#(I know they can! and it's okay but still.)
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⠀ 𝝑𝑒 ⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. your boyfriend doesn’t like it when you eat unhealthy food while busy with uni work.
tags. older bf!gojo satoru x female reader. fluff. age gap (reader around early 20’s, satoru early 30’s). behavior may come off as ‘overprotective’ to some. nicknames ‘baby, sweetheart, princess’. not proofread
satoru’s at work while you’re in his kitchen, preparing a quick meal for yourself. you’ve been busy making and finishing assignments all day. you really could do with a break. though, a short one. there’s still lots more to do before you’re done with everything mandatory.
it’s convenient that satoru allows you to stay over at his apartment whenever you want to. he’s given you a spare key and told you that his home is also yours. if you need a break from your own place, you can always stop by his.
“ah, crap,” you hiss as the sauce packet nearly bursts open in your hand due to how roughly you pulled on its edges. you season your instant ramen noodles without much thought. it’s a quick meal that saves you time.
you’ve had it four days a row now—along with some pizza slices here and there. your boyfriend has been nice enough to send you money, telling you to treat yourself to some decent food while he’s away on business, but you’re really just too busy to treat yourself.
satoru’d be upset if he knew that you’re living off unhealthy crap again. the last time he caught you, he prepared you homemade meals or took you out to restaurants for weeks. he needs you to ingest your daily nutritions so you can stay healthy. you’re too important to him and he wants the best for you.
you grab your chopsticks and mix the sauce with the noodles, your spotify playlist running in the background. you walk to the fridge and grab a soda before sitting down at the kitchen table. unlocking your phone, you decide to see if anything’s going on on social media.
you’re too focused on your screen and the food entering your mouth to notice the front door opening. you catch a glimpse of a figure in the corner of your eye and your head flies up. a bit too late..
“ah, hi, satoru,” you mumble with a mouthful of ramen noodles. you’re caught off guard and you barely know what to do as the white-haired man puts his keys in his pockets. you put your phone down and discreetly try to cover your bowl, “didn’t know you’d come back so early.”
too bad you didn’t think of opening a window or throwing away the opened package of instant ramen. satoru looks over at the messy counter before walking towards you. he reaches a hand out to your cheek, brushing your thumb against your skin.
“hi, pretty,” satoru greets you with a gentle smile. he leans down and presses a kiss onto your lips, tongue stealing a taste of the sauce on your mouth. he pulls back and pinches the cheek he’s holding, “mind telling me what you’re eating, hm?”
you pout and swallow the bite of noodles you had in your mouth. you put your hands down, knowing there’s no hiding anything from your boyfriend. he dislikes the fact that you’re not taking your health seriously. “instant ramen. . .” you respond defeatedly.
satoru ruffles your hair with a shake of his head, silently disapproving of your actions. “i’ve given you money to get a proper meal, didn’t i, baby?” the older man explains in the same tender tone. he doesn’t have the heart to be mad at you. he crouches down next to the chair you’re sitting on and kisses your knuckles, each getting a peck.
“yeah, ‘m sorry,” you nod, knowing your lover did his part of taking care of you. he gave you money to spend on food or ingredients, but you still chose the easy way out. it’s not like you’ve been craving noodles—you’re eating them for the sole reason being that they’re fast and easy to make. you’re too busy (and lazy) to go out and buy stuff.
satoru chuckles, not really mad at you at all. he’s simply worried for your wellbeing. he sees how hard you work for uni while also making time to spend with him, no matter how little it may be. “it’s okay, it’s okay,” satoru coos and kisses your forehead before getting up.
the sorcerer looks down at the bowl of noodles before glancing back at you. “do you want to finish it or do you want me to make you something?” he asks whilst playing with the little hairs around your face. you’re beautiful, somehow even more gorgeous with those dark circles under your eyes.
you pout and think about his question. you’re tired of eating the same thing four times in a row and you know how good satoru’s cooking can be, so. . .
“can you make me something?” you ask carefully in a quiet tone, flashing your boyfriend your best puppy eyes, “pretty please?”
satoru grins and nods immediately. he’s always happy to help you out when you need it. “of course. anything for my princess,” he coos and squeezes your cheeks one last time. he’s got an obsession with the way you scrunch your nose up every time he does so.
he grabs the bowl of noodles and puts it away after making sure you didn’t want any more of it. sure, he wants the best for you, but he doesn’t want to be too restrictive. in case you still want to steal a bit, satoru puts the bowl in the corner of the counter.
you walk to satoru as he stands near the fridge. you rub your weary eyes and watch as he grabs the needed items to make your favorite comfort meal. he catches you staring at him and he smirks lovingly.
“oh my, i have such an adorable girlfriend,” the older man holds himself back from squeezing your cheeks together again. he holds your wrist and pulls you flush against him, his head leaning down to match your eye level.
satoru plants a quick kiss on your lips. his hand finds it way on your hips before slithering upwards. he pats your back, gently comforting and encouraging you, his other hand doing the same on the back of your head. he knows how hard it is for you these days, with the busy end of the semester and all.
“love you, ‘toru, thank you,” you smile at him and nuzzle your face into his chest. you really needed a distraction from all the hard work you still have to do. a quick break with the person you cherish most will gain you back all the energy you’ve lost.
satoru hugs you even tighter to him when you utter those magical words. if he could, he’d take care of you every single second of the day. he’d do anything to make you feel better. he places a peck to your forehead, “i love you too, sweetheart. but promise me one thing; please take better care of yourself, ‘kay?”
#sttoru writes.#jjk x reader#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#jjk x you#jjk x y/n#gojo x you#gojo x y/n#jjk fluff#gojo fluff#satoru x reader
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My Brother’s Father
Charles Leclerc x Piastri!Reader
Summary: apparently you’re dating your brother’s father and Charles is dating his son’s sister … what a mess!
You toss another shirt into the open suitcase on the bed, humming to yourself as you go through the closet. Charles will be home from training any minute and you want to have your little prank all set up before he arrives.
The front door opens and closes, followed by the familiar sound of Charles’ keys hitting the bowl by the entrance. “Mon amour? You home?” He calls out.
“In here!” You respond, stifling a grin. You pick up the pace, grabbing handfuls of clothing and dropping them haphazardly into the suitcase.
He rushes down the hallway, ready to convince you to join him for a shower. But when he reaches the bedroom door, his heart sinks.
“What … what are you doing?” He asks, horrified.
You glance up, your face the picture of innocence. “Oh, hello darling! I was just packing a few things.”
“Packing? For what? Are you … are you leaving me?” The words crack in his throat.
You sigh theatrically, shaking your head. “I’m afraid I have to, Charles. I can’t be with you anymore.”
“What? Why?” He staggers forward, feeling like he’s been kicked in the gut. “Did I do something wrong? Whatever it is, I’m sorry! We can fix it!”
Shooting him a mischievous look, you bite your lip. “It’s because of Oscar.”
Charles freezes. “Your brother? What does he have to do with us?”
“Well, think about it ...” You abandon the suitcase, sauntering over and trailing a fingertip down his chest. “When you adopted him, that made you his father. Ergo … you’re my brother’s father now.”
Charles gapes at you, completely lost. “I … what? That’s not how it works! I was just joking on Twitter-”
“So you’re saying you don’t see Oscar as your son?” You arch an eyebrow accusingly.
“Well, no, I don’t actually-”
You shake your head, clucking your tongue. “Shameful, Charles. Denying your own child like that.”
“But he’s not really-”
“Poor Oscar,” you lament, throwing a hand against your forehead dramatically. “Rejected by his own father! No wonder he’s been texting me constantly, sobbing about what an awful dad you are.”
Charles scrambles to catch up. “Oscar has not been … we’re not actually related, Y/N!”
“Sure, keep telling yourself that.” You back away, hands on your hips. “But the fact is, I can’t date my own brother’s father. It’s just … wrong. Morally corrupt.”
“You’re being completely ridiculous!” Charles throws his hands up.
Whirling on him, you jab a finger into his chest. “So you’re calling your son a liar now too? How dare you!”
He opens his mouth, then closes it, at a total loss. You stare at him expectantly, arms folded.
Finally, Charles decides to change tactics. “Fine, okay, let’s say all that is true. For the sake of argument. That still doesn’t mean we have to break up!”
You blink at him innocently. “It doesn’t?”
“No!” He grabs your hands, holding them tightly. “Mon cœur, I love you. We can make this work.”
Pursing your lips, you pretend to consider it. “I don’t know … having a romantic relationship with my brother’s father? It just feels so sordid and taboo.”
Charles groans, rolling his eyes. “You’re making no sense. This is all hypothetical!”
“Is it, though?” You wiggle your fingers free, tapping your chin. “The heart wants what it wants, Charles. And mine wants to avoid a salacious love affair with Oscar’s own dad.”
Throwing up his hands again, Charles growls in frustration. “This is completely insane! We were together before I ever ‘adopted’ Oscar as a joke on Twitter!”
“Were we?” You ask loftily. “Sometimes the lines get so blurred, don’t they? It’s hard to keep track of what came first.”
Charles stares at you wildly for a long beat. Then, abruptly, he lunges forward — sweeping you up into his arms as you squeal in surprise. You flail dramatically as he hauls you over to the bed, tossing you down onto the rumpled sheets with a mischievous glint in his eye.
“Charles Leclerc, what do you think you’re … eep!” Your faux outrage melts into peals of laughter as he attacks your sides with wiggling fingers, mercilessly tickling you. “Stop, stop! I give up, I give up!”
But he’s relentless, pinning you to the mattress as his fingers dance expertly over your most ticklish spots. You thrash and giggle helplessly, tears of mirth springing to your eyes.
“Say you’re not breaking up with me!” He demands, grinning wickedly. “Say it, or I’ll never stop!”
“Never!” You gasp out, breathless with laughter. “I’ll never, hahaha, surrender!”
Lunging up, he captures your lips in a heated kiss, stealing your breath away. You melt against him with a contented hum, tangling your fingers in his soft hair as his hands roam over your body possessively. The teasing banter falls away, replaced by the familiar sparks of want and need that always seem to simmer between you.
When you finally break apart, you’re both flushed and panting. Charles gazes down at you with dark, molten eyes. “Are you done being ridiculous now?”
You try for an imperious look, but can’t quite hide the smirk tugging at your lips. “Well … I suppose I could be persuaded to overlook that our family tree is quickly turning into a wreath.”
“You’re impossible,” he mutters, dipping his head to trail scorching kisses along the exposed column of your throat.
Throwing your head back with a breathy sigh, you concede, “Fine, fine. I’m not actually breaking up with you, you lunatic.”
“Thank god.” He raises his head, his expression turning serious as he cups your cheek tenderly. “Don’t you ever scare me like that again, okay? I don’t know what I’d do without you, Y/N.”
You cover his hand with yours, turning to press a soft kiss against his palm. “I’m sorry, my love. I didn’t mean to worry you so much. I was just having a bit of fun.”
“Yeah, well, it wasn’t funny to me.” He tries to look stern, but you can see the fondness sparkling in his warm green eyes. “No more jokes about us splitting up. Or pretending I’m actually related to your brother. Deal?”
Tracing the beloved lines of his face, you murmur, “Deal. I promise to leave Oscar out of our sexy games from now on.”
Charles barks out a surprised laugh. “Our what now?”
You grin unrepentantly. “What? Like you’ve never fantasized about me calling you ‘daddy’ before?”
He flushes bright red, sputtering as you dissolve into giggles once more. Leaning down, he silences you with another heated kiss — and soon, all thoughts of Oscar and Twitter jokes are utterly forgotten.
#f1 imagine#f1#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 fanfiction#f1 x reader#f1 x you#charles leclerc#cl16#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc fic#charles leclerc fluff#charles leclerc fanfic#charles leclerc blurb#f1 fluff#f1 blurb#f1 one shot#f1 x y/n#f1 drabble#f1 fandom#f1blr#f1 x female reader#charles leclerc x female reader#charles leclerc x y/n#scuderia ferrari#charles leclerc one shot#charles leclerc drabble
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Clownfall: the Election Cometh
It's a long one, lads. Buckle up, get comfy, but the circus is in town for its final run. Ambient music as you read can be found here or here, take your pick. Get popcorn. Get snacks and water and a blanket.
Are you sitting comfortably?
Wednesday 22nd May
7.12am
Household favourite and queen of our hearts Pippa Crerar of the Guardian (her who did the investigative journalism that revealed PartyGate to the world) reports that UK inflation fell to a mere, paltry 2.3% in April. The lowest level in three years! Huzzah! But … still smaller than the decline that was expected.
Nonetheless, Rishi Sunak and Jeremy Cunt whoops I'm so sorry I meant Cunt haha whoops said it again make a big fuss about how brilliant this news is, and how it shows that they are Good At Maffs after all that trouble with Liz Truss and Kwasi Kwarteng, who defined themselves as being Good At Maffs and then obliterated the economy in a single day. Remember that! Good times. But hey, look, THIS PM/Grand Vizier combo are great at this! Inflation has fallen! Stop looking at the predicted rate! A fall is still a fall!
Crerar wonders whether people will actually feel better off, though – prices and mortgage rates are still high, after all. Food for thought.
10.04am
Jeremy Hunt is asked on the Today programme whether Sunak will call a general election.
Now, the logic here is that the government is likely to do better in an election if the economy’s improving; which, SunakCunt are now shrieking from the rooftops. So, is now the time? It's a win, and they've had so few of those, but historically people really do like to fall for the right wing = better economy myth...
BUT – the Tories are doing so very badly in the polls. Journalists favour the idea of an autumn election. Tories do better when the weather’s bad, because fewer people go out and vote.
“Well that’s a matter for the prime minister, it’s not a matter for me,” says Cunt.
... Well. Not ruling it out, then? Diddorol.
10.30am
It's Wednesday, aka the date that Tory cabinet ministers have their weekly meeting. They are duly sent the agenda.
There is no mention at all of an election announcement, nor any plan for an election.
Fair enough! 'Twas an idle thought. Plus, it would actually be bad timing from a logistical perspective - David Cameron, Foreign Secretary and Bae of Pigs, is currently flying out to Albania for an important international meeting, and Jeremy Cunt is on TV all day today - ITV next.
12.18pm
Sunak is asked at Prime Minister’s Questions whether he’ll call a general election. He doesn’t rule it out.
12.56pm
Fun tweet alert!
2.31pm
Pippa Crerar asked Sunak’s press secretary whether he was calling an election. She refused to comment.
Surely it’s a terrible time to call an election! Everyone hates them! But suddenly …
A Cabinet meeting is scheduled for 4.15pm. David Hameron suddenly u-turns in Albania and comes straight back home, his meeting un-met. Jeremy Cunt cancels his ITV appearance. The afternoon meeting is cancelled. Number 10 stops responding to journalists. Manifesto work has stepped up. Sunak’s chief-of-staff is spotted wearing a suit and tie WHICH IS UNUSUAL. Senior ministers have spent the last few days doubling down on dividing lines. And Tory bosses had a meeting this week to discuss how much money they could spend before a summer election.
The UK press sense blood in the water.
3pm
Okay.
There’s something you need to understand:
People suspect Rishi Sunak doesn’t actually want to live in the UK. He’d prefer to be in California. He’s here because he’s an MP.
You need to know this to understand this truly historic incident.
Nadine Dorries has produced a good tweet.
...
...
...
No, we all need to sit with this one for a minute
(For the record... to us, that is an excellent joke. But I strongly suspect she wasn't joking and was trying to make a catty accusation instead, which coincidentally appeared like a roast.
Scientists are referring to this as Stopped Clock Syndrome.)
5.17pm
With great dignity, Rishi Sunak stands outside Number 10 and announces a general election on 4 July.
And by “great dignity”, I mean he’s soaked by rain, while “Things Can Only Get Better” plays in the background courtesy of an anti-Tory protestor with a big speaker and a dream; the song adopted by he Labour Party for the 1997 election, where Tony Blair famously won a landslide victory after 18 years of Tory rule. Eventually, the volume of it is raised so high Sunak is, on more than one level, drowned out.
5.37pm
According to Gabriel Pogrund of the Times, Labour can’t believe Number 10 allowed this to happen.
One Labour insider texts: “Umbrellas are woke”
6.06pm
Good tweet alert!
8pm
A later Guardian article reports that Sunak greeted around a hundred Tory activists – still wearing the same rain-soaked trousers from the announcement.
No word at all on why he doesn't have aides capable of fetching him dry trousers. Perhaps those, too, are woke.
8.14pm
A Sky News reporter is at Sunak’s campaign launch. But, bafflingly, he’s forcibly removed. Extraordinary scenes
Elanor's Pro Tip: Removing a journalist may not be the best PR move for the start of an election trail.
8.27pm
9.36pm
A GBNews reporter claims that some Tory MPs are trying desperately to replace Sunak as leader in order to call off the general election. For this to work, they’d need a vote of no confidence before the dissolution of parliament on Thursday 30 May. Except actually, that would have to happen before the proroguing of parliament on Friday 24 May.
So … this won’t work. But how very incredible - and hilarious - that they’re trying.
10.39pm
Let's take a look at the evening headlines!
A great start to Sunak’s campaign, with newspapers - including the Tory giant The Telegraph - celebrating the triumphant launch of his campaign:
Well! WHAT a day! Let's see how Thursday goes.
Thursday 23 May
8.00am
The BBC takes a moment to gleefully throw off the shackles of political oppression of the last 12 years to reveal that Rishi Sunak's announcement of a July election, the single most important announcement for a sitting government, the most sensitive and vitally-timed event in their calendar...
Was a total surprise to the rest of the party.
Tory party MPs found out when we did that they were about to have to campaign again. For a snap GE. Three weeks after having just done it for the council elections, in which they experienced the greatest single loss of their councillors in history. Even the damn meeting agenda was fake.
Still. Perhaps this explains the lack of umbrella or trousers.
9.09am
Nigel Farage confirms he will NOT stand at the general election.
*pause for applause*
That’s because he’s helping Trump get re-elected in the US right now.
*pause for screams*
This is good news for the Tories! And the rest of Britain, actually (commiserations to America. Please shoot him). Farage’s right-wing populist party - Reform UK - is the spiritual successor to UKIP and the Brexit Party, who’ve been splitting the right-wing vote for years. Farage is popular; it’s bad news for Reform if he’s not part of their campaign, but simply fantastic news for those of us who think queer folks, women and people of colour deserve human rights.
9.19am
According to BBC News and others, Sunak has hired Isaac Levido, the election strategist behind the Tories’ landslide win in 2019. Levido knows his stuff, and advised Sunak to stick with an autumn election.
Sunak ignored this advice. Lol.
9.20am
In the Guardian, Sunak says there WON’T be planes of immigrants flying to Rwanda before the general election. Good news for those of us who think it’s monstrous to deport immigrants to countries with unsafe governments. Bad news for Tory voters who were hoping to get racists to vote for them.
Now, this is particularly funny, because promising to deport refugees to Rwanda in spite of overwhelming legal opposition on human rights grounds is probably the single hill that the Tories have chosen to commit genocide on. This bill has been in and out of every court in the land since they promised it in 2019. It's been on again off again more than a tawdry tabloid romance. But, they finally managed to push it through, and the first planes were set to fly in July.
This means! That Sunak's strongest cards going into the election were the drop in inflation, and the Rwanda bill. He could sell it as "In spite of those bleeding heart liberals, we persevered and managed to tenaciously get rid of these browns and thus fulfilled our promise", and the fact that it won't actually affect the immigration numbers wouldn't be clear until after the election. And make no mistake, it is VITAL that those planes fly before any election - quoth one influential Conservative MP on the right of the party to the BBC:
“I know what question you’re going to ask us again and again. "You’ll say we’ve been banging on about Rwanda for years and we’ve only managed to fly one migrant out there - and we paid him to go”.
It took a single day for that gamble to dramatically fail.
Lol. Lmao, even. One might almost say rofl.
9.21am
Sunak is emphasising his own role in managing the economy.
The Guardian’s Rowena Mason points out that it might be better to sell this as a Tory victory rather than a Sunak victory, considering how badly Sunak’s doing as an individual in the polls.
10.45am
I'm obviously giving a lot of attention here to the funniest and most ridiculous stuff, but let’s take a moment to celebrate some genuinely brilliant journalism:
0_o
The whole article’s worth reading. It confirms that at least one more hi-vis wearer was a Tory councillor in disguise (in this case Ben Hall-Evans). Perhaps this is why they started by removing all the real journalists.
12.42pm
Sunak’s campaign takes him to a brewery in Wales! He attempts some Bonding With The Working Man and asks the workers if they’re excited for the football.
Top tip: if you don’t realise the country you’re in hasn’t qualified for the Euros, maybe don’t even mention the subject.
6.55pm
... here is a new problem. Ish.
As mentioned, three weeks ago, England held local council elections. In that time, the Tories lost over half their councillors; an unprecedented and staggering loss in one event. We are all still bathing in the schadenfreude.
But, many of those then left the party (probably fairly, actually - monsters though Tories are, that cannot have been fun.) But, the way politics in the UK works is that when you vote, you don't vote for the party - you vote for your local representative, and then it's a numbers game as to which party gets to rule. This means, with this sudden last-minute possibly-impulsively-declared-by-one-soggy-madman election now six weeks away, those candidates all need replacing so that the Tories will have a shot at getting the numbers they need to form a majority government.
Channel 4’s Paul McNamara reports that Conservative HQ have emailed asking for candidates in almost 100 seats. The deadline’s tight for this – and apparently, joining the lengthening list of people who weren't informed of this stupid election plan, Tory associations are livid at being left so unprepared.
Now, a lot of these seats are Labour strongholds, so you don’t necessarily need more than a token Tory candidate for them. Phew! A great relief.
But some of them are actually good Tory seats. Uh oh! Basildon, Bury St Edmunds, Wellingborough and Rushden … It’s a bad hit to the Tories to have so little time to find good candidates for these seats.
8.59pm
Labour launch a campaign video. It’s long, but the message is, “Remember life before the Tories got into power? Wasn’t it BRILLIANT?”
And to prove how great 2009 was, they’ve included a clip of David Tennant’s Dr Who saying “I don’t want to go.”
Lol.
9.57pm
Filmmaker Richard Cubitt jokily suggests he could stand as a Tory candidate, and immediately defect to Labour as soon as possible once elected.
I don’t know if the deadline’s closed, but I am now speaking to the chat. Lads: the time will never be better. Do it. Tell the Tories you'll stand for them. Immediately defect. You have the opportunity to do the funniest thing. Be the rot in the barrel. The time is now.
ANYWAY. Oh boy. Day one of campaigning was quite bad. Ah well! Onwards and upwards for Wali Heb Broli. Let's see what Friday brings.
And of course: the losses are staggering (100 candidates!), but it could be worse.
At least it's not senior MPs.
Friday 24 May
7.00am
Over 70 MPs confirm they will not be standing for re-election.
7.35am
It’ll be lovely to see this election get rid of some truly awful Tories. But no need to wait that long! John Redwood stands down. I haven't mentioned him before, but let's look at his clownface eggshell.
He opposed reducing the age of consent for homosexuality in 1994 and 1999, he voted to keep Section 28 in 2003, he opposed same sex marriage, he voted to reintroduce the death penalty in 1988, 1990 and 1994, he’s argued against Greta Thunberg over the UK’s climate emissions.
Although English, he became Secretary of State for Wales in 1993, and at a Tory conference, had to mime badly to the Welsh national anthem which he hadn’t bothered learning. In 1995, he cheated Wales out of a £100 million grant by returning it unspent to the treasury, so it could go back to England.
So, John – if by some fantastically rare chance you’re somehow reading this – it’s wonderful to see you step down. I wish you a very warm fuck you. And I hope the rest of your life is absolutely horrible and filled with immeasurable pain. Kisses.
7.58am
Vicky Spratt of the i newspaper announces that, with an election announced, the Renters’ Reform won’t pass.
This is a big deal, actually - this was a rare good promise in the Tories’ 2019 manifesto to protect renters by ending no-fault evictions. A good promise! With cross-parliamentary support, only slowed as much as it was because most Tory backbenchers are landlords and so tried to block it. But the fighting raged on, and it was finally agreed.
And now it’s broken. Wasting months of work by stakeholders, and thus forming another election promise that would have sailed through if only the election hadn't been called for July.
8.09am
Jeremy Corbyn – remember him? Former Labour leader, who was expelled from the Labour party in 2020 – confirms he’ll be standing as an independent. He’s continued to be a member of Labour despite being an independent MP – but standing against Labour in an election means he’ll have his membership revoked too.
9.26am
So where are we at? How do you reckon the normal Tories in the party are faring? Do you think they're positive of a win? Do you think they expect to lose?
Great Guardian article here:
Highlights - one government minister happened to bump into his equivalent opposition member, and immediately thrust his official folder towards them, saying, “You might as well have this now.”
Another Tory MP hugged a Labour colleague and cast their arm around the room. “Good luck. This is all yours.”
One Tory backbencher was asked if it was a good idea to call an election. “It’s a disaster. I can’t understand it.”
Even when they’re being optimistic, the Tories seem a little glum. One long-standing MP said: “Of course I’m going to fight it, I don’t believe in just giving up like the prime minister has obviously decided to.”
A former minister raises an interesting point. It’s not long, after all, since the Tories suffered those major defeats at the local council elections. That's impacted the number of candidates, of course - but, local canvassing is largely done, on all parts of the political spectrum, but activist volunteers.
That loss was three weeks ago. If you were a volunteer who just spent weeks knocking on the doors of your neighbours and community, trying to convince them to vote for the dead horse, and then lost – maybe you won’t feel like hitting the streets again so soon. Maybe you'd prefer to be able to meet your neighbours' eyes when you bump into them in the bread slicing queue at Morrisons.
Some MPs have even admitted they won’t be cancelling holiday plans to fight the election. On top of that, there's over 70 MPs that have already confirmed they’re quitting and won’t be seeking re-election!!! Absolute scenes.
Interestingly, some anti-Sunak Tories report frustration. They reckon they were close to calling a vote of no-confidence, in the hopes of replacing Sunak with a different leader. No idea if this is true – and if true, whether Sunak knew it. But given the panicked speed at which it seems to have been called...
11.08am
The campaign takes Rishi Sunak to the Titanic Quarter, to be interviewed by Belfast Live.
Elanor's Pro Tip: if you’re the leader of a failing political party, maybe don’t let journalists interview you on a site named after history’s most famous sinking ship.
11.57am
How’s the campaign going, Rishi?
Oh, Rishi. Looks like someone else is not meeting anyone's eyes in the bread-slicing queue.
1.12pm
Politics UK reports that 75 Tory MPs are now standing down at the election – the same number of Tories who stood down ahead of the 1997 election.
2.49pm
Sunak’s campaign takes him on board an aeroplane.
Elanor's Pro Tip: if you’re the leader of a failing political party, maybe don’t be photographed in front of an exit sign.
7.07pm
MICHAEL GOVE ANNOUNCES HE’S STANDING DOWN AS AN MP!
I could honestly use that gif like seventeen times in this write up. You can all thank me for my restraint in choosing just one.
The 79th Tory to do so at this election – an all-time record exodus. Hey gang, would you like to see some familiar names joining him in this?
Theresa May
Sajid Javid
Dominic Raab
Matt Hancock
Ben Wallace
Nadhim Zahawi.
It’s just … not a great sign for the party, is it? That so many prominent MPs don’t reckon it’s worth sticking around.
7.50pm
Hey, remember those parody videos of Hitler getting angry with funny subtitles? Someone made a good Sunak one:
vimeo
10.48pm
The Guardian’s Kiran Stacey reports that Sunak will retreat from the campaign trail, spending the next day at home.
Honestly... that's probably best. Let him recover from the bread excitement.
10.50pm
We round off the day with Andrea Leadsom announcing she too is standing down as an MP. Bye, bitch.
WHAT A DAY! Still, Saturday will probably be better.
Saturday 25 May
12am
New episode of Doctor Who drops! It contains Welsh faeries. I later write a post explaining this. You're all welcome. Back to the circus.
10.06am
Good tweet alert!
11.14am
Keir Starmer promises to lower the voting age from 18 to 16 if he wins the election.
2.43pm
Hey remember how David Hameron was supposed to be in Albania? And actually went there? And then had to come back because of Rishi's totally-planned-for election announcement?
The Mirror reports that David Cameron spent £60,000 of taxpayers’ money getting to Albania for that trip. He was there for 89 minutes, before he had to come back in light of the general election announcement.
This means it cost the country £674 a minute for Cameron to be in Albania for about as long as it takes to watch The Lion King.
6.14pm
Labour and the Tories put candidates forward for 650 seats in a general election.
Of course, that's not quite all of them. The Times’ Patrick Maguire understands that Labour have only 13 candidates left to select, which is pretty good. The Tories are missing slightly more than that.
They need to find around 190.
(The number is rising. Chat, you know what to do.)
9.29pm
According to the Telegraph, Theresa May has said if she was still PM she would have used an umbrella to declare the election.
She probably would have, too.
10.11pm
Now then!!! Gather round boys and girls and all the rest!
Remember: the election was called based upon the following main cards in Sunak's hand:
The Rwanda bill
Inflation falling
The Renter's Reform Bill
Inflation fell, but not by as much as it should have. The Rwanda plan fell through a day later. The election itself has blocked the Renter's Reform bill.
Rishi needs a new set of promises stat, in order to shore up votes from his most important bastions of support. What can he offer?
The evening brings the answer!
At 10.11pm - note the time - in spite of having taken the day off, Sunak promises mandatory national service for every 18 year old if he wins the election. Either a year-long army placement, or a weekend a month volunteering for a year.
Sounds like a good pledge, if you’re hoping to motivate 18-year-olds to vote against you.
10.16pm
The Financial Times’ Jim Pickard reveals that the National Citizen Service (David Cameron’s legacy project) had its funding slashed by two-thirds in a 2022 review of government youth funding - when the chancellor was Rishi Sunak.
Five minutes. That’s how long it took a journalist to melt Sunak’s new pledge.
Still; Tories never let facts get in the way.
10.27pm
Politics UK reports that leaked documents suggest teenagers would be jailed for refusing this national service.
11.47pm
Sunak's bad ideas generator works hard, but the meme makers of the internet work harder:
Still. Sunday is a day of rest! Hopefully Sunday will be better.
Sunday 26 May
9.50am
Let’s check the Sunday tweets.
Starting to think whoever is in charge of optics for Rishi Sunak may be a Labour plant.
10.21am
Fantastic tweet alert:
I Agree With Gabby
3pm
And then... PLOT TWIST!!!
FT’s Lucy Fisher reports that Sunak’s national service pledge - including assigning up to 30,000 18-year-olds to the military - was rejected this week by one of his own defence ministers.
Defence personnel minister Andrew Murrison warned of a hit to morale, headcount and resources if “potentially unwilling national service recruits” were introduced alongside Britain’s professional armed forces.
EVEN THE ARMY DON'T WANT THIS.
6.47pm
And then:
Incredible story from Gabriel Pogrund of the Times.
St Paul’s School, if you haven't heard of it, is an expensive and famous private school in England somewhere (I forget where and don't care). As with other private schools, they’d be subject post-election to a Labour plan to remove their VAT exemption.
Tory MP Greg Hands took matters into his own Greg hands, and messaged the school’s parents’ WhatsApp group to try and drum up anti-Labour sentiment.
I can see the logic. These are parents with money, who have chosen to send their children to a private school that often means an easy track into politics generally and the Tory party specifically. I see why he thought he was safe.
Tumblrs, he was not safe.
Parents intervened, complaining about Hands spamming the chat, and claiming his use of the chat was “inappropriate”.
One parent messaged: “Can we stop assuming everyone is a Tory in this group. A return to more morality, less corruption and more social conscience in British politics is not something to oppose necessarily.”
Another expressed that some parents will “feel it is hard to defend private schools being vat exempt.”
Ouch. Swing and a miss, Greg Hands.
Anyway. New week, new campaigning. I am writing this on Tuesday, and so our tale is nearly at an end for now; so let's see what happened on Monday.
Monday 27 May (Yesterday)
7.40am
Britain's teenagers respond to the national service plan. I love this tweet and the video it reposts:
And here, for your viewing pleasure, is the video:
8.17am
Tory MP Steve Baker (more on him later) actually tweets a public criticism of Sunak’s national service plan. You might be thinking "Well yes, obviously"! But no! For you see, when approaching elections, parties need to be united. Divided parties generally find it harder to win elections.
Naughty Steve.
8.41am
Foreign Office Minister Anne-Marie Trevelyan, having seen the absolute shambles of Sunak’s campaigning, wakes up this fine Monday morn and invites him to hold her beer.
Appearing on Times Radio, she’s asked whether the parents of teenagers could be prosecuted if the teens refuse to take up national service.
And she doesn’t rule it out.
NO BUT WHAT THE FUCK. WHAT ARE YOU DOING ANNE-MARIE. IS THIS YOUR FIRST DAY OUT OF THE HOUSE.
Parents are NOT prosecuted for any wrongdoing of their ADULT CHILDREN. How do you not understand this basic legal concept. The answer to that question was “no”! You say “no” because it makes your party more likely to be elected, and you say “no” because the answer is no.
Oh dear. What a gaffe, as the papers say. Gosh, I really hope Anne-Marie Trevelyan’s gaffe stays contained.
8.56am
The Telegraph duly reports that parents of 18-year-olds might be fined if their children refuse national service.
Anne-Marie Trevelyan’s gaffe did not stay contained.
10.55am
Looks like the Tories are unhappy that the press revealed that Sunak took a day off from campaigning.
But that’s okay, they have a new strategy! Reported by Politico, they’ve decided to suggest that Keir Starmer is too old to be a good Prime Minister.
They called him “weary” yesterday afternoon;
Tory Party Chair Richard Holden says it’s “bizarre” for Starmer to rest at home the day before a speech (but not for Rishi to - ? You know what, never mind);
A Tory aide tells the Sun that Starmer should be dubbed “Sir Sleepy” (what a Zinger, as those conscripted into national service say);
Another Tory aide calls Starmer “Sleepy Keir” according to the FT.
Keir Starmer is 61 years old.
11.17am
Let's check Tory candidate numbers!!!
Now last we looked it was 190, but obviously, as this is possibly their most urgent priority, they've been working flat out and recruiting across the land and so they have, fair play, managed to reduce that number.
The Spectator therefore reports that the Tories have 12 days to select 160 candidates. Would you like to see the maths?
This means, on average, they need to select one candidate every 100 minutes. Which is slightly less time than it takes to watch Toy Story 3.
#ChatYouKnowWhatToDo
12.41pm
The FT’s Lucy Fisher reports that Tory HQ has accidentally sent out an email criticising Tory MPs for failing to campaign, and warning of financial concerns in some seats.
Cannot stress this enough: even if the Tory campaign was going really well and they were predicting a landslide their way, this would be a terrible blow.
5.02pm
The Mirror reports that Tory MP Steve Baker is on holiday in Greece. That’s pretty irresponsible, isn’t it? What does Baker have to say for himself?
"The Prime Minister told everyone we could go on holiday and then called a snap election. So I've chosen to do my campaign work in Greece."
… this is the greatest Tory campaign in history.
(And once again... when exactly did you decide to do this, Rishi?)
5.15pm
In an absolutely baffling move whose motives I still cannot entirely fathom, Tory MP Lucy Allan - a repugnant, malignant liar of a woman who once altered an email from a constituent so she could claim it contained a death threat against her - is suspended by the party, for telling voters in her ward to vote for Reform UK instead of the Tories.
...
...
...
...wwwhyyyyyyyyyyyyyy
6.18pm
Good tweet alert! Here's political journalist Jonn Elledge:
6.30pm
Meanwhile, a Tory chooses to contact journalist Theo Usherwood over WhatsApp, criticising the election strategist Isaac Levido:
Now this is particularly interesting, because Levido is the guy who managed to swing the last GE to BlowJo, even though Labour were riding high on Corbyn. And I don't know, maybe he is actually shit at this and all that was luck.
I just... wouldn't have said he was the reason for this one going the way it is. Necessarily.
Finally, let's finish off Monday with a last good tweet:
10.06pm
***
That's all for now, folks! Thank you for reading, enjoy the circus playing out this week!
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to new beginnings
summary - you and harry are drunk on the streets of rome
word count - ~1k
pairing - husband!harry x reader
✨☀️💛☀️✨☀️💛☀️✨☀️💛☀️✨☀️💛☀️✨
“It’s literally this way.”
“No it isn’t.”
You tugged on Harry’s hand, attempting to make him follow you down a road - that looked like an alley - that you were sure would lead you to the main square.
Harry was insistent you were going the wrong way, but who could actually tell when you were both as drunk as each other.
Harry stood still as he watched you were drunk eyes and a soft smile, as you tried to tug him your way.
“Haarryy!”
“Y/NN!”
“Come on! I know what I’m doing.”
“No you don’t. You’re sloshed!” Harry laughed, watching you spin around in circles for whatever reason.
“I’m not sloshed… I’M IN LOVE.” You shouted to the universe, and also the unfortunate old couple that just happened to be walking past at the same time.
Before you could apologise, the old man spoke; “I remember when we were like that, Carla.”
You smiled warmly, looking from them to Harry. Harry was already smiling towards you, that spark still in his eyes for you even after 5 years together.
5 years together but only 2 days of being married.
Marriage was pretty happy so far.
“We still are.” The old woman smiled at her husband as they passed by.
You continued to walk off then, walking down the road you wanted to go down.
It was a very small and quaint alley, lots of balconies with hanging green baskets and drying clothes. You looked up at them as you passed by, your trainers padding along on the cobbled floor as you walked.
As you were in your own little world, you didn’t hear Harry sneak up on you until his arms were around your waist and lifting you up in the air to spin you around.
“Harry!” You laughed, your jaw hurting from smiling so much.
“Will you ever learn to listen to me?” He bit playfully onto your exposed shoulder, where the thin strap of your dress lay.
“Never!”
“Is that how marriage works? You being in charge?”
“Obviously.”
He safely set you on the ground and you brushed your dress-skirt down, before twirling around and throwing your arms around his neck.
“What?” He asked, smiling down at your happy face.
“I’m in charge.” You tried to say seriously, but you were too drunk to be in complete control of your face.
“Okay.” Harry gave in, kissing your forehead.
“No, I am. I really am.”
“I know.”
“That means I can control you to do loads of things for me.”
“Oh yeah? Like what?” Harry asked, even though he was ready to say yes to everything.
“Umm, buy me flowers every day.”
He kissed you then, “Done.”
“Okay,” You blushed, “Hmm. Come on beach walks with me every weekend - no matter how far from the coast we are.”
He kissed you again then, “Yup.”
“Uhh what about…”
Kiss. Kiss. Kiss. “Yes, yes, yes. Yes to anything and everything. Boss me around all day everyday, I don’t care as long as you’re happy, my love.”
“I am. Very happy.”
You leaned up to kiss him properly then, showing him just how much you love him. You scrunched the small hair on the back of his neck and pulled him closer, moving in tandem with each other like you’d known each other a lifetime not only five years.
You pulled away first but quickly moved to kiss his jaw and leading down his neck, kissing and nipping at the skin to give him a hickey.
“Babe… No!” Harry laughed, knowing how much you loved giving him hickeys but never somewhere everyone could see.
“Nooooo.” You whined as he pulled your head away from his neck.
“Baby, you’re drunk and I’m drunk but I know we’re going to be mad at each other if you give me a public hickey. So be good and stop.”
You scrunched your face up in pretend anger.
“You’re annoying.” You kiss him on the lips once more.
“So are you.”
“That’s not very nice.” You feigned shock.
“Aww, are you sad?”
“Don’t taunt me.” You rolled your eyes.
“Lemme kiss you to make up for it.” Harry leaned in to kiss you but you shoved your hand on his face and pushed him away before he could.
You laughed as he pretended to be hurt by your action, but you ran off down the road before he could say or do anything.
He shook his head with a smile as he watched you go, nearly tripping over a cobble stone even in your flat shoes.
“Y/N/N, be careful.”
You stood at the end of the alley watching Harry still standing there with a fond smile.
“C’mon! I hear music.” You urged him.
So he came.
He wandered over to you casually, feeling like he had all the time in the world to spend with you. Every moment of his was now yours and he couldn’t be happier to share them all with you. You. He sometimes couldn’t believe he’d managed to end up with you.
You held out a hand for him and he took it, slinking his fingers through yours.
You hummed in delight and the both of you walked in silence, off towards the vibrant music of the city to dance the night to new beginnings.
#harry styles#harry styles x reader#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles x y/n#harry styles fanfic#ask finelinevogue#harry blurb#finelinevogue#harry styles concept#harry oneshot#harry styles blurbs#harry styles holiday#harry styles italy#harry styles husband
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after the game - wooyoung x fem!reader (18+)
⚾️ pairing: wooyoung x fem!reader
⚾️ warnings: pure smut (18+), no plot lmao, daddy kink, heavy breeding kink, housewife kink, explicit language, gentle dom vibes, hint of sub reader, not proofread 👀
⚾️ summary: after seeing his wife interact with the kids at the baseball game, wooyoung wants one of his own.
⚾️ a/n: still trying out the lowercase text! this is puuuuure smut with no plot, so i hope you guys are okay with that lmao. also, i am madly in love with wooyoung and that baseball game did not help 😮💨
my masterlist
it all started with a baseball game.
now, wooyoung’s black jersey and pants are strewn on your bedroom floor, along with your sundress and thong. the pair of you barely made it to the bedroom, bodies intertwined as soon as you got home.
he’s still slightly sweaty from the heat, refusing to shower until he’s had his fill of you. he’s been hard for hours, and he’s not stopping until you both get your fix.
all you can do now is pant beneath him, his thick cock stretching you to the brink. the fringe of his grown-out hair hangs over his hooded eyes, which are focused on your sopping cunt.
he bites his lip at the sight, fascinated by your wetness coating his shaft. your steady moans keep him going, like music to his ears.
“that feel good, baby?” he teases, pushing further into you, knowing that you’re on cloud 9. you can feel every ridge of his cock, the closeness sending a shudder down your spine.
“sh-, shit, yes,” you huff, “feels so good, woo,” you whine, lifting up to meet his lips.
it’s sloppy and wet, both of you focused on the intense pleasure. the way his tongue delves into your mouth makes your pussy even wetter. he’s like a starved man, ravaging your body for whatever you can give him.
“fuck, this pussy is so damn tight,” he groans, breaking the kiss. the sight of him wetting his fingers makes your eyes roll back. when he starts rubbing tight circles on your clit, you know you won’t be able to hold back for long.
“uh, woo, please,” you whine, unsure of what you’re actually asking for. you’re so close, but you don’t want this to end. he lets out a cocky laugh, carrying above the slick sounds of his sharp thrusts.
“i know, baby, i know.” he slows down a bit, making sure you feel all of him. he loves the way your face contorts, getting off on your pleasure.
“h-harder, please,” you beg, lifting your hips to meet his thrusts. you moan out when he leans down, slower thrusts allowing him to grind against your clit.
you let out a gasp, hands suddenly pinned to the mattress beneath you. he’s staring at you intently, wanting to see the moment you fall apart.
“look at me when i’m fucking you.” his serious tone makes your pussy throb. when you meet his eyes, you’re enthralled by his beauty.
his tanned cheeks are flushed, brows furrowed in concentration. his full bottom lip is between his teeth, another sign of the harsh way he drills into your pussy. a warm shiver spreads over your body, further turned on by the hungry look in his eyes.
“there’s my pretty girl,” he hums, love-filled smile briefly breaking through his dominant demeanor. you whine when he pulls his cock out, sitting up to find out why he stopped.
you sweep your eyes over his body, appreciating the beauty of your husband. his lean body before you, muscular thighs bent at the knee, sitting back on his heels.
his veiny hand grips the base of his cock, tapping it on your clit. he makes a show off stroking himself, loving the way to stare at him. your thighs quiver, the sight of him making your pussy clench around nothing.
he pants, rolling his head back at the way your wetness clings to his tip. each tap of his sensitive head against your clit drives him wild.
“woo, please,” your voice cuts through to him, breaking his trance. with one last drag from your clit to your opening, he nestles his cock into you, the squelch filling the quiet of your bedroom.
“fuck, gonna cum soon,” he grunts, his thighs slapping against your thick ones.
“me too,” you squeal, feeling more of your wetness leak onto his hard cock. lifting up, you trace your tongue along the vein in his neck, the sensation making his cock jump inside of you.
“gonna cum in this pussy, make you a proper housewife,” your eyes roll back at his words, excited by the mention of his breeding kink.
“y-yes, please,” you squeal, bringing your hips up, matching the pace of his thrusts.
“want me to fill you up?” he huffs, pinning your wrists again. “maybe i should just cum in this pussy and get you pregnant, hm?”
“f-fuck woo! i’m cumming!” you squeal, eyes shutting at the immense pleasure. he keeps fucking you through your orgasm, rolling his hips into your clit, prolonging your pleasure.
“that’s right baby, cum for daddy,” he groans, thrusts getting sloppy at the sight of your fucked out expression. your pussy feels even wetter around him, the lewd noise pushing him further to the edge. your hand comes up to tweak his nipple, before running your manicured nails down his abs.
“you look so pretty for me, woo,” you hum, turning your head to press a kiss to his flexed arm.
“shit, i’m close,” he whines, hips losing their rhythm. you wrap your arms around his neck, meeting him with a sweet kiss before you pull away.
“wanna feel you cum inside me, woo,” you purr, looking up at him with doe eyes. “wanna feel you in me all night,” you look straight into his eyes, already seeing his orgasm wash over him.
“fuuuuuuuck,” he pants, warm spurts of cum flooding your wrecked pussy. you soothe him during his orgasm, stroking every part of him you can get your hands on.
when you’ve both come down, wooyoung is quick to hop up, much to your dismay.
“wooooooo,” you whine out, missing his warmth already.
“i know, baby, it’s okay,” he coos, running into the bathroom to grab a washcloth for you. when he comes back, he’s very gentle, carefully cleaning your sensitive folds. he finishes off with a soft kiss to your thigh, finally taking his place beside you again.
he pulls you into him, your sweaty bodies cuddled together beneath the sheets. your little yawn makes him chuckle, heart full of love at your cuteness.
“did i tire my baby out?” he teases, lifting your chin so he can see those pretty brown eyes. your smile is bashful, always feeling a little shy after a particularly strong orgasm. he smothers you kisses, unable to contain his love for you.
“speaking of babies,” you murmur, now causing a blush to spread across his face. “hello, mr. breeding kink,” you tease him, having fun with his embarrassment.
“you just looked so sweet today with all the kids. it made me start thinking about our future kids,” he confesses, tracing his finger along your cheek. you feel your heart skip at his confession, trying to fight back the sudden tears in your eyes.
“jagi, what’s wrong?” he hums, brows furrowing at your tears. he’s afraid for a second, hoping his confession hasn’t made you uncomfortable.
“nothing baby, i was thinking the same thing today,” you pout, so in love with the man in front of you.
you share a kiss so sweet it almost makes your heart burst. wooyoung’s lips are soft against yours, setting a slow pace. you both savor the feeling, never tiring of sharing your affection.
you’re both breathless when you pull away, giggling under the sheets like teenagers.
“so, maybe we should keep practicing,” he smirks, covering your body with his own. it’ll be a while until the both of you leave the bedroom again.
#𓆩 ♡ 𓆪 ⊹ ˚˖⋆｡ ra ra fics#ateez x black!reader#ateez x black reader#wooyoung x reader#wooyoung smut#ateez wooyoung#ateez imagines#ateez x reader#ateez smut#wooyoung fanfic#ateez fanfic
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Steve's sprawled across the couch watching a movie and doesn't react at first to the movement on the opposite side of it; he's so used to Eddie fidgeting all the time, even in his sleep, that he barely notices anymore. But then, there's the unmistakable weight and warmth of his boyfriend crawling across his body, and Eddie's face in his peripheral vision finally makes Steve turn and look.
Okay, well, that's a new one. But it's Eddie Munson, so pretty much every day there's something new.
Steve raises an eyebrow at the boy's face looming above him, grinning around a gummy worm dangling from his teeth.
"What?"
Eddie mumbles something unintelligible around the candy; the only part Steve can make out is the final 'oh fuck' as sugary spit starts running down Eddie's chin, and he has to rip the gummy out of his teeth and wipe his mouth with a sleeve.
Steve chuckles and shakes his head fondly. He's way too far gone, because it's just endearing when it should, probably, be off-putting.
"I brought you a worm," Eddie finally says clearly, his mouth free. "Get it?"
Steve just continues to stare at him, both eyebrows raised now. Eddie rolls his eyes.
"I'm courting you? Like, bird-style? You're supposed to accept my worm if you like me."
Steve bursts out laughing; he can't help it.
"Courting me? Eds, we've been dating for six months."
Eddie sighs, his smile turning sheepish as he starts moving away.
"Uh... You know what, never mind, t'was stupid—"
"Nonono, babe, get back here," Steve interrupts him, still chuckling, and grabs the front of Eddie's shirt to tug him back in. "Come on, I'll gladly accept your worm."
With a nearly blinding grin, Eddie shoves the gummy back between his teeth and leans in. Steve leans forward a bit and gingerly takes it with his teeth, their lips brushing briefly. As Steve chews through the sour-sweet gummy, his boyfriend giggles above him, eyes sparkling.
"You liiike me, then."
"I love you, you dork," Steve points out to him, unable to stop grinning now.
"Well, yeah, but now I also know you'd like me if we were birds."
"Oh yeah. I bet your mating dance would win me over right away, too."
Steve was absolutely prepared for Eddie to take the bait, and yet he's still in stitches from laughing as his boyfriend pushes himself to his feet and starts dancing around the couch, flapping his arms and making loud chirping noises.
Bird Steve would certainly be swooning. Human Steve just keeps falling harder every day.
#i have no idea what this is i just thought 'eddie totally would' 😂#steddie#fanfic#misha-bawlins fanfic#steddie fic
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SO SO FULL !
pairing: satoru x reader, toji x reader, sukuna x reader, nanami x reader (all separate)
summary: jjk men and their need to breed you <3
content: 2.8k, smut, praise, degradation, dirty talk, cunnilingus (fem. receiving), overstimulation, fingering, reader passes out in gojo's one
note: tumblr refused to let me post my header image so i apologise <3
SATORU GOJO
you should’ve picked up the multiple hints that satoru threw at you throughout the week. the subtle glances towards the baby’s section when the both of you went shopping, the jokes about the both of you starting a family. you should’ve also known that satoru would fuck you silly once you told him that you genuinely wanted to start a family with him too.
“pretty pretty girl.” he coos, hands grazing your skin, sending shivers down your spine. “such a pretty pussy, look how she’s sucking me in.”
you’re bent over the bed, legs spread as satoru pumped his thick cock in and out of you repeatedly. your body thrashes against his grip and you moan blissfully at the feeling. everything feels so so good and your hands are gripping the sheets, twisting them as you squeal.
“f-fuckkk, i’m gonna fill this pussy up with my cum, she’s gonna be so full and plump.” satoru’s hands are on your waist, anchoring you down as he fucks into you mercilessly. you can only mewl as you beg for more. “you’re gonna look so pretty with my baby, wanna fill you up so bad angel.”
“nghh, ‘toru fill me up, please please please, need your cum inside me, w-wanna have your babies so bad!” you’re babbling incoherently, eyes rolling to the back of your head as every word he says is punctuated with a harsh thrust.
you already feel so full with his cock in you. you could feel it pulsating, the thick veins pushing against your gummy walls. satoru groans at your lewd noises and his hands snake their way to your tits. he squeezes them as he lifts your body up so you’re pressed against his taut chest. his hips keep pounding into your ass as you feel his hot breath fan across your neck.
“these tits are gonna be plump and full of milk, g-god, can’t wait for you to grow so big and swollen. you’re gonna be glowing angel and ‘m gonna be sucking these tits every day.”
his words cause you to moan louder, the thought has you reeling and you struggle to keep yourself upright as he fucks you from behind.
“s-satoru need it so much, pleasepleaseplease.” your pleads are incessant as you try to grind your hips against his. you feel your thoughts leave you as you succumb to the pure pleasure that surrounds you. satoru continues to pound into you and you feel his teeth sink into your shoulder. there’s a numbing feeling but you feel his tongue glide across your clavicle and he’s sucking just behind your ear. you whine at the feeling, growing more and more sensitive with each passing moment. “o-oh my goddd, gonna cum gonna cum ‘toru let me cum pleasee!”
all your senses are heightened as you feel your body reach its high. you feel satoru’s smug grin against your body and his breath is like fire on your skin. heat rises through your body and you whimper. his cock throbs in your pussy and you know he’s close.
“my pretty angel and her pretty pussy, you gonna milk me? gonna take all my cum like a good girl, angel? needa make sure that none of it falls out okay?”
“yes yes yes! want your cum sooo bad, satoru need you, i-”
your words are cut short as you feel his cum spill into your pussy and you’re rendered speechless. your body spasm around his cock as you release all over him. spurts of cum spray into your velvety walls and satoru can only hold your body tightly as he thrusts the remaining of his cum into your pussy. you feel your consciousness leave your body and you slump forward into your boyfriend’s arms.
“awww angel.” he pouts as he hugs your limp body close. there’s a proud sensation that fills his body as he sees your fucked out face in front of him. “you’re gonna have to wake up soon, still wanna pump this pussy with my cum.”
TOJI FUSHIGURO
"say please." toji pulls your chin closer towards him. his cock is throbbing inside your pussy and he's been refusing to move. you know what he wants to hear but you refuse to say it. you’re beyond stubborn and you refuse to comply to his demands. "say. please." he punctuates each word with a thrust that makes you moan in delight. his eyes are dark and filled with lust. you're forced to give in and you moan his name.
"please toji." you beg, tears falling from your eyes. "please, want you to fuck me so bad, mmphh, please put a baby in me, please."
he grins smugly, giving your forehead a kiss and you feel your pussy clench around his cock. the harsh thrusts make your head spin. the low growls that emit from his throat is enough to make you see the stars. you feel his huge cock bully into your tiny hole as you feel yourself squeeze around him tightly. his hands wander below your chest, they fix onto your hips, thumbs pressing hard. you squirm under his gaze. kisses are littered all over your body, plump lips touching every sensitive part of you, eliciting delicious whines from you.
"say it louder doll, don't think i heard it correctly." his lips graze the shell of your ear, making you shiver. His voice is deep and it only makes you that much more desperate for him. "c'mon doll, say it f’me."
your bottom lip trembles and you open your mouth as a moan is forced from you. "fuck a baby into me toji. please, please, please!"
"that's it. was that so hard?" toji muses, pounding into you harder. you moan as he sucks on your sensitive neck, leaving a blooming purple mark. his cock feels as if it's hitting the sweetest yet impossible places inside of you. "look at that." his hands come to cover the prominent bulge in your stomach. his cock is so so big and when you see the bump that he makes in your stomach you feel your pussy dripping with desire. when he presses down it makes your body spasms around him and you clench down hard. the sensation has your mind blanking.
"wanna cum." you plead, throat hoarse from all the crying. you buck your hips up towards his in a desperate attempt for him to finally let you release all over his cock. "wanna cum, please let me cum, tojiii please!"
the words have toji smirking. his fingers rub your pussy, feeling the wetness as it makes a mess between your thighs. his fingers only add to your pleasure and nothing can compare as you gasp, moaning at the pleasure shooting up within you. he whispers dirty words of praise in your ear and that alone has you wanting more. you're writhing around under him as he massages the bulge, hands spreading warmth throughout your body which makes you jolt.
"make a mess on my cock f’me doll, let me see your little body as you cum."
at his command you let your release flow over your body, wracking through your bones. your body convulses around his cock, still thrusting into you. the feeling is too much and you feel your senses overloading. toji continues his heavy pounds into you, hips snapping to meet yours. soon enough, hot cum coats your insides, making you gasp. he groans above you, pressing his pretty lips onto yours.
the euphoric sensation of your orgasm only lasts so long before you're being pulled off the bed and toji guides you to the shower. he gives you a plethora of kisses and attention. his hands come to grope your breasts and the words he utters next makes your heart pound and your pussy growing wet again.
"gonna fuck you everywhere until you're nice and pregnant with my baby."
SUKUNA RYOMEN
maybe it’s a bad idea to shout things at your boyfriend when you’re the one who is clearly in the wrong and maybe it isn't such a good idea to tell said boyfriend that he can't fuck you right.
when you see the literal steam billowing out of sukuna's ears you try to quickly retract your statement but it's no use and when he stalks over to pick you up and throws you over your shoulder you can't say that you didn't find that super attractive.
he flings you on the bed, pinning you down so you can't move. his eyes are hard and angry and now you're feeling more excited rather than scared. you clamp your thighs together and sukuna notices and he lets out a scoff.
"what a fucking whore." he rips your panties away and you hear the tear but that's the least of your worries because he's sliding a finger through your wet folds causing you to let out a lewd moan. "already so wet. bet you want my cum to fill this tiny pussy."
you feel your pussy throb at his words and you look at him pleadingly. sukuna smirks. his fingers rub against your clit and you whimper at the sensation. he knew your body the best and he knew exactly which spots to press to elicit the most erotic noises from you, he also knew exactly what to say to cause you to lose your mind.
"oh you'd like that wouldn't you. want me to fuck a baby into you." he laughs darkly when he feels you clench around his fingers. “desperate bitch. i’m the only one who can fuck this slutty pussy, you belong to me and when i’m done with you you’re gonna be dripping with my cum.
there’s an underlying threat in his words but you’re already too blissed out to fully understand what the night has in store for you. he wastes no time shoving his digits in and out of you, the movements making your back arch and toes curl. he scissors you open and the lewd sounds that fill the air only has your mind filled with dirty thoughts.
“too much, ‘kuna ‘s too much, feels too good nghhh.” you feel another moan bubble up in your chest and you say his name as it bursts. sukuna's fingers curl up and he presses down on your gummy walls, making you writhe around him. he thrusts them into you faster, harsher. your sensitivity peaks when he adds a third finger, stretching you out even more.
"you're practically begging to be fucked." he stops for a moment as he recalls the words you had spat at him before. "but it seems i can't fuck you right."
"n-no!" you shout. "sukuna please, didn’t mean it, i didn’t mean it ‘kuna. only you, only you can fuck me, no one else, just you, only you ‘kunaa!"
your boyfriend eyes your needy body. the sight is pathetic, you pleading, tears pricking your eyes as you beg desperately like a bitch in heat. he chuckles at the sight. "want me to fuck you?" he asks, a mocking tone lacing his voice but you didn’t care. "want me to fill you up with my cum and make your belly nice and swollen? teach you a lesson for being such a brat and pump you so full with my cum?"
you nod your head, desperate for something for your pussy to be around. sukuna growls, giving you no warning when he thrusts into you, cock filling you up deliciously. he groans and you don't have time to adjust before he's fucking you. his hips snap to yours and he pounds his cock into you mercilessly. it feels so good to be fucked like this and you moan and sob his name repeatedly.
"g-god yes, ‘kunaaa!"
"yeah?" he pants, cock hitting your cervix every time he thrusts into you and it causes your body to jolt forward. "gonna give you all of my cum whore."
his words are like music to your ears and you want more of him. you buck your hips up and your hands run over his chest. his muscles shine with sweat and they flex ever so often. it has you dripping all over and your body wants more of him. sukuna fucks you with such vigour that you think the bed's going to break. your orgasm is fast approaching and you feel it in your lower stomach, the tightening feeling, threatening to burst. sukuna leans down to murmur in your ear and at his words you know you're not getting any sleep.
"gonna fill this nasty pussy until she’s overflowing."
KENTO NANAMI
the moment that you told your husband that you were thinking about starting a family he had agreed instantly. what you didn’t expect was for him to go absolutely feral and fuck you continuously for hours upon your request, not that you were complaining.
“k-kento!” you let out a strangled gasp when you feel his cock hit that sweet spot within you. you’re on all fours on your shared bed as he’s plunging his cock in and out of you. his hands are gripping your hips as he fucks you into ecstasy. “feels so good, a-ahh!”
his fingers glide across your skin and you shiver at the feeling. his thrusts are constant and you feel your heart race, threatening to burst from your chest. the dirty noises fill the room and the constant slapping of skin is accompanied with your squeals of pleasure and nanami’s groans.
“you’re so gorgeous my love, gonna look even more gorgeous with my baby inside you.” he pants and you feel his chest press against your back. his arms are placed in front of you, locking you down onto the bed. the heat of his body transfers to yours and you can’t help but let out a whimper at the proximity. his eyes were locked to where the two of you were connected. his cock pounded your puffy cunt repeatedly and nanami watched as your arousal coated his length. “my pretty girl, all of this f’me? such a pretty pretty pussy.”
his words light a fire inside you and you can’t help but feel so exposed under his gaze. you try to squirm away but he pushes your body down against the mattress and you’re actually trapped now.
“why’re you tryin’ run darling? ‘m gonna fill this pussy with my cum and then ‘m gonna make sure none of it goes to waste.”
“nghh ken pleaseee.” your pleads are desperate and you feel his cock pulse inside you. every single thrust has your hands tugging the sheets, trying to find something to anchor you down. nanami’s hands thread through your hair and you feel him pull your head up to face him. he catches your lips into a passionate kiss, one that has your tongues tangling with each other. you moan into his mouth, your lashes fluttering shut as you let yourself get consumed by the sheer pleasure that awaits you. your husband pulls away and you pout at the loss of contact. “more ken, m-more kiss me more, plea-”
your sentence is cut short as he crashes his lips on yours once more. his movements are rushed and messy and you feel saliva trickle down your chin as he shoves his tongue into your mouth, swallowing every one of your lewd noises. his hands are still in your hair and you feel the euphoric sensation at every tug and pull. you feel your pussy constrict around his cock causing him to let out a guttural groan into your mouth and you feel oddly proud.
“you’re so tight my love, ‘m gonna cum soon.”
the words have you becoming a desperate whore and you moan even louder, whining as you jut your hips towards his. “pleaseee, fill me up ken, w-want your cum inside my pussy, wanna carry your children, please f-fuckkk!”
nanami feels his thoughts melt away at your desperate pleas and he can’t refuse whatever his precious wife requests and he’s quickening his thrusts. he shoves his cock into your plushy pussy repeatedly, making a mess between your legs. it’s non stop as he chases his high. his fingers trail down to pinch your clit and you let out a breathy gasp. he continues to play with your sensitive bundle of nerves and your body writhes with pleasure.
“fuck! ‘m cumming sweetheart, this pretty pussy’s gonna get filled so full with my cum, gonna fuck a baby into you and then you’re gonna be so big and swollen. can’t wait to see you glowing, want you to have my baby soo bad.”
his words urge you to your release and then you’re cumming all over his cock. your incessant sobs and moans fill the room as you feel yourself get pumped full of his cum. nanami grips onto your body as he slows his thrusts until he finally stops. you’re still in blissful euphoria from the sensation that you’ve just been blessed with when you feel his lips on your pussy.
“k-kento what are y-you doing?”
nanami looks up to you, lustful eyes meeting yours and you feel your pussy grow wet all over again. “gotta make sure you’re plugged full sweetheart.” and he resumes placing fluttering kisses against your folds leaving you to moan at his delicate gestures.
#jjk smut#gojo smut#toji smut#nanami smut#sukuna smut#satoru gojo x reader#satoru smut#satoru x reader#toji x reader#nanami x reader#sukuna x reader#jjk x reader#jjk headcanons#toji fushiguro smut#jjk fic#gojo x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen#smut
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Steve grabs the bag before Eddie can. “No, I’ve got it.”
Eddie glances at the transparency of the plastic bag: the outline of his battle vest pokes through it, neatly folded.
He sidesteps the rest of the group as they troop out of the RV. Steve’s still standing his ground by the driver’s seat.
“Uh, Steve, I can see what’s in there. That’s mine.”
“Yeah, but—” Steve huffs, still holding the bag tightly, and he almost seems… embarrassed. “Like, just. Don’t look at it right now, I’ve got it. I’m gonna dry clean it. Later, I mean.”
Eddie laughs. But Steve remains deadly serious.
“Uh, that’s nice and all, but I don’t think dry cleaning gets out… um, blood and…” Eddie pokes his head out the RV door, to where the kids are hauling weapons and tanks of lighter fluid with Robin and Nancy—a sight he steadfastly tries to ignore before he panics ad nauseam—and asks, “What’s your word for, uh, Upside Down related, uh, you know—”
“Slime?” Lucas offers.
“Sludge,” Erica corrects.
“Goop,” Max says decisively.
“Shit,” Dustin says.
Eddie nods. “Helpful, thanks.”
He turns back. He’d intended for all that to get Steve to crack a smile at least, but if anything, he looks worse; the expression on his face has shifted into evident guilt.
“Steve,” Eddie says, caught between being amused and… honestly, touched. “Relax. It’s fine, man.”
Steve keeps frowning. “But it was—”
“—not important.”
Steve huffs again, like he’s saying don’t lie.
Eddie changes tack. He hasn’t missed the fact that Steve’s change of clothes from The War Zone means that, sure, less skin’s on show, which is probably better for Eddie’s heart but, more importantly, his bandages are ‘conveniently’ concealed—which is decidedly less good for Eddie’s heart, so maybe they both cancel each other out.
If ever there was the time for sincerity…
“Maybe I care less about the damn vest, and more about the person wearing it.”
The pinch in Steve’s brow lessens. “Oh,” he says, soft, and then a little of his usual bravado comes back when he asks, “you sure?”
Eddie waggles a hand back and forth. “Kinda. It’s borderline.”
Steve chuckles. He puts the bag down on his seat, very carefully, as if it’s breakable, and Eddie’s heart does a little skip.
“Well. I still feel bad,” Steve insists. His tone’s light, but he fixes Eddie with a pointed look, don’t test me on this, Munson, ‘cause my stubbornness will win.
“Okay,” Eddie concedes, hands up in surrender. “Tell you what, Steve. What if I wore something of yours, to make it even?”
Steve wrinkles his nose, but he’s smiling. “What, and deliberately mess it up?”
Eddie nods gravely. “Like, it’s not quite Upside Down conditions, but whenever I cook, it gets pretty close.”
Steve’s smile grows. He makes a show of turning around in search of something.
“Huh, I must’ve forgot to pack my wardrobe.”
Eddie clicks his tongue in theatrical disapproval. “Yeah, that’s a pretty big oversight, dude, should’ve thought it through.”
“Guess it’ll have to wait for next time.”
And yeah, they’re joking, but still. Eddie doesn’t want to tempt fate.
“Next time? Nah, I’m praying all this shit is a one time thing.”
“No, I meant—” Steve hesitates, like he’s inadvertently stepped out of the joke, and he doesn’t know where to go from here. “Like. Whenever you come round.”
“Is that an invitation?” Eddie says; he hopes the quip is enough to cover his surprise, the long-buried thought—ridiculously high school, but true in spite of it: no-one’s ever invited me to…
Steve rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “Oh, sorry, did you want it hand-written? The red carpet treatment?”
“Well, if you’re offering…”
“I’ll go get my quill,” Steve deadpans.
Eddie laughs. Says, only partly kidding, “It’s just, I’ll need some time to think it over.”
“The… invitation?”
“What item of clothing I’m taking, duh.”
“Right, yeah,” Steve scoffs, “major decision.”
“It is! You have whole ensembles, man.”
“Ensembles,” Steve echoes, but it’s got more of a French accent to it; Eddie suspects it’s a by-product of Steve helping Robin study, ‘cause she seems to be the only one who’s a polyglot in their contingent. “Get out of town, Munson.”
“Oh, like you don’t know. I swear, in winter, there’d be actual bets placed on what sweater you were gonna wear each day.”
“Uh-huh.”
Eddie hams it up, “Didn’t you wonder why so many girls were waiting to see you drive into school?”
“You’re an idiot,” Steve says, and he waves Eddie aside, about to jump out of the RV. “Lemme know when you’ve made your selection.”
Eddie knows he should leave it there. They’ve had their laughs, and it’s made to be forgotten about in the face of much more important things.
But that’s always been his problem, really. He can’t bite his tongue in time. He can’t help—
“The red one?”
Steve turns around, one foot off the step. “What?”
“The, uh…” Eddie clears his throat. It’s either say nothing or go all in. Fuck it, the shire’s burning. “I’ve decided what to—um. The red sweater?” Steve just keeps looking at him, so he adds, tentatively, “The one you’d wear near winter break?”
Steve raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, I know the one you mean.” He falters on the verge of speech, his lips twitching into a surprised little smile. He drawls, “You sure you weren’t placing those bets yourself, Munson?”, but it doesn’t sound mean, and his ears suddenly look a little pink, and maybe, maybe—
“No comment,” Eddie says, aiming for comically flat, but Steve’s smile is contagious.
“Okay, it’s a deal.” Steve steps outside—throws over his shoulder, “It’s yours,” oddly sincere; and Eddie wonders if they’ve really been talking about clothes at all.
#post rv driving scenes have gripped me again#pre steddie#steddie fic#steddie ficlet#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#steve x eddie
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Summary: After a beer pong challenge gone horribly wrong (or right, if you're Gareth), Eddie has to shave his head. As much as you'll miss his signature curls, you have to admit that his new look isn't all that bad...
WC: 1.6k
Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), drinking, beefy!Eddie, mention of Eddie's weight gain, Eddie + Reader are both 25, oral (f!receiving), unprotected p in v
Based on a request by @josephquinnsfreckles and a conversation with @blueywrites about the lengths we'd go to for beefy!Eddie.
Divider credit to @saradika
It was all Gareth’s idea.
Gareth had been the one to crack open a Pabst can and make a snarky remark about knowing he could beat Eddie in beer pong.
Had been the one to say that Eddie had gotten soft in the five years since graduation, to which Eddie winked at you and replied, “I think my girl would say the opposite.”
Had been the one to up the ante with a “little bet.”
You shot Eddie a warning look that he ignored, opting instead to meet Gareth’s challenge. “Fine. When I win, you gotta let me pierce your eyebrow.”
“Okay,” Gareth rolled his eyes, “but when I win, you have to shave your head.”
At the same time as you blurted out, “absolutely not,” Eddie grinned and said, “you’re on.”
Jeff laughed from his spot on the couch. “Thank God. You’ve had the same haircut since, what? Ninth grade?”
“Eddie,” you hissed, pulling him over to the side. “You can’t get rid of your hair.”
Your boyfriend had shrugged nonchalantly as though the state of his beautiful brown curls didn’t depend on a drinking game. “Relax, babe.” He pulled you into his side. “He’s never beaten me in beer pong. None of these losers have.”
That’s why you now find yourself stationed outside of the bathroom in Grant’s apartment, too afraid to glimpse at the commotion inside. The sound of the electric buzzer was bad enough.
The guys are all blissfully oblivious to your turmoil; even Eddie is cackling and asking Gareth to give him a mohawk. You can only assume that he obliged once you hear the four men erupt into a round of raucous laughter.
“Last piece,” Gareth goads, a muffled zzzzzz coming from the buzzer as he presses it into Eddie’s scalp. “Aaaaand…done!”
Done.
All of Eddie’s hair now lay on the tile floor, because he lost a bet to Gareth Emerson.
The hair that he pulled back into a low bun before working on his motorcycle. The hair that you twirled around your forefinger whenever he kissed you. The hair that you loved weaving your fingers into as he kneeled before you, leaving teasing kisses along your inner thighs before devouring you.
If you had known he would be bald at the end of the night, you would’ve begged to let his hair tickle between your legs once more.
“Whaddya think, babe?” Eddie peeks around the corner. His eyes, hazy from a night of drinking, stare into yours. Even drunk, he still seeks out your approval.
Too bad you’re speechless.
You’ve become accustomed to Eddie’s various metamorphoses. When you first met Eddie, he was lanky, only relying on assorted snacks and copious amounts of Mountain Dew. It was how he’d survived all of those years of food insecurity. And while you loved his body then, nothing could have prepared you for how he looked just two short years later.
His biceps now hold muscle and softness; you often find yourself unable to risk the temptation of biting into them. His stomach has also acquired a slight heft, a pleasant side effect from eating three square meals a day. His jeans now cling to the curve of his ass and no longer require a belt.
But his hair? That had always stayed the same:curls that frizzed at the first sign of humidity, worn like a badge of honor. You couldn’t picture him without it.
If you had, there’s no way you could have imagined him looking so damn sexy.
Eddie laughs at your shell-shocked expression, your widened eyes and dropped jaw. “That bad, Sweetheart?”
“No…’s good. Really, um, good.” Your throat is suddenly dry, and you swallow just so you don’t cough. “Can I feel it?”
He nods, and you brush your fingers over his bare scalp. Your touch is met with a soft fuzziness that was never there before.
Long-haired Eddie looked wild and chaotic, a Tasmanian Devil of a man. But buzzed-haired Eddie looks tough. Strong. Like he’ll destroy any other man who dares look at you.
And it makes you absolutely primal.
“I think we broke her,” Grant whispers loudly, and the rest of the room breaks out into tipsy giggles, slapping at each other and stumbling back into the kitchen for more ill-advised drinking.
Eddie frowns, not able to read your expression. “It’ll grow back,” he says, one ringed hand rubbing your back. He lets his fingers linger on the curve of your ass and gives it an inconspicuous pinch.
“C’mere.” You take advantage of the guys’ distractedness and pull Eddie into the nearest bedroom. The moment the door shuts and the lock clicks, you’re pressing your lips to his. On instinct, his denim-clad leg slots between yours, creating a hint of friction against the seam of your own jeans.
“Fuck, Sweetheart.” His words are muffled by the barrage of kisses. “Can’t just clobber me like this; gonna get me all worked up.”
“Maybe that’s what I want.” You drag your forefinger up his fly, relishing in the way his cock is already beginning to harden.
Eddie practically throws you onto the bed, his biceps flexing with the sudden movement. “Gotta make this quick, yeah? Don’t want those idiots interrupting us.” With that, he tugs your pants away from your body, practically tearing off your cotton panties along with it.
“Oh, honey,” he coos, dropping to his knees at the foot of the bed and throwing his head back. “You’re already soaked.” He smirks before nipping at the soft flesh of your thighs, alternating between kisses and bites. “All this from a little haircut?”
All you can do is nod, leaning back so he can wrap his arms around your upper legs and fully bury his face into your weeping cunt. “Mmph,” he moans against you. You reflexively reach down to grab onto his locks, stopping when you’re met with his newly buzzed hair. Instead, you pull him in closer until his nose nudges your clit.
You say his name on an exhale, your pussy clenching around nothing as his pointer and middle fingers part your folds. You’re spread open for him, a blank canvas for him to create art. “Inside. Please.”
He might be inclined to make you beg further, but the threat of his buddies banging on the door has him relenting quickly.
Eddie’s grip on you tightens and his fingernails leave crescent-shaped divots. A breath catches in your lungs, your mind blanking when he greedily laps up your arousal and plunges his tongue into your hole.
His groans vibrate against you. “So much easier without my hair in the way.” He pulls back to catch his breath, his chin already shining. Brown doe eyes peer up at you, once again waiting for you to approve.
“K-Keep going,” you mumble, only acutely aware of the party occurring in the adjacent room. “Need you so bad it hurts.”
“Don’t want my sweet girl hurting.” The pad of Eddie’s thumb makes small, concentric circles on your clit, making your whole lower body tense up in anticipation of your orgasm. “There we go. No need to pout.”
Your back arches when he dives back in. He maintains his rhythm, inhaling deeply when the bulb of his nose brushes against that sweet spot. Pleasure is right within your reach, your hips moving in tandem with his ministrations to chase that glorious high.
It isn’t as though Eddie has ever been bad at oral; you’ve lost count of how many times he’s made you come on his tongue. But now that he doesn’t have to constantly shake his hair from his eyes—now that he has an unobstructed view of just where to touch you—he hits each stroke with perfect precision.
“Eddie—holy sh-shit, Eddie—right there right there right fucking there!” Your release crashes over you faster than it ever has before. It’s as though Eddie has transported you to another planet, another galaxy, another universe, and you will yourself to float back down just to reciprocate the pleasure he’s given you.
His pants button is already undone, hidden behind an oversized Metallica t-shirt, your fingers finding the hint of pudge on his lower tummy. “One of my old pairs,” he says sheepishly.
They’re gone in a flash, along with his pre-cum stained boxers. He climbs on top of you, hard cock in his fist, and runs it through the mixture of saliva and arousal at your core.
“‘M not gonna last long,” Eddie murmurs, locking his gaze with yours. He’s not embarrassed; he’s proud that he can bring himself to the edge just by eating out his girl.
You can’t stop the scream that emanates from your throat when he pushes inside you, but you also can’t be bothered to care about anyone else hearing. All of your thoughts center around Eddie filling you wholly and the sacrifices you’d make to keep him inside you forever.
He punctuates each thrust with an animalistic grunt, taking as much as he can with every snap of his hips. “My…good…girl,” he pants. “My…good…fuckin’…girl.”
“All yours. All yours, Eddie.”
Eddie’s eyes roll back as you submit yourself to him. “Gonna come. Gonna come inside you, fuck, Sweetheart!” With one final movement, he spills into you.
You cry out his name once more, letting your hand fall to the small love handle just above his hip bone. Another one of your favorite places to bite, especially when you could sneak up on him and catch him off-guard.
He flops down, his fuzzy head tickling your jaw as he nuzzles into your neck. “The buzzcut really does it for ya, huh?”
“Oh, absolutely.”
--
#eddie x reader#eddie munson#eddie munson stranger things#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson smut#eddie munson x you#fanfic#eddie munson fanfic#stranger things fanfic#stranger things#smut#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson x fem!reader smut
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Failed | Lando Norris
WC: 900+
Lando x reader
Summery: Failing your driver license test leaves you in tears, but Lando is here to comfort you.
A.N: Could've been much longer, but I've been writing long fics a lot lately. Also, this is for me and for everyone that failed their test(but I'm a crier okay, so you bet your butt i cried when the examiner told me ill be seeing you another time)
MASTERLIST
You trudge up the steps and unlock the door to the house you share with your boyfriend while you’re in England, feeling dejected and just about holding your tears in. Why was it so important to you that you got it? You wouldn’t be using it a lot anyway, so why bother. You just wanted to pass. You hate failing, even if a lot of people fail as well, you hate it.
Opening the door, you hear your boyfriend on the phone, you close the front door a bit too hard, and you wince, you didn’t mean to slam it shut. You hear the talking stop and footsteps coming your way, Land’s head pops around the corner. He still has his phone pressed to his ear, and he’s smiling. But that smile drops once he sees your face, you’re fighting your lips as they want to stay turned down, and you want to act unbothered, but you are failing miserably.
”Max, I’ll call you later, mate.” Lando ends the call before Max F. could say anything. He walks up to you and opens his arms. Before he can even reach you, tears are already escaping your eyes. “What’s wrong, love? Did something happen?”
You shake your head now, burying your face into Lando’s shoulder. Lando runs his hand up and down your back. His mind goes over everything that could’ve happened that would’ve caused you to be upset.
”Was it the test?” He asks, and you nod. He sighs and kisses your head. “It’s alright, love, you can take it again.”
”I-I don’t want to.” You mutter and Lando squeezes you harder.
“Then don’t, you don’t have to.” Lando manages to pull back enough to see your face. He gives you one of his comforting and loving smiles. He quickly kisses your forehead and takes your hands in his. “Let’s sit down and talk.”
You follow him to the sofa, he sits down and pats the spot next to him, you sit sideways so your legs are over his, and you’re slotted into his side.
“Oh, my poor baby.” Lando couldn’t help but feel bad for you. You looked so small cuddled up to him as you tried to find comfort in him. “It’s alright, love, you were just so nervous, you couldn’t sleep well anyway.”
”You knew?” You asked sniffing and looked up at him.
”Yeah, you were turning and shuffling most of the night.” You had no idea he felt you move. You thought he was sleeping.
”I’m sorry.” You mumble and your lips start to tremble again and Lando panics, he holds you close and gently sways you from right to left.
“No, no it’s okay. I keep you up a lot of the time, and I’d be playing or watching a match or something.” Lando didn’t mean to make you feel guilty, and in normal circumstances, you wouldn’t be this upset about it, but your emotions were running wide right now. “y/n, you never even wanted to get a licence. Why are you suddenly wanting it, you’re so upset about something you told me was just for fun.”
”It’s because you're a driver, and I always have to get you to. drive me everywhere, or I have to Uber, and what kind of girlfriend am I if I don’t know how to drive a basic car when you drive supercars for a living.” You admit and refuse to look at him, finding a loose string on his shirt far more interesting.
”y/n, look at me.” You refuse to do that. “Please.” You sigh and look at your boyfriend. “I love driving you around, you’re my passenger princess, and we spend quality time together whenever I drive you somewhere, besides didn’t we agree to stop reading the few bad comments online.”
”I didn-“
”Don’t lie.” Lando cuts you off with a knowing look. You bite your lip and sigh. “You as a girlfriend, are letting me do something I love, but giving me the honour of driving you around, and I wouldn’t let you drive while I’m around anyways.”
”I don’t think I tell you I love you enough.” Lando’s face lights up, his eyes sparkling in a way they only do when you say the magic words.
”Well, I love you too.” Lando says before he leans down and places a few small kisses on your lips, he’s smiling too much to do more than that. “You know, I think if you don’t pressure yourself, you’ll do well if you want to give it another go.”
”Would you help me practise?” You ask, giving him puppy eyes that you didn’t need to give for him to agree.
”Of course.” You hug Lando while you’re both sitting down, and you for a while you just stay wrapped up in each other’s arms, as the last of the sadness ebbs away. “Max wanted to meet us today. Are you up for it?”
”Is P going to be there, because I don’t want to third wheel you and your boyfriend.” You asked teasing Lando, you and P have this running joke that they’re dating, and you’re just always crashing their dates.
”Haha, very funny.” Lando pinches your side, making you squirm away from him with a squeal. “Weren't you just saying you love me?”
”I was, I was, but I’m no match to Max.” You say and jump off the sofa as Lando tries to get a hold of you. He may be fast in a car, but you’re faster than him, so you run giggling through the house with him chasing after you. All thoughts of the failed test are out the window.
Maintaglist
@gnatthefly . @mochimommy2002 . @llando4norris . @mrswolffs-blog . @barcelonaloverf1life . @c-losur3
#f1 imagine#f1 fanfic#f1 scenario#f1 x reader#formula 1 x reader#formula 1 imagine#formula one imagine#formula 1#formula 1 fanfic#lando x reader#lando imagine#lando#lando norris#lando norris one shot#lando norris imagine#lando x you#lando x y/n#lando norris x reader#lando norris fic#ln4 one shot#ln4#ln4 fluff#ln4 x y/n#ln4 imagine#ln4 x reader#ln4 fic#ln
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Hi
So, i watched the video of the radio between Charles and his new engineer at Imola. Safe to say i got some ideas, and was wondering if you could write something with Charles and engineer!reader? Basically something where reader is Charles’ engineer and he’s developed feelings for her, during a race ( could be Imola, or Monaco as thats this weekend) she talks to him like Bryan does and he realizes he has a praise kink. Could lead to smut if you’re comfortable with that. Thank you in advance.
Thank you for this request, I did my best to develop it as much as possible, I hope you like it!! <3<3
Strategies and praises | cl16 (+18)
Summary: you like to praise your driver, but you have no idea how much good it does him.
Warning: fluff and some light smut.
a/n: CHARLES WON IN MONACO OH MY GOD, I STILL CAN'T BELIEVE IT!! HE REALLY DID IT, I'M SO SO PROUD OF HIM!!! (not to jinx him I wrote this between Friday and Saturday so you won't have exactly the positions like in the race)
The Monaco Grand Prix is in full swing, everyone is excited and ecstatic as they want to know how the local driver, Charles, will do. You, as his race engineer, are under a bit of pressure, as well as him, but it's nothing you can't control. For you it is a race of mere strategy and that's it, since many overtakings do not usually occur, and that is why you and Charles spend a lot of time studying the different strategies that may happen in the race.
“If we get one last run with the mediums in quali, we can achieve pole position.” He says and you nod.
“That's right, it's just a matter of the track staying the same throughout qualifying and, in case you already have provisional pole and a red flag or something happens, you're already insured there.” you say as you finish reviewing some telemetry data.
Suddenly he lets out a sigh and runs his hands through his hair, ruffling it a little. You know he is stressed and overwhelmed by this weekend, it's not that he doesn't like it, on the contrary, it's the constant pressure to have a good race at home.
“But... But what if I qualify further back? I don't know, that will change the whole strategy, right?” He asks in a whisper, you nod.
“Ehm... That might change the strategy a little bit, of course, but it's nothing we can't recover with a couple of undercuts or overcuts...” you say to finally close your laptop.
You look at Charles and notice how your words calmed him down a bit, you have been his engineer since he arrived at Ferrari in 2019 and you have been known for giving him some praises every so often in the race. And a couple of times you have been criticized for some questionable decisions in the race, but he was in charge of clearing your name with pride those times, which you are very grateful to him since he always believes in you and you in him.
-
It's already race day and you find yourself with a lot of nerves, the day before Charles had qualified P3 and, although it was not what we expected, there was a certain tension and hope on the pit wall. The roar of the crowd fills Charles helmet as he navigates the tight corners of Monaco. You, his engineer, his voice of reason in the chaos, cut through the static.
“Charles, that was a phenomenal lap! You took the Rascasse beautifully, just keep pushing, we can still make a good climb!” you say on the radio. “Just try to make it clean, okay? You're doing a very good job.”
A small smile tugs at Charles' lips under the helmet... He wasn't just pushing or fighting for the podium anymore, he was pushing to hear your voice, to impress you, to make you feel proud of him.
You watch the telemetry with a focused intensity, a satisfied smile playing on your lips.
“Perfect line through Beau Rivage, Charles. You're a monster machine! Let's catch them boy! I know you can do it!” you said watching his lap, he had made a couple of overcuts.
The compliment hangs heavy in the air between you and Charles, a blush creeps up his neck even though you can't see it. He pushes even harder, the car straining under his command.
Charles crosses the finish line, a hard-fought P3. He lets out a guttural yell of exhilaration, the adrenaline coursing through him. Maybe it's not a home win as he wished, but it's a podium and it's something at least.
“Great job, team! That was incredible. Y/n, you were brilliant on the strategy, thank you so much!” you heard his voice over the radio communication and you smiled.
“It was nothing Charles, now let's celebrate! You deserve it more than anyone!” you also say through the radio. “You did an absolutely amazing drive, Charles. You were phenomenal out there. We should celebrate after the podium ceremony!” you say and you let out a little giggle.
A shiver runs down Charles' spine... It wasn't just the post-race adrenaline, it was the way you said it, the subtle soft praise laced with something more, and that sweet and soft giggle of yours. All your colleagues on the pit wall hug you and congratulate you for such a spectacular strategy, Fred also congratulates you with a loving hug. You release a breath you didn't realize you were holding. Relief and pride wash over you, how proud you are to work with someone like Charles is priceless, he is someone who always strives to achieve his own.
-
At the end of the podium and the interviews, the paddock was practically deserted, you found yourself putting some things in your briefcase when you hear Charles calling you to meet you in his driver's room.
The room is a mess of post-race adrenaline, empty water bottles litter the table, fireproof gloves are tossed on a chair, and Charles himself is sprawled on the sofa, he's still in his race suit, sweat clinging to his toned chest through the fireproofs. He looks exhausted but exhilarated and handsome to your eyes. You knock on the door.
“Come in!” You hear him say and you enter the room, a shy and tired smile adorns your face.
“Hey, you wanted to see me champ?” you asked softly.
Charles beckons you in, a shy smile playing on his lips. He pats the space beside him on the sofa.
“Yeah, come sit, please. There's a few things we need to go over, but...” He trails off, his gaze lingering on you a beat too long. You raise an eyebrow, amusement tugging at your lips.
“But what?”
“You did amazing today, you know that? We pulled off a miracle out there, keeping the position.” he smiled shyly.
You smiled lovingly at him. “We did, didn't we? Thanks for trusting my calls. You were a rocket ship on that track, Charles.”
His gaze lingers on you a beat too long. You brush a stray strand of hair from your face, feeling a warmth spread through you.
“Always. You're the best engineer I've ever had. Not just because of the numbers, but...” his voice became a little low, he hesitate a bit, then leans in, his voice barely a whisper. “Because you believe in me... Even when I don't believe in myself, even when everyone doubts about my abilities or myself in general.”
Your heart skips a beat, you reach out, your fingers softly grazing his cheek. The touch seems to spark something in him, he leans into your hand, his eyes searching yours.
You blushed a little. “Hey, I'll always believe in you, Charles! You're incredible. You know that, right?”
His eyes hold yours, a new intensity there. He cups your face, his thumb brushing across your lips.
“There's something else I want you to know... Something I've realized lately.” he says with a husky voice.
He trails off, his gaze dropping to your lips, you feel a shiver run down your spine, he leans in slowly, and you meet him halfway. The kiss is electric, fueled by unspoken emotions and the adrenaline of the race. His hands explore your back gently, sending shivers down your spine.
“Your voice...” he kiss you again. “on the radio...” he give you another kiss. “it does things to me...” he said between kisses.
A laugh escapes your lips, breathless. “Like what, Charles?” you ask him teasingly.
He kisses your jaw, his voice a low rumble. “Like... it makes me want to drive faster, makes me want to win, to archive even more podiums... Especially when you...” He hesitates, then whispers in your ear. “Especially when you tell me I'm doing good, when you tell me that I can do it.” he said huskily.
A blush creeps up your neck. You realize what he's saying, a heat pooling in your core.
“So... you like a little praise, huh?” you whisper too.
He kisses your neck, his touch sending shivers down your spine. “More than you know, mon ange, especially if it comes from you.”
The air crackles with unspoken desire. You let out a soft gasp as Charles undoes the buttons of your t-shirt, his touch lingering on the fabric. You reach up and cup his face, pulling him close for another kiss. This time, it's deeper, filled with a new urgency. His hands slide down your back, sending a fire down your spine.
“Then tell me, Charles. What do you want to hear?” you said breathlessly.
He pulls back slightly, his eyes blazing. “Tell me you're proud of me, tell me I drove flawlessly. Tell me you knew I could do it... Please.” he says in a whisper, practically begging you.
You run your hand through his hair, a slow smile spreading across your face. “I am so incredibly proud of you, Charles. You were phenomenal out there, you took that car to its limits and never gave up. You're a phenomenal driver, the best on the grid.”
His eyes lock on yours, the praise filling him with a surge of heat that goes beyond the race. He leans in again, his voice a husky whisper.
“More, keep going amour. Tell me you knew I could keep that podium, even when I doubted myself.”
You trace the outline of his jaw with your thumb, your voice dropping to a low purr. “I always knew you could keep that podium, Charles. You have this incredible talent, this fire inside you. You were born to be a champion!”
His breath hitches, and he pulls you close, his touch sending shivers down your spine. His hands explore your body, finding the small of your back, urging you closer.
“Don't stop please. You make me want to push myself even further, make me want to win every single race left, just to hear you say that again.” says with a ragged voice.
The praise fuels your own desire. You pull back slightly, your gaze flickering over his race suit, you smile.
“Then let's celebrate your podium properly, shall we? Show me just how good you are at taking some orders.” you say with a husky voice, and a triumphant grin splits his face.
-
The air hums with a different kind of electricity now. Charles's eyes darken, the praise turning him on far more than he expected. He leans in, his voice a low rumble.
“You don't just believe in my driving, do you baby?”
His hand dips under your shirt, brushing softly against your skin. You gasp, a shiver running through you.
“No, Charles. I believe in you... All of you. Your talent, your strength, your incredible heart. You're the most determined, passionate person I know! And seeing you out there, pushing yourself, it does something to me too...”
His touch ignites a fire within you, mirroring the one he feels. You trace a line down his chest, feeling the heat radiating through his damp race suit.
“What does it do, bellissima?” he says with a husky voice.
You lean in close, your lips brushing his ear. “It makes me want to celebrate with you in a very different way.” you whispered in his ear.
He pulls back slightly, his eyes searching yours. A slow smile spreads across his face, a mix of satisfaction and desire.
“Tell me then, how do you want to celebrate?” he asks.
You run your hand down his arm, sending a spark through both of you. “Let me show you how proud I am of the man you are, not just the driver. How much I admire your strength, your focus, everything that makes you so incredible.”
His breath hitches, and he pulls you close again. This kiss is different, slower, filled with a deeper meaning. His touch explores your body, finding the places that make you shiver, places no one had ever discovered before.
“Then show me, bellissima. Show me everything you've been holding back.” he said with a rough voice.
You pull back slightly, your eyes locked on his. “But first, tell me one more thing. Did you ever think your engineer might be a little turned on by seeing you dominate the track?” you say shyly.
His laugh is a low rumble, filled with pure, unadulterated desire.
“Not until now, but believe me, gorgeous, the feeling is most definitely mutual.”
He finally pulls your shirt up all the way, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through you. As he slowly undresses you, his eyes never leave yours, a mixture of gratitude and raw desire burning bright. The celebration takes a turn neither of you expected, fueled by the adrenaline of the race, the praise that goes beyond the track, and the deep connection that has been simmering beneath the surface all along.
His eyes scanned your body at a slow place, he was drinking you in just by looking. His lips met yours in a gentle touch and your back met the couch as he hovered over you. Looking into his eyes you kissed him again, biting his lip which elicited a groan from him and a smile from you.
“Oh god amore, are you sure you want this?” He asked. “We can’t go back after you say yes.” he added in a low voice that send shivers down your spine.
“Yes, I’m sure Charles.” you replied bringing his lips down to yours. Detaching his lips from yours he kissed down your body, your skin crawls when you feel his warm lips on your body, slowly kissing every curve and dip that adorns your silhouette, leaving a burning path on your skin, you let out a sigh. “God, you're so good to me Cha...” You whisper between a light sigh, your words made him let out a light growl, he felt his body react to your praise.
“Oh mon amour, je te ferai te sentir si bien... I will make myself worthy of your praise...” He says in a low and sensual voice, the mixture of French and English makes your head go crazy. (Oh my love, I'll make you feel so good...)
His lips continue their journey down your chest, taking the time to kiss your breasts gently, as if they were the most precious thing in the world, then he went down to your abdomen where he left loose kisses in the area, making you release one or another soft sigh. He continued down until he reached your core, he smiled at the sight of you completely naked, he softly kissed the inside of your thighs and your heart started beating super fast.
He started to leave sloppy kisses until he reached your folds, he began to leave sloppy kisses and licks on your wet folds, you raised your hips a little to give him easy access to that area, and he began to devour you slowly, he was taking his time to taste you. Your soft moans didn't take long, he slowly sucked on your clit, making you let out a loud moan that probably rang throughout the deserted paddock, but that's the least of it now.
“Keep doing that Charlie...” you say with heavy breathing and that gave him the impetus to continue savoring you with such passion, you hold on to his soft, silky hair. “God, you're such a... You're such a good boy.” you moan slightly.
Your words lit the fire in him a little bit more and he continued tasting you completely in his mouth, you were like a blessing in his life, like something he had wanted to try for a long time. You felt your walls tighten and a strong wave of pleasure washed over you, you felt like you were going to faint right there.
“Cha... Charlie... I'm... I'm close.” you whispered as you whimpered in pleasure, he stopped his ministrations on your core and looked up at you, god he looked so damn hot, his cheeks flushed, his face sweaty from the strenuous work he was doing down there.
He smiled and took off his boxers, revealing his erect cock, he brought his lips to yours and kissed you softly and sweetly, it was as if he didn't want to let this moment between you go. “If... If you don't feel comfortable or something, just tell me and I'll stop instantly, okay darling?” He said in a hushed whisper looking deeply at your eyes.
You looked and him and smiled shyly. “Charlie, I... I want this the same way you want it, okay? I want you to continue.” you whispered and he nodded. “Just do it, okay honey?”
He aligned himself with your entrance and gently entered you, giving you time to adapt to his big size, your breathing became erratic, he began to move slowly and a little loosely at the same time. He wanted to satisfy you, to please you, make you feel like you are the one who have the power in this precise moment... His hands ran over your body, just as they did at the beginning, until they reached your hips and he placed them there, his thumbs made circles in that area, he began to thrust into you with a little more rhythm. He began to breathe heavily, his hot breath coming into contact with your neck and that gave you chills down your spine, his movements were meticulously perfect, he took the moment to appreciate you and enjoy this.
You felt your walls tightening around him, making the two of you let out moans at the same time, to you, he looked like a Greek god at that moment, sweat taking over his toned torso, his darkened and dilated pupils watching you as if you were a goddess or some kind of miraculous apparition in his life.
“Mhm, bébé, I'm... I'm gonna cum.” he whispered against your neck, his agitated and husky voice a delight to your ears. “God, you feel so good around me chérie.” He murmured as he kissed the skin of your neck, making you sigh again and again.
You moaned as you felt the pleasure wash over you. “Such a good boy my precious Charlie.” you said with a husky voice. “I'm close too, handsome.” you whimpered and you closed your eyes.
The climax reached you two making you tremble with pleasure, your legs trembled and you felt how your breathing stopped being erratic. He rested his forehead against yours and kissed every little part of your face, while you just smiled, the love you feel for this man is incredible, something that goes beyond a simple discussion of strategies or friendly companionship.
When you finally felt that everything in you was completely normal, you spoke. “That... That was, amazing charlie.” you whispered softly, giving him a kiss on his cheek, he smiled. “You made me feel good... I haven't felt like this in a long time.” there was no lie in your statement, it had been a long time since the last time someone had made you feel as good as Charles had.
He smiled and blushed. “It was nothing sunshine, everything for you and only you.” he kissed your cheek. “I think you deserve good things more than anyone else.” he whispered too.
After a few seconds, silence was present in the room, but it was a fairly comfortable one, your hands were intertwined with his and your thumb caressed the back of his hand, you smiled shyly at the sight, it was something that looked so cute and innocent.
He smiled again and looked at you with great affection in his eyes. “I love you, darling... Thank you for this!” He whispered sweetly and kissed your temple.
You smiled tenderly. “I love you too charlie.” you whispered too. “Don't you think we should take even a quick shower?” You say and let out a shy giggle.
He smiles and raises his eyebrows, blushing. “Oh... Of course love!”
You just smile at him again and you kiss his cheek. “And then you take me to my hotel?”
He denied and picked you up in his arms to walk to the small bathroom in his driver room, you let out a soft gasp. “Oh, no my love... We will go to my house!” He said.
You raised your eyebrows and chuckled. “But... And my things? Everything is in the hotel...” You started to say but he interrupted you, leaving several small kisses on your lips.
“Don't worry about it honey, we'll look for that before we go to my house.” he smiled. “Just worry about being pretty and smart, my honey.” you giggled at his words.
“You forgot to mention bossy.” he laughed and blushed.
“Oh sure, a little bossy, but that's how I like you.” he whispered on your lips and kissed you again.
You just smiled while you went into the shower, you felt very happy because you never thought that Charles had something for you and that at the end of the day it was something that you also wanted at some point. You admired him as a driver, that was for sure, but as a person it was a totally inexplicable thing. Today showed you that, apart from being good at taking orders, he was excellent pleasing you and showing his true emotions, you can't wait to see where this new journey might take you both.
#formula one x reader#f1 x you#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc fluff#charles leclerc imagine#charles x reader#charles leclerc#mariclerc fics#charles x you#charles leclerc soft smut#charles leclerc smut#charles leclerc soft
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Guilty Pleasures ༓ jjk, kth (m) | chapter iii
✑ Summary: Three years of being Seoul's power couple earns you nothing but a big fat divorce settlement and your face plaster on every gossip column around town. You're angry, hurt, and desperately want to move on, but worst of all? You're still in love with the man who started the whole mess, even though the most he can ever see you as is a friend. The renowned actor you've hired to be your company's new endorser seems to have a soft spot for you though. He's easy on the eyes, you'll admit, but who actually wants a divorcee like yourself? It's unrealistic really.
pairing: ex-husband ceo!jungkook x ceo!reader, actor!taehyung x ceo!reader (not poly)
genre/AU: angst, smut, fluff, loverstoexesto ?, coworkers2?, unrequited love
Word count: 5.3k+
Warnings: some time skips (none too huge), oc and jk are both 30, Taehyung is 32, swearing, lots of introspection, tornado of emotions, morally grey characters, mentions of toxic relationships, mentions of broken home/families, themes of abandonment, mention of love bombing, reoccurring nightmares, sleep paralysis, mentions of therapy, struggles of self-blame, regret, guilt, etc., mentions of alcohol consumption, mentions of sexism in the media and business world, death (minor character), life-threatening accident (major character)
playlist: Unkiss Me, Apologize, Hate That I Love You, etc.
a/n: ANGST ANGST ANGST...don't say I never warned you hahaha. Anyway, once again, I had an amazing time writing this! (although nervous af 👉🏼 👈🏼) Just FYI, there are some time skips as this starts a few weeks after the gala! So to clarify, it’s now 3 months since oc’s divorce was officially finalized, as in done (the process itself took way longer). The chapter continues from there and yeah, the pace is picked up. Okay, let’s go! Enjoy! 🥰
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Fresh linen. Warm breeze. The smell and sound of the ocean.
You know this place too well, like a memory you hoped to have forgotten. Why are you here now? You glance around, taking in the familiar details—the blank ceiling above, the soft comforter that curls around your body like silk against your skin, and delicate rose petals scattered at the foot of the bed. It’s exactly as it was before — it feels exactly the same; too quiet, too peaceful, and too good to be true.
The sunlight streaming through the window is blinding, yet it draws you in with a force you can't resist. Carefully, you stand up, your feet meeting the cool wood floor, and you shiver. Each step you take towards the window feels heavier, like wading through water. When you reach the window, you see the sandy beach below, the waves beating rhythmically against the shore. It’s beautiful, but the painful kind.
To the left, a young couple, not much older than yourself, their hands tightly intertwined, as if afraid to let go. To the right, an older couple sitting further up the beach, comfortably silent as they take in the horizon, reminiscent of their many years together. You always dreamt of achieving the latter, yet here you stand, having neither, and the chances of ever obtaining it growing dimmer with each passing day.
For many, this was supposed to be a place of happiness, a symbol of love, promises, and new beginnings, but not for you. For you, it was a cocoon, trapping you in a deceptive comfort. You close your eyes, trying to steady your rapid breathing, yet it doesn’t prove to be of much help. Images from your past that you’ve tried blocking out of your mind time and time again suddenly resurface — the arguments, the tears, the feeling of everything and nothing at the same time.
“You’re up early,” His voice startles you, causing you to spin around in a panic. At that moment, your heart tightens in your chest, and a cold sweat forms on your brow. You thought you were alone. You’re certain of it. Yet the sight of your ex-husband standing only a few feet away, his hair still damp from his morning shower, is enough to leave you completely speechless.
"Why are you here?" you whisper, your voice trembling.
"Why are you here?" he counters, his dark eyes piercing into yours. "Isn't this what you wanted? To remember us, to remember how it felt to be together?”
What? This isn't making any sense. Why is he talking to you as if he were a ghost? Your eyes search frantically around the room until you spot it—the wedding band on his finger. No, not again. You hear yourself plead, but the words don't leave your lips. All at once, the room begins to feel smaller, the walls closing in on you. You're stuck in another manifestation of your past, this time reliving your honeymoon, three years ago in Greece.
"I didn't want this," you say, your voice barely audible. "I wanted to forget this."
"But you can't forget, can you?" he says, stepping closer. “You remember this view. You remember the floors and the walls. You remember that we had our first time together here and promised our devotion to each other."
“That’s not fair, Jungkook," you reply, taking a step back, "it's not fair at all, you left me. You don't get to patronize me like this."
“We both know our marriage came with stipulations, __. So when did I ever give you a reason to stay? Or to love me?”
You’re back in the bed, the sheets now suffocating rather than comforting. The sound of the ocean is louder, more insistent, drowning out your thoughts. You want to scream, to run, but you’re paralyzed by the fear, the guilt, the regret.
"This isn’t real,” you say to yourself, tears streaming down your face. “I’m dreaming, none of this is happening.”
“You can't escape what we had, or what we lost. We’ll always be here, together __, in this place,” he says softly, reaching out to touch your hand.
"No," you whisper, pulling your hand away. "I need to wake up. I need to let go...of you."
The room fades, his figure dissolving into the shadows. The sound of the ocean becomes a distant murmur as you fight to open your eyes. Wake up, please wake up. It's your own pleads chanting in your head. Finally, with a gasp, you awake, the nightmare diminishing like vapor.
“Fuck,” you curse, fingers gripping your sheets, “just another damn dream.” Rolling onto your back, you take a deep breath before reaching out for the glass of water on your nightstand. Its coolness soothes your dry throat. You reach for your phone next, checking the time—4:47 AM. Too early to start the day, too late to attempt falling back to sleep.
Your thumb hovers over Jimin’s name in your text threads. It would be 10 AM where he is. You consider sending a message, but you find yourself at a loss for words. Forget it, you lock your phone and rise from your bed, you’ll go for a walk instead. Yeah, it’s brisk outside, but the fresh air will help clear your mind.
After tossing on your warmest coat and scarf, you head outside, the sun beginning to break over the horizon. At first, you wander aimlessly, lost in thought as you pass the odd person or two on the sidewalk. One individual accidentally knocks into you, yet he's quick to apologize. You easily understand their rush; perhaps they've just finished the night shift and are eager to reach the comfort of home.
You imagine their loved ones who must be waiting for them. You could be wrong, and maybe you're biased, but the image you depict is a future you once envisioned for yourself—one of laughter, love, and a warm family. It’s a dream you secretly carried as a child, amidst your unstable upbringing. But as the years passed, what was once a lifelong aspiration felt more and more elusive, slipping through your fingers like grains of sand. It seems, in the end, it was just a dream…nothing more.
Of course, you've achieved other goals instead, success in your career for one. It's what you wanted most the more you became an adult. Even before Jungkook came in the picture you were thriving. Yes, you needed investors to expand, but you had already made a strong name for yourself, hence the reason his company even reached out to you for a partnership in the first place.
The second, and more formidable goal you’ve achieved was saving your company. You built your business with an earnest heart, good morals, and an ambition to serve a community. You couldn’t let it all be washed out by a larger, greedier industry giant. You had to do something. Too bad your judgment was skewed the day you saw a similar ambition in Jungkook’s eyes; he was just as determined as you to save what was his.
For a while you got what you wanted, stability for your business. But you got too invested, too short-sighted to anticipate that one day, it would all feel hollow without someone proper to share it with. Alas, your prior hopes, the ones you thought were buried long ago, began returning to you as if they were an overwhelming tsunami.
You wanted warmth.
You wanted intimacy.
You wanted a home.
You sought companionship with Jungkook but no, you read the signs all wrong. Once you dropped the L word, his attentiveness towards you skyrocketed. He began calling you while you were apart, surprising you with little gifts, and setting more time aside so you could both take Bam to the dog park on free days. But then it all stopped. After months of showering you with attention, his efforts exhausted him, so he looked for the first exit out.
You remember getting the text one afternoon— When will you be home tonight? We need to talk about something. Selfishly, you hoped he was going to tell you that you could take that trip to Fiji together. You had been hinting at it for the last two weeks. Of course, you were wrong because the last time you checked, trip itineraries didn’t come with divorce papers. At that moment, you realized that Jungkook didn’t try to love you in the slightest, he tried loving at you; love bombing 101. Your ties are now completely severed.
Yesterday marked three months since your divorce was finalized. You didn’t cry like you thought you would, but you did meet with Melody that day. As your therapist, she offered you her empathy, validation, and perspective. You feel you’ve gotten better since you started meeting with her, finally beginning to heal. Yet the unsettling dream that haunted your sleep last night shows you there are many things still left to resolve, feelings you need to confront, but where to start?
You love your ex-husband, but why?
Can it even be called love?
And do you really need him to love you back?
While you can only offer fragments of an answer for the first two, you seem to have a better-formed answer for the last.
No, you don’t need Jungkook to love you. He’s proven to you time and time again that you are not the one he can bear his heart to. He’s always reiterating that he wants you to find someone else, someone more deserving of you, whatever that means. Likely, it’s all projection. Out of the two of you, he’s the one more likely to re-marry.
As for you, you’ll always love him, at least a semblance of it. After all, he was once a part of you. But what was once a part of you, doesn’t need to be anymore. You have to let him go...though you wish you didn't have to.
You continue walking straight until you find yourself drawn to a small park overlooking the city skyline. It's fairly empty, with only a few people nearby. As you settle onto a weathered bench, you take in the view before you. It stretches endlessly. Sunrises have always held a special place in your heart—the amber glow breaking through the abyss of darkness as if a beacon of hope.
"You'll get through this __," you reassure yourself, “one day at a time.”
“Happy six months, boss!”
A goofy, boxy smile graces the man’s lips as he leans against the doorframe of your office. You take in his appearance: crème-colored sweater paired with dark brown slacks, the fabric impeccably tailored to his tall, lean frame. His ebony hair is perfectly parted down the center and feathered out to either side of his face, giving him a soft, approachable look. The glasses are new though, round with a hint of gold. Though a minor accessory, they seem to tie the rest of the look together.
Classy, yet cozy, you hum silently, it suits him.
Everything about the way he’s dressed today complements his features—not that it could be any other way, as Taehyung could never not look good in something. You learned that the hard way when you opted against a gaudy shirt and pant set your stylists suggested he wear for a commercial. Taehyung, being a free spirit, decided to try it on for kicks, and yeah, it strangely worked. He ended up shooting the entire commercial with it on. That video’s gotten your business the highest engagement rate across all your media platforms to this day.
“Mr. Kim, does six months of working together really merit a celebratory drop-in?” You lean back in your desk chair, arms folded as you narrow your eyes at the man. You're taunting him, not that he minds.
“Please,__,” he starts, stepping further into the room, his presence effortlessly filling the space. “The only person that still calls me that is the intern who works on set with us. Makes me feel old, like I’m double my real age.”
“Well, you are older than both of us.”
Taehyung gives you the look, a mix of amusement and mild aggravation.
“Two years is hardly considered older, but if you’re done trying to prod me, I’d like to ask you a series of serious questions.”
“Okay, what?” You straighten your back, curious to know what he’s thinking.
“Red or white wine?” He waits for your response, eyes seemingly hopeful. You're unsure where he's going with this, so you delay your response, suspicious of the spontaneity of the inquiry.
“Red,” you respond, cautiously. Taehyung seems pleased.
“Strawberries or blueberries?”
“Strawberries, though I prefer cherries most."
“Science or literature?"
"Literature." You surprise him with this one. "I like books, vintage ones."
"Do a lot of reading in your spare time?" he asks.
"When I get some, yes."
"Me too. Tolstoy?"
"Occasionally," you answer. "Where are you going with this, Taehyung?"
He shrugs. "Just making conversation." He pauses before continuing, “I also happen to know a place that offers all those things plus private bookings. How about you and I go for dinner tonight, as colleagues? If you hate the wine, I’ll drink it for you.”
The weight of his request hits you like a ton of bricks. Apart from a handful of social events, you and Taehyung haven't exactly mingled outside of the office. His sudden invitation to go out for dinner takes you by surprise, especially considering the nature of your professional relationship. However, you can't deny the subtle shifts in his behavior, the way he's been checking in on you more often, especially since the Winter Gala. Weeks have passed since then, but, no doubt, the memory of that night still lingers in both your minds—the shaming from a bitter business competitor, the unwanted press shining a light on your divorce, and your ex-husband who so easily approached you like it was nothing.
Taehyung suggested for you to slip away through the back door with him, offering to drive you home himself rather than leaving you with your limo driver. But you declined, feeling embarrassed that he wasn't merely a witness to the night's events, but also made to be a spectacle himself. You never wanted him to feel like he had to pity you or coax you through your personal trials. Being a good colleague is one thing, but he didn't need to go above and beyond.
“I don’t know if I can join you tonight, I'm sorry. I have a lot to do,” you say, your voice wavering slightly. It's not far from the truth with the mountain of business reports and budget plans to look over. Though your business remains functioning, it's a lot to maintain, especially with the number of investors having withdrawn their support once news got out about your marital separation. It's unfortunate how much a person's situation and the things they've built can change on someone else's dime.
“You sure?" Taehyung tries again, careful not to sound pushy. "The place isn’t overly posh, but we could go elsewhere if you’d prefer."
“I’m sorry, Taehyung, maybe another time?” you say, fingers fidgeting with a few documents on your desk, a nervous habit you developed ages ago. “I-"
“I understand,” he says, his expression softening, a hint of disappointment flickering in his eyes before he masks it with a gentle smile. "I have a film shoot that might go late anyway. Speaking of which, I'm expected on set in about half an hour so I'm going to head out, but if you change your mind, you know how to reach me."
You nod, recalling having his contact in your phone. The two of you agreed it would be easier to coordinate meetings and schedules this way. "I will, thank you. Good luck with your filming."
As you watch him leave, a twinge of guilt tugs at your conscience. Perhaps you shouldn't have dismissed him so quickly, considering how insistent he seemed. It's as if he was genuinely looking forward to the affair.
No, you can't entertain it any further. You have no way of knowing how far the night might've led—it's best to leave Kim Taehyung alone.
When you declined Taehyung's invitation to get dinner, you didn’t expect it to result in not seeing or hearing from him for the next week and a half. As an endorser, he doesn't work at the office regularly, coming and going as needed and since you hadn’t had any promotional projects for him recently, his absence seemed normal at first.
But this was Kim Taehyung. The same Taehyung who loved making spontaneous visits to the company, especially towards the end of the week. He often came in once, twice, sometimes three times a week to talk with Namjoon, your secretary, in particular. Somehow, the pair had become friends, and since Namjoon’s desk was near yours, Taehyung would drop by whenever he saw your door open. So, not hearing from him for 11 days straight was strange, like he'd vanished.
It was now Friday evening, the clock pushing 5 pm. You consider texting him to make sure he's okay, but wouldn’t that be hypocritical? You had agreed with yourself to leave him alone. Maybe he was on vacation, perhaps at a vineyard, or had taken on another film project. Being a highly talented actor, Taehyung had no shortage of casting directors contacting him for their movies and TV shows.
Embarrassingly, you hadn’t actually seen any of his movies. You enjoyed a good rom-com now and then, like the ones Taehyung starred in, but you usually opted for something more mindless when you had the time to watch anything.
You can imagine the loyal following he has though, as Taehyung was the epitome of a "dream boat" with his natural good looks and expressive eyes. He must be good at kiss scenes, which must be especially difficult for anyone dating him. You know you'd have a hard time accepting it at least, the fact that your flawless actor boyfriend was off making out with equally beautiful co-stars on set, that is. Anyway, as your endorser, maybe you should try supporting his films a bit more. There had to be one that would catch your eye.
Curious, you open a new tab on your phone and search for him.
"Holy fuck," the curse leaves your lips the minute the search returns. Dozens of articles display on your phone screen at once, all covering South Korean actor Kim Taehyung's recent motorcycle accident. You checked the publishing date—six hours ago. “Taehyung’s in the hospital. He’s in the fucking hospital!”
Panicked, you leave your office to speak with your secretary.
“Ms. __,” Namjoon greets you immediately, a trace of hesitation in his tone upon seeing your frazzled state. “Is everything alright?”
“Joon,” you refer to him by his pet name, “Did you know that Taehyung’s in the hospital?”
“What?” He seems as shocked as you, his eyebrows shooting up in alarm.
“It happened this morning around eleven or something. It was a collision, a motorcycle accident. Oh god, he’s—he’s been taken to the ER,” you choke out the words, struggling to maintain your composure as you try recalling one of the articles you skimmed. “We have to go. I have to go right now.”
“I’m coming with you.” Namjoon leaps from his chair, grabbing his keys from his desk drawer. “I’ll drive.”
“No,” you stop him, “I don’t know how long this’ll be and you usually work until 5:30, so I don't want you to have to be stuck at the hospital with me. I want you to be able to call it an early night if you want. We'll take separate cars over.”
“Okay,” he nods. “I’ll meet you over there then?”
“Yeah.” You nod back, clutching your keys harder in your palm. “Yeah, sounds good.” You turn around to head for the nearest exit, but your secretary stops you mid-step.
“__,” he calls you by your name, having known you for the past decade permits him to do so. He softens his eyes when he sees the worry in your own clear as day. “He’s gonna be okay. We have to believe that. Please drive safe.”
“You too,” you say, then disappear from his sight.
When you arrive, it’s a madhouse. Sirens blare as ambulances rush into the hospital parking lot, doctors and nurses race from room to room, and fans—so many fans—crowd outside, all waving signs of comfort and support.
“I'm here to see Kim Taehyung,” you say urgently to the charge nurse. She recognizes you immediately and throws you a look of distaste, but you’re too focused on the emergency at hand to care. “I’m sure you know who I am, but I need to see him. We work together, we're colleagues.”
“Ms. __,” she replies, surprisingly calm and collected amidst her obvious dislike of you. “I’m afraid he’s currently receiving serious medical attention and won’t be able to have any visitors at the moment.”
“I’ll wait,” you blurt out the words faster than you anticipate. You feel like you're eating your words from earlier about leaving him alone, but this is different—his life is on the line. "I can wait for him.”
“Visiting hours are only until 8 pm. I really don’t think—”
“Please,” you interrupt, your voice stern and urgent. “He's part of my team. He's my...friend. I have to know if he’s okay.”
The nurse hesitates, her expression softening slightly as she sees the genuine concern in your eyes. “Alright,” she finally says, her tone firm but kinder. “You can wait in the family lounge, but I can’t promise you’ll be able to see him anytime soon."
“Thank you,” you say, relief flooding through you. She directs you to a quiet room down the hall, away from the commotion where you're better able to calm your racing thoughts. You find a seat in the far corner immediately and send a quick text to Namjoon, letting him know where you are.
As you wait, the minutes drag by painfully slow. You can’t stop replaying the articles in your mind from earlier, the words “motorcycle accident” echoing like a mantra. How did this even happen? How bad was his condition? How much strain is this going to put on his acting career? You wish you knew.
A handful of nurses enter the lounge occasionally, calling out names and providing updates, but none of them are Taehyung’s. You find your ears burning every time the door opens, heart racing, only to sink back into your seat when it’s not about him.
Finally, you catch sight of Namjoon, his face mirroring your concern. He spots you immediately and rushes over, taking a seat in the chair beside you. “Any news?” he asks, his voice low and urgent.
“Not yet,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. “They said he’s receiving serious medical attention and don't know when we'll be able to see him. We have to leave by 8.”
Namjoon nods, his expression grim but unwavering “We’ll wait together.”
"If you need to leave sooner than—"
"I know," he interrupts. "I appreciate it, but please let me be here too."
You sit in silence from then on, exhaustion beginning to weigh heavy on both your shoulders. It's not until 7:35 when a doctor walks into the lounge, his tired eyes scan the room until they land on you and Namjoon.
“Are you here for Kim Taehyung?” he asks. "I'm Dr. Min."
You nod, your heart in your throat.
“He’s stable for now,” Dr. Min explains, “but he's still in critical condition. We’re doing everything we can.”
“Can we see him?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.
He sighs. “Only for a few minutes. And you need to be prepared—he’s heavily sedated and has sustained significant injuries.”
“I understand,” you reply, mentally preparing yourself for what’s to come.
Dr. Min leads you through a maze of hallways until you reach the ICU. As you enter Taehyung’s room, the sight of him hooked up to machines and covered in bandages nearly breaks you. You take a deep breath and step closer, Namjoon right next to you.
“Taehyung,” you whisper, but he remains motionless, his breathing steady and rhythmic. The severity of his injuries is evident in the way he lies.
“We're here, Taehyung,” Namjoon continues, noticing your slightly frozen state. “We’re both here for you. Please, fight through this. You and I, we're good pals, remember? Like brothers. You have to—"
Although the more collected one before, Namjoon begins to struggle with his words. You place a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. Having known him for 10 years, you know that despite his strong exterior, he has one of the softest souls you know.
"I think I have to go, __. It'll be better if I see him when he's awake. I want to stay longer, but I just don't know if I can."
"I understand, we can't stay much longer anyway. Go home and get some rest. Dr. Min will call us when he's awake and able to talk."
After you give him a hug, Namjoon leaves the room, leaving you alone with Taehyung. You end up pulling up a chair beside his bed and slowly reach out to touch his hand. It's instinctive for you, the need to feel his heartbeat overpowering any other thought.
"I'm so sorry this happened to you, Taehyung," you start, your voice a mere murmur. "You'll push through this, right? Like in the movies you film. I confess I haven't seen any of them yet, but—but I will! That's how I found out about all this actually. We hadn't seen you for nearly two weeks, so I searched you up. Not in a weird way though, okay? Not like...anyway, I'm sorry I said no to you that day. When you asked to go for dinner, it threw me off. This whole thing with my ex-husband just has my mind in fifty million directions, so I promise it wasn't you. I hope you didn't think that."
"You've always seemed to show up for me, whether it's for the good of the company or even a little emotionally in some aspects. With the reputation I have these days, I'll always be grateful that you chose to work with me. You have a good heart, Taehyung, so much that I think if we ever got close, I think it might be unbearable for me," you pause, a couple of tears slipping down your face.
Just then, a creaking of the room's door momentarily pulls your attention away. Dr. Min stands a few feet away, clearing his throat—a gentle but firm signal that it's time for you to leave.
"I have to go soon, but I'll be back tomorrow, okay? Even if you're still asleep or not, I'll stop in and sit with you for a while because...because I need to be sure that you'll be alright. Namjoon will come see you too when he's ready. But I'll see you in the morning, alright Kim?"
You squeeze Taehyung's hand gently before heading out of the room, thanking the medical staff along the way.
When you get home, the first thing you do is head straight for the bathroom. Your whole body feels riddled with stress and exhaustion, and you know that the only thing that can offer even the slightest amount of solace is the warmth of water.
Yet not four minutes after immersing yourself in your tub does your phone ring, demanding your attention. Being this late into the evening, you figure it has to be Jimin.
But you're wrong.
When you reach to answer the call, it's actually an unrecognizable number that's flashing on the screen. You hesitate for a moment, debating whether to answer or let it go to voicemail.
"Hello?" you answer cautiously, curiosity getting the best of you.
There's a brief pause on the other end before his voice comes through, words slightly muddled. "Hey, it's me," he says, his tone soft. "I've been...I've been thinking about my life, you know? About everything.
"J-Jungkook?" Your heart sinks as you quickly decipher the owner of the voice, but then it hardens. It's obvious from the slurring of his words that he's been drinking. "Why on earth are you calling me? And at this godforsaken hour too."
"I told you...I've been thinking about my life."
"I'm hanging up."
"No, please, stay on the line for five minutes. Please, I have to tell you...what I've been thinking."
"You have three minutes," you sigh, ready for anything (except what he was about to spring on you).
"I wanted to save my company," he continues, his voice wavering slightly. "For my mom's sake, you know? My dad owned it and stuff but she was the one who was behind all the technology...and that's why I married you. You...reminded me of her."
Your breath catches in your throat as he reveals the truth behind his actions, the raw honesty of his words hitting you like a punch to the gut. You knew very little of Jungkook's mother, too, as he didn't speak of her often.
"And then...then there's the real reason I divorced you," he admits, his voice breaking slightly. "My parents had a terrible marriage, you know? My mom...she had to manage my dad's temper for years...he didn't love her at all. He just married her because she was smart and could make him rich. It made her so unhappy, but you know she loved him so much. She...she passed away when I was 16, and...and I didn't want that for you. I didn't want you to be trapped like she was, because I'm like my dad you know? My feelings are...weird... I never know what the hell I'm...feeling. I'm probably not making a lot of sense am I?"
"I'm trying to understand." You want to hang up here and now but every time he speaks, you cant bring yourself to do it. The pain in his voice cuts through you like a knife, and it's a side of him that you've rarely seen before.
"I'm sorry," he whispers, his voice thick with regret. "I'm sorry for being such a dumbass that day I got my stuff. That was like, six months ago and I still hate myself for it. I shouldn't have made an advance on you like that. I was...I was immature, and I wasn't thinking."
"After the gala," he continues, his words becoming more coherent as he speaks. "I...I felt even more guilty, you know? Because, I still have a photo of you and Bam on my dresser. It's small, but I've tried to put it away over and over and over again, but I can't do it. I don't know what's wrong with me...it's almost a year since we lived under the same goddam roof and I can still smell your perfume, I can still remember how you laugh with both your lips and your eyes...the way you scrunch you nose when—"
"What are you trying to say Jungkook?" You interrupt. "That you're sorry and can't get me out of your head, so you need my forgiveness to move on?"
"No! That's...that's not it at all. I mean, I do want your forgiveness but—"
"Well, what the fuck is it?" You hate how aggressive your voice is sounding, but the obscene amount of incoherent information he's revealing to you is overwhelming. "It's 10 freaking pm at night, I had a long day, I'm sleep deprived, and Taehyung's in the fucking hospital which is so distressing, so I'm sorry, but I can't handle any more of your cryptic messages!"
"I think I might love you," he finally says, his voice raising as well. "I know I'm...I'm being a dumbass, but I...I think I love you. I love you __, fuck!"
a/n: So....how are we feeling about Jungkook rn? Also, my darling Taehyung is taking one for the team here 😭 🤍 LMK what you think! Lastly, I understand the timeline of events is a bit tricky to follow, so if it helps I can put something in the series masterlist to help. Vote for jjk or kth!
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side note: I tried tagging readers in comments but most of them didn't go through, so i'm sorry about the clutter here...😬
no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton
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Black Magic
Charles Leclerc x witch!Reader
Summary: famously non-superstitious Charles takes drastic measures to break the Monaco curse
Charles rubs his temples as he stares at the phone, mentally rehearsing how he’s going to convince you to meet with him. He knows it’s a long shot — from what his mother told him, you’re not exactly eager to use your … abilities, as she called them. But he’s desperate at this point after years of the Monaco curse haunting him.
He takes a deep breath and taps the call button. It rings once, twice, three times before you finally pick up with a cautious “Hello?”
“Y/N? Hi, this is Charles Leclerc. I was given your number by my mother ...” His voice trails off as an awkward silence stretches between you.
Finally you respond, sounding confused. “Pascale? But why would she ...”
Charles rushes to explain. “She said you might be able to help me with … well, with breaking a curse of sorts. One that’s been plaguing me for years at the Monaco Grand Prix.” He pauses, cringing a little at how ridiculous he sounds saying it out loud.
There’s another long pause before you let out a soft sigh. “I should’ve known this would happen eventually. Listen, I only do that kind of thing for family emergencies these days. Curses and spellwork … it’s not something I take lightly.”
“I understand,” Charles says quickly. “But you have to know what the Monaco Grand Prix means to me. It’s my home race, the most meaningful one on the calendar for me. And yet, every single year something goes wrong — mechanical failures, crashes, bad strategy calls, communication issues. It’s like I’m cursed to never win it.”
You’re silent for a moment, seeming to consider his words. “I’m aware of the … situation,” you say finally. “But even if I did agree to look into it, breaking an actual curse isn’t something that happens overnight. It would take time and effort.”
“I’ll give you anything you need — time, money, whatever it takes,” Charles insists. “Just … please. I’m desperate here. My heart can’t keep taking these kinds of blows.”
Another pause, then a resigned sigh. “Okay, fine. But you have to promise to take this seriously and listen to what I say. No skepticism, no brushing it off as some kind of joke. This is real to me.”
Relief floods through Charles. “Yes, absolutely, I promise. When can you come by? I’m staying in Monaco until the race next weekend.”
“I’ll need a little while to prepare,” you say slowly. “But … I can try to come by Tuesday? We’ll need to talk more about this in person.”
“Tuesday is perfect,” Charles agrees eagerly. “Truly, thank you for this. I’ll make sure you’re well compensated for your time.”
You let out a small huff of laughter. “You keep your championship hopes, I’ll keep my soul. We’ll call it even.”
A bemused smile crosses Charles’ face at that. “Whatever you say. I’ll see you Tuesday?”
“Yes. I’ll be there Tuesday.” You hang up abruptly, leaving Charles staring at the phone with a mixture of hope and trepidation. He has no idea what he’s getting himself into … but he’s willing to try anything at this point.
Two days later, you show up at Charles’ apartment looking rather apprehensive. He ushers you inside, eyes raking over you with obvious curiosity. You’re younger than he expected, maybe mid-twenties, with a casual air and slight frame that doesn’t exactly scream “all-powerful witch“.
Still, he tries to withhold any skepticism as promised. “Thanks for coming. Can I get you anything? Some wine, or ...”
You shake your head. “I’m fine, thanks. I’d rather just get down to business if that’s okay.”
Charles nods and you both settle onto the couch, an anticipatory silence stretching out. Finally you clear your throat. “So. Tell me more about this … curse.”
And so he does, relaying in exhaustive detail the string of unlikely disasters that have befallen him at nearly every Monaco Grand Prix since he started in Formula 2. Crashes, mechanical failures, pit stops gone wrong, you name it … it’s like the racing gods have it out for him every year on his home streets.
You listen patiently, nodding along, your expression unreadable. When he finishes, you’re quiet for a long moment before speaking. “You know curses and superstitions have existed in motorsports for decades, right? It’s a high-adrenaline, high-risk environment … prime territory for that kind of thing to take root.”
Charles frowns. “Are you saying you don’t believe me?”
“I’m not saying that.” You shake your head. “I’m just … managing expectations here. Breaking an entrenched curse, if that’s even what this is, isn’t easy. It’ll take much more than a couple of days of spellwork.”
He lets out a frustrated breath, scrubbing a hand over his face. “So you’re telling me you can’t help.”
“I didn’t say that.” You eye him levelly. “I’m saying this is going to require time, patience, and an open mind from you. If you’re willing to put in that kind of commitment, then I’ll do what I can. But you have to go into this knowing it might not work.”
Charles is silent for a long moment, weighing his options. Finally he nods. “Okay. You’re right, I’ll stop being skeptical and doubting this. I’m ready to fully commit, whatever that takes.”
A small smile flits across your face and you nod. “Alright then. I’ll need to gather some supplies first, do you have anything personal I can use? Something meaningful, something that represents your driving?”
Charles scrambles up to rummage through his drawers, finally emerging with a battered red fireproof racing glove, handing it over to you. “Will this work? My godfather gave it to me when he first started teaching me to kart.”
You take it with a nod, turning it over in your hands. “It’s perfect. I’ll need to attune it and prepare a few … components.” You glance up at him. “This may take me a day or two. But after that, I can try to get a sense of what we’re dealing with.”
He nods, feeling that flicker of hope rekindle in his chest. “Sounds good. Let me know if you need anything else.”
You rise, slipping the glove into your bag. “I will. And Charles?” You hesitate, looking almost nervous for the first time since you arrived. “I know we’ve only just met, but … I want you to understand how serious I’m taking this. Messing with forces like curses … it’s not something I do lightly. If I can’t help in the end, it’s not for lack of trying, okay?”
Something about your sincere tone puts Charles at ease and he nods. “I know. Thank you for this … really.”
A shy smile ghosts across your lips before you slip out, leaving Charles alone with his doubts and hopes alike. Over the next couple of days, he tries to distract himself with race prep and strategy meetings, but his mind keeps drifting back to you and your mysterious preparations. He’s not sure whether to feel hopeful or just plain foolish for entertaining all of this curse nonsense.
Finally, Thursday afternoon rolls around and you arrive once more at his door, looking oddly serene. You accept his offered glass of wine this time as you settle on the couch, clutching the battered racing glove and a few other strange items.
“Okay,” you say, taking a fortifying breath. “I’ve done what I can to attune myself to your energy and prepare. I should be able to at least get a sense now of what we’re dealing with.”
Charles nods, feeling an anxious flutter in his chest as you close your eyes, seeming to slip into some kind of trance-like state. The seconds tick by, tension building in the air around you. Just when he’s about to break the silence, your eyes fly open with a gasp.
“Wow,” you breathe out, looking utterly stunned. “This is … wow.”
“What?” Charles prods urgently. “What did you see?”
You shake your head, almost looking scared now. “I’ve never encountered anything like this. The sheer scale, the power … Charles, this isn’t just some simple bad luck curse. This is dark, powerful magic rooted over years and years. Maybe even generations.”
A leaden feeling sinks into the pit of Charles’ stomach at your ominous words. “So you’re saying you can’t break it?”
“I didn’t say that.” You draw in a steadying breath. “But it’s not going to be easy. Or quick. This is going to take serious ritual work over an extended period of time. I’ll need more supplies, maybe some help from others. It’s … a huge undertaking.”
You look up at Charles, expression grave. “But I think I can do it. If you’re willing to fully commit and see this through, no matter how long it takes or what I need from you, then I’ll put everything I have into breaking this curse.”
Charles stares at you for a long moment, feeling the weight of what you’re saying. This is so much bigger than he ever imagined. Part of him wants to run from the sheer enormity of it all.
But then he pictures it — finally winning his home race after all these years, the crowd roaring as he drinks in the euphoric feeling. No more bad luck, no more disasters clouding his joy. Just pure triumph.
His jaw sets in determination as he meets your eyes. “Whatever it takes. I’m in.”
A slow smile spreads across your face and you nod. “Okay then. We’ll get started right away. This may get … intense at times. But I’ll be right here with you every step of the way.”
“Thank you,” Charles says fervently. “Truly, thank you for taking this on.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” you reply, something sparking in your eyes. “We’ve got work to do.”
And just like that, you dive into preparation mode — making lists, sending messages, gathering spell ingredients and components that have Charles raising his eyebrows more than once. He tries to follow along as best he can, but it’s like a foreign language to him.
After a while, he can’t help but ask. “So … did you always know you could do this kind of thing? The witchcraft, I mean?”
You pause, considering his question. “It’s a family tradition, passed down. My grandmother started teaching me from a very young age. But I’ll be honest … I never fully embraced it until recently.”
Charles feels himself grow curious. “What changed your mind?”
A strange look crosses your face and you’re quiet for a moment before replying. “My grandmother was ill. The doctors had … given up, more or less. So in desperation, I tried to help the only way I knew how. And it … worked, somehow. After that, it was hard to keep denying what I could do.”
“Wow,” Charles says softly. “That’s amazing. I can’t even imagine ...”
You shrug, suddenly looking almost shy. “It’s a lot, I know. Probably hard to wrap your head around. Which is why I appreciate you being so open-minded about this.”
Charles gives you a crooked smile. “Well, I’m relying on you here. I figure I should at least return the favor and be open-minded.”
A surprising laugh escapes you and you shake your head in amusement. “You’ve got a point there.���
A surprisingly comfortable silence lapses between you, broken only when you glance at your watch. “Alright, enough waiting around. We should get back to work if we want to be ready before race day.”
Charles feels nervous anticipation flutter in his chest again. “You really think we can pull this off that quickly?”
“We have to try,” you reply, already focused and in work mode once more. “Just be prepared … this isn’t going to be easy for either of us.”
Charles swallows hard and nods. “I’m ready. Let’s do this.”
Over the next several days, Charles is swept up in a whirlwind of strange rituals and practices — chanting, incantations, symbolic offerings, things he never could’ve imagined before this week. You lead him through it all with a calm patience, guiding him every step of the way.
It’s completely draining, leaving him wrung out and exhausted every night … but he can’t deny the noticeable shift he feels with each passing day too. It’s almost like a weight, a cloud of dread he’s carried for years, is slowly dissipating. He tries not to get his hopes up, but it’s hard … especially with the way your face glows with quiet pride whenever your eyes meet his.
Finally, the night before the race arrives. You’ve worked practically around the clock except for when Charles had to leave for free practice and qualifying, both of you barely sleeping or eating as you poured everything into breaking the curse.
As the sun sets over Monaco’s famed harbors and hills, you finally seem to pause, taking a deep breath. “Okay, I think … I think that’s everything we can do for now.”
Charles stares at you with a mixture of hope and trepidation. “You mean … it’s done? The curse is broken?”
You exhale slowly, looking suddenly drained but at peace. “As much as it can be, at least. The groundwork is laid, the ritual completed. But actually severing that kind of ancient tie ...” You shake your head. “We’ll have to see what happens tomorrow. I’ve done everything I can.”
Relief and gratitude wash over Charles as he reaches out to grasp your hand impulsively. “Thank you,” he says fervently. “For all of this … I can’t even begin to express how much it means.”
You seem surprised by his emotional outburst for a moment before squeezing his hand back gently. “You’re very welcome, Charles. I’ll be honest, I wasn’t sure I had it in me at first. But you put so much faith in me. That meant everything.”
He holds your gaze, feeling an unexpected sense of connection pass between you. So much has happened in such a short span of time — he came to you a skeptic, but now he feels like he’s been through a transformative experience. And you … you’ve put your entire being into helping him, far beyond any reasonable expectation.
The air almost seems to crackle with tension as you both search each other’s eyes. Then, as if drawn by an unseen force, you start leaning towards each other infinitesimally. Charles’ heart kicks up a staccato rhythm as your faces inch closer together ...
Until finally, your lips meet in a soft, almost hesitant kiss. It’s achingly gentle and sweet, at odds with the intensity thrumming underneath. When you finally part, Charles feels almost dazed, his heart pounding.
“Wow,” he breathes out, unable to tear his eyes away from yours. “That was ...”
“Yeah,” you murmur back, looking equally affected. “It was.”
A silence stretches out as you simply gaze at each other. So much has passed between you in these short days — an entire lifetime’s worth of intimacy and connection. It’s overwhelming and exciting all at once.
Finally, Charles seems to shake himself out of the dazed reverie. Clearing his throat, he says gruffly, “Anyway, um … thank you again. I should probably try to get some rest before tomorrow.”
“Right, of course,” you respond quickly, flushing slightly. “The race. Yes, that’s … probably a good idea.”
An awkward pause hangs in the air before Charles blurts out, “You’ll be there though, right? At the race, I mean? As my guest?”
A slow smile spreads across your face and you nod. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
He returns your smile, feeling lighter than he has in years. “Okay, good. That’s really good.”
With that, and one last lingering look, you gather your things and slip out, leaving Charles alone with his whirling thoughts and cautiously rising hope. He has no idea what tomorrow will bring — triumph or despair. But for the first time in his life, he feels like he’s not facing it alone.
As he climbs into bed that night, his mind keeps drifting back to that unexpected, electric kiss and the connection you seemed to share, if only for a moment. He can’t stop replaying it, the softness of your lips, the warmth of your skin ...
With a groan, Charles rolls over, trying in vain to shut off his thoughts. He needs to rest. Tomorrow is everything he’s been working towards for years — his best hope at finally ending the Monaco curse. And you’ll be there, your faith and magic bound to his dream.
Finally, Charles manages to drift into a restless sleep, his unconscious mind swirling with visions of chequered flags and your smiling face in the crowd. Whatever happens, he knows nothing will ever be the same after tomorrow.
***
The next morning dawns bright and clear, a perfect Monaco day. As Charles gets ready to head to the circuit, he can’t shake the anxious flutter in his chest.
This is it. His moment of truth.
Just before he’s about to leave, a soft knock comes at the door. When he opens it, you’re standing there looking almost as nervous as he feels.
“Hey,” you say with a small smile. “Thought I’d come wish you luck in person. And … give you one last thing for the race.”
You hold out a small silk pouch which Charles takes curiously. Opening it up, he pulls out the same battered racing glove he’d given you days ago, now embroidered with strange runic symbols.
“I imbued it with every protection ritual and good luck charm I could think of,” you explain. “As an extra boost on top of the work we’ve already done. Maybe it’ll help settle those pre-race jitters too.”
Charles feels a wave of affection crest over him as he looks at the glove, then back up at you. “You’re incredible, you know that?” He says softly. “Truly, I don’t know how to thank you enough for everything.”
You duck your head shyly, but he can see the pleased flush on your cheeks. “You don’t need to thank me. Just go out there and get that win you’ve been waiting for, okay?”
“I will,” Charles promises fervently. He pauses, then seems to make a split-second decision, stepping forward to cup your face in his hands. “And when I do … I’m taking you out for the biggest celebration Monaco has ever seen.”
Your eyes widen slightly, but you give a breathless little nod. “It’s a date then.”
The corner of Charles’ mouth quirks up. “It’s a date,” he echoes, letting his thumb brush over your cheekbone lingeringly before forcing himself to step back. “I should get going. But I’ll see you out there later?”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” you confirm, looking almost as flustered as he suddenly feels. “Good luck, Charles.”
He shoots you one last, blazing look before tearing himself away, hurrying out to his waiting car. The entire drive to the circuit, his heart is pounding wildly in his chest. He can’t decide if it’s just pre-race adrenaline or something more … something sparked by you and that searing, promising look you gave him.
By the time he arrives, gets into his race suit and fireproofs, and settles into the cramped cockpit of his Ferrari, Charles is wound up like a tightly-coiled spring. His eyes keep drifting over to the embroidered glove still clutched in his hand, feeling the weight of everything it represents — your devotion, your magic, and the hope of finally breaking free from years of heartbreak.
As the cars are wheeled out onto the grid and the pre-race festivities begin, Charles scans the garage until his eyes finally land on you. You’re standing with a perfect viewpoint, eyes already locked on him, and when you catch his gaze you mouth “Good luck“ with an encouraging smile.
A determination like he’s never felt before surges through Charles’ veins. He’s going to win this race, not just for himself but for you too after everything you’ve sacrificed. Giving a firm nod, he slips the glove beneath his suit and grips the steering wheel tightly, watching the lights flick from red.
And as they finally go green and the cars roar away, Charles leans into the first turn in pure focus and exhilaration. For once, his mind is clear of any doubt or dread about the Monaco curse. He can only think about racing, about achieving his dream ...
And afterwards, celebrating that dream coming true with you.
***
As the deliriously happy celebrations continue around him at Monza, Charles can barely catch his breath. The euphoria of a hard-fought victory is still pulsing through his veins, that cherished feeling never getting old no matter how many times he experiences it.
He’s in the middle of accepting congratulations from his mechanics when he sees a Sky Sports reporter, making a beeline for him with her microphone in hand. Trying to tamp down his giddy smile slightly, he turns to face her.
“Charles! Huge congratulations on another amazing win today,” the reporter gushes as soon as she reaches him. “You’re really hitting your stride this season, what a comeback from the early struggles.”
“Thank you. Yes, the team has been doing incredible work to get me a car capable of winning,” Charles replies graciously. “I’m just thrilled to be able to deliver for them.”
“And for the fans too, who have been utterly captivated watching this gripping title battle unfold,” she continues. “Speaking of which, I have to ask — the viewers have been flooding us with one question in particular recently. What’s the story behind those little symbols that keep popping up on your race suit collar? Some kind of good luck charms maybe?”
At the mention of the embroidered symbols, Charles feels his lips quirking up into a small, unconscious smile. He should have known someone would eventually ask about them — the fans on social media have certainly been speculating endlessly.
“Ah, you spotted those?” He says lightly. “Well, it’s um … it’s actually something my girlfriend does for me before every race weekend.”
The reporter’s eyes widen with obvious interest, scenting a prime bit of gossip. “Your girlfriend? We had no idea you were dating someone, Charles! Do tell us more.”
Charles lets out a slightly self-conscious chuckle, feeling the tips of his ears going pink. He’s intensely private about his personal life, preferring to keep you out of the spotlight as much as possible. But the story behind the symbols is too meaningful to brush off entirely.
“Yes, well my girlfriend prefers to stay out of the public eye,” he explains carefully. “Let’s just say she comes from a rather … unique background and heritage. She has certain talents and practices that are very important to her.”
The reporter blinks at him in obvious confusion. “Wait, is she some kind of … psychic or something?”
“Not exactly,” Charles demurs, fighting back an amused grin at the mental image. “More like … well, I suppose you could call her a witch, of sorts.”
A shocked silence falls over the surrounding reporters who have tuned into their exchange. For a long beat, no one seems to know how to react to such an unexpected revelation. Charles doesn’t think he’s ever seen the media look so bemused before.
Finally, the reporter seems to find her voice again. “A … witch?” She repeats slowly. “As in, like, cauldrons and broomsticks and the whole bit?”
Charles lets out a full laugh at that. “Well, not quite like that, no. But she does practice certain … rituals and magics, let’s say. Most of which, I’ll admit, still seems completely mad to me.”
The reporter’s expression is one of fascination now as she leans in closer with her microphone. “And she does these rituals and … magics ... for you? Before races?”
“Exactly,” Charles confirms with a nod. “She adds protective symbols and charms onto things like my race suit, my helmet, sometimes other items depending on the ritual. It’s her way of looking out for me, of sending some extra luck and security my way on race weekends.”
He pauses, his smile softening unconsciously as he thinks about you. “I’ll be honest, I was pretty skeptical of it all at first. The whole concept of witchcraft and curses seemed ... well, rather far-fetched, you know? But she’s been so devoted to her practices, so sincere in her beliefs about the positive energies she wants to send my way … how could I not start to believe in it too?”
The media seems to be hanging on his every word now, caught up in this bizarre but undeniably romantic tale. The reporter lets out a wistful sigh. “Well, it’s clearly been working like a charm so far this season! Maybe the rest of the grid had better start looking into getting their own race day witches on board.”
A ripple of laughter spreads through the group at that as Charles shakes his head in amusement. “Yes, I can see that becoming very popular around the paddock.”
“So does she come to all the races then, your witch girlfriend?” Another reporter pipes up curiously. “Is she wandering around doing spellwork in the backrooms?”
“Oh, no no, nothing like that,” Charles chuckles. “She prefers to keep things … subtle, let’s say. Just the little symbols and charms. Though she is here today actually.”
The reporter’s eyes light up like she’s just struck journalistic gold. “She is? And does she get to celebrate with you after wins like this?”
A soft, almost shy smile plays across Charles’ lips as he nods. “Yes, whenever her schedule allows she tries to come to the races. And we’ll definitely be celebrating together tonight, just us.”
He gets a slightly far-off look in his eyes, seeming to get lost in the thought for a moment. The reporters watching on collectively hold their breaths, waiting for him to divulge more juicy details about this mysterious girlfriend.
Finally, Charles seems to catch himself, clearing his throat. “But anyway, I should really get back to the team to share this incredible day with them properly.”
The reporter makes one last attempt. “Oh, go on, just give us her name at least? Enquiring minds want to know about this charming race day witch of yours!”
Charles throws her an apologetic look. “You know I have to protect her privacy. All I can say is … she’s pretty remarkable. And she’ll probably hex me if I start giving out too many details about her!”
Laughs and groans of disappointment rise up from the reporters at being denied the full scoop. But they know better than to push Charles too far. With some final shouted congratulations, they gradually disperse, no doubt rushing off to publish their articles about the shocking revelation of Charles Leclerc’s witchy girlfriend.
As the small crowd clears out, Charles feels a light touch on his elbow and turns to find you standing there, eyes sparkling with amusement and fondness.
“Well, you’ve certainly given the paddock something to gossip about now,” you tease lightly. “A charming race day witch, am I?”
Charles makes a show of rolling his eyes, even as his cheeks flush a bit at your teasing. “What was I supposed to tell them? You know how much I hate discussing our personal lives with the media.”
“I know, I know.” You rise on your tiptoes to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “I’m just giving you a hard time. I thought it was … sweet, actually. How you talked about my practices.”
Charles’ expression softens as he gazes down at you. Ever since that electric evening in Monaco when you first worked your magic on the infamous curse (and him), your relationship has deepened into something truly beautiful. At first, he admits he was still somewhat skeptical of the mystical rituals and protective charms you claimed to do for him.
But race after race, as the victories kept mounting with no traces of bad luck or mishaps, he’s become nearly as devoted a believer as you. And it goes far beyond just race day superstitions now. Seeing the depth of your spirituality, your connection to unseen mystical forces, has opened his eyes in so many ways.
He pulls you flush against him, cupping your face tenderly as he murmurs, “I meant every word. What you do … it means everything to me, you know that right? Whether the magic is real or not, your rituals give me a sense of peace and security I’ve never felt before.”
You gaze up at him with those captivating eyes that never fail to make his heart stutter. “I know. And that’s why I’ll never stop doing them for you. You make me feel … connected. Vital. Like my gifts can actually make a positive impact, instead of being some weird family quirk.”
Charles lets his thumb gently trace the delicate line of your cheekbone, drinking in every detail of your beloved face. “They do make an impact, mon cœur. Probably more than either of us can comprehend.”
He draws you into a lingering kiss, one that sends delicious sparks of heat ricocheting through his body. When you finally break apart, you’re both smiling and slightly flushed.
“Mmm, I should really start charging the team for services rendered, if that’s the payment plan,” you joke breathlessly.
Charles arches one eyebrow at you. “Trust me, they would go broke in a week trying to keep up.”
You let out a full laugh at that, the musical sound making his heart swell. He loves this — the moments of playful intimacy and banter, feeling so incredibly grounded and content with you. Before you came into his life, such tender domesticity always seemed like an impossible dream given his lifestyle.
Pulling you close once more, he nuzzles into the soft skin of your neck, inhaling your familiar scent. “Let’s go home,” he murmurs huskily. “I have a victory to properly celebrate … and I require your particular skills again tonight.”
You shiver slightly in his arms, drawing back just enough to fix him with a heated look. “My skills are always at your service. Shall we summon a portal or ...”
He huffs out a laugh at your playful tone, secretly loving when you tease him about the more fanciful aspects of witchcraft. “Why don’t we just take the car for now? No need to alarm the locals by apparating in the middle of the paddock.”
Chuckling, you lean up to steal one more lingering kiss before murmuring, “Deal. Now let’s get out of here before that reporter comes sniffing around for more gossip.”
Taking his hand, you start leading him away from the crowded pit lane and back toward the nearby motorhomes. With every step, Charles can feel the thrum of excitement building in his veins, fueled by much more than just the adrenaline of his race win.
There’s a steady warmth pulsing deep within him now, a sense of gratitude and contentment that suffuses his very soul. Ever since that fateful day in Monaco when he let you into his life, everything has shifted into vibrant new focus.
He’s never been superstitious, not really — he prides himself on being practical, logical, leaving little room for spiritual or religious beliefs. And yet … with you, a whole unseen mystical world has opened up to him in the most extraordinary way. Even if he still doesn’t fully understand the intricacies of your rituals and practices, he knows with certainty how they make him feel.
Protected. Centered. Empowered.
Loved, more deeply than he’s ever experienced.
As you make your way hand-in-hand through the chaos of post-race celebrations, trading giddy grins and teasing jokes, Charles feels it all shining outward from his very core — past the fame, the accomplishments, the never-ending pressures of being an elite athlete. With you by his side, he’s found a serenity and sense of self far beyond what any championship could provide.
So tonight, as you cuddle together and let your energies flow over him in that uniquely intimate way, he’ll pour every ounce of devotion and love he feels right back into you. Because in the end, that’s the most powerful force of all — one that transcends even the wildest of your spells and charms.
As long as you two are bound together on this path, no force in the universe could ever curse him again.
#f1 imagine#f1#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 fanfiction#f1 x reader#f1 x you#charles leclerc#cl16#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc fic#charles leclerc fluff#charles leclerc fanfic#charles leclerc blurb#monaco gp 2024#f1 blurb#f1 one shot#f1 x y/n#f1 drabble#f1 fandom#f1blr#f1 x female reader#charles leclerc x female reader#charles leclerc x y/n#scuderia ferrari#charles leclerc one shot#charles leclerc drabble
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James Potter x shy Hufflepuff fem!reader
Summary: You have a massive crush on James. One you didn't think would ever lead anywhere until a drunken party in the Gryffindor Common Room.
Genre: Fluff 🫶
Warnings: drinking, being drunk
~ directly inspired by the song So High School by Taylor Swift. thank you to the anon who requested this! ily! ~
Your cheeks burn from your embarrassment and the fire-whiskey in your blood-stream as your ears ring from the loud music dancing around you and you shake your head.
Lily Evans laughs as she glances around the Common Room. "C'mon, this is your chance," she insists, "They're playing Kiss, Marry, or Kill."
When Lily sees your confused and frankly frightened expression, she quickly explains, "It's a muggle game—it's harmless and fun—c'mon," she says again and pulls on your arm.
"Gentlemen," Lily declares when you approach the circle of students near the fire and she looks at the ring leaders of the group, The Marauders.
They're the ones that had planned this party—or Sirius and James had while Remus and Peter tagged along.
Sirius grins when he sees Lily.
"Aw, are you joining us, Red?" he smirks and then he sees you, "And who's your friend?"
You smile shyly. You know Peter from Care Of Magical Creatures in your third year, and you often seen Remus in the library (you've even spoken to him a few times), but you've only ever seen and heard James and Sirius from afar—
—which definitely never helped the stupid, baseless, soul-crushing crush you have on James Potter.
Remus, who is sitting criss-cross ext to Sirius, speaks up, "Y/n, yeah? You're a Hufflepuff—I see you in the library." He smiles kindly and pushes on James's shoulder, who has the latter almost choking on his beer, so you can sit next to him.
James frowns but he recovers quickly and looks up, his glasses crooked on his nose. He's wearing his Quidditch sweater, his brown hair a tangled mess, but he's smiling now.
"Hi," he moves so you can sit next to him and Remus as Lily grins like a fool. You feel her hand on your shoulder as she plops you down next to James and she sits across from you.
Apart from the Marauders, other students are also sitting around the circle and chatting. Sirius is by far the loudest of them all, and you think James is the funniest.
It becomes honestly embarrassing how hard you laugh at any stupid joke he says. You can't help it, your tipsiness impairs any rational thoughts you may have, as you cover your mouth and stifle your laughs.
James notices immediately and he grins.
"Never had this much success, dove," he says, as charming as always, "You're cute."
This causes you to become even more flustered and you don't even know how to answer him. So, you hide from him, turning your head in the opposite direction. Lily sends you a knowing look.
James leans his knee closer to yours and you have to convince yourself he did that by accident or you'll simply implode.
"Okay, Jamie, Kiss, Marry, Kill—me, Lily, and our new sweet little Hufflepuff," Sirius suddenly says, pulling your attention to the group again. You still have no clue what this game is and your eyes round.
Sirius seems quite pleased with himself.
James sips his drink, "Hmm, Kill you because you're a pain in my arse—"
Sirius dramatically puts a hand on his heart, feigning hurt at his best friend's words. "And here I had the ring all prepared," he whines.
James chuckles and continues. "Then um," he looks between you and Lily for a moment and your heart sinks.
Everyone knows James had a thing for Lily in second to fourth year. How could you, someone who had been too shy and awkward to even talk to him, compete with smart, incredibly witty, and beautifully stunning Lily Evans?
"Kiss Lily and marry Y/n," James shrugs, smiling lopsidedly as he looks at you and pushes his glasses further up his nose. "Lils' seems like she'd be a decent snog, but I like them sweeter for the long run," he reasons and winks.
Lily laughs and rolls her eyes, "Smooth, Potter."
"No need to get all green-eyed on us, Evans," James says and turns his attention to you again, "Whadd'ya say, lil' puff, June 17th in six years?" he says, planning the future fake wedding.
You look up at him, your eyes round and you blink—unable to laugh it off as your heart thumps so loudly you can barely hear a thing anymore.
"I think you broke the poor girl," Remus chuckles and then turns to Peter to steer the attention away from you, "Okay, Wormy, your turn."
Thank Merlin for Remus Lupin.
* * *
A while later, you stand in the corner of the room, your mind still stuck on how James's teasing that you don't hear the man in question come up to you.
"Hey, dove," he whispers and you spin around.
"Oh–hi," you whisper. You must look so smitten because you can just feel your cheeks burn.
James smirks. "It's late. Where's Lily?"
You frown as you look around, "She's talking with um—some of her other friends over there—" you point, expecting James to walk to her and leave you behind.
Instead, he stays. "You think she'd mind if I walk you back to your Common Room, you seem a little tipsy."
You're at a loss for words but then you stutter, "O-oh, no, I don't think she would mind," you whisper, "That's very kind of you, James. I c-can walk alone if it's a bother—"
"Nonsense. If it was a bother, I wouldn't have asked," James takes your arm, pushing some hair from your face with his fingers.
"Cute ribbon," he adds, looking at the red ribbon in your hair, "Very on brand with Gryffindor pride," he chuckles as he clearly enjoys the flustered look you're wearing.
"You're adorable," he says and he takes your hand, leading you out into the hall. The corridors are empty and dimly lit at this time in the evening and it feels surreal to walk the halls hand in hand with James Potter—especially when he keeps looking back at you with that look on his face.
When you arrive at the entrance of the Hufflepuff Common Room, James turns to you and he keeps his hand in yours. He's blushing obviously now and you can smell the beer on his breath.
"If we weren't so tipsy," he mumbles, his knuckles caressing your skin, "I would kiss you right now."
Your eyes widen and your breath leaves you. "Pardon?"
"You heard me, love—where have you been all my life?" he sounds lovesick and one of his palms press against his warm cheek, "Is this what love at first sight is supposed to feel like? Because I was convinced that was all bullshit until now. What charm have you put on me, Y/n?"
You look away because if you look into his eyes any longer, you'll faint. Your hand squeezes his as his words make you feel dizzy and all fluttery. "I think you're just a little drunk, James."
"Drunk in love, yeah," he half-jokes, his tone soft as he leans in and his lips find your forehead.
You shut your eyes, wondering how he could make you feel like this in a mere matter of hours and although your insecurities creep in, you stay in the moment.
"Where can I find you tomorrow?" James whispers against your skin.
"I'm in the library a lot, especially in the mornings," you say, having no expectations of ever seeing James Potter again. You and him live on completely different planets.
"You can find me there if you'd like," you finish and James nods, his lips kissing your temple one last time and then he whispers a small, sweet dreams into your skin.
* * *
In the morning, you ignore your hangover and find your usual spot in the back of the library as you open an old book written by an ancient muggle philosopher.
Last night's events in the Gryffindor Common Room play in your head as you read.
"Mornin'." You're startled by a familiar voice and you look up from your book. James stands in front of you, a Quaffle under his arm as his hair splays messily across his forehead.
He's still dressed in his Quidditch Uniform and he walks closer, smiling. "Sorry I'm late—practice ran later than usual. Whatcha reading?" he asks, sitting across from you and draping his arm across the chair next to his as the Quaffle sits in his lap.
"You came," you whisper with a smile, your heart fluttering.
"Yeah, 'course I came," James says so casually as he leans over the table and taps your book, "Whatcha reading, dove? Do tell me all about it,"
You feel all warm and fuzzy like all your wildest dreams have come true, when you say, "Only if you tell me all about Quidditch practice after?" you look at him shyly.
"Your wish is my command," James grins, a faint blush on his cheeks.
#james potter#james potter x reader#james potter x fem!reader#james potter x y/n#james potter x you#james potter fluff#james potter imagines#james potter imagine#james potter drabble#james potter smut#james potter fic#james potter marauders#james potter fanfic#james potter fanfiction#marauders#marauders harry potter#marauders fic#hp marauders#the marauders era#the marauders#harry potter fanfiction#harry potter#hp fanfic#hp fandom#marauders imagine#marauders fanfiction#marauders era#marauders imagines#james 💋
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imagine you booked an oil massage from popular spa/salon or whatever it is. Jake was assigned to you not knowing he is the actual owner and he find you beautiful so he purposely gave you a thin clothes for the massage (bra and underwear thing). He purposely massage your boobs and core telling you it's part of the package you avail not until you felt something entering your pussy and jake pounding you.
Imagine Pervy Massage Therapist Jake…
Who owned a hybrid spa-salon in your city, using both his charm and skills to earn himself immeasurable popularity in the healthcare and cosmetic industry, especially amongst his female clientele…
Massage therapist Jake whose spa danced with calming aromas of lavender and citrus, setting the tone for appointments in his private massage stalls, coupled with his enticingly warm smile.
You had no idea that your assigned massage therapist for the day would be the spa owner himself, his flashy attire being a dead giveaway to his status as an entrepreneur.
When he first welcomed you into the massage room, you quickly caught on to the way his eyes widened behind his specs at the sight of your face, his hand reaching out to shake yours in an almost romantic manner…
Massage therapist Jake who kept the massage room door cracked open as you undressed, his hooded eyes watching intently as you slipped into the bra and panty set he left on the table for you, it’s sheer fabric barely even covering your nipples and other feminine curves or creases.
Massage therapist Jake who despite his essence of caliber, let his roaring sexual impulses take over his mind, knowing much better than to behave so indecently towards a client, but still provided just enough room for the perv inside him to play.
Massage therapist Jake who caught on to your initially nervous demeanor, encouraging you to let him take the lead and speak up if anything became uncomfortable…
Massage therapist Jake who took a shot at making small talk with you as his hands bulged with veins the more he worked into your flesh, the confinement of his pants making his member pulse with need every time you let out a contented sigh from the pressure he applied.
“Ever been touched like this before?”
“N-no… but it feels really nice…”
“Good… I’m glad you’re feeling more comfortable now…”
Massage therapist Jake who reached for the specialized bottle of body oil and drizzled it in pretty shapes along the expanse of your back.
Massage therapist Jake whose hands were strong and skilled as they kneading out the knots in your back, shoulders, and lower spine, the tension is your muscles melting away as with the thin layers he eventually took off of you.
Massage therapist Jake who asked you to turn over on your back now, his eager hands immediately exploring your thighs in smooth strokes and even treading a little higher.
Massage therapist Jake whose touch slid past your hips and waist before finally reaching your breasts, the pads of his thumbs occasionally grazing over your hardening buds as he massaged your tits as if they were personal stress-relief toys for him…
“W-what’re you doing?” You asked through half-lidded eyes, chest heaving slightly as he continued to grope you.
“You booked a full body massage, miss… I can assure you this is all apart of the package we offer here at my spa… trust that you’ll be glad you came here by time our session finishes…”
Massage therapist Jake who continued to massage you in places that no other massage therapist had ever touched before, a certain feeling of arousal over coming you as Jake soon started to take off a few of his own layers.
Massage therapist Jake who would ask “Is this okay?” while already having his thick fingers glide over your oiled up folds, the back of his knuckles bumping against your sensitive clit while his other finger prodded at your entrance. You couldn’t believe all of this was actually happening, but you knew you enjoyed it anyway.
Massage therapist Jake whose fingers felt like heaven inside you, curling up against your g-spot to massage you from the inside out as his free hand stroked your thighs to ease their pleasures trembling. Just as you were about to call out Jake’s name. he snatched his fingers from your heat, telling you to turn back over on your back because he just remembered he had missed a spot.
Massage therapist Jake who made you suck his fingers clean before jamming them down your throat, telling you to relax for him every time you gagged around his digits.
Massage therapist Jake who loved the way you held onto his wrist, tilting your head back as an attempt to escape his fingers but only for him to push his hand in even further…
“Want me to stop now, pretty?” He taunted, pouting at your face as your eyes started to tear up.
You desperately nodded around his fingers, muttering something along the lines of “it’s too much” before he pulled out, smearing your spit down your chin just as his bent down to lick up the spillage with his tongue.
“You taste so sweet,” he groaned while pulling away from the kiss, retreating back to his original position behind you as you panted from all the action.
Massage therapist Jake whose eyes ogled at the sight of your now glistening ass, slipping his pants down to oil up the tip of his cock before sliding himself in, the ridges within your walls tensing at the sudden feeling of him stretching you out.
Massage therapist Jake who held your hips in place as he pounded into your pussy, the sound of your juices being loud and clear given how wet you were from his prior ministrations.
Massage therapist Jake who let little curses slip from under his breath as he fucked into your tightness, smacking your ass as a sign to get on all fours for him so he could touch you more.
“Am I making you feel good, sweetheart?” He huffed in a deep, breathless tone, your tits bouncing against your chest with each thrust as his slick fingers went to gripping your ass hard enough to pull your cheeks open, “would you like a little more pressure this time?”
“Ngh… y-yes, please go harder,” you whimpered loudly, face scrunching up as he forced you completely down again, rutting against you like a dog in heat while pinning your hands above your head.
“Shh baby, I’ll give you watch you want,” he teased, just his hips finally bottomed out this time once he slammed into your core, the massage table shaking from all the force.
Massage therapist Jake whose fingers went to grip at your neck, making a jolt of energy pulse through your limbs as he whispered in your ear, a bit of its flesh hanging in his teeth “play with your pussy as I fuck you, angel…”
And you did just that, slipping your hand down to toy with your sopping wet clit as Jake continued to dick you down, drizzling a bit more oil over you as he propped your hips up to a better angle.
Massage therapist Jake who had never made any of his clients feel so alive like the way he made you feel today, each thrust of his cock sending waves of pleasure throughout your entire body as you climaxed around him.
Massage therapist Jake who helped you calm down with some gentle thigh massaging before getting you dressed, handing you a costumer review card to write down your level of satisfaction from the experience.
Massage therapist Jake who walked you out of the spa-salon building and to your car, letting you know to come back as often as you needed for more exclusive sessions with him in the massage room…
𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ( 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 💌 ) @squoxle @wonbinisbabygurl @ashgonedash @yourmomscuntis2tighy @addictedtohobi @ot7sevenlvr + the link to my masterlist ~
#𝐜𝐡𝐥𝐨𝐞’𝐬 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐬 🎂#enhypen#enhypen smut#enhypen ff#enha imagines#jake smut#jake hard hours#enhypen hard thoughts#enhypen hard hours#enhypen jake#jake x reader#enha smut
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when you call him your husband
「pairing」 : enha ot7 x fem!reader
「word count」 : 4.1k
「synopsis」 : in which you call them your husband instead of your boyfriend...
「genre」 : fluff, established relationship, headcanon
「warnings」 : kissing, petnames (baby, love, princess...), just a lot of fluffiness
「notes」 : this is my compensation for the emotional damage that I may have caused some of you after posting the second part of tmh 😭 I hope y'all enjoy this cutesy scenario!!
Heeseung •°. *࿐
you had seen the trend of the girls calling their boyfriends their husbands for shits and giggles all over your for you page, and you knew you wanted to try it. already imagining what heeseung’s reaction would be and suddenly felt super giddy. so you ran and told your friends all about your idea, and they encouraged you, already knowing that your boyfriend would love it. you had everything planned, knowing that you would do it when you went out to lunch with him this weekend.
but then you saw the viral video of the guy who rudely cut his girlfriend off, telling her that he wasn’t her husband, and doubt started to cloud your mind. what if heeseung reacts the same way? or what if he just laughed at you because he thought it was stupid?
so when you told your friends that you weren’t going to do it anymore, they asked you why until you finally spilled the reason behind your hesitance. your best friend just shook her head with a small laugh.
“girl, that man is far too lovesick; there ain’t no way he’s gonna react like that.” she reassured you, and the other agreed with her rather quickly.
“yeah, and that guy in the video was just an asshole, you can tell.” another of your friends added in, causing you to laugh before saying that she was right.
nodding with a newfound confidence, you told them that you were going to do it, and they all cheered, causing you to laugh. your best friend then grabbed your attention once more with a reassuring smile.
“and if, for some very unlikely reason, he does act like that, my door is always open, and we can eat some ice cream.” she patted your hand, and you nodded again before telling her thank you.
when the day came around that you went to pick up heeseung, you kept telling yourself that everything was going to be okay. the two of you had already talked about just picking up food through the drive-thru and going to eat at the park, seeing as it was a nice day.
“hey baby.” heeseung greeted you as he opened the passenger door of your car, bending down to give you his cheeky smile, “are you sure you wanna drive? I’m more than happy to.”
you couldn’t help but smile at his offer, but you shook your head, “it’s okay, hee, you’re always driving; I got it this time.”
heeseung just chuckled before taking his seat in the passenger seat, situating it so his long legs could fit in front of him before turning towards you. he leaned over the middle console waiting for you to lean forward, which you did not too long after capturing his lips in a sweet kiss. pulling away, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes playfully at the wide grin that took your place on his lips.
“you ready?” you asked him, and he just hummed before sitting back in the seat, his hand going to your thigh.
it didn’t take too long before you made it to the restaurant; pulling into the drive thru you made a quick decision of what you wanted before going to the speaker. the worker greeted you, and you told them what you wanted before looking over at heeseung, who was still looking at the menu.
“just get me whatever you got, baby,” he told you before sitting back and returning to the game he was playing on his phone. you shook your head, a smile tugging on your lips as you turned towards the speaker once more, ready to put your plan into action.
“then my husband wants the same thing,” you told the worker; however, heeseung had stopped playing his game to look over at you, a goofy grin adorning his face. after you made sure that your order was correct, you sat back in your seat to move forward, sparing him a quick glance, “what?” you tried your best to act clueless despite your heart racing under your ribcage.
heeseung just sat there, silent, letting your words fully sink in, the smile never leaving his lips. however, his silence was starting to worry you even if he was wearing a humongous smile. you swallowed thickly as you paid for the food and took the drinks.
he waited until you finished handing him the food before taking your hand in his, intertwining his fingers with yours, and placing a soft kiss on your knuckles, “husband, huh? I like the sound of that.”
Jongseong •°. *࿐
you weren’t entirely sure why you were here, to begin with. your friends had begged and begged you to come to the stupid class reunion, saying that it would be a lot of fun to catch up with one another and that they could finally meet jay, the man that you had been dating for three years. reluctantly, you agreed and talked to jay about going. thankfully, he didn’t mind going as long as you were with him.
however, now you are starting to regret your decision to bring your boyfriend along with you. every single time that you turned your back, even if it was for just a split second, you would turn to see yet another female flirting with him. jay, of course, rejected their advances, pointing over to you, but they just couldn’t seem to catch a hint.
your friends were sure that you were bound to blow a fuse if you turned around to catch another girl trying to touch up on jay. so they grabbed your arm, pulling you closer to them, causing you to look at them with a raised eyebrow.
“girl, you look like you’re about to behead the next person that so much as looks in his direction.” one of them teased, but you nodded softly before saying that you just might at this point.
laughing nervously, your other friend grabs your wrist before placing something in the palm of your hand. confused, you look down only to become even more confused when you see that she has given you a ring.
“put this on and go tell them to leave your husband alone,” she instructed you, motioning to the ring.
so you did just that. handing her your drink, you slipped the ring onto your ring finger before turning and making your way back to jay, who was standing by the drink table, trying to ignore the four other women who had started to surround him.
“hey princess,” jay greeted you as you walked up to him, wrapped your arms around his, and placed a kiss on his cheek. sensing that you were up to something, jay just watched with an amused gleam in his eyes.
you looked over at the other women, who were either glaring at you or raising an eyebrow. offering them a fake sweet smile, you grabbed jay’s hand, making a show of the ring on your finger before tilting your head slightly.
“thank you, ladies, for keeping my husband company while I was away, but I got it from here,” you told them, sas lacing your tone. none of them gave you any backtalk and walked away, not trying to draw attention. jay bit back the smirk as he watched you tell the women off, loving when your jealousy seeped through.
once they were out of sight, jay pulled his arm from your grasp, causing you to look over at him, getting ready to ask him what was wrong. but he wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you into him. he then took your left hand into his, looking at the ring that sat on your finger.
“hmm…” he hummed, bringing your hand to his lips to kiss your palm, “why don’t we replace this with a real one?”
Jaeyun •°. *࿐
it had always been jake’s thing to go around calling you ‘wife’ or ‘wifey’. he would do it any chance he could because one, he loved seeing how flustered you would get, the tips of your ears turning cherry red. two because one day he planned on making you his wife, so why not just get used to saying it now. you, however, never really went around calling him anything more than your boyfriend or soulmate if you were feeling sentimental, but after he called you his wife in front of practically the whole restaurant for your anniversary, you planned on getting him back. so you waited until it was game night and all of his friends were over to make your move.
friday nights had become game night for your boyfriend and his friends. Of course, you were never excluded. jake was far too clingy to not have you involved, so you always found yourself either perched on the couch next to him or joining in on their countless rounds of games.
most of the time, you would always cook dinner for everyone. However, tonight, after a long week of exams and work, you didn't feel like cooking, so you just decided to order take-out. after running it by the guys and everyone agreeing, you stood to grab your phone that you had charging in the kitchen. grabbing the device, you couldn’t help the smirk that was tugging on your lips as you dialed the number.
whenever the restaurant answered, you started taking all of the guys’ orders, relaying them to the guy on the other side of the phone to make sure that he had heard correctly. after you got all of the guys’ orders, you moved over to your boyfriend, trying to conceal the shit-eating grin that was threatening to spread on your lips.
“babe, did you want your usual?” you asked, standing next to the couch where he was sitting with a controller in his hands; he spared you a quick glance and said a quick ‘yes, please’ before going back to the game. “then my husband would like…” you spoke into the phone as you turned around to walk away, your lips curling inward to keep from giggling when you heard the sounds of the ‘game over’ screen.
“yeah, her hubby would like his usual.” heeseung started to tease the younger male, a smirk on his lips as jake’s face started to turn red. jake just waved him off before setting his controller off to the side so he could catch you before you got too far.
you barely got a chance to walk away before you were being pulled back, a small sound of surprise leaving your lips. jake wore a huge smile on his lips as he held you close even after you sent him a small glare. apologizing to the lady you finished up your order before hanging up and looking at jake.
“your husband?” his voice was slightly higher in pitch as if he was trying to keep from fangirling. you just smiled before kissing his cheek and trying to get up, but he wouldn’t let you. “I wanna hear you say it again.”
your face started to heat up as you felt the guys staring at the two of you, your plan completely backfiring, but the smile that adorned jake’s face was more than enough compensation for you.
Sunghoon •°. *࿐
you walked alongside sunghoon as you both made it to the ice rink. it was well into the winter time, but neither of you had had the time to go out and skate like you do every year, but as soon as both of your schedules had cleared you made it your mission to go. so now you had your fingers intertwined with his as he stuffed your combined hands into the pocket of his hoodie.
“it feels like we haven’t done this in forever,” you sigh, basking in the cool night breeze while sunghoon looks over at you, admiring the way your eyelashes lay on your cheekbones that were a light shade of red due to the cold.
he pulls your hands out of his pocket before bringing them to his lips to place a gentle kiss on your fingertip, causing you to look up at him, “I’m sorry we haven’t been able to spend much time together, my love.”
your heart swelled at his actions, causing a soft smile to spread on your lips; you then suddenly thought back to something that your co-worker had told you. she had watched quite a few videos of girls calling their boyfriends ‘husband,’ and she thought that their reactions were the sweetest thing in the world. then she asked you if you had ever called sunghoon, your husband, just to see his reaction, and you told her no, but then the thought of what his reaction might be started to haunt your mind. you wanted to know what his reaction would be but were a little worried that he wouldn’t quite catch it.
looking around, you noticed that there weren’t very many people here tonight, “it doesn’t look too busy.” you observed as you walked over to the skate counter, and sunghoon nodded before looking around the rink himself.
“hi, what size skates for you guys tonight?” the girl on the other side of the counter asked, a sweet smile adorning her lips. You returned it before telling her your shoe size, then looking over at sunghoon, who was still looking around, seeming to have gotten lost in his own world.
swallowing the nervous lump in your throat, you decided now would be as good of a time as any to try the little ‘prank’ out, so you returned your gaze to the worker who was waiting patiently.
“and my husband is gonna need a size…” you told what size sunghoon had needed and the boy's head instantly turned towards you confused about whether or not he had just heard you correctly. his hand squeezing yours enough to gain your attention.
“what did you say?” he asked, his head tilting slightly, causing you to bite your tongue so you don’t lose composure.
“I just told her your shoe size.” you feigned confusion, copying his gesture.
however, sunghoon quickly shook his head, “no, no, not that, before that.” but before you could answer him, the worker came back with your skates, so you thanked her, handing sunghoon his before grabbing your own.
walking over to a bench, you went to sit down, but sunghoon stopped you, “you would want to marry me?” the genuine shock in his tone made your heart drop; had he really thought that you wouldn’t want to marry him?
you released his hand and sat your skates down before reaching up to cup his face in your hands. without another word, you pulled him down, kissing him softly. his fingers curled around your waist, pulling you closer to him just as you pulled away, your forehead resting against his.
“of course, I’d wanna marry you; don’t be so silly.” you smiled softly at him before kissing him once more, then pulled away to put your skates on, “now come on, let’s go skate.”
Sunoo •°. *࿐
it was friday and that meant that you were going to be doing your weekly review of the make-up products that you had used throughout the week. however, this week was going to be a little different; you were going to be doing sunoo’s make-up as a milestone reward for your followers. you had spent quite a bit of time on tiktok and just happened to see the videos where all of the girls were calling their boyfriend’s ‘husband’ and recording their reaction. they all made you giggle, and you just knew you had to try it on sunoo, and this just seemed to be the perfect time for it.
you were in the middle of setting up the camera for the video when there was a knock at the door before sunoo peeked his head through the crack, “hey love, I brought some fruit.” you couldn’t help but smile seeing the small bowl of fruit that was in his hand.
“thank you, sun,” you motioned for him to join you on the ground in front of the camera, “come sit. I’m almost done setting up.”
sunoo happily made his way over to you and sat down, his legs crossed underneath him, and handed you the bowl. his hand then found your knee as you sat the fruit down on the table in front of you before grabbing a blueberry and popping it into your mouth.
“are you ready?” you asked him, and he nodded with a bright smile on his face. you had to fight back the huge grin that was threatening to pull on your lips as you reached forward to turn the camera on.
sitting back down on your knees, you smiled at the camera, “hello everyone! as mentioned on my twitter, I am going to be doing my husband’s makeup.”
a look of shock morphed on sunoo’s face as he looked away from the camera lens to look at you, “husband?” he exclaimed, causing you to jump slightly and look over at him, trying your best to not smile.
“what?” you asked, holding back a giggle when he looked from you to the camera lens before pointing to himself.
“are you talking about me?” he asked with a cheeky smile on his face causing you to giggle.
“yes who else would I be talking about?” your cheeks had started to hurt from smiling so hard as he looked at you in pure astonishment.
“you,” sunoo pointed at you before pointing down to his hand, “marry me?”
“yes,” you laughed, glancing over to the camera once more before letting your eyes fall back on him, “that’s what makes you my husband.”
sunoo looked at you for a second before holding his left hand out to you, “I do,” he looked around the room, “I just wish the scenery was a little bit better, but I do.” you couldn’t help but playfully roll your eyes at the sassiness in his tone before reaching over to your vanity to grab a ring.
sitting back down, you held your hand out for him, and sunoo happily placed his hand into yours, allowing you to slip the ring on his ring finger. you then placed a kiss on his knuckles before looking up to capture the bright, sassy smile that played on his lips.
you couldn’t help but laugh as he grabbed your hand to pull you closer, placing a chaste kiss on your cheek. "don’t worry, my love. I’ll get you one as well,” he whispered sweetly, relishing in the blush that dusked your cheeks as you continued your recording.
Jungwon •°. *࿐
whenever you had gotten a message from your best friend telling you about a trend that she had seen floating around, you knew that it would be the perfect prank to pull on jungwon. you knew that it could end one of two ways, either he would get shy and just cling himself onto you for the rest of the night, or he would get smug and start teasing you relentlessly. though you would be fine with either of those outcomes, you hoped that he would opt for the first.
you and your friend hadn’t talked in a long time, so you decided to call each other over the weekend. you decided that it would be the perfect opportunity to pull the prank, seeing as she has yet to meet your boyfriend.
so when the weekend rolled around, you told her to call during the time that you knew jungwon would be on his way home from the gym. you sat down at the dining table talking to her, catching each other up on your current life events before you heard the front door opening.
“is that him?” your friend asked, muffling her giggles when you placed your finger over your lips, but you nodded nonetheless. jungwon walked into the kitchen with a smile spreading on his face when he saw you sitting at the table, his dimples on display.
“hey baby, how was the gym?” you asked him, a small smile adorning your lips as he sat his water bottle down on the counter before walking over to you.
“it was good,” he leaned down, kissing the top of your head before glancing at your phone screen. "what are you up to?”
you moved your phone up enough for him to see your friend, who waved at him, “remember I was calling my friend this weekend?” he nodded, standing behind you, his hands resting on your shoulders.
“who’s this?” your friend asked in mock curiosity as she bit the inside of her cheek, and you had to bite back a smirk of your own.
you looked up at jungwon for a moment before going back to your phone, “this is jungwon, my husband.”
jungwon’s eyes widened in shock as he looked down at you, but you just continued your conversation as if it were a normal day. he had been fully prepared for you to say boyfriend, but he definitely wasn’t prepared for the word ‘husband’ to leave your lips.
you couldn’t help the silly smile that pulled on your lips when jungwon wrapped his arms around your shoulders, burying his face in the crook of your neck. you could tell he was flustered by how warm his cheek was against your skin.
“I’m your husband?” his voice came out in a hushed tone against your skin, causing a shiver to run down your spine, but you just hummed, leaning further into him before reaching up to run your fingers through his slightly damp hair as you continued your conversation with your friend while he clung to you.
Ni-ki •°. *࿐
it was saturday night, and you were spinning around in your gaming chair, waiting for riki to send you a message letting you know that he was ready to hop on. you had made a plan to livestream a new game with riki for all of your subscribers to watch because that had practically begged you to make another video with your boyfriend. you were almost sure that your subscribers liked him more than you.
just as you were getting ready to grab your phone to message him first, his name popped up on your screen, causing a wide smile to erupt on your face. quickly opening your phone, you went to your and riki’s chat, seeing that he had said he was ready to go with a little sunglasses emoji. laughing softly, you moved closer to your desk and grabbed your headset before calling riki.
it didn’t even finish ringing for the second time when riki picked up, “hey baby.” his voice flowed through your headset, causing a smile to pull your lips even wider.
you greeted him before pulling up the game and making sure everything for the live stream was ready, “ready to go?” you asked him, and you could hear him hum from the other side. taking that as a green light, you started the stream.
after quickly doing your intro, you waited for more people to join the stream before starting the game. a laugh fell from your lips as you read the comments asking if riki was still going live with you.
“don’t worry, guys. riki is joining us today. he’s actually here right now.” you clicked a few buttons before letting riki pop up on the screen next to you.
then came the influx of comments about how cute he was and how he played games so well, or there were the occasional few comments about how cute the two of you were. smiling, you answered a few questions. unbeknownst to you, riki was watching you through the screen, missing the comment that popped up about someone claiming him as their ‘husband’. rolling your eyes playfully, you situated yourself in your seat before speaking.
“he’s my husband, actually.” your tone was playful, but your words had completely caught the boy off guard.
riki could feel his ears burning red as he tried his best to remain stoic as he watched you move to start the game. his eyes flickered over to the comments, seeing a few about how they would fight you for his attention, and he could tell that they were starting to annoy you, so he tried to push what you had said to the side
“let’s start the game, ya?” he cleared his throat before letting his eyes flicker over to you, and you nodded, getting ready to hit the start button as soon as riki was in the lobby. however, riki had completely missed the small smirk that was pulling on the corner of your lip, wanting nothing more than to tease him, knowing that you had made him slightly flustered.
@alvojake | Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or repost any of my work
𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ꜱᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱʟʏ.
#♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ :𝓴𝓪𝔂 𝔀𝓻𝓲𝓽𝓮𝓼: :;#yang jungwon#lee heeseung#park jongseong#jay park#sim jaeyun#jake sim#park sunghoon#kim sunoo#nishimura riki#niki#jungwon x reader#heeseung x reader#jay x reader#jongseong x reader#jake x reader#jaeyun x reader#sunghoon x reader#sunoo x reader#niki x reader#riki x reader#enhypen#enhypen x reader#enha#enha x reader#enhypen jugnwon#enhypen heeseung#enhypen jay#enhypen jongseong#enhypen jake
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