yours to good use then, hm?”

“My lord—”

“Call me by name.” He demanded, he begged you, whispering.

“Feyd...” You named him so obediently that it made him smile darkly to himself. “Someone might listen.”

“Are you afraid that someone will find out that two people who are getting married desired each other?” Feyd asked, half-closing his eyes and breathing out through his nose, as if trying to compose himself, trying to convince himself more than you. “There is nothing wrong for a husband to crave for his wife, right?”

You gulped, and his eyes instantly landed on your throat, watching as bone and muscle moved beneath the flesh, his tongue twitched, aching with all his will to be able to just lick the skin of your neck.

“I guess not.” Your voice trembled even when you were trying extra hard to sound confident and certain. “But we are not yet husband and wife.”

“Soon...” Feyd muttered, almost as if he was making a promise, uttering a vow.

His eyes closed as he finally rested his forehead against yours and suddenly, you were breathing from the same air. His trembling breath was warm against your lips and his scent was everything you could have ever craved... and it felt so familiar that your soul seemed to shudder, like something you had smelled all your life, something that had haunted you even in dreams, forever present but yet always so far distant.

“Can I touch you?” Feyd breathed out against your mouth after a few moments.

You didn't answer him verbally, instead you slowly took his hands between yours, fingers placing them in parallel against his, allowing you to feel every inch of the imprint drawn on his fingertips as you dragged yours across his palm, both feeling the size difference.

Then, you rested his big, calloused hands on your waist, allowing him to touch and hold you as much as he wanted and to permit him to do so, a single sight on your eyes was all it took.

He hissed as his hands molded the curve of your waist and instantly afterward drew you into his body, pulling you fully against the wall behind you. Your back arched instinctively and you gasped too, so softly, your chest pressed against his with the motion.

“Touch me.” Feyd-Rautha pleaded, he had never pleaded so... desperately for anything ever in his life.

That was your allowance for your hands reaching for his body, out of control, one making a slow path up through his strong arms while the other rested against his chest, feeling the beat of his heart under your palm, beating echoing your own. Your fingertips gently patted his muscles, recognizing his skin and his body. You got the abrupt urge to claim it as yours. To claim him.

You felt yourself blushing at all the overly imaginative and lustful images of him invading your head.

His nose brushed against yours, nuzzling it affectionately, still without opening his eyes, as if he were in some kind of dream from which he didn't want to wake up. His fingers caressed your belly, tracing a slow caress across your entire abdomen upward, while his other hand gripped your waist, holding you against him.

His touch triggered an immediate reaction across your flesh, skin shivering under his fingers.

Feyd whispered your name like a prayer, like a thirsty man, crawling and screaming for water.

“I'm trying to be good...”

“Don't be.” You whispered back, almost begging, looking up at him, gaze meeting his once he opened his eyes. “Please, Feyd—”

Then finally his lips landed on yours, initiating a kiss that you both craved so much, maybe he more than you for the way he brought you close to him, almost possessively, like a mad man, almost as if he was imprinting his mark on you, marking you for whoever had the courage to look at you.

He let himself sink in the way your lips fit against yours, in the warmth your body offered him, in the all too familiar sensation he could sense in every single fiber of his core from the kiss, your kiss.

Feyd-Rautha felt like a roaring beast just unleashed, ruthless and insatiable, just like when he walked into the arena, eager to kill, rooting against his opponents —and now he was rooting for you, to be near you, to intertwine his soul with yours, to claim you as his own.

And claiming you he was, his scent covered you all over now, making you feel a burning sensation in the pit of your stomach, throbbing crotch, blood seething like an infernal flare. Anyone who came near you would not only smell you, but him too, on every inch of your body. His hands roamed just under your breasts, rubbing across your ribcage and sliding down your back, fingers just barely grazing your ass, pressing you tightly against him in desperation, grasping and squeezing as much of your tender flesh as they could.

Your own palms roamed up his chest, caressing his broad shoulders, all the way up to his neck, tugging him closer to you in desperate motions, impossibly close.

When your bodies begged for oxygen, you broke the passionate kiss, leaving you both breathless. He kissed you once more, allowing you to breathe just for a few seconds before all you breathed was him. He wanted to become your oxygen, something indispensable to you, something you needed to live with, a necessity.

“You're the only one.” Feyd-Rautha mumbled out as his hot and soft lips trailed down a wet path all the way to your neck, tracing the line of your jaw with sloppy kisses, each time his lips pulled back from your skin a wet noise echoed and filled the room, making you gasp.

You could feel the way his lips were modulating each word against your skin, as if using a language so intimate and so tight that it took your breath away. A language known and used just between the two of you.

With desirous eyes he looked at the dark crimson mark he'd left on your throat before raising them across your flushed face, his hands cradling your jaw, thumbs caressing your skin tenderly.

“When my uncle gave me the announcement that I was to marry you, I kicked them all out.” He continued to explain, pecking your lips a couple of times before kissing each cheek, your forehead, your eyelids, your nose, every single feature of your entire face, with the utmost care and adoration.

No one had ever looked at you the way he was looking at you right now.

Feyd rasped out a small chuckle, breath warm tickling against your nose. “And by kicking them out I mean I killed them.”

His comment didn't surprise you at all, in fact, it didn't even provoke a reaction in you. During the week you had been in his company, you had already gotten used to Feyd-Rautha's -almost cruel- honesty and sassy remarks, you were just starting to get used to his very eccentric and unique attitude. Because the na-Baron's personality was something that was most captivating to you, he was so different yet so similar to you.

“Of course.” You replied, trying to hold back that dark grin on your lips, an action that caused him to kiss you once more, his attention was on your mouth the whole time as you spoke to him in that tone of voice. “I would expect nothing less from the Feyd-Rautha and for my future husband.”

Again he rested his forehead against yours and you were the one who kissed his lips this time. It had become a reassuring habit in a span of less than five minutes for both of you.

“I can't do anything to you until we get married, my uncle would find out otherwise. I have —we have— to behave, my love.”

He seemed to read your mind this time, or maybe it was the way you were looking at him, biting your lower lip gently, eyes darkened with desire, silently begging him to just take you right there against the wall when he called like that.

Perhaps Feyd-Rautha was a hopeless romantic just like you or he simply desired you in ways that went beyond mere sex or plain lust.

“Are you afraid of him?” You softly asked him, your fingers stroking the back of his neck, feeling the smoothness of his skin. Your fingertips followed the trail of one of his veins marked on his neck, making him gasp lightly.

“Have you seen him?” Feyd responded with another question, a curved little smile on his lips, his tone of voice directed pure sarcasm. “I don't think I'm in such a position as to challenge the Baron.”

You nodded your head, fingers stroking his cheekbones now, tapping the moles that spread across his face affectionately. “He's terrifying.”

Your heart seemed to melt as you watched him close his eyes and lean against your hand, kissing the palm in action.

“Mhm...” Feyd hummed, watching you attentively, as if he was memorizing every inch of your face. Suddenly, his expression changed to one of amusement.

“Were you seriously jealous of my darlings?”

Your heart seemed to drop to your stomach and burn with your guts as you heard the nickname fall from his mouth.

“Call them that again and I'll cut your throat.” You murmured against his lips, kissing them slowly before pulling away from his body, looking up at him with dark, yet playful eyes, your hand roaming across his chest until it fell to your side as you stepped away. Then you made your way towards your bed with a very slow pace, under the attentive gaze of his azure eyes following every movement of your hips.

His heart —apparently non-existent until then— was pounding like crazy inside his chest as his lips parted, for once again you had left him speechless.

That was living proof that you were simply made for him. And he for you.

And maybe that just meant you were each other's weakness, people would say so.

But he felt just invincible in your presence, as if your company made him behold the whole universe, gave him the power of the all galaxy at hand, making him feel like the only man in existence. Your man.

Feyd-Rautha had never felt so desperate to make you his wife and finally call you his.

#feyd rautha x reader #cosmictheo #feyd rautha one shot #feyd rautha x you #feyd rautha imagine #feyd rautha #feyd rautha harkonnen #dune x reader #dune 2 #dune imagine #austin butler x reader

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thef1diary · 2 months ago

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Fill Me Up | C. Sainz

Kinktober 5/11 - Breeding Kink

Summary: Your husband, Carlos, realizes how much he wants to see you pregnant with his baby.

warnings: 18+ smut, mentions of pregnancy obvs, unprotected sex, husband!carlos, lil bit of body worship

wc: 3.2k

kinktober masterlist

The Mediterranean air was cool as it drifted through the open balcony doors, carrying the scent of the sea into the bedroom. The soft sound of waves crashing against the cliffs below your villa was the only noise breaking the peaceful silence.

You lay nestled against your husband’s chest, the steady thrum of his heartbeat lulling you into a serene haze. His arm rested lazily over your waist, fingertips grazing your skin underneath your blouse in absentminded circles. The room was awash in the amber glow of the setting sun, casting shadows that danced lazily across the walls, making everything feel soft and intimate.

Carlos murmured your name softly, the rich, deep timbre of his voice stirring something in you as it always did. His accent, thick and sultry, curled around each syllable like a caress. You tilted your head up, meeting his gaze, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“Have you ever thought about what’s next for us?” He asked, his voice gentle but laced with an unmistakable undercurrent of anticipation.

You raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued as you propped yourself up on one elbow, searching his face. “What’s on your mind, love?” you teased, your lips curving into a grin. “I mean, I already have a ridiculously handsome husband who spoils me to no end… what more could there be?”

Carlos let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head while a smile graced his lips. “I love spoiling you, cariño.”

You leaned in, pressing a playful kiss to the tip of his nose. “Mhm, I know,” you murmured against his skin, feeling the warmth of his smile as he grasped your left hand, his thumb brushing over the diamond that glistened in the fading sunlight.

His gaze dropped to your ring finger, lingering there as his expression softened. He brought your hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to the base of the ring, where it met your skin.

“I love spoiling you,” he repeated, his voice lower now, more serious. “But there’s something else I’ve been thinking about.”

The shift in his tone made your heart skip a beat. You tilted your head, searching his eyes, feeling the sudden intensity of the moment. “What is it, Carlos?”

“I’ve been thinking…” he began, his words deliberate, measured. “About spoiling someone else, too.” His eyes flickered with meaning, the weight of his words hanging between you.

You felt a sudden rush of warmth flood your chest, your breath catching in your throat as the implication of what he was saying began to sink in. “Someone else?” you echoed, your voice barely above a whisper, already sensing where this conversation was leading.

Carlos nodded, his thumb still tracing circles on the back of your hand. “I want to spoil our child, cariño,” he admitted, his voice dropping to a husky murmur. “I want to start a family with you.”

The words hung in the air, charged with the same magnetic energy that always seemed to exist between you and him. You blinked, a thousand emotions swirling inside you all at once—surprise, excitement, desire, and that unmistakable longing that had been quietly growing within you, even if you hadn’t fully acknowledged it until now.

Carlos shifted underneath you, his hand sliding from your palm to rest on your stomach, his touch warm and possessive. “I want to see you carrying our baby,” he whispered, leaning forward just enough for his lips to graze your temple. “Want to give you everything… including the family we’ve always dreamt of.”

You took a deep breath, your hand coming to rest over his where it splayed across your stomach. “I’ve thought about it too,” you confessed, your voice low and thick with emotion. “Maybe a couple of kids… hopefully with your fluffy hair and those big brown eyes. Getting to see you become a father… that’s always been the plan.”

Carlos’ grip tightened slightly as you spoke, his gaze locked on yours with a fire that made your heart race. But even as you spoke, you couldn’t help the question bubbling up inside you, the slight confusion that tinged the edges of your joy. “But… where did this suddenly come from?”

His hand slid lower on your waist as he gently maneuvered you onto his lap, his back resting against the headboard. His strong arms wrapped around you, pulling you flush against his chest. The new position made your heart pound faster, the intimacy of it filling you with warmth.

He didn’t respond, which caused you to lean back a bit, narrowing your eyes as you pressed the back of your hand against his forehead, pretending to check for a fever.

“Are you feeling okay?” you teased, your voice light and full of mock concern. “You’re not running a temperature, are you? Because this doesn’t sound like my Carlos. Last I checked, we were on the ‘wait and see’ plan.”

He let out a low chuckle, his lips curving into that devilishly handsome smile that always made your heart skip a beat. Carlos gently grabbed your wrist, pulling your hand away from his forehead, but not before pressing a kiss to your palm.

“I’m perfectly fine, cariño,” he murmured, his eyes glinting with mischief. “But you can check me all you want if it means you’ll be this close.”

You rolled your eyes with a laugh, playfully pushing against his chest, but he was having none of it. His hands slid up your sides, holding you firmly as he leaned forward, gently turning you on your back. The cool sheets beneath you contrasted with the heat of his body hovering above, and your pulse quickened, the intensity between you crackling like electricity in the air.

He looked down at you, his gaze locking onto yours while his hands, firm and sure, settled on either side of your head, caging you in as he lowered himself just enough for his breath to ghost over your lips.

“Do you want this too?” Carlos’ voice was low, a husky murmur that sent a shiver down your spine.

Without hesitation, you reached up, threading your fingers through his thick, dark hair, pulling him down until your lips met in a searing kiss. The hunger in it was undeniable, your body arching up into him as you deepened the kiss, tasting the desire and the promise in his every move.

When you finally pulled back, breathless and flushed, you stared up into his eyes, your voice barely above a whisper but filled with every ounce of need you felt.

“Put a baby in me,” you murmured, your words bold and breathless as your hand trailed down his back, fingers grazing over the toned muscles that tensed under your touch. “Right here… right now. I want it, Carlos. I want everything with you.”

Carlos let out a low, guttural moan at your words, his hips pressing hard against yours, his control slipping as you felt the full weight of his desire through his pants.

“Dios, cariño… you’re going to look so perfect, carrying our baby,” he mumbled, his voice rough and dripping with lust.

His hands moved with purpose, sliding down your sides to tug at your clothes, pulling them away from your body as fast as he could. The cool air hit your skin, but you barely felt it—your body burning for him, for the promise he’d whispered into your ear.

Carlos’ gaze lingered as his hands roamed over your bare skin, rough fingers tracing a path from your collarbone to the soft curve of your breasts. His breath hitched, eyes darkening with desire as he cupped you gently, thumbs brushing over your sensitive nipples. The sensation sent a shiver down your spine, making you arch into his touch.

“Look at you…” he murmured, his voice low and filled with reverence as he massaged your breasts, his touch both tender and possessive. “You’re already so perfect… but when you’re pregnant, cariño…” His eyes flicked up to meet yours, and the hunger there made your pulse race. “Your tits will be even fuller, and I won’t be able to keep my hands off you.”

His words sent a jolt of heat straight to your core, your body responding instantly to the way he worshipped you. Carlos leaned down, his lips grazing your skin as he kissed the tops of your breasts, his breath warm and ragged against you.

“They’ll be sensitive… aching for me to relieve the pain,” he continued, his voice rough as he squeezed you gently, his thumbs teasing your nipples until you gasped. “And I’ll be there to make sure you feel good… every single day.”

A low moan escaped your lips, your hands gripping his biceps as he continued his slow, deliberate worship of your body, each word from his mouth stoking the fire building inside you.

Carlos lifted his head, his lips brushing yours in a soft, fleeting kiss before he pulled back, his eyes locking onto yours once more. “You want that, don’t you?” he whispered, his voice thick with lust. “You want to feel me inside you, filling you up until you’re carrying my baby… until your body is mine in every way.”

Your fingers dug into his shoulders as you arched up, pressing your chest against his, needing more of him—needing all of him.

“Yes,” you breathed, your voice low and filled with need. “I want it… I want all of it, Carlos. I want you.”

Carlos groaned at your words, his control slipping further as his hands moved lower, gripping your hips as he settled between your legs.

“I’m going to give it to you,” he whispered, his voice dark and full of promise. “You’re going to feel me, every inch of me, until I’m deep inside you… filling you up.”

You moaned at the raw intensity of his words, your hands sliding down his back, pulling him closer, needing to feel him, to be consumed by him.

Your hands moved with urgency, sliding down his back before pushing at his shirt, needing to feel more of his skin beneath your fingertips. Carlos helped you, sitting back for just a moment to pull the fabric over his head, revealing the hard planes of his chest and the toned muscles of his arms. The sight of him, all broad shoulders and strength, made your mouth go dry.

He leaned back down, pressing his lips to your neck as you fumbled with the waistband of his pants. Your fingers trembled slightly, driven by the heat building between you, and Carlos smirked against your skin, his breath hot and teasing.

“Eager, cariño?” he teased, his voice a low rumble against your throat.

You let out a soft laugh, though it was shaky, your fingers finally succeeding in pushing his pants down his hips. “You have no idea,” you murmured back, biting your lip as you felt him, hard and ready, pressing against you through the thin fabric of his boxers.

Carlos groaned as you reached down, palming him through the material, his hips jerking into your hand in response. “Fuck…” he breathed, his voice rough with need. “You keep doing that, and I won’t be able to take my time with you.”

You smiled, leaning up to nip at his jaw as you slid your hand into his boxers, your fingers wrapping around him, feeling just how much he wanted you. “Who said I wanted you to take your time?” you whispered against his skin.

His hips bucked into your hand at your words, and you could feel him, hard and throbbing against your palm.

Carlos pulled your hand away, pinning it above your head as he lowered himself back down over you, his free hand sliding along your thigh, spreading you open beneath him. “You’re such a tease, but I’ve waited long enough,” he murmured, his voice thick with need as he positioned himself between your legs. “I want you now.”

Your heart raced, your breath catching in your throat as he leaned down, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that was more intense, more urgent than before. You could feel the heat radiating off him, the tension in his body as he hovered just above you, holding back for only a moment.

And then, with one slow, deliberate thrust, he was inside you.

A gasp tore from your lips, your body arching up to meet him as he filled you completely, the feeling of him deep inside making your mind go blank for a second. Carlos groaned low in his throat, his hips grinding against yours as he buried himself to the hilt, his breath hot and ragged in your ear.

“Fuck… you feel so good, so wet” he mumbled, his voice strained with pleasure. He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, the intensity of his gaze making your pulse race. “You’re perfect, cariño. So fucking perfect.”

You moaned softly, your fingers gripping his shoulders as you moved with him, your bodies falling into a slow, steady rhythm that built with each thrust. Every movement sent a new wave of pleasure crashing over you, your body responding to him in ways that left you dizzy and breathless.

His hand slid down to your lower stomach, pressing lightly as he groaned against your skin.

“You feel that?” he rasped, his voice dark and full of desire. “Feel how deep I am inside you… I’m going to fill you up, just like you asked.”

Your breath hitched as Carlos’s hand pressed against your lower stomach, the weight of his touch amplifying the sensation of him buried deep inside you. His words sent a shiver racing down your spine, every syllable dripping with raw desire. You could barely think, your mind clouded with the overwhelming feeling of him—how he filled you completely, pushing you closer to the edge with every movement.

“Yes,” you whispered, voice trembling with need, your fingers clawing at his back as you arched into him. “I feel it… I want it, Carlos. I want you to fill me.”

A low groan escaped him, his hips grinding harder against yours in response to your plea. His lips found the sensitive spot on your neck, trailing slow, heated kisses as he began to thrust deeper, each movement purposeful and powerful. The friction, the pressure, sent shockwaves of pleasure through your body, leaving you breathless.

His lips grazed your earlobe, sending a shiver straight down your spine, making you clench around him. He hummed, pressing a kiss behind your ear, “squeezing me so tight, cariño, I could stay inside you forever.”

Just as you thought the pleasure couldn’t get more intense, Carlos’s hand slipped lower, his fingers finding your clit. He teased you, drawing gentle circles that made you gasp, every touch sending electricity through you. As his fingers worked their magic, he leaned down, his mouth finding your nipple. He licked and nipped at the sensitive peak, his tongue swirling with a heated urgency that drove you wild.

The tension inside you coiled tighter, your body responding to him with every touch, every word. You could feel your release building, the pleasure tightening in your core as Carlos pushed you closer and closer to the edge.

“I’m so close,” you gasped, your voice barely above a whisper. Your nails dug into his back, desperate to hold on as you lost yourself in him. “Don’t stop, please… I need it.”

“Then cum for me, cariño,” he urged, his fingers never relenting on your clit while his mouth continued to suck and tease your nipple. “I want to feel you break apart around me.”

With the combination of his thrusts, his fingers, and the heat of his mouth, you felt yourself spiraling toward ecstasy, every sensation amplifying until you couldn’t hold back any longer.

“Carlos!” you cried out, your body quaking as pleasure washed over you in waves, your orgasm crashing down with an intensity that took your breath away. You felt him groan in response, the sensation of him filling you with his cum driving you even higher as your body clamped around him, squeezing tightly as he rode out your release.

He buried himself deep inside you, his fingers still working on your clit until you were completely spent, trembling beneath him as he kissed you softly, his lips lingering over your skin. “You’re amazing,” he murmured, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “Absolutely perfect.”

For a moment, you both lingered in that afterglow, bodies entwined, breaths mingling as you basked in the warmth of each other. Your fingers drifted over the planes of his back, feeling the steady rhythm of his breath beneath your palm, while his gaze remained fixed on yours, a small, tender smile playing on his lips. He reached up to brush a strand of hair away from your face, his touch featherlight and intimate.

Carlos’ presence enveloped you like a cozy blanket, and the sensation of him deep inside you sent soft waves of pleasure through your body.

With a slow, deliberate movement, he pulled back, his cock slipping free from your body. The emptiness that followed made you whimper softly in protest, a sound that drew a low chuckle from him as he glanced down at the evidence of your shared pleasure pooling between your thighs.

“We can’t let any of this go to waste,” he murmured, his voice a deep rumble that resonated through the quiet room. His smirk widened as his fingers traced a path down to the mess between your legs, gathering the remnants of his release. The touch of his warm skin against your sensitive folds sent a shiver coursing through you, and when he pushed the slick mixture back into your clenching heat, you gasped, the intimacy of the act making your pulse quicken.

As he withdrew his fingers, you caught his wrist, guiding his hand to your lips. Your gaze locked with his as you wrapped your mouth around his cum-coated fingers, licking them clean with deliberate slowness.

A playful smile tugged at your lips as you released his hand, your fingers tracing a gentle line along his jaw. “You know,” you murmured, voice low and teasing, “it might take a couple of tries for you to get me pregnant.”

Carlos’ eyes darkened with a mixture of amusement and desire, his hand still resting on your hip as he leaned closer, his breath brushing warmly over your lips. “That’s alright,” he replied, his voice a rich, gravelly whisper. “In fact…” His fingers dipped lower, tracing lazy, suggestive circles over your still-sensitive skin, “I’d say the practice is half the fun.”

Your breath caught as he dipped his head down, capturing your lips in a slow, heated kiss that spoke of lingering hunger. His other hand moved to rest on your lower stomach, and you could still feel the phantom sensation of him filling you, of being stretched and claimed. When he pulled back, his mouth barely an inch from yours, he whispered, “Besides, I plan on savoring every single attempt until we get it just right.”

The promise in his tone sent a thrill racing through you, the implication that this wouldn’t be the last time he would fill you, over and over again, until you were heavy with the proof of his desire.

“Then why don’t we put in a little extra practice tonight?” you murmured, your voice carrying a teasing edge as your fingers traced the line of his jaw. “I want to make sure we get it just right too.”

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pucksandpower · 7 months ago

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Prince of Monaco

Charles Leclerc x Princess of Monaco

Summary: what better way for the honorary Prince of Monaco to celebrate finally winning his home race than with the Princess of Monaco?

Warnings: 18+ content

The roar of the crowd is deafening as Charles brings his Ferrari across the finish line, finally winning his home race after years of heartbreak. His mechanics swarm the barriers, nearly delirious with excitement, but Charles just leans back in his seat, letting the accomplishment sink in.

He’s done it. He’s conquered the streets that have taunted him for so long.

As he’s ushered up to the iconic podium, Charles looks out at the sea of fans cheering his name and spots you, radiant in a summery yellow dress, beaming up at him.

For a moment, time seems to stop as your eyes meet. You give him a little wave and he nearly stumbles on his way to the top step, feeling lightheaded.

When you step forward with the winner’s trophy, Charles’ heart starts pounding. Your fingers brush against his ever so slightly as you hand it over and he swears he can feel an electric current pass between you. The sleek lines of the trophy blur before his eyes as he struggles to catch his breath.

“Félicitations, Charles,” you say warmly, resting a hand on his arm.

Charles blinks rapidly as his cheeks start to burn. Up close, you look like an honest-to-god angel descended to earth. How does one even speak to heavenly beings?

“Th-thanks,” he stammers out, mentally kicking himself for sounding like such an idiot. He needs to get it together. “I mean, merci, Your Serene Highness.”

You laugh, the warm sound instantly putting him at ease. “Please, just call me Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he repeats dumbly. It’s easily the most beautiful combination of letters he’s ever heard.

“You should celebrate your big win tonight,” you say, a playful glint in your eyes. “But maybe don’t get too carried away with the champagne.”

Charles frowns in confusion. Is that a royal decree to take it easy on the partying?

“I was hoping you could pick me up tomorrow evening,” you continue blithely. “For our date.”

Our … date? Charles’ eyes go wide as his jaw drops open. Is the most beautiful woman in the world really asking him out right now? In front of millions of people?

“Uh, I … we … huh?” He sputters inelegantly.

You just smile that radiant smile and lean in to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “We do now,” you murmur against his skin, sending tingles down his spine. “I’ll see you at eight?”

Before Charles can formulate any kind of response, you give him one last brilliant grin and turn to congratulate Oscar Piastri on second place. He blinks down at the trophy in his hands, wondering if he’s dreaming all of this.

The rest of the podium celebration passes by in a blur. He holds up his trophy and waves to the crowd like he’s supposed to, but his mind is elsewhere, utterly consumed by the feeling of your lips on his skin and the knowledge that he has an actual date with the woman of his dreams.

As soon as the ceremonies conclude, his team is all over him, shouting congratulations and patting his back enthusiastically. Normally he’d be caught up in the revelry, basking in his victory, but now all Charles wants is to get out of there. He needs to chug about a gallon of water and take a very cold shower.

“Party tonight, eh mate?” Carlos calls out with a playful elbow to the ribs. “Got any special plans to celebrate?”

Charles feels the blush creeping back up his cheeks as he thinks about you — your warm laughter, your gentle touch, the promises of a date in your sparkling eyes. His lips tug up in a helpless smile.

“You could say that,” he murmurs, already counting down the hours until he gets to see you again.

The post-race celebrations kick into high gear, with champagne flowing freely and music thumping from every corner. Charles goes through the motions, reveling in his hard-won triumph but unable to fully let loose and enjoy himself. Not when a much bigger prize is waiting for him tomorrow night.

The hours drag by interminably as he waits for an acceptable time to make his excuses and leave the party behind. His friends rib him relentlessly for his uncharacteristic restraint.

“What’s got you so distracted, Calamar?” Pierre teases. “This isn’t like you at all!”

“Yeah, our boy’s got his eyes on something else tonight! Or would it be more accurate to say someone else?” Joris chimes in with an exaggerated wink.

Charles flushes but doesn’t deny it, fighting back a smile. If only they knew ...

It’s nearly 2 am by the time he extricates himself from the club, pleading an early morning commitment. No one believes his excuse for a second, but they let him go with plenty of cheers and well-meaning shoves.

As soon as Charles makes it back to his apartment, he starts feverishly getting ready for tomorrow, picking out the perfect outfit and incessantly checking the time. After tossing and turning fruitlessly for a couple of hours, he finally gives up on sleep, instead spending his morning going for a long run to burn off excess energy.

The day drags on at an excruciatingly slow pace. Every minute feels like an hour as he wills the clocks to move faster. He triple checks the address, runs through conversation starters in his head, and showers for the third time. This date has to go perfectly.

At 7:55 pm, Charles pulls up outside the royal palace, hands gripping the steering wheel tightly as he tries to control his nerves. He takes one last steadying breath before getting out of the car and smoothing down his shirt.

Like an angel from on high, you suddenly appear in the palace doorway, looking impossibly radiant in a gauzy pink sundress that matches your warm smile perfectly.

“Y/N,” Charles breathes out reverently, drinking in your beauty. Up close, his heart is pounding so loudly he’s sure you must be able to hear it. “You look … wow.”

Your smile grows even brighter as you move towards him. “Well, you clean up pretty nicely yourself.”

There’s a brief, charged silence as you stand face to face, just drinking each other in. Then, seeming to make up your mind about something, you grab his hand and tug him close.

“Come on,” you murmur, eyes sparkling mischievously. “I’ve got the perfect date night planned for us.”

With your hand in his, Charles would follow you straight into the depths of hell itself. He manages an eager nod, unable to tear his eyes away from your face.

Whatever you have planned, he knows it will be perfect. So long as he gets to spend the evening by your side, he couldn’t care less what you do.

You lace your fingers through his, shooting him one last brilliant smile, and lead the way to what is undoubtedly going to be the best night of Charles’s life.

***

Warm rays of morning sunlight filter through the sheer curtains, gently rousing Charles from the most blissful sleep of his life. He blinks slowly, taking in the lavish bedchamber with its soaring ceilings and intricate moldings. Plush rugs cover the marble floors and the bed he’s cocooned in is easily the most luxurious he’s ever experienced, with soft Egyptian cotton sheets caressing his skin.

For a delirious moment, Charles thinks he might still be dreaming. But then his eyes drift to you, sleeping peacefully beside him, and his heart stutters in his chest. It all comes rushing back in a torrent of sense memories — your radiant smile, your tinkling laugh, the feeling of your hand in his as you led him out on the most magical night of his life.

The two of you stroll hand-in-hand through the winding alleyways of Monaco, ducking down tiny side streets to places only locals know. Charles is enchanted as you show him hidden corners of your city that he’s never seen before, sharing fascinating stories and anecdotes all the while.

“This little trattoria has been run by the same family for nearly a century,” you explain as you lead him into a tiny, unassuming restaurant positively dripping with old world charm. The smiling owner greets you like a beloved daughter, embracing you warmly.

Over a seemingly endless parade of rustic Italian delicacies and a hearty red wine, you and Charles talk for hours about everything and nothing - childhoods and ambitions, favorite books and movies, embarrassing stories that have you both crying with laughter.

When the owner sends over a giant slice of homemade tiramisu with a wink, you steal the first bite right off Charles’ fork with a cheeky grin. A bit of mascarpone clings to the corner of your mouth and without thinking, Charles leans in to kiss it away, savoring the sweet taste of you mingled with the rich dessert.

You make a soft noise of surprise against his lips before melting into the kiss, cupping his face tenderly. When you finally part, both a little breathless, there’s a new burning heat in your eyes that makes Charles’ heart skip a beat.

“Shall we go for a walk?” You murmur, already sliding out of the booth. Your hand finds his and you lace your fingers together as you lead him back out into the night ...

Just thinking about last night’s date makes Charles’ heart feel fit to burst. You had taken him on a romantic tour of Monaco unlike anything he’s ever experienced, showing him secret nooks and hidden gems even he didn’t know. He had been so entranced just drinking in the city through your eyes, hanging on your every word.

But those heated looks you started sending his way after that first electrifying kiss had made it clear the real night was only just beginning ...

You stroll along the moon-dappled harbor, pointing out your favorite super-yachts and regaling Charles with scandalous stories of the jetset lives of their owners. He laughs delightedly at your wicked sense of humor, tucking you against his side as you wander the lamp-lit cobblestone streets.

When you lead him up a winding path to an old stone overlook, his breath catches in his throat. Twinkling lights from the city and harbor spread out as far as the eye can see, the tiny pinpricks glittering like a million stars. You come up behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist as you nuzzle against his back.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” You murmur reverently. “This is my favorite view in all of Monaco.”

Charles turns in your embrace until you’re pressed flush together, hardly daring to breathe. “It is,” he rasps out, getting lost in the depths of your eyes. “But not as beautiful as you.”

You let out a shaky breath, eyes flicking down to his lips for a heated moment, before surging up on your tiptoes to capture his mouth in a searing kiss ...

Unbidden, a low groan slips from Charles’ throat as he remembers those heated kisses on the overlook, one thing inexorably leading to another in a heady rush of lust and longing until you were both feverishly tugging at clothes. He swallows hard, feeling himself start to stir beneath the sheets.

That was just the start of the longest, most incredible night of Charles’ life. Your romantic tour had eventually led you both back to the palace, where you scattered a trail of discarded garments across marble floors and lavish furnishings in your wake, completely consumed by your desire for one another.

You press Charles back against the door of your bedroom as soon as you stagger inside, hands roaming hungrily as you devour his mouth in a bruising kiss. Charles groans deeply, fingers tangling in your hair as he spins you both around to walk you back towards the bed ...

A warm weight suddenly drapes itself across Charles’ torso, jolting him from his reverie with a sharp intake of breath. You’re curled against his side, smiling at him with eyes still heavy-lidded from sleep. His heart kicks up a furious gallop as you scoot closer, trailing a path of featherlight kisses along his chest and shoulder.

“Good morning,” you murmur, voice still scratchy and deliciously rumpled sounding. Charles nearly swallows his tongue at the sound — not to mention the fact that he can now feel every luscious curve of your body pressed against his beneath the sheets.

“Morning,” he croaks out, throat gone instantly dry. How is it possible that you look even more beautiful than he remembers?

You laugh softly at his dazed expression as you work your way up the column of his neck, seemingly intent on covering every last inch of bare skin with those incredibly soft lips. “Sleep well?”

Charles manages a strangled noise of agreement just before you capture his mouth in a slow, smoldering kiss. He groans against your lips, looping an arm around your waist to pull you more fully on top of him. Every nerve-ending feels like it’s engulfed in flames.

When you finally break apart, you brace yourself up on your elbows, gazing down at him with bright, sparkling eyes. “Last night was incredible,” you say candidly, tracing the line of his cheekbone with a fingertip. “Thank you for such an amazing first date.”

A low rumble of laughter escapes Charles as he grins up at you, dizzy with happiness. “I should be thanking you. Last night was … just, wow.” He reaches up to tuck an errant strand of hair behind your ear, marveling at how impossibly soft your skin is. “Have I mentioned yet how breathtakingly gorgeous you are?”

Your cheeks flush prettily even as you let out an adorably bashful little giggle that has Charles bewitched. “Charles Leclerc, you beautiful charmer,” you tease, dropping your head to nuzzle against the crook of his neck. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Mmm, I have a few ideas ...” Charles murmurs, just loud enough for you to hear. He trails his fingertips up the delicate lines of your spine, reveling in the way it makes you shiver against him.

You lift your head again, pinning him with a look of pure want that steals the breath from Charles’ lungs. “Is that so?” You purr, rolling your hips ever so slightly against his in a way that has him biting back a groan.

“Oui,” he husks out, slipping a hand into your tousled hair to draw your mouth back to his. You melt against him instantly, the kiss rapidly becoming heated and desperate as you both come quickly undone.

With you pressed so tantalizingly close, Charles can feel the heat slowly building between you as he maps every inch of your body with eager hands. Your skin is so silky soft, he can scarcely believe you’re real. Last night’s passion comes roaring back in a tidal wave of desire so potent it nearly overwhelms him.

Your fingers dig into his shoulders, clinging to him like a lifeline as you finally join your bodies in a fevered rush. Charles surges up to capture your lips again, unable to get enough of your addictive taste as you move together in perfect synchronicity. Slick skin sliding, breaths mingling, every sensation is heightened and electrified as you make love with an abandon unlike anything Charles has ever experienced ...

A strangled groan tears from Charles’ chest at the memory, his grip reflexively tightening on your hips and pulling you harder against him.

You let out a soft whimper against his mouth, fingers tangling in his hair as you grind deliciously against him in response. Charles feels utterly intoxicated by you — your taste, your scent, the exquisite softness of your skin pressed so enticingly to his.

With one fluid motion, he rolls you both until he’s caging you beneath him on the luxurious sheets. You gaze up at him with eyes gone molten and dark, chests heaving in tandem. The ferocious want simmering between you is nearly tangible.

“You’re so beautiful,” Charles rasps out in reverence, brushing the backs of his fingers along the elegant curve of your jaw. He leans down to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses along the column of your throat, feeling your rapid pulse fluttering beneath his lips. “Perfect ...”

A soft keen escapes you as you tilt your head back to allow him better access. Every nerve in Charles’ body feels electrified, like his skin is humming with unreleased energy. He’s drunk on you, body and soul.

As his lips blaze a path lower, nuzzling between the delicious swell of your breasts, your back arches sharply up off the bed with a gasp of longing. Your fingers clutch almost painfully at his shoulders as you struggle to pull him even closer.

“Charles … please,” you whimper, voice pitched low and heady with naked yearning.

He slides a hand up your silken thigh in answer, molding his palm to the flare of your hip as you shift restlessly beneath him. You’re warm and pliant and bewitching like this, coming slowly undone under his attentions.

With a ragged groan, Charles surrenders to the inescapable gravitational pull between you, fusing your mouths back together in a searing kiss that instantly turns all-consuming ...

Your nails score lines of delicious fire down his back as he drives into you with deep, powerful strokes, hips snapping together in a primal rhythm. It’s all heat and friction and tangled limbs, the world narrowing down to nothing but the places where your bodies join so intimately.

You keen out his name like a prayer, the sound sending hot shockwaves of lust ricocheting through Charles’s core. Every nerve feels simultaneously set alight and yet thrumming with a paradoxical electric chill, sensations somehow magnified tenfold.

He’ll never get enough of this feeling — of being completely consumed by you, your passion, your overwhelming desire for each other burning so bright that everything else fades away into glorious insignificance ...

A guttural groan is torn from deep in Charles’ throat as your hips roll sensuously against his in wanton invitation. His head drops into the tempting curve of your neck, lips tracing maddeningly along your overheated skin as he struggles to maintain the barest thread of control.

“Y/N,” he rumbles out, your name laced with pure, undisguised reverence. “Mon ange ...”

You cup his face in your hands, forcing his heated gaze back to yours. For a crystalline moment, everything hangs in breathless suspension before you surge up to claim his mouth in a searing, all-consuming kiss.

Like a switch being flipped, the tenuous grip Charles had on his restraint abruptly snaps. A low groan tears from his very soul as he lets the irresistible tide finally pull him under, lost in the relentless thrall of your passion.

Your urgent cries spike higher as Charles’ hips drive forward in a smooth, powerful glide, joining your bodies with exquisite friction. You clutch at him wildly, nails raking lines of delicious fire across his back as the room narrows to nothing but scorching skin and thunderous heartbeats.

At last, the spiraling tension reaches a blinding crescendo, your release crashing over you in shattering waves of pure ecstasy. Charles’ own climax follows swiftly, torn from his very depths with a hoarse shout of your name.

He collapses bonelessly on top of you, lungs heaving like he’s just run a marathon as you both simply cling to each other through the sizzling aftershocks. Sparks still seem to crackle across his nerve endings from your earth-shattering joining.

After an endless stretch of languid moments, Charles finally gathers enough strength to ease himself to the side, gathering you in against his chest. You come willingly, draping yourself over him as he nuzzles into the top of your head and just breathes you in.

“Wow ...” you murmur at last when you’ve recovered enough to speak. A breathless giggle escapes as you press a soft kiss to the hollow of his throat. “And I thought last night was incredible.”

Charles rumbles out a deep chuckle, pressing his smile against your hair as his arms tighten reflexively around you. “Last night was just the warm up, mon cœur,” he husks out, voice still gloriously ragged from your shared passion.

You pull back just enough to gaze at him through heavy-lidded eyes, cheeks delightfully flushed and hair wildly tousled in a way that has Charles’ heart clenching near to bursting. Brushing a knuckle along his jaw, you give him a look rich with teasing promise.

“Well then ... if this is what I give you for winning Monaco,” you trail off meaningfully, letting the words hang suspended as your fingertips trail down the ridges of his abdomen. “I can’t even imagine what you’ll earn when you win the World Championship.”

The low, sultry purr of your tone sends delicious little licks of heat swirling through Charles’ veins despite his delightfully sated state. A wicked grin tugs at his lips as pulls you more fully on top of him again, glorying in your lush curves molded so perfectly against his own.

“Is that a challenge, Princesse?” He rumbles out, dipping his head to nibble along the elegant column of your throat. You let out the most deliciously breathy giggle that has his blood absolutely simmering.

“Mmm, maybe,” you hum out coyly, deft fingers trailing through the short hair at his nape in a way that makes his toes curl. “Although I suppose you’ll just have to win it and find out for yourself ...”

Charles feels a possessive growl rising up from deep within his chest as he abruptly flips you both, pinning your breathless laughter beneath him on the luxurious sheets. Gazing down at you with unbridled adoration blazing in his eyes, he steals another scorching kiss that leaves you both gasping for air.

“Oh, I fully intend to,” he vows fervently, reveling in the way your eyes have gone molten and dark with renewed desire. His hands map every inch of your body with fervent devotion as he leans down to murmur hotly against the shell of your ear.

“And when I do, Princesse … I’m never letting you go.”

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sunsetchicane · 5 months ago

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first kisses [CL16]

charles leclerc x childhood best friend!fem!reader

word count: 7.8k

summary: The one where you have to go back to your hometown for business and your past finally catches up with you.

warnings: kisses, angst, grief, homesickness (in the Noah Kahan way), friends to lovers; burning, pining, perishing! fluff at the end :)

author's note: Friends to lovers was on my mind, and this is what came out. Feedback is appreciated, so please share your thoughts/comments/questions!! Sending love! [xoxo elle]

^edit: Thank you all sooooo much for the love this has received! No one does it better than the f1 babes. Thanks again!!

*Flashback*

She sat at the end of an abandoned dock. The towering ships were the only thing around her, a pleasant, quiet company. Monaco was set ablaze with a burning orange glow from the setting sun over the hills that hemmed the city in. The water sparkled in front of her, shimmering and dancing freely. She found herself envying the ocean. When the ocean was calm, people loved it for its serenity. When the sea was charged and crashing, people adored its fierce energy. But when she was calm, she was chastised for being withdrawn. When she exposed her power, she was commanded to be quieter, gentler. So she envied the ocean for its freedom and beauty.

Footsteps padded against the sturdy dock somewhere behind her, steadily growing closer. She knew who it was before she even looked over her shoulder. Wiping away salty tears, she sniffed her nose hard. She didn’t want him to see her like this.

Charles studied her from behind, not entirely understanding why she was reduced to tears at her father’s venomous comment. He’d seen her handle far worse from him time and time again over the years. He couldn’t find a way to understand why this one got to her. It had her running from her house, away from everyone, and brought her all the way out to the docks in the bay. Something carried her out here, and he wanted to know what.

Her eyes were trained unerringly on the horizon. She was dreaming about reaching out to it and dragging her finger along it. She didn’t acknowledge her looming best friend. She didn’t know what to say to him, so she opted for saying nothing.

Charles plopped down next to her, his feet dangling over the end of the dock. She rolled her eyes. He obviously didn’t pick up on the fact that she wanted to be alone. Typical.

She huffed and turned her face away from him into her shoulder. Charles rolled his eyes this time. Girls.

For some time, the two of them just sat there, toes tracing lazy circles in the water below. The ocean spray hit their warm skin, infecting their senses. Slowly, it set her at ease. Charles waited for the ocean to do what it did best: to heal.

Once the sun had gone down and dusk settled in, calamity disappeared. She was feeling hollow now, and cold. Nights down by the water often became chilly. Wrapping her arms tightly around herself, she shivered. Charles noticed immediately.

“Can we go back now?” He asked, thinking that she might open up on the walk home. He was also eager to get back to his warm house.

“No,” She said simply. It was the first thing she’d done to actually acknowledge his presence, save an eye roll. Charles groaned.

“You go then, you big baby.” She mumbled in response, tightening her arms around her middle. Charles’ head snapped to her with an incredulous look plastered onto his features. He wanted to grab her by the shoulders and chuck her into her beloved bay. Maybe that would set her straight.

While he was seriously contemplating his plan to shove her in, she leaned into him, her head resting gently against his shoulder. Charles’ eyebrows popped up in surprise as he eyed her in his peripherals. Her mumbled ‘sorry’ was barely audible, but acceptable for now. He knew that she didn’t mean to be moody; it was just a byproduct of a bad situation.

“Your dad’s an ass,” Charles said stiffly, still a little unsure about having her head on his shoulder. The two of them had never touched like this before. It made him nervous. It made her secure.

“Yeah,” she agreed, a weak laugh shaking her frame. Charles ventured a shaky hand towards her shoulder. When she let him cup her shoulder with his hand, he pressed her closer to him with a firm tug. She suddenly felt warm, the chill of the night cut through with just a one arm hug from her best friend. Best friend. Suddenly, it seemed an improper title.

“Wanna talk about it?” Charles whispered, his quiet voice floating over the dark sea like a ghost.

“No,” was all she could manage. A new flush of emotions welled in her chest. Her eyes rose to look at Charles through her lashes. He was the one looking out at the water now. This was her Charles.

“What do you want to talk about then?” he said, desperate to get her talking because this silence was getting heavy. He didn’t like the feelings that were stirring in his stomach. He was becoming painfully aware of how he was sitting, the way he smelled, the way his fingers rested against his best friend’s shoulder. Best friend.

She pulled away from him then so she could look him in the eye. His brown hair was swept off to the side, looking messy and charming. Charming? Had he always looked like this? Or was it just tonight’s high emotions that set her hormones into overdrive? Charles’ eyes fell on her, too. Her lips were puffy and pink, her eyes shimmering in the moonlight. He swallowed hard.

“Charlie?” She whispered his name like a secret, folded up into a night they would never talk about again.

“Yeah?” He said, his voice low and reverent. He was waiting for whatever she was going to say. He found himself hanging off every word that fell from those pink lips. He would never stop.

“I have a proposition for you,” she said carefully. She didn’t want him to read between the lines and end up ruining the beautiful friendship they shared. “Don’t get…weird.”

“Alright,” he said skeptically. She already knew that he was weird enough as it is.

“I think we should be each other’s first kiss. Just get it out of the way so we don’t have to worry about it,” she said quickly, firmly. She forced herself to believe that there was no ulterior motive behind her proposition. This was purely clinical, a normal thing. She didn’t want anything from Charles other than one simple kiss. Charles reared back a little, slightly dumbfounded. He was unsure. What did this mean for them? Did this mean she liked him? He wouldn’t mind that. The thought was a new one and it made him nervous.

“Come on, Charlie. I don’t want my first kiss to happen with some random guy. Please?” Her voice was light on his ears, unreal almost. He shared her sentiment; he didn’t really want to kiss a girl that didn’t know him the way she did. But the thought of another boy kissing her finalized his decision. He hated that mental picture.

All he did was nod.

With shaking fingers, she laid her hand over his on the dock between them. Biting down on her lip harshly, she stared at him. Charles gulped while returning her gaze. Time stilled around the two teenagers as they each leaned into their best friend. The kiss was simple, just lips against lips, but something about it sent up fireworks into the dead night. She was soft; he was nervous. Colors and light rippled across closed eyes. Chills ran rampant over skin.

When they broke apart, they were both breathless. Their eyes locked for only a split second before they snapped their attention back to the inky horizon. After a few seconds of complete, nervous silence, a giggle tore from her. Charles found himself laughing with her.

Their hands stayed intertwined between them on the last board of the dock.

*Present Day*

As you stroll down the streets that you once ran through as a little girl, you can’t help the nostalgia that warms your heart and brings a flush to your cheeks. It’s been too long since you’ve returned to your hometown. Something has always held you back. First it was school, then traveling, and now work. Since you moved away to college, you’ve gotten very good at avoiding this place and the histories that it holds. Even simply walking along the sidewalks, glancing at the shops and people, you find yourself becoming lost in the overwhelming weight of familiarity. There’s a complicated relationship between you and this small nation you once called home. As dearly as you love it, you nearly choke on all of the memories and emotions that rise helplessly to the surface. Joy is always accompanied with sorrow, gain with loss. Quietly, you contemplate exactly how you’re going to walk in the precarious balance of it all.

The soothing summer air and the simple caress of a cool ocean breeze does wonders to help ease your burden. Monaco’s bay has always been a place of rest for you. So, as you approach your destination, you try to mimic the sea’s power and adopt its peace. Rounding the stone gate, your feet automatically walk you down a path that you’ve followed countless times. Trees and grass and stones are scattered on both sides of the paved walk. Slowly, your eyes track over the names, names you’ve read so many times that you can nearly count them off by memory. These names you know so well, but never the people they belonged to. No, it was too late for that.

Your footsteps automatically slow as you reach the far corner of the grave yard. Sunshine spills through a nearby tree, casting sunspots over her stone. Your mother’s name is carved gracefully into the marker. Shaky legs guide you next to her, kneeling before her. With reverent fingers, you trace the letters of her name.

“Bonjour maman,” You whisper. Tears well in your eyes as you rest your hands in your lap, cradling the lilies you brought to leave for her. A far too familiar feeling flutters in your chest, rising into your throat. It’s the sort of darkness that makes you cold even when you can feel the sun on your skin. Loss does funny things to you– things that never go away. It’s something that you live with forever, but it grows smaller and smaller until you don’t notice it as often. Or until you come home and are reminded of everything that once was and never will be again.

Wiping at your eyes, you find yourself looking at another grave just across the path. The name fills you with the same feeling as your own mother’s. Hervé Leclerc.

You remember attending his funeral. Charles clung to your hand for the entire service. He was a mess. As he was lowered into the ground, Charles turned his head into your shoulder and sobbed. Everyone left, even his mother and brothers. They had to return to the house, but Charles couldn’t bring himself to say goodbye. It was just the two of you standing there on the path between his father and your mother. You clutched onto each other and made a promise to never let go. And you never did.

Parts of you still clung onto Charles as if you were still those kids who played footie in the streets or ran around karting events like you owned the place. Even more, you lingered in the kiss you shared as teenagers. There was a bond that was formed that night that you’ve never fully understood. Your soul reached out to his and fused to it. You suppose that’s why you miss him so dearly, even after all of these years. Your friends say that you should hate him, despise him for not being the friend he said he would be. But you couldn’t. Mistakes and misjudgments and idiotic errors meant nothing compared to what you’ve both endured and shared with each other. Maybe you weren’t the best friends you used to be, or even friends at all, but those parts of you were still reserved for him. There was nothing you could do about that, even if you tried.

Sniffing and drying your eyes, you decided that you’ve wept enough. There are things to do and people to see. Pressing a kiss to your fingers and then pressing your hand to your mother’s headstone, you say a quick goodbye. You pull a single lily from the bouquet before gently leaving the rest at the grave. With sure steps, you cross the path towards the other grave.

“Monsieur Leclerc,” You say with a small smile as you reach down and leave the lily at the foot of his stone. Your fingers rest and drag across the rough stone as you stand to leave.

Walking out of the graveyard, you feel your grief sling itself across your shoulders. But, instead of weighing you down, it holds you tight. You can’t help but imagine the hands of your mother and the hands of your best friend’s father reaching out to you, spurring you on. There’s always joy where there is sorrow.

The walk back to your car is quick. The summer morning in Monaco is already bursting with life. People are racing around, elegant outfits thrown over elegant frames. Cars that are worth more than houses lazily strut about the curving streets. Towering buildings bustle with life at the beginning of a work day. The city is alive.

There’s a slow smile that creeps onto your face as you pull your sunglasses down to watch the scene unfold before you. So many lives happening all at once. You wonder what they’re all doing today, what stresses they hold or what excitements they harbor. Late summer in Monaco is a dreamscape. Sometimes, in moments like these, you wonder how you left for so long.

While staring out at the business that’s swallowed you up, you’ve forgotten to watch where you’re going. A shoulder knocks into yours harshly, sending you reeling backward. Your heel catches on a loose stone, sweeping your feet out from under you. But, before you find yourself crashing to the ground, someone’s hands wrap tightly around your waist, catching you. Your hands latch onto their arms, trying to steady yourself. The person who both nearly threw you against the pavement and saved you from doing so, returns you to an upright position.

“Sorry, I wasn’t-” he starts while pulling his sunglasses from his face.

“I’m so sorry, I-” you begin at the same time.

The two of you freeze mid-sentence. Slowly, you reach up and pull your sunglasses off your nose to really take him in. He’s grown so much since you saw him last. He was just a little boy then, still navigating the tail end of puberty. His hair used to be longer, his face pudgier. Long gone is that little boy you once knew. He’s a man now.

“Arthur?” His name slips from your lips as you stare at him. His eyes sparkle in the sun while a smile tears across his face. At least there are some things that don’t change.

Your name bubbles from his throat as he reaches out and pulls you into a crushing hug. Lifting you from the ground, he spins the two of you in a circle. Being in Monaco was already hard to adjust to, but seeing Arthur Leclerc is a whole new level of surreal.

When he finally sets you down, your hands don’t drop from his shoulders. It feels so good to see him. Your heart beams, painting your face with a smile so large it burns your cheeks.

“Look at you! You’re so…” you say, your hand reaching up to touch his face.

“Handsome?” he interjects with a wink.

“I was going to say old,” you answer, shaking your head at him. Same old Arthur. For another second, you just stare at each other. It’s been five years since you’ve seen each other last. Five years since you last saw any of them.

“Come on,” Arthur says suddenly, taking your hand in his. He’s pulling you after him firmly while he weaves through the foot traffic that’s overtaken the walkways. Your objections fall on deaf ears as he hauls you after him.

“I’m out to the shops with maman, she’ll want to see you,” Arthur says excitedly while leading you a few more doors down. He stops you in front of a small flower shop that you know well. It was always Pascale and your mother’s favorite. It doesn’t surprise you in the slightest that Pascale still shops here.

Wasting no time, Arthur pulls you through the door and across the shop floor to where Pascale is. Her head is bent over an array of bouquets, a basket tucked around her arm. She’s dressed in light pastels, her hair done expertly. The sight of her makes your chest ache with memory. Watching her this way, without her knowing you’re there, feels like a scene in a movie made from your past. How many times have you watched her shop or cook or care for everyone? This moment plays on a loop in your mind but with different settings, scenery, clothes, jobs, people.

“Maman,” Arthur says, his hand leaving yours. He approaches his mother, resting a hand on her shoulder. She wraps her arm around his middle, flashing him a smile you can’t see. Arthur leans down to whisper in her ear before glancing back at you. Pascale’s gaze follows his, confusion evident on her face.

It lasts only a fraction of a moment until her graceful eyes meet yours. Time stills and everything becomes just as it’s supposed to be. You can hear the soft in and out of your own breathing, the thrum of your heart in your chest. Her basket tumbles to the ground, discarded so she can throw her arms around you. It’s the second hug you’ve received today that you never expected. There’s something endlessly warm and comforting about Pascale’s arms being wrapped around you. The familiarity of it makes you want to sob into her shoulder.

“Oh, my girl, my sweet girl,” she hums into your hair, her hands rubbing up and down your back. The hug lasts however long she decides, her grip unerring and relentless. When she finally pulls away, she gives you two kisses on each cheek.

“Let me look at you,” she says warmly, clutching your hands in hers while staring you down. Pascale’s eyes travel from your head to your toes and then back up. Twice.

“You’ve always been beautiful, like your mother,” she says with a tsk. But you can hear the slight quiver in her voice. Your mom was her best friend. It isn’t easy to lose a best friend.

“Thank you,” you whisper back, afraid that if you speak any louder, your voice would break. Staring at your mother’s best friend and the mother of your childhood best friend, there’s a special type of love you feel blossoming in your chest. No one could replace your mother, but Pascale did a damn fine job filling in where she could.

Pascale invites you to join her and Arthur shopping for the rest of the morning. As you travel from shop to shop, feeling 12 years old again, you chat amongst yourselves. The Leclerc's grill you with questions to which you answer as best you can. In return, they answer all of your questions.

However, there’s one subject neither of you dare to bring up: Charles.

“Have you seen your father recently?” Pascale asks while inspecting a tomato, disdain clear in her voice.

“No, I haven’t heard from him since he moved,” you answer honestly, while tying off a bag of lemons to place in her basket. Your father was never that involved, always gone on business. When he was around, he was brutal and full of hate. When your mother died, he became so distant, you barely considered him your father anymore. The end of your relationship occurred when you finally left for college. You haven’t heard from him since, spare one time bothered to call to let you know he was moving to London.

Pascale lets out a string of curses under her breath. It brings a small smile to your face. Pascale will always have your back. There’s never been a time where the Leclercs haven’t been there for you. They’ve supported you through thick and thin, and always made you promise to look to them for help whenever you needed it. You feel so grateful to be loved so fully by a family, especially when you didn’t really have one of your own.

“You’ll come for lunch,” Pascale says as she finishes up her shopping. Your eyes dart over to Arthur’s. An amused look passes over his face, a classic, crooked smile lighting up his features. Sighing and shaking your head, you both know there’s no way you’re getting out of this.

“No sense in fighting it.” Arthur says while slinging an arm around your shoulders. You just nod in agreement while following Pascale to checkout. After hauling all of the shopping to the car, Arthur drives the three of you home.

The Leclerc house is just as you remember it. As you walk into the foyer and take off your shoes, peace falls over you. It’s as if you’ve stepped into a time capsule. The walls haven’t been painted since you were ten and were forced to help. The bright decorations and life that they preserve call to your childhood. As Pascale and Arthur disappear deeper into the house, you find yourself lingering behind. Eyes taking in every sight, fingers reveling in every touch, nose breathing deep the smells of the past, and between it all strings of history hang. Everything is a reminder of what once was.

A chill cascades down your back as you round into the dining room and watch from a distance as the youngest Leclerc and his mother dance about the kitchen to put away the groceries. Their soft chatter draws a lump into your throat. How long has it been since you were in a place filled with words like theirs spoken from the mouths of people you love like them? As much as your heart aches, it also swells with profound comfort.

Pascale whips some delicious sandwiches up for the three of you to snack on while you continue to jabber on about the last five years. Apparently, your frequent calls and letters were not enough to tide this woman over. She wants every last detail about where you’ve been and what you’ve been doing there.

By the time you’re long done eating, you’ve laughed so hard you’ve nearly cried, and fought tears back so desperately, a headache is coming on.

“I’ve got to go,” Arthur says after checking his watch. Your eyes fall to your phone to check the time. It’s well past four in the afternoon. Your eyes widen in surprise, not realizing how long you’ve been with the two of them. Your carefully planned out day has gone horribly askew. But, you couldn’t be happier. You weren’t sure if you were going to be able to see the Leclercs or not while you were here. Fate intervened and decided for you.

Arthur says his goodbyes, kissing both you and his mother on the cheek before clearing the plates and disappearing into the kitchen. Pascale shifts in her seat to get more comfortable, signaling that she isn’t quite done with you yet. Smiling at her, you follow suit, trying to get comfy in your chair. Just as she opens her mouth to ask you another question, the sound of the front door opening steals away your attention.

“Arthur? Did you forget something?” Pascale calls out, a frown coming over her face. It was odd that he would come through the front door. When Arthur doesn’t answer, Pascale calls out to him again. Soft footsteps coming toward you through the hallway is the only answer the two of you receive.

Silently, you watch as Pascale watches the doorway to the foyer. As the footsteps draw closer and then stop, Pascale’s face twists into a hundred different emotions. Her eyes flick over to yours once, then bounce back to the doorway. Confused, you start to turn around in your chair.

“Maman, I’m…” A familiar voice dances into your ears. Surprise turns you the rest of the way around, finding him standing there in the doorway. A rush of emotions bursts from your chest, making your fingers go numb and your head go fuzzy. The sunlight bounces around the room and splashes him in warm tones. His tousled brown hair, warmly tanned skin, and wide eyes look achingly similar to when you saw him last. Of course you’ve seen pictures of him over the years– it was unavoidable when he was the Charles Leclerc. But, nothing compares to seeing him standing right in front of you. Nothing compares to him seeing you too.

“Charles!” Pascale says, bounding out of her chair to wrap her son up in a long overdue hug. Your presence has thrown this whole encounter off its axis. Shamefully, you remember that you, in fact, are not actually part of this family. Charles wasn’t expecting you and now you’ve ruined his surprise.

You let your eyes fall from his, taking a keen interest in a specific crack found in the floorboards. Listening silently to the small chatter that passes between the mother and son, you feel suddenly out of place. It makes your heart ache that you don’t feel like you fit here with Charles now. Suddenly the house that was just full of life and memories feels cold and foreign.

Urged out of your seat by this sudden revelation, you stand quietly so as not to disturb the two people in front of you. Quickly, you go about collecting your things. All you can think about is how to get out of here as quickly as possible. There’s a part of you that wishes someone would stop you, hold you by the arm and keep you from running away. But that’s the wish of a fool, of a lovesick teenager. This is real life, and you know better than anyone that things rarely turn out the way you hoped they would. Hope is a dangerous game that you played for far too long.

“I’m so sorry to interrupt,” You say quickly, placing a hand on Pascale’s shoulder. She turns toward you with wide eyes. There’s a tenderness and worry there that makes you nearly stop in your tracks. There’s a question poised on her lips, the one that would make you stay here like you so desperately want to. But you can’t, you won’t.

“But I really have to get going. It’s been lovely to see you again. I’ll make sure to pop in and say goodbye before I leave.” The words roll easily off your tongue, but you know that you won’t be stopping by again. The looming presence beside you makes sure of that. You’ve barely looked him in the eye, let alone spoken to him, and you can hardly handle it. Coming here to say goodbye to all of them again isn’t something you could handle.

Wrapping Pascale up in a warm hug, you hold her for an extra second or two. You’re not sure when you’ll be able to do it again, so you savor every moment. Kissing her on either cheek, you whisper one last goodbye.

Finally, you turn around and are face to face with your past. His eyes are trained on you, relentless and green. There’s a small frown that paints deep lines between his eyebrows. His pink lips are down turned on a freshly shaven face. From this distance, you can smell his cologne and see the uneven rise and fall of his chest. You haven’t seen him in years– felt his presence like this in years. How can it feel like centuries ago, but nearly like it was yesterday as well? So much has changed and yet everything has stayed the same.

“Charles,” you say curtly, your lips coming to rest in a strained line. He blinks once and opens his mouth like he’s going to say something. However, he never gets the chance. You’re slipping between the two of them, all but sprinting to the front door. Quickly, you yank on your shoes, tear open the front door, and jog down towards the road. A thousand and one thoughts take over your mind as you begin your walk towards your hotel.

Seeing Charles was the last thing you thought you’d be doing on this trip. He was always traveling for his job. Formula One took him all over the globe. But, in some cruel turn of fate, he ended up here, your home, at the same time as you. All of the warmth that had been swirling around you all day, slowly accumulating and healing you, dissipated in the blink of an eye. Even in the heat of the day, you felt frostbitten.

Wandering around, you didn’t feel up to returning to your hotel room yet. Isolating yourself in that cookie-cutter, dimly lit room seemed like torture. Instead, you decided to walk the town once more. Walking always helps you sort things out. Whenever you were mad or frustrated or sad, you always went on a walk.

The bustle in the streets allowed you to slip away for a while, unnoticed by everyone around you. For now, you were simply a cog in the machine. There’s nothing more freeing than being no one for a little while. You can let all of your cares and concerns slide away as you’re swallowed up by life.

As you walk, you find yourself passing by a young boy holding the hand of his mother. You wouldn’t have cast them another glance if your eye hadn’t been caught by the bright red hat the boy donned. The yellow Ferrari crest sat atop the hat and the perfect ‘16’ etched into the brim let you know that this boy was sporting his favorite racing driver’s merch. He stumbled along with his mother’s hand in one of his and a toy formula car in the other.

While they pass you by, you can’t help but paint the features of a young Charles over that little boy’s features. He looked a lot like him. Shaggy brown hair, big eyes, and happy smirk constant on his lips.

It was a little silly how much you thought of your past. You used to spend hours going over every detail, every happy memory, and every sad one too. Sometimes, you even thought that you might live in your past to hide from your future. But it stopped a while ago. You somehow started to turn it off, to not think about him or this place.

But it’s impossible to do when you’re literally standing in the heart of your hometown. Reminders of your past are at every corner. It’s inescapable. Memories are attached to everything here. Your past is intertwined with this place, these people.

If you can’t escape it, you might as well embrace it.

You decide to head for the one place you haven’t yet dared to go. By the time you get down to the bay, the crowds have lessened. People are returning to their houses to eat supper and prepare for another work day. That means that the docks will be quieter tonight.

The sun is slipping towards the horizon as you meander about the maze of ships and yachts. Soft splashing sounds and the glittering of pearly white boats surrounds you. This was the world that you were born into, of castles on water and seas and skies that glitter like champagne. However, you couldn’t feel more detached. You belonged here once, amongst these starlets and superheroes, but not anymore. Charles’ return made that all too clear. This was his world, his domain. Treading here was dangerous, a promise to slip back into the past.

Slipping further down the dock, you make your way toward the place you’d always come to sit. Just as you’re about to turn down the row, your eyes catch on a figure already sitting at the very end. His arms are out behind him, his head leaned back while his legs dangle off the edge of the dock. He’s off to the right side. He always sat on the right side.

It’s undoubtedly Charles. You could tell from a mile away. It’s the way he holds himself, the way he slouches, the way his hair tosses in the wind. Your heart constricts in your chest as you see him sitting there in a spot that was only ever meant for the two of you.

Slowly, you make your way down the dock. He’s been waiting for you here. What that means, you have no idea. But one thing is certain, he wants to see you, otherwise he wouldn’t be here.

Without a word, you sit down next to him, letting your feet hang over the water. He doesn’t look at you, nor you at him. Instead, you both just look out over the water in silence. This is what you were both practiced at. When there was something to be said, but no one knew how to say it, this is what you did. There’s something about the sea that always helped figure things out, it always healed the hurt. Maybe it will do the same today as it did in the past.

Closing your eyes, you breathe in the smell of the bay. You’ve always loved the ocean, it’s power and beauty. When you were just a girl, you were jealous of it. You remember those feelings well. A little girl’s jealousy. But still, there was truth to it. You wish desperately for the power of the ocean now, as you sit here with the embodiment of your past. You hope endlessly for its serenity as you battle the emotions inside of you.

Cracking your eyes open again, you dare to turn your head towards your old best friend. Surprise ripples through you when you find him already looking at you. Your eyes lock and it’s finally time to face him.

For the first time in five years, you really let yourself study him. His hair is long, but styled well. It suits him. His eyes are bright, but not entirely joyful. There are new lines and spots on his face, showing that he’s growing up. There’s a pleasant amount of stubble on his jaw. His lips are still pink and lovely. His neck has grown large due to his occupation, along with all of his other muscles.

Your mind flicks back to that night on the dock where you shared your first kiss. That little teenage boy you used to know has grown into this gorgeous man that sits in front of you. He’s not just physically fuller, he’s larger than life. It feels nearly impossible that this is the Charles that you once knew, the Charles that you once loved.

“I knew you’d come out here eventually,” Charles says, his lips tilting up into a half-hearted smile. One of his dimples pops for just a second before falling away again. The sight is so familiar it makes your heart race.

Clenching your jaw, you just nod. What are you supposed to say to him? There are a million things poised on your lips, but you can’t bring yourself to voice any of them. Fear of the answers to your questions holds you back.

“Want to talk about it?” Charles says coyly, a shy smile playing across his mouth as he tilts his head to the side. This pulls a small laugh from you. He’s quoting himself from all those years ago when you sat here together. You’d stormed out of your house when your dad did something or other and ended up here. It was the night that you kissed. It was the night you fell in love with my best friend.

“No,” You answer with a small smile, now quoting yourself. Charles sighs while shaking his head. Your name rolls off his tongue and it’s like no time has passed at all. You’re both teenagers with both parents still alive and big dreams waiting out on the horizon. Enamored as ever, you look him deep in the eyes.

With one last deep breath of ocean air, you take the plunge.

“You never gave me a reason.” A simple sentence that means everything.

When his father died, he was still working on getting an F1 contract. He had lied to his father on his deathbed about signing with Ferrari. He was so torn up about it that his entrance into F1 was tainted. He became obsessed and threw himself into the sport with everything he had. For a while, there was nothing but racing for him. Charles wasn’t Charles for a long time.

When he started racing in F1 for Alfa Romeo, you were left behind. Contact fizzled out until one day he was just completely gone. He never called, never responded to any of your texts or voicemails. After a few months, you got the message and stopped trying. Nearly five years of radio silence and now here he is, sitting in front of you.

“You never even bothered to say goodbye.” Your voice is just a broken whisper. The breeze floating over the water whips at your hair and cheeks. Quiet sloshing of waves is all you hear for a while. Charles stares at you with glossy eyes. His mouth is slightly ajar, waiting for a suitable answer to come to him.

“I’m sorry,” He says, that frown coming back onto his face. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I was lost and young and stupid.”

You hum in concurrence.

“By the time I realized what I did, you were long gone. I didn’t know if you’d even want to hear from me,” he admits.

You think about all the times in the last five years that you longed for his call. How many times have you yearned to hear his voice? To see him again? Countless. Even in the several short-lived relationships you’ve had over the years, you’ve shamefully compared them all to Charles. There was never a day that you didn’t want to hear from your best friend. In all the hiding and avoiding that you do, there’s no way to skew the truth.

“I missed you,” Charles goes on when you don’t answer him. You can feel him staring at you, but your eyes have strayed once more to the horizon. His admission to missing you makes you feel like you might fall over. The one thing that’s always torn you up time and time again was not knowing what he was feeling like going through all of this. There were nights in the very beginning where you stared at your ceiling thinking of him and wondering if he was doing the same. Your soul longed for him then, just as it does now.

“All of those letters you wrote to maman? She sent them to me when she was finished with them. I keep them in my journal that I take with me everywhere,” Charles says while leaning toward you. “I read them over and over when I miss you so much I can’t breathe.”

He’s read your letters? You think about all the things you’ve ever said in those letters to Pascale. You bore your soul to her in some, explaining your battle with grief or what shitty guy you’d been seeing. You explained your schooling ups and downs, as well as your careers. Your life over the last five years could be easily traced through those letters. And Charles had read every single one. He’s known you more than you’ve known him in these years spent apart. Maybe you should be mad at Pascale for giving them to Charles, or at Charles for reading them, but you’re not. You’d never hidden anything from Charles before, why would that stop?

A warm hand finds a home on the side of your jaw, guiding your face away from the horizon and toward him. His eyes lock onto yours. Silently, you wonder when he got this close. His fingers hold onto your jaw, not letting you turn away from him again.

“I miss you so much I can’t breathe,” He says again, his voice just a whisper. It catches on the breeze and floats out to sea, never to be heard again. Your heart is hammering in your chest while your mind goes blank. Your body doesn’t register this as reality. Charles is here, holding you in his hand at the end of your dock in Monaco. This scenario has played out in your dreams time and time again. The love you’d hidden away breaches the surface, pouring from you in ways you didn’t know were possible.

“I miss you, too,” you admit freely for the first time in years. Your Charles finally gives you a smile that makes him look like himself.

Now, as he looks at you, there’s clarity in his eyes. Those green eyes that you watched grow and leave and now return are calling you to him. You understand now that you’ve both suffered enough. There’s been too much loss for there to be no gain. Finally, finally, here it is. The moment you’ve waited for since the last time you sat on this dock so close together. It’s your time.

“Charlie,” you whisper into the evening air. He perks up at his name on your lips, his eyes falling there. Every inch of you yearns to press into his touch, to never let go of it. But you’re still unsure. There’s always been more than best friends for you with Charles. You have to tell him that. It’s been hidden away inside of you for too long. If nothing else comes of this, even if you two fade into oblivion, at least you’ll have said it.

“I loved you,” you say earnestly. “I love you.”

Silence greets you. His face searches yours for a minute, his eyes wide and unreadable. Terror squeezes your chest, an ache of admitting a secret kept hidden away for too long. Desperately, you wish you could look away from him, towards your beloved horizon. Maybe you could hide yourself there. But Charles’ fingers on your jaw keep you held steadfast in place.

“I have a proposition for you,” he says finally, his face inching closer. You nearly fall over at his words. It’s a tease at what you once said to him right here, all those years ago. He remembers everything. Just like you.

“But don’t get weird,” he quips, a smile coming across his face just before he closes the gap between you two, pressing his lips to yours. You return his smile and accept his kiss. His fingers are strong on your jaw as he pulls you in deeper. The caress of his lips on yours and the rub of his stubble feels heavenly. As many times as you can imagine a moment, it never compares to the real thing. Wild dreams and fantasies don’t even touch having Charles’ skin on yours.

His free hand drifts down to your waist, bringing you in closer. His touch is needy, his kiss ravenous. It conveys years of desperation from both of you. Not only does it light up this moment, but it brings new life to your intertwined past. Years upon years of spending days and nights together all come down to this moment. This is where two pasts that danced around each other merge into one new life.

The sparks that fly off of the two of you bound over the water, reaching the horizon and further. The city that you were born in, the boy you were born for, and the life you were destined to discover, all wrap their arms around you at once. Finally, for the first time in years, you feel at home.

Charles hauls you onto his lap, his hands strong against your waist. Pulling away from the second kiss you’ve ever shared, you’re sure it won’t be the last. No, there’s a lifetime of moments like these ahead of you.

Charles rests his forehead against yours. His breathing is ragged mimicking your own. His eyes are shut as he runs his hands up and down your back. Sighing, you lean into his touch.

“I love you, too,” He says after a few minutes of silence. “Always have.”

A lump rises in your throat as tears rush to your closed eyes. Even after five years of suffering, you can’t help but forgive him. These five years that you’ve spent apart have grown you both into the people you are today. Call it fate, destiny, divine intervention, whatever it may be, but something tore you apart so one day you could be together again. There was healing that needed to happen in both of you while you were separated. But now there was healing to be done together.

“We have a lot of lost time to make up for,” you can’t help but tease, your voice watery. Charles’ laugh vibrates against your hands that are pressed to his chest. He opens his eyes to look at you. His eyes are tearlined but finally filled with that joy that you’ve been desperate to see. He looks at you like you’re everything he’s ever wanted. You’re his biggest dream.

He pulls you into another searing kiss. Fireworks dance behind your eyelids as he clutches onto you. His tongue glides against your bottom lip, forcing your mouth open in a gasp. He tightens his arms around your waist, so you think he’s pulling you closer. But instead, he’s grabbing onto you as tightly as possible so you can’t fight him as he leans forward off the dock. The two of you roll off the front of the dock, splashing into the summertime sea.

When you bob up to the surface, you find Charles treading water. He’s laughing so hard that he’s barely staying afloat. For a split second, you allow yourself to enjoy the view. He’s completely doused, his light colored shirt plastered onto his skin. There’s a childlike joy radiating off of him.

“I’ve waited so long to do that,” he admits while swimming over to you. Shaking your head, you splash him in the face as he draws in close. In retaliation, he wraps you up in his arms and kisses you so hard you fear it might bruise. Nonetheless, you kiss him right back, your legs wrapping around his waist.

“Come on, let’s go back,” you say just as the pair of you are about to slip under water. Charles presses a chaste last kiss to your lips before swimming off towards the dock.

As you turn to swim after him, you cast one last look over your shoulder to the watery horizon. The sea really did what it does best: it healed.

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wyvernest · 1 year ago

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hammock by the sea

pairing - miguel o'hara x wife!f!reader

warnings - fluff, established relationship, suggestive

summary - you and miguel enjoy a sunny july afternoon on your honeymoon in a hammock

translations: lo sé - i know / así me gusta - that's how i like it

part 2! part3!

The air is hot, but fresh with a salty sea breeze. The waves roll rhythmically against the white shores, echoing through the gardens of the resort you're spending your honeymoon at.

Everything is so quiet, so serene, and incontestably intimate.

The hammock hangs low between two palms, heavy with your weight added on top of his. Miguel sits cosily in the linen cocoon, arms hanging out on each side. You're seated on his lap, straddling him. Sunlight grazes his features in interrupted stripes, filtered through the sharp palm leaves.

His eyes are closed, eyebrows relaxed. Your gaze lingers over his sculpted face, the shape of his eyes, his cheekbones, the line of his nose and his soft lips; then up to his dark hair, sun-kissed dark silk.

You're startled when you feel his hand take ahold of your wrist gently, pulling you with a little force into his embrace. Eyes still closed, he's silently asking you to lay back on top of him, to let him capture you back into his arms.

You remain straight for the single purpose of looking at him for a little longer. It's not often that you see him so relaxed, so defenceless and vulnerable. Your attention follows his jaw, adorned with the remnants of what used to be a stubble; then the line of his neck, and you hold back a primal impulse to bend down and start kissing it, just to hear him giggle lowly before groaning in need.

Your hands follow your vision, flowing down his broad shoulders, and over his strong pecs, reaching the firm muscles of his torso. You feel him tense up, flexing his abdomen under your touch and puffing out a giggled breath.

"You don't have to do that to impress me, you know." you keep your hands on his abdomen, struggling to mask the loving and lustful awe in your eyes.

"Lo sé. I just love to see you all red in the face." He smirks at you, pearl-white fangs peeking from the smile, opening his eyes enough just to witness the sight before him. You hadn't realised you were getting so flustered. Maybe it's the heat outside.

Or maybe it's just him, looking like a greek sculpture, completely enamoured by you and at your disposal. All sleepy, messy hair and smile teasing.

You cave in, laying yourself on top of him, head on his chest, hiding the blush in your cheeks. His arms encompass your body, holding you against him. You feel one of his legs drop out of the hammock, slowly swaying you both into a lulling cradle.

You snuggle into him, pressing your face closer to hear his heartbeat. With a deep sigh, you melt into him. He brings a hand to your hair, laying soft caresses over the expanse of your back.

But you don't want to fall asleep just yet. There's only so many things you could do. Getting up, you come face to face with him, starting to kiss him all over his face. He smiles, eyes still closed. You kiss him on his forehead, on his temples, all over his cheeks, and when you get close enough to the corner of his mouth, he catches you and deepens the kiss. His lips are soft and tender against yours, tongues dancing in tandem as you make out under the July sun.

His hands arrive at your sides, grasping at your waist before starting to tickle violently. You break away from the kiss, erupting in uncontrolled laughter. He doesn't stop. He keeps tickling until you're backing up on the opposite end of the hammock, seeking shelter from the attack.

He takes the chance and gets up from his place, repositioning himself so that he's laying on you, face up. The hammock swings abruptly from side to side and you nearly fall out of it. You scream and laugh but he doesn't stop until he's seated comfortably, head on your chest.

"There we go." He sighs, placing a quick peck on your breast, making you even more flustered, before once again shutting his eyes.

"You could've told me you wanted to switch."

"Wouldn't have been as fun."

You tangle your fingers in his hair, massaging lightly.

"Ah, así me gusta" he moans and relaxes further into your embrace.

"You're so handsome." you mumble to yourself, gazing at him with all the love you could bestow upon someone.

He opens his eyes instantly, staring at you like you just told him the craziest thing he could've heard.

"Mi vida", he pauses, weighing his words for half a second, "coming from an angel like you, it means a lot."

You smile, knowing he means it. He's not the type to throw in compliments and sweet talk just for the sake of it, and you love him for that.

Your attention is suddenly intercepted by the sight of the fruit bowl you brought with you, next to the hammock. You pick it up and start with a strawberry. He looks up at you, eyes pleading silently. Raising your eyebrows smugly, you feed him a tangerine slice.

You analyse the picture before you, wishing you could freeze it in time. Miguel, comfortably seated on top of you, head on your soft chest, looking up at you like he's nothing less than a god and you're his paradisiacal muse, feeding him fruits.

However, the air suddenly shifts as your eyes river down his frame, and over to the hardening outline of his bulge, curved against his shorts. Your gaze returns to his, recognizing the familiar want beneath the relaxed façade.

"Let's take care of that, love", you suggest, pointing in the direction of your room with your eyes.

He doesn't waste a second before he stands up and scoops you from the hammock, hoisting you over his shoulder and giving your exposed ass a playful smack.

a/n - i'll make a part 2 if anyone is interested:)

EDIT: part 2

#miguel o'hara x reader one shot #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #spider man 2099 #miguel o'hara #miguel o hara #miguel ohara #miguel o’hara x reader #atsv miguel #miguel x you #miguel spiderverse #miguel spiderman #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara fluff

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pedroscurls · 2 months ago

Text

you put a spell on me (one-shot)

summary: hugh attends a masquerade-themed party and you capture his attention the moment you step into the building. pairing: hugh jackman x fem! reader content warnings: smut (18+, mdni), fingering, oral - m receiving, multiple orgasms (from reader), missionary (legs over hugh’s shoulders obvi), doggy style, cowgirl, light spanking, unprotected p in v sex (be safe folks!), creampie , no use of y/n. word count: 5.2k a/n: so after all the shit that’s happened in the last twenty four hours, I just needed to write something and Hugh’s most recent post is the inspiration of this story. song lyrics are in italics btw. hope you all enjoy! this is purely fictional! i mean no disrespect to hugh jackman. song: you put a spell on me by austin giorgio

A masquerade ball.

Hugh was speaking with Ryan and Blake when someone caught the corner of his eye. Turning to look in your direction, he feels his breath catch in his throat at the sight of you descending the stairs to the main dance floor.

Everyone else in this ballroom was either dressed in tones of black, white, and gold, but you… the color of your deep wine red dress adds just the right amount of color to this room. He can’t help but let his eyes take in your frame - the gown trails behind you so elegantly and serene as you walk, an a-line cut with a slit that reveals your leg, an empire waist that clings to every curve, and the slightly puffy sleeves of your dress makes you look so angelic. When you turn slightly, he takes note of the open back as well, biting his lower lip.

There’s a familiarity to you, that maybe he’s seen you before, maybe even talked to you before too. Hugh watches your eyes sweep the area and when your eyes meet his, he lets the corner of his lips turn upwards and then he sees you bite your lower lip, returning his smile with one of your own.

But you’re wearing a masquerade mask, just like he is, just like everyone else in this room is. He can’t tell if he knows you, can’t decide if he should just go up to you and strike up a conversation because if he could hear your voice, it’ll at least give him some idea of who you might be.

Hugh has to peel his eyes away from you for a moment, turning his attention back to Ryan who’s staring at him with a big grin.

“What?” Hugh asks, bringing a hand up to adjust the mask on his face.

“You gonna talk to her?”

“I don’t know her,” Hugh admits. “Or at least I don’t think I do.”

“Well, go and find out.” Blake says with a smile, gently nudging him with her arm.

“Yeah?” Hugh asks. “You think it won’t be awkward?”

“Well, what was awkward was watching you stare at her like you wanted something, if you get what I mean,” Ryan teases.

Hugh rolls his eyes and lets out a quiet chuckle. He runs a hand through his hair and then straightens out his bow tie as he nods at Ryan and Blake before he leaves the table in search of you.

Hugh scans the entire room, trying to catch a glimpse of your red dress in the sea of black, white and gold, but he can’t seem to find you. He places his hands in his pockets as he continues to walk casually throughout the room, stopping every now and then to talk with someone he knows. Even in the midst of the conversations, Hugh’s eyes still search for you.

Just one glimpse, he tells himself. Hugh just needs to see the color of your dress and then he’ll be able to get to you.

He excuses himself from another conversation and then decides to walk towards the bar. Hugh sighs to himself, not having found you since you first stepped into the building. He takes the champagne glass from the bartender and then turns his gaze back to the entire room. Very briefly, does he see a glimpse of your smile. His eyes move lower and notices the color of your dress.

It’s you, finally.

Taking a deep breath, Hugh takes another glass of champagne and walks in your direction. It takes less than ten seconds to get to you, the person you had been talking to leaving you alone conveniently as he moves to stand next to you.

“Refill?” Hugh asks quietly, handing you the glass of champagne.

You smile up at him and Hugh feels his heart race even faster. You don’t say anything, instead you just give him a thankful nod and take the glass of champagne from him, your fingers brushing against his.

“I’m Hugh,” he says with a small smile.

“I know,” you finally tell him.

Your voice is quiet and he can’t tell if he’s heard it before, so he leans in closer. Hugh can hear your breath hitch and it gives him just the right amount of confidence to ask you a question.

“And you? What’s your name?”

You lift the glass of champagne to your lips and take a small sip. “Well, what’s the fun in that if I just tell you,” you tease, whispering quietly.

Hugh smiles and pulls back to look down at you. All of a sudden, no one else in this room matters but you. Everyone fades into the background and all he can see is you.

“Okay,” he chuckles. “Well, do we know each other? Have we met before?”

“We’ve met before, yes.”

Hugh bites the inside of his cheek but he can’t focus. He just wants to reach out and slowly lift the mask from your eyes so he can get a clear view of who you are.

“Have we worked together?” Hugh asks.

“I think I should be offended that you can’t tell who I am,” you laugh quietly.

Your laugh. The way your smile lights up your entire face. There’s that sense of familiarity all over again and it’s a fleeting moment where he suddenly realizes where he knows you from. The after party for Deadpool & Wolverine. He remembered leaving that night with a huge smile on his face after spending the entire night talking with you.

That was months ago and while you two have had brief conversations between then and now through social media, neither of you ever tried to pursue each other. Though, there was an obvious attraction, an obvious pull that you felt towards one another.

Hugh doesn’t ask anymore questions about you, but instead he watches you finish your glass of champagne. He smiles to himself and finishes his own glass before he takes yours and sets both glasses down on a nearby table.

“Would you like to dance?” Hugh asks, large hand extending out for you.

Gently, you place your hand in his and nod, stepping closer to him. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Hugh smiles to himself and leads you to the dance floor, his free hand moving to rest on your lower back. He feels your other hand come to rest on his shoulder as he’s careful not to step on the ends of your dress. Even under the shadows of the dance floor, Hugh can see you so clearly.

you put a spell on me

I’m losing my mind

As the song begins, Hugh sways with you, hand splaying on your lower back as he feels your skin underneath his fingertips. He bites his lower lip, staring into your eyes through his own mask. He feels a bit at ease with the mask, like everyone else in the room won’t be focusing on the two of you and how you’re both becoming increasingly closer.

you better stop things

it’s a matter of time

You can feel his fingertips run lightly along your back as his eyes remain locked on yours. Since meeting him, Hugh had occupied your thoughts and the brief conversations you had with him always left you yearning for more. It was easy to talk to him; it felt so natural and he always made you laugh.

Hugh pulls you flush against him, your body pressing firmly against his as the song continues.

before I hunt you down

grab your chin

and kiss your lips

Your eyes move to his lips, biting down on your lower lip in anticipation. The tension between the both of you thickens and your hand on his shoulder moves to rest on his chest, the muscle beneath the fabric of his shirt tensing and flexing at your touch.

you bring me back

I lay you down

and grab your hips

Hugh then drops your hand and moves both of his own to rest on your hips, gripping them tightly as he lowers his head to press his forehead lightly against yours. Quietly, almost above a whisper, Hugh finally says your name with a cheeky grin on his lips.

“Y–You figured it out,” you say.

“Knew it the minute you smiled at me,” Hugh replies.

As you continue to sway on the dance floor with him, your own hands move to wrap around his neck, linking your fingers together to rest at the nape of his neck.

I put a spell on you

and now you’re mine

I’ve got a hold on you

at least for the night

“Do you wanna get out of here?” You ask him hesitantly, looking into his eyes hopefully.

Hugh nods instantly. “Yes,” he answers.

—

When you finally get to his penthouse, you walk inside and look around, still wearing your mask. You gasp quietly when you feel his strong hands on your hips, turning you around to face him. He slowly lifts his mask off and away from his face, his hazel eyes now glimmering with excitement.

He’s so handsome, so beautiful and breathtaking. Hugh then reaches up to slowly lift the mask away from your face, eyes gazing directly into your own once he removes it completely. He feels his heart race faster again at the sight of you.

“Beautiful,” he whispers.

“Hugh?” You ask, hand coming up to gently run along the lapel of his white suit jacket.

“Yes, love?”

“Kiss me, please.”

Hugh nods and then leans in to press his lips firmly against your own. His hand moved to cup your cheek, fingers splaying against the side of your neck. Your own hands move to the lapels of his white suit jacket, gripping it lightly as you begin to move your lips with his own. You’ve imagined this so many times, but you never thought that it would feel this perfect.

His free hand moves to rest on your hip, rubbing his thumb against the fabric of your dress. Hugh darts his tongue out to tease your lips and when you let out a gasp, his tongue slides in your mouth to meet your own. The grip around his jacket tightens further and you feel a familiar throbbing between your legs, your wetness now staining the panties you have on.

Hugh pulls away from the kiss momentarily to look down at you. You’ve occupied his mind since meeting you and the brief conversations you did share has always left him wondering if this could be more. He didn’t want to push this, push you, into something that wouldn’t become anything but the moment he knew it was you, Hugh realized he wanted you. Bad.

He’s staring into your eyes, searching for any doubt in your features. Hugh drops his hand to rest on the side of your neck, thumb now brushing against your collarbone. “Tell me…” he sighs. “Tell me I’m not the only one that feels something here.”

“You’re not,” you admit. “I’ve been– Since the night of the party, I kind of expected you to ask me out or…” you feel the heat in your cheeks rise and you bite your lower lip. “I thought maybe I had just imagined it.”

The hand on your hip moves to your back, fingertips grazing your skin as he dips it lower and lower beneath the fabric of your dress. “I didn’t want to scare you away,” he confesses.

“I don’t think you ever could.” You move your hands up his chest and slowly undo his bow tie, biting your lower lip in anticipation.

“And if we do this?” Hugh asks, hopefully.

“Well, if we do this,” you say quietly, your fingers slowly beginning to unbutton his shirt. “It’s not going to be just a one time thing… but if you want it to be a one time thing, then we should probably establish–”

Hugh shakes his head and interjects, “it’s not going to be a one time thing.”

You smile up at him, your fingertips grazing the exposed skin on his chest as you continue to unbutton his shirt. “Good. Take me to your room?”

“Yes,” Hugh breathes out. He steps back and away from you, taking your hand in his and leading you to his main bedroom upstairs. You don’t even have time to look around, to get acquainted with his personal space that he allowed you to get a glimpse of because the moment you step inside, Hugh gently sets you on the edge of his large mattress.

You watch him get rid of his bow tie and white jacket, discarding it on the floor. You’re about to reach down to remove your heels, but Hugh drops to his knees in front of you, taking one foot to slide the heel off. You clear your throat, hands resting on the edges of the mattress as Hugh proceeds to your other foot to remove your heel. Slowly, he lifts the ends of your dress to reveal more of your legs, his fingertips hovering lightly over you.

Once your dress bunches up at the waist and he gets a clear view of your matching red lace thong, he has to reach down to squeeze his throbbing erection. Hugh leans in and presses soft kisses on your inner thigh, the stubble of his beard and his sideburns grazing your skin and causing a shiver to run through your body.

Hugh stares up at you, eyes silently asking for permission. When he sees you nod, Hugh moves further between your legs, his nose brushing against your clothed sex. It causes a gasp to escape your lips, eyes falling shut as nudges you with the bridge of his nose.

“Hugh,” you whimper. “Please, baby…”

Hugh smirks and pulls away to look up at you. He stands up – albeit with protest from you – and takes your hand. Once you’re standing in front of him, he reaches for the zipper on the side of your dress and lowers it until the dress becomes loose around your frame. He feels your hands come back up to finish the job of unbuttoning his shirt and once it’s fully unbuttoned, you push it off his shoulders and the shirt drops to the floor. He’s now completely shirtless and your eyes deviate to his strong and chiseled chest. You lean in and gently nip along his collarbone, hands coming up to graze his abdomen and up his chest.

Hugh lets out a quiet moan at your touch. Slowly, he takes your hands and presses a soft kiss on your knuckles before he reaches out to pull down your dress. Once it pools around your ankles, he feels his breath catch in his throat yet again. You’re standing in front of him in a deep red lace bra and matching thong set.

“You’re breathtaking,” he compliments. “Fuck,” he adds.

Hugh has always looked at you like the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen, has always given you his undivided attention, and right now is no different. You’d usually be very conscious about your body, about how you look, but the way he’s looking at you makes you feel very confident and secure in your skin.

“I think it’s only fair we take these off, huh?” You say, hands moving to the waistband of his pants. You can see his obvious bulge from beneath his slacks, can see the outline of him and you feel only slightly nervous because he looks big. At least, bigger than you’ve ever had before.

Hugh nods and then undoes his pants, quickly stepping out of them as he kicks his shoes off. He’s wearing black boxer briefs and you slowly reach out to rest your palm over him, his girth and size not a match for your hand. You’re tugging on his boxers, tugging on the fabric to pull it away from him, but Hugh shakes his head and wraps his arms around your waist instead.

“Gotta see you first, baby,” he whispers, lips grazing your jawline. Then, Hugh sets you on the middle of his bed, biting his lower lip at the sight of you all splayed out for him. He quickly moves to settle himself between your legs, making sure to press himself against you. When he feels you roll your hips, Hugh lets out a groan.

Hugh reaches around you and unclasps your bra, pulling it slowly away from your body. He tosses it over his shoulder, eyes moving to your now exposed breasts and he pushes further into you. He hooks his fingers under the waistband of your thong, pulling it down your legs. “Gonna keep these,” he growls, bringing the fabric up to his nose and inhales your scent.

You bite your lower lip and nod up at him, watching him set your panties on his nightstand. When you look back up at him, Hugh’s eyes scan every inch of your naked frame, almost like he’s committing it to memory. When he presses his clothed length against you, he feels your wetness stain the fabric of his briefs.

Hugh slowly lowers himself further to press light kisses on your collarbone, lips moving further and further until he wraps his lips around your nipple. He groans to himself and uses his free hand to begin kneading your unattended breast. Hugh feels your hips continue to roll upwards into him and he’s throbbing so painfully beneath the fabric of his boxer briefs. He pulls back, flicking his tongue against your nipple before he moves to give the same attention to your other breast.

“Oh god,” you whimper. Hugh smiles to himself and moves a hand between your legs, a finger slowly grazing your exposed sex. You’re already so wet, juices building and trickling down to his sheets. He slides the tip of his finger into your heat, growling against you as he feels your walls tighten around him, sucking him in.

He slides his finger further into your heat, pulling away from your breast to look up at you. Hugh rests his forehead against your temple, whispering lowly in your ear. “You’re so wet, baby…” he smirks, nibbling at your earlobe as he begins to pump his finger in and out of your depths.

Your hands move to his shoulders, gripping it tightly as your walls begin to tremble. When Hugh pushes another digit into you, your back arches and your fingernails dig into his skin. “Hugh!” You moan loudly, your head tossing back slightly against the mattress as you feel your walls begin to clench around his digits, your orgasm approaching faster than what you’re used to.

Hugh grins to himself and quickens his pace. He can feel your juices around his fingers, can hear the squelching sounds of his fingers pumping into your wet heat. After a few more pumps, Hugh presses his fingers fully into, palm firmly against your bundle of nerves.

“Come for me,” he growls into your ear.

And on command, your walls clench further around him and a loud moan escapes your lips. You roll your hips against his hand, his palm providing the right amount of friction against your clit. When you slowly come down from your high, Hugh then pulls his hand away from you. He sees your arousal coat his fingers and he grins, bringing it to his lips and sucking them off his fingers. His eyes flutter at your taste and he leans back against his knees.

“God, you taste good.” Hugh’s about to lower himself to get a taste of you directly through the source, but his eyes slightly widen when you sit up and gently push him onto his back. “Baby,” he says softly, seeing the dark gaze in your eyes. Hugh feels your hands tug down his briefs, his erected manhood now resting against his lower abdomen.

“You made me come,” you tell him, licking your lower lip. “Already,” you continue.

“Oh, you’re gonna come a few more times tonight before I’m done with you,” Hugh grins proudly.

You don’t answer. Instead, you lie on your abdomen and grasp the base of length, wasting no time in wrapping your lips around his tip. Hugh lets out a loud groan in surprise, hand coming down to tangle itself in your hair. You whimper at the taste of him, at his girth stretching your mouth. He lifts his head slightly off the bed to look down at you, groaning at the sight of you. You smile at him – fucking smile with his cock in your mouth and it makes him go wild. Hugh rests his head back against the mattress, eyes fully shut tight when he feels you lower your mouth further onto him.

Your hand strokes what your mouth can’t take and he knows that he can’t fucking come right now, knows that he doesn’t want to come in your mouth when he hasn’t even felt how you would feel wrapped around him.

“Baby, baby, fuck,” he groans, gently pulling you away from his length. Hugh looks down at himself, seeing your saliva coating half of his size and when he looks up at you, you’re fucking smiling again. He rolls you onto your back and settles himself between your legs, grasping his base and running his tip along your throbbing sex. “As much as I loved the sight of you with my cock in your mouth,” he growls, eyes staring deeply into yours. “I still need to feel you.”

Then, Hugh pushes his tip into you. He groans to himself, pushing his hips into you as he slides into your tight walls inch by inch. You’re so wet, so warm, so fucking tight. He rests his forearms at either side of your head, gently stroking your hair back and away from your face. He stares into your eyes, rolling his hips into you until he fills you to the hilt.

“You feel good, baby,” Hugh whispers, lips brushing against yours. He feels your legs wrap around his waist, whimpering quietly as your eyes flutter when he pulls out to his tip only to thrust back into you slowly. “It’s taking a lot of restraint in me to not just…” he slams into you roughly, causing a loud moan to leave your lips. “Fuck.”

You wrap your arms around his shoulders, moving your lips to his jawline and neck. “Fuck me, Hugh… I can take it. I promise.”

Like a switch turned on, Hugh pulls back and sits back on his knees. He brings your legs to drape over his strong shoulders as he slides back into you. He turns his head and kisses the inside of your calf gently, softly, as he delivers a sharp thrust into you.

Hugh’s thrusts don’t falter, his skin slaps against yours as he picks up the pace. When he leans forward, your legs still over his shoulders, you feel him slide further into your depths. He rests his hands on the mattress, using it to ground him as he feels your walls slide along his throbbing length, gripping him so tight.

You can feel the tightness begin to build, your walls beginning to clench once more as your orgasm looms closer and closer. You reach out to rest your hands on his chest, feeling like you can’t handle anymore. Your body is overly sensitive and with each drag of his hips, with each push he thrusts into you, is enough for your walls to tighten even further around his length.

“Oh god,” you moan aloud. “Hugh!”

Hugh groans at the sight of you, at the feel of your walls clenching and trembling around him. He slows his thrusts for a moment, placing your legs back to your side as he stares down at you. “That’s two,” he grins proudly. Hugh pulls out completely, looking down at his length to see it slick with your arousal.

“It’s not a game,” you pant, moving to sit up with your legs still spread wide for him.

Hugh smirks, reaching down and stroking himself slowly as his eyes take in your entire frame. He’s surprised that he’s held out this long, driven by his desire to get you to come at least one more time before he does.

“Really? Because I’m kind of enjoying myself, baby.”

You narrow your eyes and then slowly roll yourself into your abdomen. You bury your face against the softness of his pillow as you bring the sheet to cover your lower half. “Good, well I’m gonna get some sleep. You can fix that little problem yourself.” You bite your lower lip, knowing that Hugh’s not going to like that. When you look over your shoulder at him, you can see his lower lip between his teeth and he tugs the sheet down and away from your body.

“Oh, we wanna be a tease, huh?” Hugh straddles your hips, caging you in as he brings his hand lightly down your ass. The sound of his palm connecting with your backside echoes throughout his room. You gasp loudly, fully surprised that you actually like it. “We like that, do we?” Hugh smirks and then spanks you once more, feeling you wiggle back into him. “Oh, baby, you’re naughty.”

Then, he slides into you fully, this new position making you feel even tighter around him. You reach back, trying to push him away – your walls so sensitive with two orgasms already. Hugh clicks his tongue and grabs your hands and places them above your head, gripping your wrists firmly. He rolls his hips into you, eyes fluttering at the feel of you around him.

“Hugh, baby, please–”

Hugh interrupts you with a harsh thrust, resting his chest firmly against your back as he whispers into your ear. “Tell me how it feels, love,” he pants, a groan leaving his lips.

“Feels good,” you whimper, pushing back against him. “You’re so–” your breath catches in your throat when he pushes all the way into you, filling you so fully and deeply. He’s crowding your space, holding your wrists down, the weight of his body weight firmly pressing against yours, and his tip kissing your most inner parts… it’s enough for you to reach yet another orgasm.

“Fuck, Hugh!”

Hugh releases your wrists to grab your hips and pull out of you abruptly. He turns you over and leans down to lap at your juices, eyes fluttering at your taste as his tongue helps you ride out your climax. Your hand immediately moves to his hair – what was once neatly done for tonight’s event now is a complete mess as you tug and pull.

Hugh brings a hand to press his thumb firmly against your clit, feeling your entire body tremble and shake against him.

“Hugh!” you moan loudly, back arching. You’re truly spent and he’s still so fucking hard for you. When he pulls away, he licks his lips and gently slaps your already-sensitive pussy, which causes a gasp to escape your lips. You’re breathing so heavily, chest raising as you stare at him with a dazed look on your face.

“Three?” He smirks.

“How are you still…” you bite your lip and see him move to lie down next to you, his hand dropping down to slowly begin to stroke himself. “Don’t you want to come?”

Hugh growls lowly, eyes looking at you from top to bottom. “I do,” he answers. “But seeing you come is just as good.”

You take a few deep breaths and then slowly move to straddle his waist. You take hold of his base, holding it firm in your hand. You keep your eyes locked on his and slowly lower yourself onto him, feeling his girth stretch you out once more. You know you won’t be able to last long, your entire body already on overdrive. When you slowly begin to lower yourself onto him, inch by inch, it surprises you at how deep he feels in this position. Your walls slide down each inch of his length and when you lower yourself completely, until you’re sitting firmly on his lap, your hands move to rest on his chest.

“So deep,” you whisper, slowly rolling your hips forward and backwards, the hair at his base providing just the right amount of friction against your clit. “Now, it’s your turn to come– Hugh!”

He delivers a sharp thrust upwards, hands moving to grip your hips tightly and his fingertips dig into your flesh. Hugh licks his lower lip, staring up at you as you try your best to hold out another orgasm just so he can come. It’s cute, very considerate, but he needs one more out of you. Hugh isn’t usually like this, but there’s something about you that brings out this feral animal in him.

One hand moves to grasp your breast, massaging and kneading it into his palm as his other keeps a tight hold on your hip. Hugh lets out a loud moan when he feels you begin to bounce along his length – all the way to his tip and back down completely. He’s close, he’s surprised he’s even held out this long with coming, but he knows he’s close and he can’t hold it anymore.

“Baby–” Hugh groans, thumb brushing against your nipple as he sits up and wraps his arms around your waist. You continue to move along his length, your own hands moving to rest on his shoulders. In the time that he’s known you, you’ve always been so determined, especially when you put your mind on something and right now is no different.

He feels you lean in to press your lips against his own. It’s a messy kiss, but fueled with so much passion, so much intensity. Hugh feels the tightness build and build in the pit of his stomach as his hands hold you firmly still, his hips stuttering upwards into you at an erratic pace.

“Oh god,” he groans, pulling away from the kiss to bury his face against the side of your neck. Slowly, he feels your hips roll forwards and backwards, causing a shiver to run through his body. Hugh pulls back enough to look up at you and he sees that same fucking grin on your face. With an arm wrapped around your waist, he rolls you onto your back and slowly pulls out of you, seeing his release trickle out of you.

He’s about to say something, but you interrupt him by reaching down to scoop some of his release onto your finger and lift it to your lips. Without hesitation, you suck the remnants of his release off your fingertip and maintain eye contact.

“Minx,” he groans.

You smile and lean up to kiss his cheek, resting your head against his shoulder. “I don’t think I’ll be able to walk for the next few days,” you giggle. “I can’t believe you made me come three times.”

“Let’s aim for four next time,” Hugh grins.

“I don’t know if I can do four…” you laugh.

“Oh, baby, I believe in you,” he winks and moves to hover above you again. Hugh’s hand comes up to rest on your cheek, thumb brushing against your skin lightly. “But before we do that, can I take you out on a real date?”

You nod and turn your head slightly to kiss the inside of his wrist. “Yes, Hugh.”

Hugh grins and then leans down to capture your lips in a slow, passionate kiss.

---

forever taglist: @haytchee @wolverigrl

#hugh jackman #hugh jackman request #hugh jackman requests #hugh jackman x reader #hugh jackman x you #hugh jackman x fem!reader #hugh jackman x f!reader #story: mystery woman #hugh jackman oneshot #hugh jackman smut

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starsofang · 3 months ago

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CALL OF THE SEA / PART FOURTEEN

pirate poly!141 x f!reader tw: NSFW, MDNI, idk how to label this one so as always be warned? masterlist a/n: this is a more chill chapter w some drama ooo. next chapter i will try to make longer because we have a lot about to happen and a lot of progress that's being made but needs to move faster :,) i work two jobs now and work 14 hour days so thank you for being patient with me as i navigate through that. this story's lowkey falling off and not as many people seem to be into it which is fine but as always ily <3

When a group of unhinged pirates invade your small village, you're whisked away from your peaceful home and thrown on to a voyage out at sea. Forced to obtain a new role as their medic, you have no choice but to accept your fate as you join their forces and aid them in their treacherous travels.

You woke with a heavy heart riddled with anxiety. The room was empty and dim, the sun fighting to peek through the small window without much victory. The air felt unusually gloomy, more than it normally did majority of the time.

You weren’t sure where Soap and Gaz ran off to, but you were more than grateful to have the time to yourself. Last night had you in a chokehold, and you knew it was the reason your heart felt like a thick lump in your chest.

Giving the telescope to Gaz. Sitting under a wishful sky together. Feeling his finger graze your cheek in a way that had your heart fighting against your rib cage.

Was he going to kiss you? Is that what that was? The mood of it all, it was so foreign you could barely grasp the concept, but it was the only theory you could come up with.

The mere thought had your mind in shambles, but your soul erupting a fire. You didn’t know what that meant, nor did you know if it was what you wanted to happen.

The Captain wouldn’t be too happy if his crew were messing around with you, would he? Why were you so worried about what he would think?

You could feel the tension in your head building to the point it was near explosive. With a groan, you stood from the bed, trying your hardest to shake it off for long enough. You didn’t want to seem like you were avoiding Gaz, or like you were having an inner battle with yourself. You wanted to appear absolutely normal.

You couldn’t help but glance in the direction of your dresses, where they were folded neatly on top of the desk. You had yet to wear them, and the many shirts you’d borrowed from them up until this point were beginning to bring you a sense of dread every time you’d be forced into a new one.

It wasn’t hard to make up your mind on which one. You had mostly muted colors as not to stick out like a sore thumb, so you picked the one that’d keep you most hidden, even if it was just the five of you on a ship to nowhere.

Preparing yourself for departure, you crept down the deck of the ship. The weather outside was unhappy, the sun tucked away behind gray clouds that looked ready to boil over any minute. The waves weren’t the calming serenity they were last night, replaced by ones that angrily kissed the sides of the wooden ship and rocked you off balance.

The breeze carried the scent of seawater, and you inhaled greedily, using it to calm your nerves. Why were you nervous, anyway? It was silly to even ask yourself, but maybe you were overthinking Gaz’s intentions. A lack in judgment, something you were worried you made.

You lifted a hand, grazing across the cheek he’d touched just hours ago. If you focused really hard, you could still feel it, and you did your best to ignore the somersaults in your stomach.

Entering the food hall, you were greeted with the sight of the men sitting around one another, feasting on breakfast just as they had done the first time you ate with them. They looked like animals that had never seen food in their life.

How long had it been since you all properly sat down and ate as one? You couldn’t remember.

“Dove!” Soap called out, a smile instantly brightening his face. You cringed at the mess surrounding his mouth.

You failed to notice Ghost stiffening in his seat, as well as Gaz sitting up straighter at light speed. The Captain turned his head to you, greeting you with a warm smile.

“Mornin’, dove,” he said, and you offered a nod, stepping up to the table.

Before Price could offer you a seat, Soap patted the empty one beside him, greedily taking up the attention.

“Yer wearin’ one of the dresses,” Soap awed, taking in the simple details stitched into the fabric.

Having a moment of self consciousness, you awkwardly plucked at one of the stitches, nodding. “It’s not too much, is it?”

“Not at all,” he assured, beaming. “Right, Cap?”

You looked up to meet Price’s eye, who cleared his throat, nodding uncomfortably. He took a swig of his drink before placing it back down, hand lingering around the cup. “Mm. S’nice.”

You shooed away the brief flicker of disappointment that threatened its way in. You were going crazy. Why did you have the urge to seek approval anyway? It was absurd.

Soap was quick to his feet, claiming to grab you some food before he’d be right back. There was an awkward gap in between you and Gaz and when you looked at him, he beat you to it, eyes raking down from your face to take in the dress.

You felt your skin turn warm to the touch.

You quickly averted your attention to Ghost, praying to have a bit of normalcy but he was avoiding you rather than looking at you like Gaz was. His shoulders were tense, gaze laser focused on his bowl of breakfast. You could sense the furrow of his eyebrows, even beneath the mask. There was something about him that seemed lost, deep in thought.

Ghost always looked like that. Today, however, felt different.

“Good morning, Ghost,” you greeted kindly. To your surprise, he said nothing, only giving you a low grunt of acknowledgement that was tinged with a slight bitterness that made your ears hurt.

Frowning, you plucked at the stitch on your dress harder, only stopping when Soap returned with a hefty bowl of fresh breakfast, enough for a family.

“Soap, I do not think I need that much,” you worried, watching him set it down in front of you before plopping next to you.

“Nonsense, bonnie, ye gotta eat up,” he encouraged, pushing the bowl closer to you. “Ye look nice, by the way. I told ye the dresses were pretty.”

“You said pretty?” Gaz asked, raising an eyebrow.

Soap scoffed, waving him away. “Droolin’ like a dog, mind ye. Wipe yer mouth.”

Gaz sputtered, grumbling to himself and finally tearing his eyes away. You grew embarrassed for him.

Reluctantly, you began eating, taking small bites at a time. Soap watched you like a hawk, enough to where Gaz kicked him under the table, muttering a, “who’s droolin’ now?”

“Dove,” Price said, and you perked up. “I’d like to discuss a few things with you later. Would that be alright?”

“Ach, Cap, let the lass eat,” Soap scolded, and quickly slumped down like a kicked puppy when Price threw him a look of warning.

“That will be alright,” you assured, smiling politely. “Is it to do with Graves again?”

Before Price could reply, Ghost slammed his hands flat on the table, pushing himself to a stand. He gave none of you a second glance before he was stomping out of the dining hall, slamming the door aggressively on his way out.

The sound and sight made you recoil, visibly wincing. Ghost had been on edge, and you knew it was slowly building. Graves must have been driving him mad.

Guilt tugged at your heartstrings.

“I’ll go check on ‘im,” Soap mumbled, pulling himself out of his seat and following after Ghost mindlessly.

It wasn’t until it was only you, Price, and Gaz that the tense silence was broken.

“Poor lad,” Gaz murmured to himself, shaking his head and stabbing at his food with his fork.

“What’s happening with him?” you asked, worried.

Price tapped his fingers along the table, lips pursed and eyes stuck on the door. “Nothin’, dove,” he sighed.

You frowned at him. “No. You’re doing it again, Price.”

He turned away from the door and at you, cocking his head. Price frowned back at you before nodding slowly in understanding. “Right,” he muttered. “He is… rather guilty of everythin’ happenin’ with you. Killin’ himself about it, really.”

The irony. Ghost was practically undead until Graves decided otherwise.

“Guilty?” you repeated in surprise. “What is he guilty for?”

Gaz sighed heavily, appearing more tired than he did before. “He thinks you’re cursed ‘cause of him,” he explained. “If you hadn’t been with him that day in the town, Graves never would’ve seen you. He blames himself.”

Your eyes went wide the more he spoke, and you felt your own harboring guilt only grow. You felt sick. Not once had you considered Ghost to be the enemy, the reason for your misfortune. Graves was the only one to blame in the game.

“That is nonsense,” you wavered. “He is not to blame.”

“He thinks so,” Price replied glumly. “Do not take it to heart, dove. He has care for you as we do. He simply struggles with it more.”

You knew Ghost cared in his own strange way. He was emotionally constipated, unable to express himself the way a normal person should. You understood why.

“Should I talk to him about it?” you asked, more so to yourself. You weren’t sure how Ghost would take it. He was a firecracker.

“I think that would be nice, birdie,” Gaz agreed with a warm smile that made you stumble for words. “Don’t expect to get very far, though. He’s a stubborn bastard.”

Price snorted quietly, nodding. You couldn’t help but agree as well. You learned that the hard way.

“We do not have to talk until later,” the captain explained. “Finish up eatin’ and talk to him. See where it goes.”

With that, you made quick work of scarfing down the food Soap graciously piled up for you, eating as much as you can. Price dismissed you, giving you an encouraging smile. Gaz nodded to you as you left, hurrying out of the dining hall to find the doomed man where he hid.

You weren’t sure where to start, but the first you assumed was his room. He often resided in there by himself, hiding away like an urchin, quiet as a mouse. You’d never been to his quarters, so the thought of entering had you nervous.

The closer you got, the more your heart pounded. At least Soap would be there to ease the tension, perhaps he could even be helpful in opening Ghost up.

Ghost’s quarters were on the other side of the ship, away from Soap and Gaz’s, so when you stepped into the small hall leading to it, you paused when you noticed the door opened.

Faint murmurs could be heard from beyond the doorway, but it wasn’t loud enough to make out.

Creeping up to the door, you peeked your head in, darting your eyes around before they landed on Soap. Then Ghost.

You had to hold back a noise of surprise when you saw Ghost being coddled by Soap, the Scot’s arms encasing him with his lips to Ghost’s ear, speaking softly to him. The embrace was something passionate, almost as if being held by a lover.

The thing you noticed was Ghost free of his mask, the skull token sitting on the floor as if thrown off. The balaclava beneath it was next to it, and you saw the tufts of blonde hair poking out wickedly on Ghost’s head.

His face was marred, littered with brutal scarring and faint black veins that traveled up his neck and to his jaw. His nose was crooked, as if somebody had bashed it in and it never healed it properly. A nasty scar crossed on his mouth, starting from his top lip and finishing at the bottom.

You were looking at Simon. The one who hid beneath the mask as Ghost. And he didn’t even know you saw.

The guilt became only worse when Soap curled a hand under Ghost’s chin, his thumb stroking his textured cheek before leaning in.

You quickly pulled back from the doorway, heart racing. You looked away before you saw anything more, but you knew what was about to happen.

Had this been going on the whole time? Were you oblivious? Did the others know?

Images of them embracing flashing repeatedly in your mind, and you felt trickles of envy. The softness of the moment, to have such intimacy and care shared between one another… It was something you longed for and never knew you wanted.

You longed for a hug. You yearned for affection.

When living in the village, it was something you never desired. You despised the idea of settling down with another and spending your life loving them. Now, you realized that it wasn’t the idea you hated — it was that you never saw anybody in that light.

The realization began to hit you fast and hard. And it didn’t feel as great as you wanted it to.

Just as you were beginning to feel at ease with your place in life, you were lost all over again.

You don’t know how long you stood there. You were in a trance, and just as you snapped out of it to rush out of the hall, Soap stepped out, Ghost trailing behind him. Both of them paused in the doorway.

“Dove?” Soap asked in surprise. “Are ye alright? What are ye doin’ here?”

You startled, forcing yourself to act indifferent. You didn’t want to seem strange, as if you’d been lurking. You didn’t even mean to.

“I just got here,” you lied with a forced smile. “I knew you were speaking, so I was waiting outside until it was okay. I was going to speak to Ghost, if that was alright.”

You risked a glance at Ghost. His mask was back on his face, covering the trauma beneath.

“We’ve got a couple of things to do around the ship,” Soap said apologetically. “Lookin’ like a storm’s comin’ soon. Gotta set everythin’ up so we don’t tip over and drown, aye?”

Soap nudged your shoulder with a snicker. You couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed and isolated.

“That’s alright,” you murmured quietly.

Ghost eyed you, narrowing in like he didn’t believe you. You swallowed.

“C’mon, lass. Let’s get ye back, aye?” Soap hummed, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. He began to guide you out of the hall.

“Price wanted to speak with me,” you said. “I will just go to his quarters.”

Soap’s eyebrows raised and he let his arm drop, giving you a nod. “Alright, dove. Ye feel okay? Ye look a bit tired. Didn’t sleep well?”

You dismissed it with a hand, forcing a reassuring smile. “I’m quite alright. No stress.”

Soap looked skeptical and he glanced at Ghost, who merely looked away. “Okay,” he huffed, not quite believing you but trusting you regardless. “Go on then.”

You gave the two a farewell, going your separate ways while you walked back to Price’s room. The walk felt slow, your shoes dragging along the old wooden floors. Your anxiety gnawed at you like a pest, your fingers finding that now familiar stitch on your dress to once again pick at.

Your mind was in shambles and you didn’t want Price to notice. How were you to explain what you saw? What if he wasn’t aware of the affair happening between his crew and you ruined it by asking?

You were so engrossed in your own mind that you failed to notice you were already at the door to Price’s. You briefly wondered if he had even returned from the dining hall. He was expecting you to arrive later.

A couple knocks on the door later, Price opened the door. He looked puzzled when he saw you, ushering you inside.

“I take it you didn’t get to talk to Ghost?” he frowned. You shook your head solemnly. “That’s alright. Did somethin’ happen? You look unwell. Was it breakfast? Did it not taste well to you?”

“What? No, breakfast was perfect. Thank you,” you assured. His gaze flickered over your face, studying you. “Ghost and Soap are handling the ship for the storm. The clouds look rather angry, don’t they?”

He knew you were bluffing. He could tell from the way you rambled about the weather of all things.

“Yes, they do,” he agreed suspiciously. Nevertheless, he encouraged you to take a seat at his desk, joining you on his side. A lone cigar sat in his ashtray, unlit, and he grabbed it with nimble fingers to hold it to his mouth and light it with a match.

You watched silently as the smoke began to pour out of his mouth, swirling into wisps in the air.

“The weather always makes me feel a bit uneasy,” he hummed, holding the cigar with two fingers and letting his arm rest on the chair. “Gives me nasty headaches. You got anythin’ that helps with that?”

“Back in my quarters, yes,” you explained. “I still have quite a few balms from my village. I have been meaning to make more. Perhaps I can show you how.”

Price huffed out a laugh, a faint smile hidden in his heard. He took another heavy hit from the cigar, dabbing the excess ash off in the tray. “That would be useful,” he agreed. “I’ve been curious about your skill since you stitched me up so long ago.”

You couldn’t help but smile. The memory at the time was one you weren’t fond of, but now that you look back on it, it wasn’t so bad. You were just scared.

“I have told you from the beginning that I am not a trained medic,” you teased.

“Ach, your stitchin’ job barely left a scar. No need to be so humble.”

You shared quiet laughs before falling into comfortable silence. You allowed him to nurse the cigar until he was ready to speak, but the silence made your mind drift back to what you’d seen moments ago. Curiosity got the best of you.

“Sir?”

“Hm?”

“Are Soap and Ghost… together?”

Price paused, cigar hanging from his mouth. He cocked his head curiously, taking in your question. “Why do you ask?”

You fumbled, wringing your hands in your lap awkwardly. “I am just… wondering.”

He stared at you as if could see right through your deception. “Define, together.”

“I think you know what I mean, sir.”

Price snorted, resting his cheek on his hand. “Does that bother you, dove? Or perhaps you want to join them?”

Your eyes widened and you quickly sputtered out an explanation, shaking your head. “No, not at all!”

Price barked out a laugh, eyes crinkling with it. You chewed on your bottom lip until it felt raw, wishing you hadn’t even asked.

“I am simply teasin’ you. Relax,” he mused, tapping out the cigar. “It is a complicated relationship. Much more complicated than you could assume.”

“Is that so?” you murmured to yourself, wondering. “Complicated how?”

Price’s eyebrows raised and he remained quiet for a moment. “I did not take you to be the type to gossip about love of all things, dove.”

“Please do not jest me.”

Price smiled in amusement. “My apologies, princess,” he taunted. You scowled. “Curiosity killed the cat, don’t you know that?”

“Of course I know that,” you uttered in annoyance at Price’s inconspicuous mockery.

“Unless it is Soap you wish to be with,” he continued.

“I—” You hated how the thought made your heart jump. “It is not!”

“Good,” he said with a smile. You shut your mouth, frowning at him in disapproval. “I was goin’ to speak more with you about Graves, but perhaps Soap was right. You need a break from it for the day. Rather, would you like to show me that medicine makin’ that you mentioned?”

Medicine making? The Captain was a strange man. The strangest of them all. He gave Soap a run for his money.

“I’d much prefer that,” you grumbled, standing so you could return to your quarters to collect things needed to create jars of herbal medicine.

As you walked out with plans of returning, Price called out once more, “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.”

You let out an annoyed groan, slamming the door on your way out. It wasn’t enough to silence his snickering.

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theyluvkarolina · 4 months ago

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౨ৎ BETRAYAL ౨ৎ

masterlist / rules / requests & talks with me!

SUMMARY౨ৎ A day in the Leclerc home is never quiet. Cause of noise this day? Charles’s screams of horror when his boys don’t support Ferrari. And the biggest blow? They support Redbull and Mclaren (requested!)

PAIRING ౨ৎ Charles Leclerc x Wife!Reader

WARNINGS ౨ৎ charles being dramatic, a short fic!! (i’m saying that it’s like a blurb kinda short but not a blurb lol so a imagine i think..?)

A/N ౨ৎ i will forever see charles as a girl dad 😞😞 but i’ll do this just for you anon

IN THE MORNING, Monaco is absolutely stunning. The sun coming up over the Mediterranean Sea gives the whole place an elegant and fancy atmosphere, the smell of freshly baked pastries from the cafes mixes with the sea breeze, people are out for a stroll along the promenade or at outdoor cafes with their morning coffee, or the yachts in the harbor accompanied by the beautiful architecture. It’s serene. Quiet.

Yet, the Leclerc household is never quiet. Even in the early hours of the mornings.

You gave a sigh before sipping the freshly brewed coffee you made while looking out the window of your apartment, taking in the sight resting your head on Charles’s shoulder, enjoying the tranquility while the twins and Noemié are still away for a while.

Charles wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you closer as you both enjoyed the fleeting moment of calm. “Good morning, mon amour.”

Charles wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you closer as you both enjoy the fleeting moment of calm. “Good morning, mon amour,” he murmurs softly, his lips brushing against your temple.

You turn your head slightly, giving him a small smile as your free hand slips up to play with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Morning,” you reply, your voice soft and warm, taking in the serenity of the moment. “Did you sleep well?” You questioned, your eyes meeting his.

“As long as I’m next to you, I’ll be sleeping well every night I’m here.” Charles responded, his voice slightly raspy from just getting out of bed not too long ago.

The peaceful morning, however, takes a sudden turn when Charles's hand starts to roam, his fingers tracing patterns on your back. You chuckle, feeling the playful intent behind his touch. “Charles…” you warn, though there’s no real heat behind it. However, the moment soon evaporated by two familiar voices.

“Papa! Look at what Uncle Max and Lando gave us!” One of the boy’s voice carries with excitement, waving a Red Bull cap stitched with the number “1” on it.

The other, follows close behind, clutching a McLaren his own hat, but with no specific number. “And I got a Mclaren one!”

Charles raises an eyebrow, glancing between his two sons with a questioning expression.

Redbull? Mclaren? Pardon?

“Wait a minute, what’s this?” he asks, trying to keep his tone neutral despite the growing confusion.

Julien grins widely. “I’m a Red Bull fan, Papa! I want to be just like Max!” He holds up his Red Bull gear proudly.

Matteo, not to be outdone, puffs out his chest. “I like McLaren now!” He smiles, showing off his new McLaren gear.

Charles blinks, momentarily lost in thought. “But… but you both have been to the same races. You know Papa drives for Ferrari, right?”

Julien shrugged nonchalantly. “Yeah, but Max is really cool! He wins a lotta races! Not like you Papa.”.

Charles’s eyes widen, his mouth forming a perfect "O" as he processes the information. He puts a hand to his forehead, as if trying to stave off a sudden headache. “Wait, hold on. Are you telling me that my own sons have chosen to support… other teams..?”

You can’t help but stifle a laugh at his exaggerated disbelief. Julien and Matteo look up at him, each with a mix of pride and defiance in their eyes.

“Yes, Papa! Julien likes Red Bull, and I like McLaren!” Matteo insists, holding up his McLaren cap as if it were a trophy.

Charles’s dramatic reaction continues as he dramatically clasps his hands together in prayer, eyes wide with slight horror. “Mon dieu… my own boys… choosing teams that are my competitors… I think I just failed as a tifosi…”

You lean in to whisper to Charles, “Maybe they’re just testing your loyalty to Ferrari. Or they’ve picked their teams to give you a hard time.”

Charles shakes his head, still in slight despair over the situation. “I need to reconsider my parenting strategies. Perhaps I should start buying them Ferrari gear to remind them of their true team… I need to talk to Max, Lando and Oscar. They stole my own boys from me..”

You simply shake your head at his dramatics. “Oh please Charles, it’s not as if they are praying on your downfall. Besides Noemié I still a Ferrari fan, aren’t you mon chou?”

Noemié simply gave a hum in thought before formulating her response, “Hm… no. Ferrari sucks… I like Mercedes!”

That might have just been the final blow to Charles’s heart.

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seaofserenitysubs · 8 months ago

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I know you’re busy and have a schedule so I’m not expecting it now or soon but are you be able to sub the super live and this year’s nogimyu? I would love to see it and once again thank you for your hard work I’m really looking forward to seeing the music festival chronicle 😊

Hi there! Im thinking we will probably get around to this years Nogimyu. Can't say for sure when, but I'll be aiming to snag the Blu-ray of it. As for Super Live, unfortunately there has not been an full release of the show. Just mostly media clips and recordings from the ending concert/curtain call stuff, so we can't do a release. No matter how much we want to :(

Chronicle is in the proof reading stage and I was making good progress when life decided to explode on me this month. Got me all over the place lol. Hoping for a calm moment to get back to it soon! I really had wanted to get it out so I'll be making a push once things calm down a bit. 😊

#sailor moon #seramyu #sera myu #sailor moon musicals #sea of serenity asks

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galamalion · 1 year ago

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୨୧. 𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐄

summary. luffy's relationship with hancock begins to strike a deep nerve within you.

⤷ contents. monkey d. luffy x gn!reader, fluff + angst, boa hancock is rude, jealous!reader, light angst (resolved by the end), slight miscommunication // wc. 2.1k

⤷ notes. request by @amortentiaz for a jealous!reader over luffy's relationship with boa hancock. i think i got a little too invested in writing reader's anger, maybe i should write some more angst... i hope you enjoy! <3

Your boyfriend wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed.

Was he caring? Of course, he cuddled and hugged and kissed you near constantly. Was he attentive? Easily, he always wanted to snuggle with you, no matter your location—even if it led to some unfortunate circumstances.

But he may just be the most scatterbrained boyfriend anyone could ask for, and your current situation was perhaps the best example of his obliviousness.

"Ah, Luffy! I have more food if you want it!"

"Really?! Thank you, Hancock!"

You and Luffy had gotten pulled off your ship by a terrible storm, only a small makeshift raft of wood to keep you afloat. A miracle had led you to land on Amazon Lily, an island led by a woman with a fixation for Luffy.

And so here you were, stuck watching the most beautiful woman in the world drape herself over your boyfriend like they'd been married for the last thirty years. Sure, your boyfriend was the greatest catch in the East Blue, but he was your boyfriend. Not Hancock's 'sweetie pie honey bun super-special pirate king.'

You had just finished talking with Jimbei through the snail transponder, who informed you that the ship would be there tomorrow in the morning. Unfortunately, that meant you would have to stay here.

"Alright, Luffy," you sighed, "The Thousand Sunny will be here in the morning, which means that we're stuck here for tonight."

"There's a room prepared for you in the palace if you need it, Luffy! I can have whatever you need brought there," Hancock swooned, feeding Luffy a drumstick.

"Ooh! Hey, is there anything you need, ____?" Luffy turned to ask, voice muffled by all the meat stuffed inside his mouth.

You looked behind Luffy to meet eyes with Hancock, watching her expression sour at the mention of your name.

"I think I'm fine. Thanks, Luf," you muttered, crossing your arms.

"Ok, but Hancock can bring us anything, so if you change your mind you can ask her!" he grinned, taking another large bite of the drumstick.

You sighed, briefly meeting eyes with Hancock who silently scoffed at your presence. Angrily, you stomped out of the palace and out of the town, going far, far away from the oh-so benevolent queen of the island.

As you walked into the expansive forest of the island, you began kicking a rock with each step, muttering under your breath.

"Oh Luffy, here's some yummy food!" you kicked the rock. "Oh Luffy, what dress do you think I should wear?" you kicked the rock. "Oh Luffy, you should break up and we should get married and have a bunch of tiny beautiful babies!"

You kicked the rock off the path, watching it roll off into underbrush and onto the grass floor of the forest.

"Go on then," you grumbled, "go get married to the prettiest girl in the world! then you can really be King of the Pirates..."

As you walked further into the tropical forest of the island, you came upon a rocky cliff, a beautiful location covered in small plants and light foliage. Rocks jutting out harshly in every which way, moss growing upon it, unbothered and untouched.

This is just what you need.

You stepped up to the edge of the cliff and gazed at the forest below, wild and vibrant green hues filling up every space you looked at. The sky was similar, a brilliant cloudless blue, like a calm blue sea without a boat in sight. You could stare at this serene scene for all of eternity, if only time allowed.

Sighing wistfully, you closed your eyes and stretched your body, taking a deep breath.

And then, you screamed.

You screamed at nothing and everything, all at once. At Hancock and Luffy, together, singularly, at their actions, at their attitudes. You shrieked at Hancock's cruel expressions, her blatant disregard for your own feelings. You screeched at Luffy's oblivious disposition, his inability to realize how you felt about all of this. You screamed until your throat burned, until you could feel your eyes welling up with tears and your screams turned into sobs turned into silent crying.

Needless to say, it was a much needed catharsis.

You calmed yourself down and walked back to the bustling city, taking in the nature surrounding you. As you continued walking, a long, rubbery leg touched down onto the forest path. The leg was attached to your boyfriend, who jumped down from the trees with a bewildered and frightened expression on his face.

"Are you okay ____?!" I heard—"

"I'm fine," you snapped, brushing past him.

Luffy gave you a confused look as you walked towards the village, on your way to check out the room in the palace Hancock so graciously gave you.

It was placed right next door to Hancock's own chambers, no doubt because she wanted to keep Luffy close, but the interior was far more shocking. Instead of a giant king sized bed in the middle, two beds—one far bigger than the other—with a great deal of space separating them were inside. It was almost too obvious to tell which bed was Luffy's, given the amount of food and gift baskets surrounding it.

You were just shocked that she put you in Luffy in the same room.

Deciding it wasn't worth complaining about, you instead searched around the castle in search of a library, a place Luffy would never look for you.

It wasn't that you were mad at him. No, it would be more accurate to say that you were furious. But you knew deep inside your mind that it wasn't his fault. But you also knew that if you saw him again, you would blow up, explode, in his face.

You stayed in the library until midnight, reading fairy tales and historical texts, immersing yourself in the stories and history these books contained. You could feel the anger and jealousy in your veins dwindle with each page you read.

Once you had returned your amassed collection of books back to their shelves, you made your way back to your room. Expectations were low, you were fairly certain that Luffy wouldn't have a clue regarding your feelings, and a conversation would most certainly need to happen.

Walking quietly to your shared room, you carefully opened the door. the first thing you noticed was that Luffy was still awake, crouched in the middle of his bed. It wasn't strange for Luffy to be awake so late in the night, knowing that his sleep schedule was pretty irregular, but an unusually upset expression was etched into his face.

The second thing you noticed was that the delicious gifts surrounding his bed were uneaten, unopened, the wrapping on a few having not been touched.

Luffy noticed you immediately, the corners of his lips pulling down even further, his brow furrowed in a mixture of, seemingly, sadness and confusion, like a puppy watching their owner leave for the first time.

"Are you mad at me?" he blurted out quietly, clutching his knees.

All you could do was sigh in response, moving to sit on your own bed.

"I don't know," you confessed, looking away from him. "I'm...mad, yeah. But at you? I don't know."

Luffy remained quiet until you decided to break the silence.

"Hancock is pushy," you crossed your arms, "she's pushing my boundaries and she's pushing her way between us. I know she's a friend of yours and she's helped you a lot, but it hurts to watch her snuggle up to you and talk about the 'love' between you."

You looked up at Luffy, seeing the realization and hurt flood his eyes, his fingers twitching as his legs slid towards the edge of the bed.

He didn't say anything yet, instead squeezing the blankets and looking down at his feet, clearly composing his thoughts.

"I'm sorry, ____," Luffy whispered, standing up from the bed. "I know Hancock does nice things for me, but I don't see her like I see you,"

"Then why don't you tell her off? Tell her to leave you alone, tell her you're in a relationship?" you pushed, feeling the jealousy seething out of you.

Luffy frowned and walked closer to you, sitting down on your bed. "You're the greatest treasure I've ever found," he confessed, moving his hands to yours, "it's like you're so shiny and bright, and everybody else is all gray. I know Hancock talks a lot and gives me a lot of food, but if you don't want me to talk or take stuff from her, then I won't, promise!"

Despite your attempts to remain stoic, you were unable to disguise the twinge of a smile caused by Luffy's statement, choosing to nuzzle your face in his neck to hide.

"You don't have to ignore her, Luf. Just ask her to tone it down, maybe? She is the queen of this place. Even if I'm mad at her, I'd rather not piss off someone who can kill us with a snap of her fingers," you mumbled, playing with his vest.

Luffy gave you a big hug, wrapping his rubbery arms around once, and then twice. "If she tries to hurt you, then I'll stop her! You're way more awesome than her," Luffy declared with a pout, falling back into your tiny bed with you in his arms, "and I promise I'll be an extra awesome boyfriend for you."

"You're too sweet, Luf," you laughed softly, hugging him tighter. "But maybe we should move to the bigger bed?"

"I'm too tired, and I'm already comfy," he whined.

"Fine," you grumbled, too tired to argue with your much stronger boyfriend (and captain.)

"G'night, ____," Luffy hummed, pulling you closer to his chest.

You smiled, shutting your eyes, "Night, Luffy."

The morning seemed to come swiftly, light spilling into the room and striking your face. Your boyfriend was still wrapped around you like a vice, caging you tightly against his chest.

"Luffy," you groaned, trying to push him away, "you gotta let me go, it's time to get up,"

Luffy moaned and pressed his face to your chest, "Five more minutes, pretty please?"

"Jimbei said the ship would be here in the morning, the mor-ning, Luf. If we're late to meet them then Nami will beat our asses."

"Then I'll beat her up!"

"Then I'll have to dig your grave."

Luffy pouted and retracted his arms, crossing them, "Fine, we can go now."

Now free from you boyfriend's hold, you and Luffy changed your clothes for the new day, then exited the bedroom.

Immediately upon opening the door, you were greeted with the beautiful, illuminating face of Boa Hancock, who was clearly shocked and upset to see you exit with Luffy.

"Ah, Luffy! I just wanted to see if you wanted to have breakfast? I've had 60 eggs cooked and 30 plates of meat—"

"Sorry, Hancock!" Luffy interrupted, scooping you up and throwing you over his shoulder, "we've gotta go!"

"But—"

Without letting her get another word out, Luffy sprinted through the halls of the palace and out of an expansive window, stretching his way across the viridian forest below.

The sights below were familiar, but it was strange seeing them down below. You could make out the path you travelled through the leaves, even catching a glimpse of the cliff you had stood on last night, a horrible moment during a horrible day that seemed so far away now.

As Luffy jumped from tree to tree, occasionally breaking through the canopy to give you that bird's-eye view, you eventually landed at the gate to Amazon Lily, where the thousand sunny was currently floating.

"Hey, lovebirds!" Nami yelled up, waving her arms, "you're just in time! Let's get out of here!"

"Please, let me go! I need to get onto that island!" Sanji cried out, held in place by Robin's devil fruit-generated limbs.

Luffy let out a boisterous laugh, "We're comin' down! Let's go, ____!" he howled, sprinting towards the ledge.

You looked over your shoulder, fear in your eyes, "Luffy, don't you dare!"

Luffy, ignoring your pleas for a safer entrance, leapt onto the ship with a battle cry, landing perfectly on the wooden deck with you in hand. He gently set you down, flashing a grin as he patted your shoulder.

"Wasn't that fun?!" Luffy exclaimed, dusting off his straw hat.

You collapsed in shock, sprawling your limbs out on the deck as you recovered from your near-death situation.

"We'll...we'll work on that," you panted, desperately attempting to catch your breath.

"Sweet! Let's go now!" Luffy cheered, pulling you back up

"Go? Where?" you asked, astonished, "we just got back to the ship?"

"I told ya, I'm gonna be and extra super awesome boyfriend!" he beamed, "now we have to go do some extra super awesome stuff!"

He once again wrapped you up in his arms, flashing a smile as he hugged you.

"I promise I'm gonna be a way better boyfriend from now on, I won't disappoint you!" he beamed.

You smiled back and ruffled his hair, kissing his forehead.

"You're already the best boyfriend I could ask for, Luffy."

"But I can be better!"

"Better than best?"

"Best of the best!"

You threw you head back and laughed, squeezing him back.

"Alright, Luf. Show me what you have in mind."

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clare-875 · 4 months ago

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He Loves Me (Zoro x Reader)

_____ Pairing: Zoro x Female Reader Summary: The different ways Zoro shows that he loves you. Warnings: Fluff, slightly suggestive in some parts? [One Piece Masterlist] _____

People often think that because Zoro seemed so frequently serious or emotionally distanced, he was incapable of offering love. So, when you and he started to date, it was a surprise to almost everyone who knew of the two of you. Even those around you who knew him best, namely your beloved crew, would tease even the faintest flush of his cheeks when he was caught looking at you, as though it were some sort of miracle. Some members would even ask if he truly reciprocated the love you so blatantly showed for the green-haired swordsman because the concept of Zoro and the notion of 'love' didn't really click. They knew he loved his swords and was dedicated to the crew and his dreams but that type of devotion seemed foreign and unlikely. You knew that their words came from a place of concern; concern that you were in a one-sided relationship. However, what your crew failed to notice is how Zoro loved. Sure, maybe he wouldn't blabber sweet words or openly display physical affection beyond your rooms, but within the confines of you and him you see it; he loves you.

Zoro loves through thoughts of you.

Before you, Zoro thought his only ambitions in life were to stay devoted to his Captain and to become the world's greatest swordsman. Love was a concept that hadn't even crossed his mind, he had never been tempted with it nor had he ever been driven to consider it. But then he met you. He saw your sweet smile, your doe eyes, your kindness, your beautiful demeanour. Suddenly, he could only mock the love-drunk cook half-heartedly, because though he would never show it, you were all that clouded his mind. Through workouts that he was so usually lost in, he found himself losing count of the amount of times he swung his weights forward; his thoughts drifting to you. The naps that usually brought nothing but peace from the rowdy crew suddenly became overwhelmed by images of you in his arms, or in his bed. So, when the months had passed and he learned from Robin's constant but subtle teasing that maybe he was in love, imagine his surprise when you confessed that you were too. Even now, when the two of you had been together for more than a year, his thoughts were littered and lingered with you; every movement and action with you at the forefront of his mind.

Zoro loves through his attentive stare, always watching for you.

It could be on days when countless enemies threatened your lives. It could be on days so serene you could not envision anything going wrong. Either way, it didn't matter. Zoro's senses were always perceptive and ready to protect, even when danger was not imminent. During quiet days when the crew set sail over the open seas, Zoro always kept one eye open. He always searched through the muddled voices of the crew for yours. One yelp or one surprised gasp had his heart pounding. It was his sixth sense. He would get up to search for you instantly, even if you had only gotten caught up in a harmless prank or got a papercut paging through books; even if all he had to offer was a roll of his eyes or muttered words, "be more careful woman," when he found you. You didn't know of the crew's shock as he seemingly vanished from the place where he lay to come in search of you. You didn't hear the rapid spike of his heart. Zoro knew you were strong, but he also knew how easily he could lose someone close to him. He had experienced it with Kuina; he would die before he experienced it with you.

Zoro loves through the trust he so willingly gives to you.

Zoro wouldn't love anyone who was not as devoted to the crew, to improving themselves or who didn't have the will and evidence to call themselves worthy of the Straw Hat Crew. You were capable and loyal, thus you were worth his trust both on the battlefield and in his heart. It was shown through countless battles where you fought off powerful enemies, protected less combat-focused crew members and provided emotional consolation atop burdens you held yourself. He trusted you to handle your battles and knew of the pride that came with it; you were his respected partner. His trust would even extend off the battlefield. He would trust you to look after his prized swords and he would trust your word; he doesn't even know the meaning of jealousy. He would watch in rowdy bars as you get two drinks and the fifth man that night approaches. Zoro sees it as a compliment, you were beautiful. But he watches with pride as you turn another man away from you and walk back to his side. The only movements he would make were when men go too touchy, too confident in their drunkenness. Zoro would have them bleeding to the floor before they uttered another filthy word as they tried and failed to pry away the trust that was so concrete in his mind, so obvious in the kiss you would grant him afterwards.

Zoro loves through quiet and hidden intimacy.

Zoro was not one to show open physical affection with the likes of the crew or strangers he could care less for. Only in quiet and drunken evenings would he maybe let slip, wrapping an arm around your waist tightly and placing sloppy kisses along your neck. Well, only for Sanji to then start screaming incoherently at the sight of him, to which a drunken argument would soon take place. Normally, behind closed doors, you saw Zoro's love for you more blatantly. You didn't have to have perceptive eyes when you could feel his lips on yours, hungrily mingling with your tongue and your skin. People would never question his devotion in countless nights spent with his tight grip against your wrists, his swift movement against you, uttered words of praise whispered in your ear. His love was shown in the marks that he gifts you and the ones you would try to cover under the light of day. His love was obvious in his wide smirk as you trace the scratches upon his back, your love etched within them. You see the shock around you when he walks shirtless and proud, displaying your work as though it were a given. You hear more screaming from Sanji, see a frozen Nami as she observes the sight, and a teasing smile from Robin as she turns to you, "Oh my..."

Zoro loves through the dream of you.

In return for the trust he so easily receives from you, he returns it with his devotion. Everyone knows of Zoro's loyalty to Luffy and his goal, but they were the only things that could best his loyalty to you. All else didn't matter to him; you were his end game. People could try to take his eyes away from you, but it would be for naught because his gaze was stubborn. How could it not be? You were beautiful, strong, kind, loving. Zoro never thought that he would even consider a life outside of the straw hat crew, but he created the dream just for you. Images of you and him together through every age and every trial. You and him after he achieved his goal and witnessed his Captain do the same. After that, you would be all that mattered to him, the only dream that he had left. He even considered smaller versions of you and him running about, you swelled with his child, your motherly form. He dreamed of owning a dojo and waking to you each day, he dreamed of you and him and two rings on your fingers, a quiet ceremony held to seal your love and his. He dreams of him old in his age watching the sun fall to the depths of the horizon with you by his side, years of life upon your form but still beautiful nonetheless. It was his most private dream, but one he found desiring the most.

It was an impossible dream to him before he knew of you. Now, he has you in his arms and you are distracted by exhaustion, not seeing but feeling Zoro's gaze on you. You had murmured words about your day to him but as the night dragged on you found your words become more slurred, ready for sleep to take you. He simply watched as your excited blabbering seeped into slow utterances, but he didn't mind. He loved the sight of you in his arms. He loved the sound of your voice. You look up to glimpse at him and he meets your gaze easily. You see flickers of adoration and a glimmer of emotion in his eyes as he breathes in the existence of you. And you could never question it, you could never wander of his love as others would. But you supposed it was an honour, to love the swordsman and have his love for you returned. "You love me." Your words are tainted with fatigue as you push your face into his chest, relishing the warmth that he so easily provides. Zoro rolls his eyes as though dismissing your words but pulls you closer to him anyway, and that is enough for you to know and for him to show that he does; he loves you. You would rarely hear it. However, as the moments pass in peaceful silence, and when Zoro thinks that time would have surely taken you from your consciousness and into the depths of sleep he murmurs it within your hair.

"I love you."

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