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wandaspup · 1 month

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Sinners Part Two

Summary: In a small town, you try living up to your mother’s expectations while encountering Wanda Maximoff, a mysterious woman and a childhood friend of your mothers. It leaves you questioning her intentions and your beliefs.

Parings: Wanda x Fem R

Warnings: None besides Wanda testing the waters with you (will be added as I update! ♥️ Happy reading)

Author notes: You are 19 years old while Wanda is 36. Story will be updated every two weeks! Two more chapters left (: Thank you everyone for reading this.

Please read the first chapter if you come across this one first for new readers!

You sauntered downstairs, the clacks of pans getting louder as you descend further into the kitchen. Your mother focused on getting the food on the table. She pointed towards the counter. “Set the silverware and make sure they’re properly placed this time.”

Today Wanda was coming over. After you got home from Church, she was all you can think about from yesterday. You can still remember the way her expressions shifted when she looked at you, as those eyes followed you around before or so you kept thinking. Even when you sleep, you can still feel her presence lingering in the corner of your room. You know she isn’t there, but glimpses of her face in your dreams felt so real.

The first time you dream about her, the encounter of déjà vu washes over you. Maybe you were going insane and thinking of another woman around town.

You placed the silverware carefully, aligning each one just as your mother taught you. Hopefully she won’t throw a tantrum over a spoon placed an inch to the left. She seemed too focused on what she was doing and you’ve never seen your mother this tense or excited. She never mentioned Wanda, but she never mentioned anything about her life back then. She told you It’s a waste of time to babble on about such things.

The doorbell echoes and you pause, momentarily staring at the silverware in your hand before carefully placing them aside and making your way to the front. You breathe in and out one last time for a good measure and gripped the handle and twisted. The door swings open, your eyes widen in surprise, and it takes you a moment to register Wanda standing before you. She wears a flaxen dress, its fabric rippling in the light breeze and delicately skimming against the sides of her thighs. Her dress reached halfway, giving you a good glimpse at her sun-kissed legs, glistening. A yellow flower nestled in her hair on the left side. She beams and snaps her fingers.

You mentally berated yourself and offered a swift apology.

Wanda chuckled, her laughter , crossing her arms in front of her. Her smirk widened, and she glanced past you, nodding towards the entrance. “Well, darling, are you planning to keep me waiting out here all day?”

As you stepped aside, she gave you that look, the exact same one back outside the church and suddenly your heart pounded quicker. An aromatic honey apple scent overwhelmed as she passed, your head suddenly heavy as you closed the door and led her to the kitchen. Food was set evenly in the middle of the table, your father already took a seat with your mother.

“Wonderful to see you again my dear friend.” She gestured at the seat across, and you noticed the only chair left was right next to her’s. Debating on moving it to the other side of the table, you figured your mother would scold you for being rude.

“Well I appreciate you having me over. It’s been awhile since we last saw each other.”

From there It was nothing but short stories and awkward laughters between all of them. You kept your eyes on your plate, shuffling your food inside your mouth praying this dinner will end soon and you can lock yourself in your room. Once in a while, you’d sneak a glance whenever you heard Wanda speak or laugh at something your father said. Unbeknownst, Wanda knew your cute tactics of being sneaky without batting an eyelash. You’d do it again when she took a sip of wine, her lipstick staining the glass.

Wanda’s chair screeched unexpectedly, apologizing when her fork slipped out of her hand and clattered to the ground. When she reached for it, she used your thigh for support, her perfectly manicured fingers wrapped around with a light grasp, sending a shiver down your spine. "I think I need a new fork," she all but said, her hands still resting in the same place. "Apologies, darlin', hope you didn't mind me using you." Wanda grinned and motioned her hand back and forth before pulling away, leaving a lingering warmth on your thigh.

The weight of her hand was missed for some odd reason you were unable to comprehend. Usually, the gentle pats from an elderly woman at the bread store were just a friendly gesture, never thinking much of it. However, her touch stirred an entirely different sensation.

One you were sure you’d be praying on your knees begging god forgiveness. You continued to eat, pretending everything was normal and Wanda was only an old friend of your mom’s coming to visit. Wanda went on to answer a few questions asked by your father, while you listened, waiting for Wanda to make her move on you. She seemed to always catch you by surprise.

“No husband and no kids. I don’t think I’ll ever be ready to have kids.”

“Surely the right man will come along in time hon. You’re a gorgeous woman and anyone would be lucky to have you.”

You rolled your eyes, glancing down at your plate. Wanda shrugged, tugging at her bottom lip before taking another bite. “Maybe, but I think I’ll manage just fine without one,” she said, lifting her glass for a sip and then turning her attention to you. 'What about you? Anyone catching your eye?

The question caught you by surprise but you responded casually, figuring she was trying to get to know you better. “No one at the moment, just focused on getting through college applications, ma’am.” You cleared your throat the second you finished, the last few words getting stuck. From the ugly expression your own mother gave you across the table, she scowled you for not speaking properly.

Wanda squeezed your arm reassuringly, always ready to come to your rescue. “Oh, she's perfectly fine.” She winked and settled in for a few more bites from her own plate. “I do hope to see you all around town. I figured I’d be delighted to extend my stay.”

Your father nodded and gulped the little bit of wine he had left. “Well, Wanda, you're always welcome here. Perhaps you’d be able to help our daughter with her applications. We never have the time to assist her.

"I can manage just fine, father," you said confidently

Your mother cleared her throat and dabbed her mouth, nodding in agreement. "I don’t want you getting into some party college and wasting your life. God has a plan for you, and you'd better stick to it, girl. Wanda, what do you think?"

Wanda's nose scrunched up, her lips stretched, and a small twinkle settled in her green eyes. You pondered what thoughts were swirling in her head as she agreed. Despite the knot twisting a thousand times over, it seemed clear God did not intend for Wanda swooping in and destroying his plan.

As you grappled with making sense of your emotions, the sensations from Wanda’s touch made you forget how to use your head. It wasn’t love but rather a twisted plan Wanda woven you into.

“I should be going.” She scooched out as she stood up, extending her hand. She gazed over towards you. “Be a dear and walk me out.”

With a brisk nod, you got up and waited for Wanda to gather herself before following her closely behind. You can hear your heart thumping, afraid she might even hear it. As soon as the front door opened, she turned around quicker than you could comprehend the situation. Her eyes floated down your body and back up to your face. “Sure do look beautiful honey.”

When you didn’t reply she grasped your chin between her fingers, one eyebrow raised. “What do we say when someone gives you a compliment?”

“Th—nk you ma’am.”

She hummed pleased. “I’ll be seeing you.”

TAGLIST:

Taglist is closed so the ones on the list will be added for the rest of the chapters until I figure out another way to do a taglist. I was thinking of the google survey thing I saw someone was doing.

if you didn't tag in this for some reason, I either typed in your user and tumblr couldn't find your account . (:

@ifthisaintmee @the-lakes89 @aru-son

@maximoff-jp @unicorniusfallapatorius @random-fag @natashaswife4125 @wndasdoll

@thursdayygrrrl @falloutboy-lover @obsessedwjill @ksandraxox @scarletnatsblog

@bbbyliv0202 @peyt-n @wandaswife13 @criticsstuff @kimlipimsingle @sam-h-69

@rowiebear @thalia-is-not-ok @immclovinmilfs

#wanda maximoff #sinnerseries #mommy wanda #wanda x y/n #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x fem!reader #dark wanda x reader #wanda maximilf #wanda x you #wanda marvel

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ramons-elevator · 7 months

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So if we do get the eggs/a few eggs/Richas back today, I wanna say that as of today, its been

74 Days since we last saw the eggs on Quesadilla Island

To put that into perspective:

Bobby was only alive for 44 days

Pomme was adopted on day 56 of the QSMP

The Election Arc was for 55 days

From the Brazilians arriving to Spiderbit’s wedding was only 47 days

WalterBob wasnt introduced until Day 80

Wilbur was gone for 171 days before his brief return; almost making Tallulah gone for half the time her dad was gone

Also:

The OG eggs have spent 34% of their time away

Tallulah has spent 36% of her time away

Richas has spent 39% of his time away

Pomme has spent 43% of her time away

Bonus:

The Eggs disappeared on September 7th so the OG eggs and Richas spent 2 birthdays away from their parents and Tallulah and Pomme spent 3 birthdays away from their parents

#qsmp #qsmp eggs #Im in pain #I wanted to see some stats but instead i got sad

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slayingfiction · 1 year

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How I push through writing when I don't feel like writing.

Here are some of the techniques that I use to help me write more often or more consistantly when my laziness/depression/anxiety starts to take over.

I watch TV. I don't do it with the purpose of zoning out though. I watch something popular and well-liked such as the LOR or Harry Potter to get new ideas on how I can develop my story and apply their in-depth world-building ideas to help develop mine. Without plagarizing of course!!!!

Zoning out and daydreaming. As I have mentionned before, daydreaming is a huge part of my story outlining and world-building process. I'll stand in the shower, or take a walk and think about how my charcaters would act/react/behave in situations, mundane or not. Doing this gives me a better sense of my characters, and sometimes gives me ideas for scenes I use later on.

Work on writing related projects. These work well at keeping me distracted while still being productive on my writing goals. Example, I have one story I am working now, I made a new language (alphabet and numbers included) to include as a cool and fun component for the book. So, at times when I don't wan't to write, I continue creating the dictionary (very fun, 8/10 would recommend). Also, for the same book, my characters don't work off the Georigian calendar and 24 hour clock, so I've been working at creating a new calendar (harder than it seems, 2.5/10 dont recommend). These are side projects that help my story, without having to write.

Reading. You saw this one coming, I know. Reading is great, especially when you're editing, your writing style will unconsciously change to be more similar the author you were just reading. Also, most importantly, I'll be reading and think, "this story is really good, but you know what story I like even better? Mine." then change to writing.

This one is my biggest life saver!! I learnt about a year ago that sometimes I'll get bored of writing a story, and have difficulty keeping on track. That's why I finished my first book in 2016 and just started editing the first draft last week. The solution for me was to work on multiple projects at once, because it was much harder to be bored of multiple stories. I stick to 2, but will sometimes add a third. This is easy for me, because I have a list of over a dozen series I want to write. Don't abandon one project for another, use them as a distraction/ motivation for each other, so you're always furthering at least one project. I've never heard someone say, "oh no, i accidentally worked on this other writing project for three months instead of the other writing project I was doing. Dammit." No, we're just happy we have written something. Be sure to have well outlined story lines before starting, don't just start writing randomly or you'll reach a point where you don't know where to go from there.

Author/ writer projects. Maybe this is building a following, or community to share your projects and engage with. Tumblr, Insta, Reddit, whatever it is. My hope this year is to start up my website to offer publishing services (editing, graphic design, short writing courses) and build a following as a writer. (See what I did there? Never a bad time to self-promote ;) ) Having your own projects like this will help you in the future when you're going to try to publish and sell your books!

Talk with friends and a writing community. Never underestimate the passion that will burn inside you when talking about your story, or when others are talking about theirs. Surrounding yourself with a positive writing community can be the best thing for you as a writer.

Write or read (your story) every day. I'm not going to be one of those people that say you need to write 1000 words a day, that's a lot. But maybe try for 100? That could maybe only take 5 minutes, and at the end of the year that's still over 36 thousand words of a novel. Or just read your story, and I've always found it helped me get in the creative mood.

Make a playlist of songs that remind you of your characters, your story, or just puts you in the mood to write. Then play it ONLY when you're having trouble writing. Playing it while writing will not help, you'll get annoyed with the songs.

Just really can't do it today? That's okay, take a break. You deserve it. There's always tomorrow.

Does anyone else have ways they push themselves to keep writing? Let us know in the comments!

Happy Writing!

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itsgrimeytime · 8 months

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show me || Rick Grimes (TWD)

rick grimes taglist: @golden-hoax @mgparker

AVAILABLE ON AO3

dialogue prompts: “Why are you mad?” “I’m not mad, I just think you can choose better people to kiss.” (2) + “Look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t feel the same as I do, then I’ll leave you alone.” (36) + “I’m tired of being on the sidelines.” (43)

Summary: You and Rick had something, you weren't quite sure what it was. After a few drunken mistakes during one of the dinner parties at Alexandria, Rick wants to make things crystal clear.

TWS: TENSION, blood, gore, gun violence (violence in general), alcohol, drunkness, drunken kisses, kind of dark!Rick, jealousy, possessiveness, protectiveness, all things consistent with TWD.

[[A/N: The vibes are in with this one, girlies. Kind of listened to Boyfriend by Dove Cameron for this one. SO... Be ready for that. Thanks for reading!!! ]]

Your head hurt after the night before, you couldn't quite remember why. Well, other than the drinks.

It had been the first dinner party after Alexandria, you were nervous and just kept sipping. Somebody kept giving you more, even though, you remember distinctly Rick (big hands and blue, blue eyes) warding them off. They continued when he wasn't by your side -beer after beer and maybe something... else? You couldn't really remember.

You gathered pretty quickly that Rick was mad at you that day, something about the way he composed himself -the steaming rage enveloping him, and it only continued for days.

Day after day, and nothing. Usually, you could read him like a book, but now, all you got was well, that he was mad at you. Not even to get you started on the way everyone else was distinctively ignoring your questions like Rick had told them to.

So, you stepped out of your comfort zone -you went straight to the most honest Alexandrian you knew. Or the one who would speak to you over Rick's head -Deanna.

There was something deep in your chest that told you somehow this was betrayal, but you had been driven far past that point. (One blue-eyed glare and complete head turn to ignore you past that point.)

"Hey," you spoke, a little uneasy.

"Hello, Y/N!" she smiled, big and bright, "-I'm glad to see that dinner has been going so well-"

"That's actually what I was here to talk to you about," you echoed, direct in your tone, "-last dinner party, I... I don't remember what happened."

"Nothing bad, I can assure you," she hummed, continuing to walk down the street, "-I'm well aware of anyone overstepping."

"Right, well, I'm glad, but-" you spoke, a little impatiently -eyes darting around, "-I don't remember."

"Nothing wrong with getting a little drunk," she spoke, something in her shifting, "-we understand the change is-"

"Deanna," you interrupted with finality, "-please, just tell me what happened."

She paused in her steps, turning around to fully face you -head on, and something in you shrunk at her inquisitive gaze. She looked at you a bit like a puzzle for a moment, before her eyes seemed to light up in understanding like she knew exactly what the issue was.

"Let's..." she began, slowly, "-Let's talk inside, shall we?"

You merely followed her up the steps and into her house, like a sheep to its shepherd -you were desperate. If she could help, you would just about do anything.

"I was wondering just what was with him," Deanna muttered to herself, "-makes so much sense now."

She led you to her living room, where the room was much the same in her own home, but she had photos -framed and set pristinely of faces you didn't quite know. Ones you doubted you ever would.

"Sit," she motioned, "-we have much to discuss."

"Much?" you questioned.

"Well, no, it's-" she started, but faltered for a moment, "-rather complicated."

"Complicated?" you questioned further, raising your voice.

"Look, I'm going to just tell you to avoid any further confusion. You kissed someone, can't remember who now-"

You paused, faltering for a minute, "That's it?"

"Rick saw," she finished as if it was some big reveal.

You and Rick had a thing, a very slight thing that neither of you had really even commented on or talked about. Hell, you hadn't even kissed the guy, but there was something there, a deep buzz under your skin. And something in the apocalypse was something, sure, but not if he didn't talk to you about it. Not if he-

You stopped your train of thought, "So?"

"Aren't you-" she seemed to pause, being taken off guard, "-Aren't the two of you together?"

"I'm sorry?" you asked, "-No, we're not... not really. He doesn't- It doesn't matter, drunkenly kissing a guy is no reason to get this pissy."

"It is if you're together."

"Deanna," you started, "-don't push your luck. Look, I have to go sort this out, do you-"

"Oh, no, please," she answered, quickly, "-I can't get a word in with the man right now. Fix it, go."

That's how you wound up here, ready at his door -he couldn't ignore you at his own home. You'd get him to listen.

"Rick," you addressed, direct as soon as the door opened and you saw the blue of his eyes, "-hey."

He seemed to still at your voice -frozen for a moment, before wordlessly moving around the kitchen. He was gathering up dishes, at a sure pace before, but now he'd begun much faster. As if he was trying to get away from you.

"Alright, enough-" you said, waltzing up to him, and turning his face to yours, "-why are you mad?"

Rick looked at you for a moment, and something in you almost grew shy at the attentiveness. Blue eyes dashing along your face like you were fresh water and he had been stranded in the desert.

And then, he stopped. Lifting his soapy hands to take yours off his face -a slow, gentle movement. The opposite of someone mad, you noted.

"Do we need to talk 'bout this?" He echoed, a little helplessly if you were honest.

"I don't know," you answered, "-you tell me. Can you not be mad if we don't talk about this?"

"I'm not," he sighed, turning back to the dishes -this time doing them leisurely, "-I'm not mad. I just..."

"You just what?" You asked, pointedly.

"I just think you can choose better people to kiss," he grumbled out so low you weren't even sure you'd heard him correctly.

But something in you fired off like a rocket.

"Seriously?!" You yelled out, a sort of toned frustrated yell, but still a yell, "-you are pissed because you don't approve?"

"That's not-"

"Well, I got good news for ya, Sheriff, I don't even remember who I kissed last night-"

"That's because he made ya so drunk-"

"-And on top of that, I can kiss who I want, when I want. It's not like you have any control over that-"

"I want to," he grumbled out, even lower.

You stilled, "I'm sorry...?"

He didn't speak for a moment, washing the soap off his hands -you watched the water trail down to his elbow. Scrubbing away at the dish towel, he dried them and turned to face you.

Rick's steps were slow and sure, you could hear the clink of the tile under his boot. And your heart started pounding with anticipation, maybe he was mad. Why was he getting so close-

He was just in front of you now, finger trailed under your chin, "Tell me to stop, if you don't want this."

You turned your head down to look at the tile, something in your breath catching that you could barely breathe. You just needed a second-

He flicked your eyes back to him, and you could feel his breaths on your lips, "Look me in the eyes and tell me you don't feel the same as I do, then I'll leave you alone."

"Rick-"

He raised an eyebrow, "I asked a question, Y/N."

"How do you feel?"

He roamed closer, eyes dashing between the two of yours and your lips, "I think you know, sweetheart."

You opened your mouth.

"But," he interrupted, "-if ya insist."

Rick pulled back slightly, hand leaving its trail to, instead, hold your wrists -gently, as his thumbs rubbed into your wrists. With another breath, he kissed your palms -pressing his lips there ever so slightly.

"I'm tired of being on the sidelines," he spoke, low and soft, "-I... I want it to be us. Together."

"Together?" You echoed.

"Like you stay in my house, you sleep in my bed, we go to dinners together instead of so... so far apart-"

"And you can tell me who to kiss?" You added, playfully.

"And I'm the only one you can kiss," he corrected with the smallest of grins, but there was something hard in his eyes. Something serious.

"So," you spoke, expectantly, "-kiss me then. So, I can see what I'm stuck with."

"Stuck?" He laughed, slowly leaning in, "-Oh darlin' you're gonna be far from stuck."

#rick grimes #rick grimes x reader #its griming time #stuff n' thangs #rick grimes x you #rick grimes x y/n #ricky dicky doo dah grimes #twd #twd rick #rick grimes x y/n fanfiction #rick grimes oneshot #protective!rick #possessive!rick #dont let me in

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thetriumphantpanda · 1 year

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the touch of a hand lit the fuse

So, turns out y'all lapped up my dbf!Joel and now I'm kinda speechless? Like, tysm for loving this enough to like semi-blow it up. But never fear, our favourite neighbourhood DILF is back and filthier than ever today. I wrote this under the influence of a rather strong margarita, so forgive any mistake and the uninhibited filth you're about to consume. Enjoy.

Pairing | dbf!Joel x female reader

Summary | Four days on from being spread on Joel's lap, he's back to fix up your attic when you're home alone.

Word Count | 3.6k

Warnings | I mean, blanket warning for dbf!Joel because he's always a menace. Alcohol consumption, NO USE OF Y/N, masterbating (F), unprotected PiV sex (Don't be dumb, wrap it up), age gap (Reader is 25, Joel is 36), size kink, some dirty talk and that's it.

Part 1 | Main Masterlist

It was Wednesday and you were still reeling from what had happened at the party on Saturday. Whenever you led in bed there was the feeling of Joel’s fingers ghosting over you. You were ashamed of the number of times you’d touched yourself, trying to emulate how Joel’s fingers had felt inside of you, failing miserably, but still getting yourself off with tight circles on your clit, moaning his name into your pillow as you made yourself come. It was a dreadful substitute, but you didn’t have much choice – Joel had been MIA since he'd left on Saturday night.

You were sat at the table in the kitchen with your parents, sipping on orange juice and pushing eggs around your plate before they both went to work, “Oh, I forgot to mention, Joel’s coming over this morning to take a look at starting that work in the attic, you’ll be around to let him in, won’t you?”

You tried to keep as nonchalant as possible at your dad’s voice, “Yeah, I’ll be here.”

A house to yourself with Joel Miller, of course you’d be here, there was no-where else you’d rather be. Once your parents had eaten and stacked their dishes for you to wash up in your free time later, you raced upstairs to your room, dragging out the tightest pair of shorts you owned and a low-cut tank top. You’d never been the type to play into this sort of thing – if someone wanted you, then they could want you in your baggy jeans and jumpers, but Joel was different, and you knew it. You’d seen it the last time, how he fought to the last second not to give into you and his desires, you didn’t want to give him a reason to do it again.

You made quick work of hopping in the shower before pulling your clothes on, choosing a coloured bra to sit under your white tank top, but deciding against underwear beneath your shorts. Then you sat on couch and waited, anticipation rising with every minute there wasn’t a knock on the door. It took him another hour to arrive – the knock at the door dragging a gasp of surprise from your lips.

You practically ran to the front door, stopping only to run a hand through your hair and take a deep breath before you opened it. It never mattered where or when you saw him, he was always fucking gorgeous. Like now, stood in front of you, toolbox in hand, dark t-shirt and jeans clinging to him, hair mused and a smirk on his lips.

“Sorry I’m late sugar,” He breathes, “Had to cover a job first thing for Tommy.”

“That’s alright,” You smile, leaning against the door so he can walk past, “You want a drink of anything?”

You were slightly put out that he hadn’t immediately bent his head and planted a kiss to your lips, but you weren’t going to be a brat about it. At least not yet.

“Water’ll be just fine thanks,” He says over his shoulder as he’s moving towards the stairs, “I’m just gonna get started, don’t let me interrupt you.”

You’re not interrupting anything is what you want to say, but he’s already taking the stairs two at a time, as if he’s in a rush to get away from you. It hurts, but you try and swallow your pride for now. He wasn’t going to get away with it that easily.

You fill up a glass of water from the fridge with some ice, it’s hot after all, before you head upstairs. He’s already got the ladder from the attic down and is searching through his toolbox for what he needs, setting each different tool on his utility belt when he finds it.

“You want me to pass this up to you once you’ve tackled the ladder, Miller?” You ask.

He turns to you with his hand on one of the ladder rungs, “I’d be much obliged, sweetheart.”

You swear that he takes each step of the ladder excruciatingly slow just for your benefit, but you aren’t going to complain – it affords you a glorious view of his ass, fitting tightly into his jeans – had he done that to you on purpose, just like you did for him? You watch intently as he turns and kneels and sticks his hand down for the glass of water. You pass it to him, and he does exactly what he did with his bottle of beer on the weekend, grabs it exactly where your hand is so his fingers brush against yours. Lighting a fuse right through your body. If you could spontaneously catch fire you think this would have done it.

“I’ll be downstairs if you need me, just shout.”

You flop yourself down on the couch, huffing out an annoyed breath as you reach for the magazine you’d been trying to read before he arrived. Thinking it would be easier to concentrate on now Joel was working away upstairs, you’re sorely mistaken. Your eyes glaze over the same two sentences – it’s an advice column, some housewife wanting to know how she could make her husband want her again after months of living in a dead bedroom. You don’t pretend to care, you look down to the bottom of the column – Andrea, 48. What you really want the editor to say in response is that Andrea should cut her losses, find someone younger, fitter and more handsome and sack off her obviously boring husband. What they really say is that she can spice things up by wearing sexy lingerie and being spontaneous, maybe you can try taking sex out of the bedroom for things to feel newer and more exciting.

They’d got that much right. Your brain is drifting back to Saturday night, sat on Joel’s lap with his thick fingers moving in and out of your pussy. That had been new and exciting. Maybe Andrea should try that with her own husband.

You sigh and throw the magazine to the ground – nothing is going to stop the bubbling lust and frustration in your stomach. Nothing except for what you really want, and that Joel, peeling your clothes off and seating himself so deep inside you that you can’t think properly. You can hear him banging around in the attic, unsure of what he’s actually doing.

Before you know what you’re doing, one of your hands is making quick work of undoing the button on your shorts, moving them just enough so you can slip your hand below the material. Your ears focus on sound of Joel’s footsteps in the distance. You bet there’s a thin film of sweat on his skin up there, you think as your fingers dip to the entrance of your pussy, finding yourself just as wet as you were on the weekend. Maybe he’s taken his shirt off, you think as the slick you’d gathered on your fingers make sliding them over your clit easier. The mental vision of the muscles in his back rippling as he bends to work and the way his arms would tense make bringing yourself to the edge of oblivion a piece of cake, but it’s the final vision you have of him pushing you against the dank attic wall and pounding into you that has you coming. You bite down on your hand to stop yourself from making noise, convulsing on the couch with the aftershocks of your orgasm.

There was a slight feeling of embarrassment that sat through your stomach for a moment when you’d realized you’d gotten yourself whilst Joel was unaware upstairs. You quickly buttoned up your shorts and placed an arm over your eyes whilst you tried to catch your breath and before you could stop yourself you were drifting off to sleep.

You woke with a start God knows how long later, the sound of something hitting the ground drawing you from your dreamless nap. You sat up and rubbed at your eyes and saw Joel setting his toolbox by the front door.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to fall asleep.” You mumble, pushing yourself off the couch.

“S’alright,” He smiles at you, “S’your house.”

“You get everything done?” You ask.

He shakes his head, “Gonna be a big job up there, don’t have the stuff to finish it all today.”

You nod like you understand, “Anything else on today?”

He smirks at you like he knows what you’re thinking, “Nope,” is all he says, “You?”

You match his smirk, “Nope, convenient huh?” He nods, “You want a drink?”

You look at the clock on the wall, it’s nearing 2pm, “Beer?”

“Yes ma’am.”

You try and push down the arousal that pooled in your stomach at that. It hadn’t been two hours since you’d gotten yourself off but God there was just something about this man that made your blood run hot and turned you into something akin to a dog in heat. He follows behind you as you go to the kitchen, gratefully accepting the ice-cold beer that you’d popped the cap off.

You stand at opposite sides of the kitchen – Joel leant up against the counter near the sink, you doing similar against the breakfast island. It’s silent as you both eye one another up, taking languid sips of beer as you do so. You could cut the tension in here with a fucking knife. You made the first move last time, it’s his turn to do it.

“Y’know you don’t have to wear that kinda stuff for me, don’t ya?” His eyebrow is cocked, and you know he’s talking about the shorts that barely cover your ass and the blue bra he can clearly see through your top.

“Shall I take them off then?”

He’s leant against the kitchen counter, looking as casual as can be, but you don’t miss the way his eyes darken, glazed with lust. He takes another drink of his beer before setting the bottle down, crossing his arms over his chest, eyebrow raised.

“You wanna see me naked, Joel Miller?”

“You want me to see you naked?” He counters.

“You’re in charge baby, you need to tell me what you want.” You dare.

He sucks his bottom lip into his mouth as he’s thinking before he’s unraveling his arms from his chest, “Well, in that case, come over here and kiss me.”

Your feet are moving before he’s even finished speaking, closing the gap between you. You wrap your arms around his neck, pushing yourself up on your tiptoes as his own arms wrap around your waist as his dips his head and wastes no time connecting your lips together. As soon as they do you can feel the tension dripping from your body, pooling on the floor as if it never existed.

Joel’s got you pulled flush to his body, warmth radiating through the material covering your bodies as his mouth opens and he’s swiping his tongue across your bottom lip before he takes it between his teeth and bites down slightly. He slips his tongue into your mouth when you gasp at the slight bite of pain from his teeth, which is quickly forgotten when you can taste him on your mouth. The slight yeast from the beer, something minty, suggesting he’d been chewing gum whilst working and the inevitable flavour that’s just pure Joel that you cannot place.

His hands are slipping down from your waist to cup your ass – hands on bare skin where the globes of your ass meet the back on your thighs, dragging you further into him. You can feel his own arousal prodding between you which has a moan tumbling from your lips, swallowed by Joel’s own mouth as he continues to lick into your mouth.

His hands are sliding around to the front of your shorts, deftly undoing the button, not unlike how you’d done it just a few hours before. His hand is snaking down into the material and then he’s pulling away from your lips, a groan of frustration leaving your mouth as he does so.

“What’s this?” He asks, brushing his fingers along the seam of your pussy, “Didn’t wanna bother with lace today?”

“Saving time.” You mumble, a sigh leaving your lips as his fingers move lower.

“Fuckin’ hell sweetheart, are you always this wet?” He groans when one of his finger’s dips slightly between your folds.

“Only for you,” Another sigh, “I… fuck, Joel…” You’re trying to get your words out but the way he’s brushing your slick up the seam of your pussy but neglecting your clit means it’s hard to concentrate, “I touched myself, thinking of you.”

He stops dead in his tracks, pulling his face away from you, “When?” He demands.

You turn your head to look at the clock behind you, “Probably two hours ago now.”

He growls, gripping you tightly to his body, “You filthy girl,” You can do nothing but grin, “You touched your pussy whilst I was upstairs?”

You nod, moving so you can press a kiss to his neck, “Show me.” He asks.

There’s confusion on your face when you pull back, “You don’t need me, obviously, so show me how you touched yourself whilst I was slaving away upstairs.”

He pushes you away from his body gently, and you’re going to turn around to walk somewhere to lie down and give him a show, but he’s stopping you, “Do it here,” He’s motioning his hand for you to stay in the kitchen, “Come on sweetheart, don’t keep me waitin’.”

You take your place leant back against the kitchen counter, running your hand down your body before it dips into your shorts. Joel’s eyes are staring holes into your skin as your fingers dip to your seeping hole, you let your eyes flutter closed as you gather your slick on your fingers, bringing it up to circle your clit. This time when you want to moan, you don’t bite down on anything, moaning Joel’s name as loud as you please.

When you open your eyes, fingers not letting up on pleasuring yourself, you can see him in a similar position to yours, palming himself through his jeans at the show you’re putting on, “Does it feel good, sweetheart?” He coos from across the kitchen, “Bet I’d make you feel even better, right?”

“Oh god, Joel, please-” You gasp as you speed up the circles on your clit, “I want you to touch me.”

He chuckles as he steps forward to meet you, trapping you against the kitchen island with an arm on either side of you. He’s pressing kisses behind your ear but is making no attempt to touch you past that. Fingers still firmly pressing against your clit, you grind your hips forward into his own, “Oh baby,” He whispers, “D’ya need some help?” You nod, “What d’ya want from me?”

“Fingers-” You gasp out, “Put your fingers inside me.”

He kisses your neck, using his hands to push your shorts from your legs, letting them drop to the floor, before he’s kicking at one of your ankles to push your legs further apart. Then, he’s sinking one of his deliciously thick fingers right into your seeping cunt, causing you to cry out.

“It’s alright babygirl,” He chuckles against your skin, “Makin’ you feel good, right?”

He’s pulling his finger back out of your pussy before adding another one when he pushes them back in, “Can feel how tight you are, already, you gonna come for me?”

“Fuck-” You exclaim when he’s curling his fingers up inside you whilst his mouth drags hot trails across your collarbone, “Don’t stop, please-” You beg, “So fucking close Joel.”

“Good girl, show me how good I make you feel.”

With the incessant rubbing you’re doing over your clit and the curve of Joel’s fingers inside you, you come undone. His name is almost shouted from your lips and you can feel his free hand on your waist, keeping you upright. On Saturday he’d worked you through the aftershocks, but not today, he’s pulling his fingers from your pussy, shoving them into your mouth and watching as you lick yourself off him. Then his tongue is back in your mouth and he's grinding his bulge against you whilst he laps up the taste of you on your mouth.

“Fuck, you taste so good babygirl,” He’s whispering once he’s pulled away, “One day I’m gonna spread you out and spend hours with my head between your thighs.”

Heat flushes through your body – you want to respond but you don’t have time. He’s turning you around and with a hand placed gently on the nape of your neck, he’s pushing you forward so your body is spread over the kitchen island. You can hear him unbuckling his belt behind you and you can’t quite believe this is about to happen.

When you hear the material of his jeans hit the floor you swear you can feel yourself drip down the inside of your thigh, you’re that turned on.

“I’m gonna fuck you sweetheart,” His body is towering behind yours as his hands take your hips and pull you back, “That okay?”

You nod and moan out a ‘yes please’ as he’s lining himself up behind you. You can feel the head of his cock sliding between your folds before Joel is sinking into you from behind. He’s slow because he knows it’s a tight fit, despite all your preparation the feeling of him stretching you is bordering on uncomfortable, but you just can’t get enough. He stills himself when he’s buried inside you to the hilt. You can hear his gasps and his heavy breathing behind you as he tries to calm himself down.

“Fuckin’ Christ baby, you’re fuckin’ tight around my cock.”

“Feel so full Joel,” You moan back at him, hands gripping at the kitchen island as he pulls back and thrusts himself back into you, “You’re so fucking big.”

You can hear him chuckle as his hands grip tighter at your hips, you’re convinced you’re going to have finger shaped bruises there, “That’s right babygirl,” He pulls out once more and thrusts back into your tight heat with more force than before that has you crying out, “Look at you,” He praises, “All spread out in your daddy’s kitchen gettin’ fucked by his best friend.”

It's filth but by God it’s doing the job, the way his voice is deeper, and his words are peppered with groans and gasps as he starts fucking you in earnest. You can feel your pussy clenching around him with each thrust, any feeling of discomfort long gone, replaced just with an intense feeling of fullness peppered with ecstasy.

You feel a hand come back to the nape of your neck, travelling higher until it’s tangled in your hair, yanking you backwards so your back is arched. You can feel Joel’s hips snapping into your ass, the new arch of your back has his cock hitting a spot inside you that has spots blurring your vision.

All you can do is chant his name and let moans drop from your lips as his pace picks up again. He’s turned your brain to mush, not that you’re complaining. If you could keep the both of you here forever, locked in this state of secret pleasure then you would.

“Sweetheart,” He chokes out behind you, hand still wrapped in your hair, “I’m gonna cum.”

“Yes Joel, please-” You cry out, “Please give it to me.”

“So fuckin’ pretty sweetheart,” He groans behind you, “Beggin’ me for my cum like a good girl.”

When he pulls himself fully from your pussy you almost cry in frustration until you feel the warmth of his cum spreading over the cheeks of your ass. You can hear him moaning your name, one hand still firmly gripping your hip, the other, you assume, fisting his cock. When you’re sure he’s finished you let your forehead drop to the cool countertop whilst you catch your breath.

You’re vaguely aware of Joel pulling his jeans back on and the sound of the tap running behind you. The feeling of a warm cloth spreading across your ass as he cleans his spend off you. It’s almost robotic as he gathers you and turns you round, bending down to shimmy your shorts back up and over your hips. He even does the button up for you.

“You okay?” He asks, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose.

You smile, exhaustion settling into your bones as he holds you, “Never better.”

“Hope I wasn’t too rough sweetheart.”

“I don’t mind,” You smirk, reaching up to press a kiss to his lips, “Want you to make me sore so whenever I move I remember this.”

“You can’t be real babygirl,” He’s chuckling, “You keep sayin’ things like that and I’ll never leave.”

You’re pulled from your post-coital bliss by the sound of a car door slamming out front. Your eyes widen and so do Joel’s. You quickly glance at the clock and realise he’s had you bent over the kitchen counter for far longer than you’d anticipated.

“Fuckin’ hell,” He’s mumbling, making sure he kisses your lips firmly, “I gotta get outta here, but I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Okay.” You nod with a smile, you fucking hope so.

He leaves with a squeeze of your hand, jogging to the door to grab his toolbox. You hear the door open and then he’s greeting your mother with a ‘Hello ma’am, good day?’ – you can just about hear your mother recounting her day to him and then asking him how the work in the attic went.

“Went fine, still a fair bit to do so just let me know when y’all are going to be out again in the week and I’ll come back to finish up.”

“Well, you know we work all week and I’m sure that one in there won’t mind a little banging about from you.”

Oh if only you knew mom, if only you knew.

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tigertales9 · 10 months

Text

Déjà vu II

Pairing: Joe Burrow x Reader

Warnings: 18+ / Smut

Description: Things get heated (due to backwards cap hotness) after the preseason game between the Bengals & Packers

Time/Place: August 11, 2023 / Cincinnati, Ohio

A/N: This is the follow-up to Déjà vu

Inspo pic: Getty Images (edit)

You lean against the wall in the stadium tunnel, waiting to give Joe a quick hug after the game before heading home. 36-19 had been the final score; it was the first preseason game, though, so no need to panic just yet.

You smile to yourself as you let your mind wander to earlier in the night; watching Joe put in work doing throwing drills and running wind sprints had everyone in high spirits. You could feel the collective sigh of relief from Bengals fans when they saw their QB1 looking so good just two weeks after the calf strain. Joe wasn't 100 percent yet, but he was getting better by the day.

Then later during the game you were hit with a sense of déjà vu watching Joe on the sideline looking like walking sex. Something about him wearing the earpiece and stalking around frustrated when the offense wasn't clicking was just hot as hell. The backwards cap was the cherry on the eye-candy sundae.

You're still contemplating that last thought as you raise your head and lock eyes with Joe striding toward you, still wearing the backwards cap that had you squirming in your seat all night. Your stomach does a somersault at the look on his face. "Hey," you greet him with a smile as he reaches you, grabbing your hand and pulling you deeper into the tunnel, giving you a wink when you raise your eyebrows at him. "Where are we going?" you mutter, your eyes going wide when he ushers you through the vast locker room and into one of the treatment rooms, the door barely shutting behind you before he's got you pressed against it. "Damn," you whisper, dropping your bag and sliding your hands up his muscular chest as his mouth captures yours, his hot tongue plunging inside to tangle with yours as you cling to his broad shoulders.

After a few minutes you finally come up for air. "Is the door locked?" you breathe, dropping a hand down to tease him through his slinky shorts. "No," he answers, "there's no lock on the door, but we've got about five minutes before a trainer comes in to do my treatment." You immediately snatch your hand away from his crotch and give him an exasperated look. "Five minutes?"

"Yeah," he chuckles, giving you a sheepish look just as someone knocks on the door. You grab your bag and step aside, smiling at the trainer who enters the room as soon as Joe opens the door.

"Oh sorry!" the trainer chirps, his face going crimson as he looks back and forth between you and Joe. "I didn't mean to interrupt."

"No problem," you soothe. "I was just leaving." You give Joe a smile and lean in close. "See you at home," you whisper. "Make sure to wear this backwards cap." You run a finger over the snapback strap adorning his forehead before heading for the door, throwing a quick glance over your shoulder as you walk out, the sight of Joe biting his plump bottom lip practically seared into your brain as you head for the exit.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

An hour later you're standing in your kitchen, freshly showered and wearing skimpy lace panties and one of Joe's t-shirts, your body humming with anticipation as you pour a glass of pinot noir and take a sip. You had nothing but water at the game, and you need just a little something to take the edge off as you wait for Joe to get home.

You open the fridge and pull out a bowl of red seedless grapes, tossing a couple in your mouth and damn near moaning at the combo of sweet, cold grapes chased with a swallow of lush, plummy wine. You repeat the action a few times before your ears perk up, your entire body reacting to the sound of Joe coming in the garage door.

He hits you with a panty-dropping grin when he rounds the corner. "I'm still wearing the backwards cap," he purrs, walking straight up to you as you offer him a grape. "Good boy," you praise, a pulse of arousal sizzling through you at the look in his eyes as he opens his mouth for you. "Mmmm, juicy," he moans, holding eye contact as you pop another grape in his mouth. "You got anything else juicy for me, baby girl?"

You can tell from the cadence of his speech and his body language that he still has some pent-up frustration from the game, from not being able to get on the field and unleash hell on the opponents. "Maybe," you tease, biting your lip and giving him a dirty grin as he backs you up against the kitchen island, his hands sneaking under your t-shirt to settle on your waist just as his mouth crashes down on yours.

A few minutes into making out -- with one of his big hands caressing your breasts and the other making a beeline for your crotch -- his phone rings, both of y'all going completely still as he breaks the intense kiss to glance at his phone. "Shit … it's Coach," he grumbles, nibbling on your neck as you take a deep breath. "You better answer it," you whisper. "He wouldn't be calling this late if it wasn't important." Joe nods and makes a stank face as he grabs his phone. "Hey Coach," he quips. "Yeah, I can talk for a bit," he continues, rolling his eyes dramatically.

You squirm out of his grasp and head for the stairs, giving him a loaded look just before you vanish out of sight. You walk through the master bedroom into the en suite bathroom, quickly splashing cold water on your face to cool down your heated skin; as you pat dry with a towel, you consider rubbing one out since you're frustrated as fuck and Joe's conversations with Coach Taylor usually last a while, especially if they're talking schemes and strategy.

You're still pondering the idea when Joe strides into the bathroom, his eyes locking onto yours in the mirror like a heat-seeking missile. "That was fast," you whisper, tossing the towel to the side as he walks up behind you. "I told him I'd talk to him tomorrow," he mutters, unclipping the clasp holding your hair up, burying his nose in your hair and taking a deep breath as it tumbles down over your shoulders.

He nestles his erection against your ass while making eye contact with you in the mirror. "Real subtle, babe," you chuckle, lifting your arms so he can slip your t-shirt off. "Do I need to be subtle?" he asks, the raw lust in his voice causing a gush of liquid heat between your thighs. "No, sir," you breathe, watching closely as he whips his t-shirt off, accidentally taking his cap with it. You bite your lip as he slowly reaches for the cap, running his long fingers through his tousled hair a few times before easing the backwards cap back on his head. "Now … where were we," he growls, his deep voice tickling your ear in a way that makes you squeeze your thighs together to try and ease the relentless throbbing in your core; his hot gaze immediately flicks down to your crotch as he reads your body language. He licks his lips and lifts his gaze back up to yours, giving you a smile so dirty you feel it in every pleasure point in your body.

"What do you need?" he asks, lazily teasing your nipples while dropping open-mouthed kisses against your sensitive neck. "I need to cum," you grit out, squirming and whimpering as he continues to tease you. "I've been on the edge ever since I saw you in that damn backwards cap tonight."

"You like this look, huh?" he asks, checking his reflection in the mirror before spinning you around to face him. "I love that look," you whisper, your pulse kicking into overdrive as he drops to his knees at your feet, quickly sliding your soaked panties off before wrapping both hands around your waist to lift your ass onto the countertop. "How do you like this look?" he purrs, spreading your thighs wide and maintaining eye contact while licking a long stripe from your ass to your clit. "Yeah … don't stop!" you urge, leaning back against the mirror and resting your feet on his broad shoulders while he follows orders, devouring your clit and pistoning two fingers inside you, hitting your g-spot over and over until you come undone, your cries of pleasure still ringing in your ears a few minutes later as you gasp for breath.

He stands up when your core finally stops squeezing his fingers; he removes them and gives them a thorough suck, moaning deep in his throat when you clasp a hand behind his neck and pull his head down, licking your essence off of his lips before sucking his tongue into your mouth. "My dick is so hard I could hammer nails with it," he groans against your slick lips. "I got something else you can hammer," you purr, gasping when he quickly picks you up and spins you around, your feet barely touching the floor before he bends you over, shoves his shorts and underwear down and buries his cock in your slick heat.

You both groan as your core clamps down hard at the sudden intrusion; he holds himself completely still for several seconds, the sensual feel of his heartbeat throbbing deep inside you drawing a whine from your lips that immediately has him thrusting, shallow at first then full, deep thrusts. You rise up onto your tiptoes and grind back against him, your hard nipples tightening even more as they slide against the countertop, the marble providing a cool contrast to the heat radiating off of Joe as he hits a steady rhythm.

"Feels so fucking good, baby," he grits out, "look at me." You raise your head and meet his eyes in the mirror, biting your lip hard enough to hurt as he drops a hand down to tease your clit. "You like that?" he purrs, giving you a feral smile when you nod your head, your breath fogging up the mirror as you gasp and pant while he continues to ride you hard.

You eventually drop your forehead back down onto the countertop, almost too stimulated to hold eye contact as he expertly pleasures you, drawing whimpers and moans from your lips while lavishing dirty praise in that toe-curling raunchy voice. "I need to see your face," he mutters as he fists a hand in your long hair, wrapping it around his palm a couple times before tugging just hard enough to raise your head off the countertop; his eyes hold your gaze in the mirror for several seconds before he spits on your lower back, your breath catching in your throat as you feel it slide down between your buttcheeks. He quickly releases your hair to chase the spit with his thumb, following it all the way down to tease the edge of your hole as he picks up the pace of his thrusts, pinching your clit with his other hand, his icy-hot eyes locked on yours in the mirror when your climax hits.

You scream his name as the coiled tension inside you unleashes like the crack of a whip; he grabs your hips and tilts your ass up, your feet leaving the floor as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm, the sound of your flesh slapping together and the lush, wet sound of your drenched core as he pounds into you seemingly magnified in your ears as he follows you over the edge, the hot spurts of his climax making your walls spasm harder before finally tapering off.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Thirty minutes later you and Joe step out of the shower, your legs still trembling as he helps you dry off before picking you up bridal-style to carry you to bed. He lays you down gently before joining you, his damp hair slicked back as he gazes down at you in the dim lighting.

"You kinda like the backwards cap, huh?" he teases. "You know I do," you answer, rolling your eyes playfully at his cocky grin. "That was a little déjà vu, right?" he asks, nodding at the bathroom door as he continues. "Having raunchy sex while watching in a mirror with one of us wearing a hat."

You smile when he waggles his eyebrows at you. "Yeah, but you look way better in the backwards cap than I do in the cowboy hat."

"No way," he argues, leaning down to drop a kiss on your lips. "Agree to disagree," you giggle, yawning before snuggling against him as he pulls you close.

#joe burrow #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow fanfic #joe burrow imagine

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venusacrossthestars · 4 months

Text

right person wrong time? wrong person, a fine time.

Pairing- Charles Leclerc x fem!reader

WC- 2.2k

warnings- angst, Charles is an ass, swearing(?) italics represent flashbacks

f1 masterlist

Its been a year, 3 months, 2 weeks, and 4 days since Charles broke your heart. Its been a year, 3 months, 2 weeks, and 4 days since you last saw him. Its been a year, 3 months, 2 weeks, and 4 days since he said, ‘its not you, its me.’ Its been a year, 3 months, 2 weeks, and 4 days and yet you can’t fall asleep without thinking what could have been.

All the traveling and distance was considered to be a curse during your relationship, now you were considering it a blessing. Monaco wasn’t a large country by any means, its own popularity along with its neighboring countries came from tourist, travelers, and summer home owners. Meaning it was the perfect place to blend in with the hundreds of passing faces. Here you were hoping to go unrecognized.

The first two weeks of your five week vacation were going swimmingly. You and a couple friends rented out a villa. You all swam, ate good food, shopped, sun tanned, everything you could imagine of a great vacation.

It was a Tuesday morning and you and your friends were sitting out on the patio at some brunch cafe that was quickly becoming your favorite spot in Monaco when your luck of being incognito had run out.

“Y/N?” you hear a familiar voice call out, and judging by the reactions of your friends you know exactly who it is.

Turning around in your seat to look up at the caller, you are greeted with the unfortunate sight of your ex-boyfriend.

“Charles?”

“Wow, its really you,” he seems surprised.

“Yup, in the flesh,” you chuckle out uncomfortably. You shoot a look ‘help what do I do’ at your friends.

“What are you doing here?”

“On vacation, trying to enjoy the slow season before the fall.”

“Oh that’s nice.”

“Yeah.” Neither of you say a word after that. Your friends attention split between you and your ex.

After a moment of silence it seems that Charles finally gets the memo that you would like to get back to brunch, “I’ll leave you be, hopefully I’ll see you around.”

You don’t reply, why would you lie and say you hoped to see him too? After the way things ended you were seriously hoping to never see Charles Leclerc ever again.

The past few weeks had been rocky, you knew that. Charles had been having a few couple of weeks. A DNF at his home race, a poor performing car, pressure from the fans. You understood it all to be frustrating. Your work hadn’t been easy either. Someone had split their coffee on your silk piece for your show, you had to spend a full 36 hours having to re-sew the entire thing by hand in order to make the deadline.

All you wanted right now was to curl up in your boyfriends arms, watch crappy tv and eat even crappier food. But it didn’t seem like any of that was going to be happening with the ominous ‘we need to talk’ text you got from Charles around lunch time.

When you entered the apartment it felt cold, empty, and overall unwelcoming. All the lights were off expect for the ones in the kitchen and sitting at the island was Charles with his head in his hands.

“Babe,” you began as you walked closer, “is everything ok? Your text gave me a bit of a start.”

Charles doesn't respond and you move to rest your hand on his shoulder, he flinches at the contact as if he is repulsed by your touch.

“I want to break-up,” Charles states out of the blue.

Time stops, you swear it. The clock that hangs on the wall doesn’t move nor make a sound, the dripping faucet doesn’t let a drop of water fall, the quiet humming of the air conditioner is absent. All is still, except your rapidly beating heart.

“What?” you croak out.

“Its not you, its me.” Charles simply states, back still turned to you.

“I find that hard to believe when you won’t even look me in the eyes.” You scoff, you can’t believe what you’re hearing.

Charles shoots out of his chair and faces you. His hands flying up in the air. “I want to break up!”

A “why?” escapes you pathetically.

“Its not you, its me.” he repeats. “The distance, me traveling for my job, you traveling for yours. It’s all too much. I’m not, I can’t do a relationship right now. It’s all too much.”

“Charles,we talked about this just say the words and I’ll drop it all for you. You know this.” You tell him, referring to your conversation from a few weeks back that how you would take less responsibilities at your job if he wanted you too.

“I can’t- I can’t do that to you.”

“Oh but you’ll throw a two year relationship away,” now your angry. He throws this at you out of the blue. No hints, no major changes in his behaviors, nothing.

“Y/N-” he beings but you are quick to cut him off.

“No, I deserve an explanation as to why this all of the sudden ‘this’ isn’t working.”

“Y/N” he tries again.

“It was all fine, yeah we had a few bad weeks but we have a gap week coming and maybe if we just try and relax we can-”

“Maybe its because I don’t love you!” Charles now interrupts you. “Maybe its because I never loved you.”

“Well now you are just being mean,” you weren’t going to cry. Why would you? It wasn’t like the man you have given your all too for the past two year was breaking your heart or anything? If you weren’t going to cry then what was running down your cheeks.

“It’s the truth.”

“You’re an ass. Typically Charles behavior. Run when things go though or don’t go your way. Too high and mighty.”

“You don’t know what its like to be me, you wouldn’t understand.”

“Then explain it to me! I have begged and begged you to let me in and all you do is push me away.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Then you’re right. Its not me, its you. Its always you.”

“Get out.”

“What so now your mad that I agree with you?”

“Get out,” Charles says again.

“Gladly.”

Two days have passed since you saw Charles at brunch and as much as you wanted to say it was nothing, you couldn’t. Seeing Charles brought up memories that you didn’t necessarily want to think about while on vacation.

Today everyone was off doing their own thing, so you had the great idea to wander along the beach. Well it was a great idea until you heard your name being called, once again by no one other than Charles.

Stopping in your tracks you turn to face the man who claimed he never loved you.

“Are you following me?”

Charles looks take aback by the question, “no?”

You hum and continue walking, Charles follows.

“I wasn’t kidding when I say it was nice to see you the other day. Its been a while, hasn’t it.”

“Yup.” Exactly-1 year, 3 months, 2 weeks, and now 6 days, you think to yourself.

“So how have you been, anything new?”

“Been good, headlining my own show. Collaborations, sketching up new designs, same old same old.”

“I saw. Congrats.”

“Thanks,” you curtly reply. “Anything new with you?” Ever since the break-up you avoided looking at anything Formula 1 related. You can tell by his reaction that he didn’t know that.

“Well, car is good this year. Still a little early to tell but I’ve got a good feeling about this year.”

“That’s nice.”

“Can we talk?”

“Is that not what we’re doing?”

“Well, I guess. I mean I want to apologize.”

This stops you, you really didn’t want to have this conversation right now. You really never wanted to have this conversation ever. You turn now fully facing Charles, squinting at him.

“I’m sorry for that night. I didn’t mean what I told you. You didn’t deserve any of what I said.”

“I didn’t.”

“That’s all you have to say?”

“And that’s all you have to offer as an apology, after all this time?”

“Well I’m not perfect.”

You scoff, “see that, that right there is how I know you aren’t sorry.”

“I am. I still love you. I was an ass. I was stressed. It was all too much. I truly wasn’t in the mindset to be in a relationship. I wanted to be a good boyfriend.”

“You wanted to be a good boyfriend?” You chuckle, “if you wanted to be a good boyfriend you would’ve told me what was going on.”

“You could’ve been a better girlfriend.”

Typical Charles, is all you can think to yourself. You are now seething, emotions that have been pushed down and down, now surfacing.

“I was willing to work it out,” you point at your chest, “all of the problems I was willing to work through for you. I was willing to ignore the hurtful words because I loved you. I would’ve left everything behind. All of it. If it meant being with you. So don’t tell me I could have been a ‘better girlfriend’, unbelievable.”

“Right person, wrong time.” Charles said quietly.

You actually laugh at his statement. Was he high? At the beginning you might’ve thought that too. You loved him so deeply that you were willing to over look his flaws. But that night, that faithful night when he ripped your heart out and ran it over with his Ferrari you realized that someone who loved you would never do what he did to you.

“No Charles, you were the wrong person at a fine time. The right person would try to work out their problems. The right person would listen to their girlfriends concerns. The right person wouldn’t tell the person they love, that they simply never loved them. The right person wouldn’t ask another woman to marry him not even a year later. And yet you stand here claiming to still love me. You wanted to be a good boyfriend, how about you focus on being a good fiance.”

A look of hurt flashed over Charles face and for a moment you almost felt bad for him. But he hadn’t felt bad when he broke your heart. He hadn’t felt bad when he said that he couldn’t do a relationship and travel. He held no remorse for you when not even a month later he was seen with another woman hanging off his arms. And you know for a fact that he held no remorse when 7 months later he was asking her to be his wife.

Yes, Charles the same man who told you that he wasn’t ready for a relationship was engaged to another woman. The same woman he was seen with not even a full month after he broke your heart. At first you thought he was cheating on you, who wouldn’t jump to that conclusion. But as much as you hated Charles he did surprisingly had morals. He might’ve met her when with you but you knew, mostly due to his hectic schedule, that he wasn’t cheating on you.

“Speaking of which, how is the wedding planning going. Its been how long since the two of you got engaged?” You ask. You know how long its been. You know you’re being petty. You know asking about the engagement is a low blow. You should be the bigger person but there is something about the way he is looking at you that fills you with rage and sadness.

“That’s none of your business.” Charles crosses his arms over his chest defensively.

“Well I would say this has been nice but lets not kid each other. Charles I do wish you the best with everything, but please, don’t ever talk to me again.”

You are quick to turn away, you don’t want to hear another word from him. This vacation was meant to be peaceful. You were meant to blend in and have fun. The last thing in the world you were expecting was to run into your ex.

The once beautiful country of Monaco had now been tainted by the unpleasant memories of a time past. And you knew that no matter how much you loved the atmosphere, the people, the culture that you would never be able to wash the memory of Charles away. Charles Leclerc has officially ruined Monaco for you.

That night after you recounted the story to your friends over a crappy bottle of tequila, you went to bed and did something you haven’t done for a year, 3 months, 2 weeks, and 6 days, you googled ‘Charles Leclerc’ and the first thing that that popped up might’ve been a surprise to everyone, but not you. “Charles Leclerc and long-time fiancée mutually call off engagement”.

And for the first time in a year, 3 months, 2 weeks, and 6 days you fell asleep not thinking of Charles Leclerc and what might’ve been.

taglist- crossed out names mean I could not tag you

@arieslost @astrostar24 @aneverythingwriter @maryseesthings @boiohboii @lexiestarkey @scaramou @anedpev @simplyscorpio @the-untamed-soul @stupendousrebeldreamer @lyana344 @moonlightem @itsbwokenln4 @a-daydreamers-day @barcelono @naturallyspontaneous @bunbun9396 @meredithmeiz @clowngirlsstuff @jordy-jor5 @charlesleclerx @loveyatopluto @lewisroscoelove @graciearnold1 @saiteliites @oliveswiftly @lover122 @dear-fifi @onecojg @martaaairwin1994-blog @bigchrisevansmarvelsoul @sittingalonereads @fuckmylifedudee @hanniesdawn @leonie-swift @havaneselover08 @homosexualjohnwayne @bjralph @naaanasworld @dannyramirezwife @mileeen-aa @futuristicherobailifflamp @boherahpsody

#formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc angst

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artemisthewh0re · 10 months

Text

Choose You

College!Miguel O'hara x Chubby Black reader

Warnings: Smut, hurt/comfort, unprotected sex, piv, Gwen Stacy is a bitch (love Gwen but I needed a bully 😭), fatphobia, bullying, name calling (piggy, whale, etc)

A/N: This is really bad I'm sorry! I had a mild mental health crisis halfway through writing this but I hope you like it!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️

@optimuslaim

Your head hangs low as you eat your breakfast in the dining hall. The noise of the hall dulls your thoughts as you play with the runny eggs on your plate. That is quickly interrupted by Gwen Stacy slamming her tray on the table. Gwen is the resident Regina George of your college campus. You used to fly under her radar but ever since you started dating Miguel O'hara, the star quarterback, she has been relentless in her harassment.

"Hey piggy, I saw you sitting here so I brought you some food so you won't get hungry while you sit alone. I guess your "boyfriend" doesn't want to be seen in public with you," Regina mocks, gesturing to the tray she had slammed next to you. The plate has a heaping pile of bacon and sausage with at least ten pieces of toast on top.

"Gwen, fuck off. Just accept the fact that not every guy at this school is not up your ass," you retort. You pick up your tray and walk towards the trash can.

"Miguel is only dating you as a joke. No guy here would ever be into a whale like you." Gwen pushes you straight into the trash can that you had stopped in front of. The can tips over, spilling the morning's trash onto the floor. The room goes silent as your peers stop talking to look at you.

"Wow piggy, you're such a klutz," Gwen laughs, pointing at you. Your tray drops to the ground and you run out of the hall with all eyes on you.

The walk back to your dorm is one of shame and severe embarrassment. Tears start to spill down your face when you make it to your door. Your fingers fumble to open the stubborn door, but when it finally does you crash onto the couch and sob. Salvia dribbles down your mouth, mixing with your tears as you cry. Eventually the burn in your throat is enough to quiet you, but the evidence of your breakdown is still streaked across your face.

Your eyes are red and puffy with mascara smeared across your lids. The clock in your living room reads 10:40 am, making you 40 minutes late for your second class. You decide to skip the rest of your classes and spend the day wallowing in self-pity. A sigh leaves your chest as you peel yourself from the couch and pull out your phone from your pocket. Your lock screen is littered with worried messages from your boyfriend.

10:12 am: Hey babe are you coming to class???

10:30 am: Tell me if you're sick and I'll leave early

10:32 am: Seriamente text me just so I know you're okay!!

10:35 am: I got your homework for you btw

10:36 am: did I do something?

10:38 am: I'm coming over

You quickly type up a "I'm ok" message, but knowing your boyfriend he's probably already sprinting to your dorm. You rush to your bathroom to remove the smeared makeup from your face and fix your lopsided braided bun. Just as you finally get the last bit of mascara off your eyes someone knocks at the door. You give yourself a once over and head to the door. Your boyfriend stands in the doorway looking frazzled and out of breath with homework papers clenched in his hand.

"Why didn't you answer my texts?" Miguel asks as he steps into your dorm.

"I did, I was just taking a nap!" You exclaim trying to avoid his eyes.

"Mìrame. Why are your eyes so red? Did you smoke without me?" Miguel jokingly pouts his bottom lip as he grabs your face.

"No, I'm just not feeling good, baby. You can go, I'm just gonna skip class today."

Miguel's eyebrows knit together with skepticism. "Did Gwen talk shit to you again?"

What? No, I just want to stay in bed today!" Your voice starts to shake and a familiar throbbing runs down your throat. Despite this assurance, your eyes give you away.

"I'm so sick of that cabrona de mierda! I'm gonna have a word with her," Miguel turns to the door, ready to have yet another screaming match with Gwen.

"Miguel, please!" You plead, grabbing at his arm. "She talked shit but I'm fine now. I really don't want to think about it anymore and I really don't want to give her the satisfaction of knowing I go crying to you every time she calls me a pig. It's not like you can actually do anything to her anyways."

"How am I supposed to stick up for you then? I'm not gonna sit around and let her be a puta to my girlfriend," Miguel sighs, turning back around.

You both stand in silence, unable to think of any real solution. Miguel breaks the tension by wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into a hug.

"I'm sorry, baby," Miguel whispers in your ear. "I just want to help you." His hands rub gentle circles on your back. Miguel's warm breath tickles your ear causing you to smile ever so slightly.

"You can help me just by being an amazing, supportive boyfriend," you say. Miguel lifts his head and kisses you. His lips feel plush against yours.

The first kiss is delicate, barely grazing your lips, but the second is more passionate. Your fingers entangle themselves into Miguel's dark curls. They feel soft and perfectly wrap around your fingertips. You pull Miguel closer to your chest, practically merging your bodies together.

"I need you Miguel," you say breathlessly against his lips.

"I guess I could skip my next class," Miguel smirks, lifting up his shirt to reveal his perfectly toned stomach and wide shoulders.

Your cheeks blush at the sight of him in his full glory. Miguel doesn't hesitate to get naked unlike you. Your fingers shyly tug at your graphic tee before lifting it above your head. Natural instincts make your arms fly to cover as much of your body as you can.

"Babe, I've seen you naked three times, stop hiding yourself from me. I already know how sexy you look topless," Miguel says, pulling your arms away from your chest. He quickly unhooks your bra while pressing kisses to your bust.

You grab Miguel's arm and lead him to your bedroom. The room is small with only a twin bed and a desk sitting in the corners. Miguel gently pushes you onto the bed with a look of lust in his eyes. His fingers spread warmth to your body as they trail down your stomach to your aching mound. He teases your clothed pussy, slowly pressing deep circles onto your clit.

"Miguel," you moan. You tuck your bottom lip between your teeth as he continues his ministrations. Pleasure builds within your abdomen as Miguel's fingers move hastily against your cunt. His bicep flexes as his fingers push your panties to the side, giving your boyfriend a full view of your wet pussy.

"Is all this for me, baby?" Miguel teases as the pad of his thumb brushes over your exposed clit. The sudden skin-to-skin contact sends electricity up your spine.

"Only for you."

Your boyfriend's dark eyes are practically red with lust. He removes his hand from in between your legs, much to your dismay, and positions himself in between them. For the first time you notice his large bulge poking through the boxers he neglected to take off. Your brain barely registers his cock before he pushes inside you. A loud gasp escapes your lips as your pussy stretches around his girth.

"F-fuck!" you manage to stutter out. Miguel is gentle at first. His hips move smoothly like butter against your own. The initial pressure subsides and pleasure takes its place. Miguel plunges deep inside you, leaving you shaking with every thrust. Your thighs jiggle with the snap of his hips causing the room to fill with the sound of your skin slapping together.

"Jesus, you feel so fucking good!" Miguel exclaims. He quickens his pace to an impossible speed, eliciting pornographic moans from you. His shaft renders speechless as he effortly hits the sensitive spot in your pussy. Your hands quickly tangle in Miguel's hair as your orgasm nears.

"You like that, baby?" Miguel teases.

"Oh fuck! I love your fucking dick" Your words sputter out with each slam of your boyfriend's hips, but your message is clear.

"You love this fucking dick?" Miguel's ego grows larger by the second.

"I LOVE your fucking dick," you say practically screaming.

Your next sentence is interrupted by Miguel jackhammering into you with the last bit of energy he has. His fingers intertwine with yours as your orgasm rushes through your body. Your toes curl to the point of cracking as it makes its way down your legs. Miguel lets out a string of curses as he presses his head against your chest. A final grunt escapes his lips when he finishes inside of you.

His thighs tremble and his breath is shallow, eyes filled with a post-orgasm high as he lifts his head.

"I'll always choose you, baby," Miguel says breathlessly.

"I know," you reply back. You brush the wet curls out of your boyfriend's face knowing that even if Gwen bullied you, you still got the better end of the stick.