#and all my favourite students get to come too
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A red thread tying you to me (Charles Leclerc)
There was something pulling you to him and Charles was ready to act on it
Note: english is not my first language. I loved the blurb and now we have a big piece too!
Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!
my masterlist
Tw: mentions the death of reader's father's and Charles' father's deaths
Tag list: @myloverjk-blog @hiireadstuff @c-losur3
"The congress is just outside of Milan, the exact city and details are in there", your colleague Lucia offered as she flickered though the pages, "I've been a couple of times before and it's really enriching, I just know you'll love the students and the department head - she was my supervisor for a couple of years".
"It sounds great", you looked at the panel information and then the travel details, "it's such a shame you can't come with me though, but I also wouldn't want to risk your little dude showing up and have me as your midwife", you chuckled as Lucia rubbed her baby bump.
"You're capable of many things, Y/N, but I would prefer if the fate of my baby and my underparts was in the hands of a professional!", she bumped your shoulder, "and the area is really nice too, I'm sure you'll find something to keep you busy during the weekend".
"I have plans, actually, I'll be fine I think", you smiled.
Like Lucia predicted, you had a great time in the conference and the guest lecture you gave was applauded and discussed for nearly an hour after you showed the last slide of the presentation, topics going back and forth until everyone had to absolutely leave the room before the next lecture began. For now, you'd get to enjoy the region, drinking some wine and taking in the views you recognised.
The park where your father used to take you didn't look too different. The slides didn't look rusty anymore, and the swing was a bright red colour as you sat on it once you didn't see any other kid around who might want to use them and let yourself feel the breeze on your face and hair as you kicked your legs in and out. Your father used to make you feel like you could touch the sky with how high he helped you go, "you're going to touch the clouds, mia piccola stella", he would say and you would laugh loudly.
You missed him every single day, but over the years, your grief allowed you remember all of the happy moments you lived with him, cherishing them close to your heart. Spending the whole weekend in Monza and attending the race was something you hadn't done without him since he passed away. The circuit was your father's favourite - "it's the fans, Y/N, there's a thrill in the air that no other circuit has - Tifosi cover the streets, they're all you can see around town and it's magical almost" he would say to you, so when you noticed the conference was in the area and coincided with the Grand Prix weekend, both you and your mother agreed you should take the opportunity.
On your way back to the hotel, you stopped by the track, wondering what the preparations for a race weekend looked like after so many years. You still followed the sport, but you never got the chance to catch this on television.
"Oh my, oh my", you heard someone say beside where you were standing, "I can't believe my eyes, it's Y/N Y/L/N".
Turning around you spotted Salvatore, one of the mechanics your father worked with. He also had kids around your age and you would often play together whenever you were both in the garage for the weekend.
"Salvatore!", you cheered, giving him a big smile after kissing each of his cheeks, "you better believe your eyes then".
"It's been so long since I've seen you last", he recalled, rubbing your back softly. You and your mother had gone to Maranello for a tribute ceremony the team had for your father - that had been the last time he saw you.
"It has been, yes - I'm sorry", you apoligised. You told the team you'd be around and so much had happened since and you only watched it through a screen instead of living it in the flesh.
"It's okay, it was the time you needed - What brought you to Monza this weekend?", he wondered as he walked inside the paddock with you, scanning his card and getting you both in.
"A work trip actually - I finished a conference yesterday and I also gave a lecture at the university", you nodded, "and my father always loved Monza", you smiled at the memory, "he knew how cliché that sounded, but he always said there wasn't a better weekend on the calendar. And I've missed the rush, too", you offered, letting the tears flow freely and accepting them even though you were in the middle of the paddock, loud noises coming from every angle as the teams prepared the finishing touches for the upcoming race.
"He's very proud of you, I'm sure", Salvatore comforted, "and everyone will be happy to see you here - the little girl with the high pigtails is a grown woman now who attends conferences and gives lectures, who would've known?", he joked as you stepped inside the garage.
"Is this little troublemaker Y/N Y/L/N?", one of the oldest mechanics said after he applied a sticker to the halo.
When your father took you to the races, everyone knew they had fun guaranteed with you, always pulling pranks and laughing loudly, "my troublemaker days are over, I'm a responsible woman now", you chuckled, giving a quick wave to everyone before greeting everyone individually.
"Do you have tickets for this weekend?", Fred asked. Even though he had just met you, it was clear to him how much you mattered to everyone who worked with your father, "we can get you a pass, I'm sure".
"I have grandstand tickets", you stated.
"Silvia!", the team principal called the woman, making her approach him and rub your arm kindly, "do we have any guest passes left?".
"Let me check", Silvia mumbled, "we have one left, actually! Charles didn't even notice he asked us to save a ticket for his mother twice - I'll get it for you, it's in the meeting room upstairs", she smiled.
"Charles will also be very happy to see you around, did you tell him you were coming?", Salvatore mentioned.
"I haven't actually - I've been really busy", you mumbled.
You met the monégasque driver when he was Scuderia Ferrari's development driver and Prema Racing driver in Formula Two, accidentally running into him in the dining area of the hospitality and ending up spending most of his free time there throughout the whole weekend.
Quickly, it became a tradition to do so whenever he was over and whenever he was done with his Formula Two duties and you happened to be at the same track.
When you stopped attending races because the memories were too painful, you lost contact, opting to react to eachother's Instagram stories every now and again and sending quick messages through the social media app.
"The boys arrive today, but they're only coming to the track tomorrow", Fred added, "you'll have plenty of time to catch up".
Charles had finally arrived to the hotel after all the flights and drives, thankful that there weren't many fans around already and he could get inside without a hitch, checking in and getting his room keys.
"Hold it, per favore!", he said to the person on the lift, dreaming of the changing from his travel outfit and the bed waiting for him. When his hand helped him inside the metal door, he couldn't believe his eyes, "Y/N?".
He could remember the last time he saw you. He had just started his first season as a Formula One driver for Alfa Romeo and you had come back to the paddock for the first race of the season like you promised you would. He sat with you whenever he had a little break, you caught up with him and his early days as a driver with a seat rather than just watching from the sidelines.
"Charles, hi!", you gasped, hugging him and feeling him squeeze your body against his.
"I- what are you doing here? Are you here for the race?", he wondered. This couldn't be a mere coincidence. He hoped it wasn't.
"I had a work trip here that coincided with this weekend, and I thought of it as a sign", you explained, "you're staying in this hotel too?".
"Yes, the team are at the one where we usually stay for the weekend, but until Thursday, I'm staying here, yes", he smiled, "Goodness, I feel like it's both been forever and like it was yesterday", he chuckled, "do you want to get a drink? I have a nice selection in my room whenever I stay", he offered.
"I'd love to, Charles", you said, hoping that the tingly feeling on your tummy mirrored Charles' own excitement at this unexpected but valued encounter, "are you sure though? You just arrived".
"No, don't worry about that! My room is... 705", he checked on the card he was handed, "so you can join me now or maybe you want to set those things down first and meet me there?", he pointed to the bag you were carrying.
"Yes, this is quite heavy actually", you blushed, "my room is on this floor, so I'll meet in your room in fifteen? I need to freshen up because I've been walking around town all day".
Leaving the elevator on your floor, Charles waved at your before the doors closed andyou headed to your door. Stepping inside, you left the totebag with the books you bought in the chair before heading to the bathroom, brushing out any tangles in your hair and splashing your face with water to freshen up.
After getting yourself ready to go, you went up to Charles' floor, knocking on the door and waiting for him.
"Come in, come in!", Charles offered after he opened the door, "I've unpacked but kept it very organised still", he chuckled as you walked inside the room. It looked the same as yours did, only a different colour pallette for the decoration.
"How have you been?", you wondered once you sat down and shared some sparkling water, neither of you really feeling like drinking anything alcoholic.
"You surely know more about me than I know about you", Charles smiled, "but it's been good, this season has been great so far, I feel like we're in a really good path and things are working well", he took a sip from his cup, "the team have done such an incredible job".
"And the driver on the car doesn't have anything to do with that?", you squinted at his ever so modest take on things.
"I suppose I do", he blushed.
"I may have not been here, but I've watched every race - minus some of the ones at daft o'clock, I only watched those when my sleep was all messed up", you joked, "you're an essential part of this team, Charles, everyone can see that so you should give yourself more credit", you touched his arm.
Even though it had been years since you last saw eachother, you hit it off immediately and it seemed like no time had passed.
"And you? What is this work trip that brought you here?", Charles nodded.
"You're not the only one who gets to travel for work, alright?", you tsked, "I had to do a presentation on a conference and then the department invited me for a lecture, nothing big".
"Who's being ever so modest now, hm? That is fantastic, mon ange!", he congratulated before he noticed the words coming out of his mouth.
"When I noticed it fell around this weekend, I told my mum and she said that I should try and dip my foot here - I've been wanting to come to race sooner but...", you trailed off.
"I get it - it's hard going to the places that remind you of them", Charles took his hand in yours and squeezed it, "he was so cherished by the team, I'm sure everyone will be very happy to see you".
"Actually, I walked to the track today so I could see it up close before the race - I hoped it wouldn't be such a big shock once I got there on Friday -, and I bumped into Salvatore", you smiled, "he let me go into the garage and I saw everyone, it was really nice", you looked up so the tears on your eyes wouldn't fall.
"I can get you a pass, let me just text Silvia!", Charles said as he got his phone from his pocket with his free hand.
"She already did", you chirped, "apparently you booked two for your mother, so they had a spare one".
"You see, a couple of years ago, my mum was too late to tell me she was coming to the race and I was out of the guest passes, so I always have one on hold for her and I sent the list with her name on it as well", he admitted, "but it seems to have turned out just fine - meant to be even".
You ended up requesting room service for the two of you for dinner, neither feeling like going out of the room after feeling so comfortable there. Conversation was steady, vulnerability was easy to show and the butterflies were happily dancing on your tummy.
"I better get to my room, then", you stated once Charles told you about what he needed to do tomorrow once he was at the track.
"I didn't mean it that way - I'm fine!", he said after doing his best attempt at containing a big yawn, "I'm fine!".
"You're tired, and frankly so am I", you admitted as you got up from the bed.
"Would you like to come with me to the track tomorrow? If you don't have other plans that is", he mumbled the last part.
"I don't - I was just going to work a little bit, but if you find me a spot in the hospitality, I'll happily take my stuff there", you smiled reassuringly as you put on your shoes and headed to the door.
"I can take you to your room", Charles got up from the bed and followed you.
"No need, my room is just downstairs", you reasoned, kissing his cheek in a silent thank you still.
"That's right - so we'll go tomorrow after breakfast?", he rested his body on the door once you opened it.
"Yes, that works for me! Good night, Charles", you smiled before walking up to the elevator.
.
Walking inside the hospitalitynwith Salvatore and the rest of the team, he was quick to show you where you could set up.
"Charles likes to spend as much time as possible with the fans and it's right about now that they start becoming more and more and they're everywhere, too", he explained as he helped you in the table on the lounge area, "there's food and coffee in there if you need anything", Salvatore smiled, "if you need anything, just ask someone".
"Thank you - this is perfect", you assured, sitting down and working on your laptop and reading some of the books you had bought.
Charles and Carlos finally arrived at the hospitality, greeting the team and talking to them for a while before they headed upstairs for a meeting.
"You didn't tell me you had a girlfriend and you were bringing her here", Carlos told Charles as he poured some coffee on a mug after the meeting.
"I don't - I haven't brought a girlfriend here", Charles quirked an eyebrow at his team-mate.
"So who is that young woman you just smiled at and are pouring coffee for after giving her the heart eyes?", it was the spanish driver's turn to raise his eyebrows.
"Oh, Y/N!", Charles smiled as he mentioned your name, "she's an old friend! Her father was a mechanic before he passed away a few years ago - the older team members have known her since she was little, everyone loves her", he mused.
"Everyone loves her - I can see that", Carlos chuckled as he followed Charles to the table.
"We don't want to interrupt or disturb you too much", Charles announced as he set the mug next to your laptop.
"It's fine, sit sit!", you encouraged as you closed the books you no longer needed to make room for them, "I'm Y/N", you told Carlos.
"I'm Carlos", he smiled back, "nice to meet you", he said before you dove into conversation, discussing anything that popped into your minds and getting to know eachother.
"Don't let her fool you into believing she has always been a responsible, put together girl because she used to steal and hide all of our tools!", Antonio, one of the engineers pointed at you after he got himself a bottle of water, "Charles knows her tricks already but you, Carlos, don't fall for that!".
"You loved it every time I was on the computers and drew on Paint! You even had one of my drawings as the background for almost an entire season!", you threw at him as he approached you, patting the top of your head protectively.
"I'd like to see that! I've only known her since she was way older", Charles pouted.
"Jealous much?", Carlos teased, his voice above a whisper as Charles seemed to get flustered.
"Is it really that obvious?", the monégasque driver mumbled once you got up to get something to eat, "I've had a crush on her since I was a development driver".
"Why have you never said anything? She seems like she really cares about you too", Carlos mused as he thought to a few moments before where you too gqve him heart eyes. He would have to be blind to not notice it, and even then the energy between you too would still be felt.
"The timing wasn't right, I guess - her father passed away almost right after as I became a driver for Alfa Romeo, and she hasn't been in the paddock since. We have texted every now and again over the years and now she happened to be here for the race too", Charles offered.
"I'd say you should take a shot - trust me, she likes you back", Carlos patted Charles' shoulder after getting up, watching you go back to the table with a big smile on your face.
.
After Charles took pole position in qualifying, the team stayed a bit longer for the debrief, going over a few points of the discussion and the changes they still needed to make before the race.
"Y/N! We're having dinner at one of our favourite restaurants in town and I'm counting you in, okay?", Charles said as he spotted you in the garage, followed by Andrea, who had been keeping you company along with his brothers, Charlotte and Pascale.
"Your family is here for you, Charles, I don't want to intrude", you said as you got up, unaware of the Leclerc matriarch behind you.
"Chérie, of course you won't be intruding - we'd love to have you there!", Pascale chirped in.
"Well, in that case...!", you smiled, "just tell me where I should go and at what time, or are we going straight there?", you wondered.
"I was thinking we could go straight there if that's okay with you - you can can come with me and Andrea can ride with my brothers", Charles suggested, "unless you need to go back to the hotel", he quickly scrambled.
"No, I'm fine! Unless this outfit is not restaurant appropriate", you muttered as you looked down. Against all odds, you managed to not get any food stains on your dress. It was a midi skirt cut, flowy to allow your body to feel cool considering the warm Italian day.
"It's fine - you're fine, you look beautiful!", Charles was quick to assure you.
"Good, that's good then", you smiled before excusing yourself to go and get your things.
"You have to tell her, Charles - your affection is no use to either of you if you keept it in here", Pascale tapped her son's chest.
.
"Y/N", Charles called you before he had to go and get ready for the race, "I have something for you - we do", he said as some of the mechanics, including Salvatore, followed him.
"Oh, what is it?", you smiled.
"We commented with some guys back at the factory that you were here with is this weekend and they found something we thought you'd like to have", Salvatore said as he handed you a bag.
Looking inside, you noticed an old Ferrari cap and some embroidered lettering on the side, recognising it immediately. When you were a teenager, you decided to try different hobbies and hand embroidery was the one that stuck the most, so much so that on one of the race weekends, you embroidered caps for everyone on the team that asked you.
"My wife remembered the one I have at home and then the guys at Maranello found your father's and apparently one you did for Charles' as well", Salvatore offered as you took them both out.
"Dad always said he had plenty of embroidered things at home and this one was the one he had to travel with him", you chuckled as tears welled up in your eyes, feeling Charles soothingly rub your back.
"I remember getting this and loving it - I thought I had lost it!", Charles said, unaware if how close he was pulling you together so he could get a peek at the old caps.
"There's some loose string here", you chuckled, wiping the tears and fiddling with the red thread, "I didn't know how to properly tie it at the start, I kept losing it - I think I even glued it down at some point. Thank you for bringing this out", you smiled.
"Would you mind if I wore this for the driver's parade?", Charles asked you.
"I was planning on wearing my dad's while I watched the race", you offered, testing the fabric and placing it on your head before doing the same with Charles, fixing it on his head and looking up at him.
You never got over how handsome he was. The little scar on his cheek, his mole, the smile that never failed to make you smile, his beautiful green eyes. His kindness, his gentleness, his talent - there wasn't a way to deny how much you liked it. How much you liked him.
"We will be matching then!", Charles squeezed you against him before going to his driver's room.
Only when Charles was headed to take P1 on the grid did he hand the cap back to Salvatore and put on his helmet, giving you a wink before he left.
"How are you feeling?", Pascale asked as she sat next to you to watch the race. Over the last couple of days, she had grown close to you, not only because you had captured her son's heart and she wanted to get to know you, but also because Charles had told her how emotionally charged it was for you to be at the track, in Monza nonetheless.
"It's a lot", you admitted, "everyone has been so kind and warm, so all of the heavy feelings have been slowly infiltrating the good ones and it's been easier to deal with them like that", you blinked away a few tears.
"I get it", Pascale nodded, "losing someone is not easy, and I can't imagine what it feels like for you - the boys and I talk about my late husband every now and again and it gets easier to talk about it, I think that's what it is anyway".
"Yes, definitely like that. My mum and I have reached the point where we don't cry at every mention - despite what you might have noticed this weekend", you chuckled.
"It's emotional, chérie - I, for one, always cry whenever the boys achieve their goals. Hervé isn't here to see them, but I know he knows, and the boys know how proud he is of them", Pascale smiled, keeping some tears at bay too.
"You raised amazing young men, don't doubt that", you let out. At this point, you were sure she had noticed or had at least an inkling. As any mechanic for the red team who knew you since you were a kid would say, you were never a good liar - anytime you said you didn't touch something, they knew to look in your backpack first.
"Thank you, dear", she added, "you know, Charles is quite careful in who he lets in, but he's never been good at hiding how much he cares about someone and I can tell he cares a great deal about you".
"I care a lot about him too", you smiled before you were handed a pair of headphones each with the race about to start.
When Charles successfully kept the cars behind him away with a good gap, you clapped and watched the remaining laps number get smaller and smaller until there was only the current lap left.
Charlotte held your hand together with hers as you watched Charles be the first driver to see the checkered flag and when Xavi yelled "And P1!" into the radio, you did your happy dance, not having a care in the world about what others thought as you watched the Tifosi erupt in cheer.
"He did it! He did it!", Pascale clapped for her son, Arthur hugging her while Lorenzo did the same with his girlfriend while you softly touched your father's embroidered name on your cap with your fingers.
Running up to Parc Fermé, you stood in the sea of red, waiting for him to come back and hug them.
"You did so well, congratulations!", you said as you pulled Charles for a hug.
"Had my good luck charm with me!", he smiled back, kissing your cheek as he took advantage of you being shielded by the mechanics and engineers.
The team celebratory dinner was going really well, everyone happy with how the weekend panned out with both drivers on the podium and enjoying the meal on the restaurant's outside patio.
"If you guys want dessert, they're going to set them out on that table and you can grab as much as you like", Fred spread the message as you could see all kinds of sweet foods being brought out, a pudding catching your eye along with some raspberries.
You and Charles got the dessert plates and served yourselves, noticing the staff was already clearing up the tables, meaning you'd have to move to the bar area, many people opting to skip dessert and get some drinks instead.
"You can see the stars so clearly tonight", you mused as you looked up at the sky, setting your plate on the high table.
"My father always said that the stars did shine brighter here, and tonight the sky is very clear", Charles hummed in agreement, looking at your face. The moonlight and the dim lighting for the lamps and fairy lights illuminated all your features perfectly - your smile as you looked up formed the dimples on your cheeks, your eyes that were a tiny bit squinty and the way your whole body seemed relaxed.
The goosebumps on your arms caught his eye though, "here, have this", Charles said as he offered you the cardigan he had carried around all night since according to him his mother made him do it because it would be cold.
"Thanks", you smiled as you pulled the sleeves and folded them around your wrist so they would fit better, "this is really comfy, I might steal this if you don't ask for it back", you joked.
"I don't mind if you keep it, you have had my heart all these years", Charles stated. There it was.
"What?", you faced him, heart beating fast inside your chest.
"It's true, I've had a crush on you since I first met you, and these past couple of days have been amazing, and I can't believe it took me all these years to realize how I truly feel about you Y/N", he told you, no stutter or sign of regret on his face.
"I haven't been around, really, it's my fault", you fiddled with your thumbs before looking at him again, "but I can't lose you again".
"You never lost me, amour", he smiled as his eyes flickered between your eyes and your lips, his hand cupping your cheek your mouth pressed on his, ignoring everything and everyone around you.
Interrupting the kiss for air, Charles giggled as you hid your face in his neck once you heard the cheers and whistles, your lashes tickling him as his arms circled your waist and pulled you closer to him.
"He wins inside the track and outside of it, Charles Leclerc, P1 to Y/N's heart!", Carlos shouted before whistling again.
"Just so you know, I want an invite to your wedding!", Salvatore pointed his finger at you, "I still remember when you invited me for your wedding with Vettel!".
"You and Seb?", Charles chuckled once you pulled away from his neck.
"Sebastian was my favourite when I was little", you giggled, hiding your face on Charles' chest this time, "when he was back in RedBull still, I asked my father to ask him if he could take a photo with me and I cherished that for so many years - it was my most prized possession!".
"I can't promise you Seb, but I can promise you the very best of me", Charles said as he kissed the top of your head.
#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc fanfic#charles leclerc fic#charles leclerc fluff#charles leclerc x reader#f1 fluff#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 imagine#f1 x reader
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Listen yall, I know we hate Enji right. Totally hate him.
But like... 👀
Sugar daddy?
Imagine being Enji Todoroki's sugar baby, because my friends say I'm crazy when I say this AND I'M NOT CRAZY!
Warning: Some smut towards the end, INTENSE daddy issues (Glitch starts sweating), Age Gap.
Big bad fire lord Enji who's a father who's children don't trust him. He views himself as a father who failed and considering they are all old enough that they have their own careers, they don't want to rely on him anymore.
Enji who has enough money to burn because his kids wont let him spend it on them.
Divorced, Enji Todoroki who doesn't even want to attempt entering the dating scene because he just knows how that is going to go.
Enji who's still Number One, just waiting for Shoto's generation to finish being sidekicks and burst into the ProHero space and take over the ranks..
Enji who gets dragged to meet and greet one day with Hawks (who only has like a handful of people actually wanting to meet him since everyone is scared of him), and one of them just happens to be you.
You aren't afraid of him, nor do you seem to care that he is a giant muscular man, over twice your size with hands big enough to cover your entire face.
You talk too much, you flutter around him excitedly asking him about how it is as Number One, he isn't your favourite hero by any means but you respect his career and what he's had to do to get there.
He finds you annoying, but he can't help but crack a smile when you attempt to make him laugh.
Enji who finds himself thinking about you at the end of the day, in his empty home wondering whether you would smile as big as you did today.
Enji who meets you a few days later while at a coffee shop by pure coincidence. Who actually gets the courage to talk to you and ask about you.
The two of you talk for a few minutes, you telling him about what course in varsity you were in and what exactly you were doing.
He honestly wanted to throw in the towel when he found out you were nearly twenty years younger than him. That sounded like his next scandal.
However, you managed to make him feel as if time just ran by.
Somehow, between getting to know you better and managing to actually get your number, he found out that you were struggling financial. Your average student that was just trying to make enough money to survive and pay off the student debt you were in.
So Enji decided to help. Not because he wanted anything back, but he had the money that you could use.
That's how Enji became your Sugar Daddy, although he hated the term. He was something like a boyfriend but not really. A Sugar daddy but not really.
The both of you grew close, your own issues and traumas fueling your relationship. He was a failed father and you felt like a failed daughter.
He found pleasure in the little things. In having you hold his hand and drag him around the mall, your eyes catching on clothes that you would love to wear or him buying you a new laptop because yours was old or buying you a new phone because you got a good grade, or him sitting you down for a nice meal because you deserved to taste good wine more than ten times older than you.
However, Enji wasn't expecting to have you come into his home and wind your way into his bed.
Enji was not weak by any means. His self control was impeccable and so was his own strength.
However, having you hold onto his shoulders as you struggled to take his fat Coke can of a cock, was a type of rush he didn't expect to find again. To have you whining, telling him how big he was, how warm his skin was and how nice he felt inside you, all around you. He could encage you so easily too.
He wasn't rough at you the first time. He was slow and methodically, watching you undo yourself on his cock in pure bliss. You whined as you held onto him for dear life, almost as if you were afraid he would disappear. But Enji didn't disappear.
He was right there, and he held his large arms around you. He would rather die than have you, his little flame, disappear and be snuffed out of his life.
-Glitch1d
(random thought honestly)
#enji todoroki x reader#enji x reader#enji todoroki#enji todoroki x reader smut#enji todoroki smut#endeavor x reader#endeavor smut#todoroki enji x reader#todoroki enji x reader smut#todoroki enji smut
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tutoring
contains smut!! mdni
warnings: smut, giving head, fucking your professor, office sex, shitty writing ngl
pairing: alex blake x f!reader (professor x student dynamic)
summary: Alex Blake's star student needs some tutoring, which turns rather spicy
a/n: dont be afraid to reach out to me if you have any prompt/drabble suggestions, but i’m not sure when i’ll get to them since im really busy with school
read on ao3 or below the cut
For the entire year you’ve been nothing but the most perfect student. You got full marks, was never late, always turned assignments in on time, and you were actually nice to anyone who sat around you in class.
So it came to you as a surprise, when in your second year, your linguistics professor, dr. Alex Blake, told you that you might need some tutoring, so you could get ahead of everyone else in class. You had her last year as well, and to say you had a crush on her was an mild understatement. So to spend more one-on-one time with her… it was an offer too good to say no to.
It quickly became your favourite part of the week. Every Friday evening at 6:50pm, just after your last class, walking towards her office so you’d be there 7:00pm, and then leave with pain in your heart at 8:30pm, while every bone in your body was shouting at you to chat with her for just a little longer. Your ears dying to hear her voice just one more time before going to bed, your eyes wanting to look at her once more, your hands wanting to roam over her body, discovering every curve and freckle on her delicate skin.
This Friday was no different. Almost speeding down the corridors so you could get to her office a little early, so that you two could catch up just a little more before starting the tutoring.
Arriving there at 6:55, which is a record, you knocked at her door, waiting for her approval of coming inside.
“It’s open!” Her slightly raspy voice sounded muffled from where you were standing. But even that could make your knees weak. The things she would whisper in almost the same tone, just a tat more sulkier, as her hands roamed over your body, her strap made hard thrusts into your-
“Are you coming inside or not?” A voice shook you out of your daydream, as Alex Blake stood there in her doorframe, looking down at you.
“Oh yeah, uhm of course,” You franticly speak out, putting your entire linguistics education to shame.
You followed her inside, your eyes focused on her ass, I mean her walls filled with interesting books you couldn’t wait to dive into (same goes for her ass, but that’s just a tat… inappropriate).
The rest of the lesson went smoothly, as you put your feelings on the side line, and fully focussed on the things she was explaining to you.
The last couple of minutes you get a little side tracked, now talking about your hobbies, as her hand brushed past hers as you were explaining how sharks can’t get cavities and some sharks can glow in the dark.
When it finally gets to the time where you should leave, she walks you to the door. As you turn your back towards her, you hear her say; “You think I didn’t notice you staring at my ass and boobs all semester?”
Your face turns a bright red, as you slowly turn around. “Fuck,” You mutter under your breath. She walks closer, and closer to you, her hands eventually landing on her hips.
She looked down at you, her eyes filled with something that almost looked like… lust?
“Professor,” You mutter out, your hands still awkwardly on your sides. “Tell me you don’t want this, baby,” She whispers, her hot breath brushing over your ear as she moves closer to you.
“Please, I want this,” You whisper out, your voice raspy from desperation.
“Good, then it’s Alex or mommy for you, pretty girl,”
Just as those words left her lips, she pushed them on yours, absolutely taking your breath away. It was soft, but she was also so dominating. It was everything you’ve ever dreamt of, and more. Way, and way more.
Alex pushed you backwards until she has you pinned to the door, her hands now roaming close to the bottom of your sweater. Your hands moving to tangle into her brown hair that was framing her face. “You sure you want to do this, baby?” The professor said as she pulled away.
You desperately nod your head, as your hands attempt to pull her face closer again.
“No, darling, I have to have vocal consent,” her hands played with the bottom of your shirt. “I- please, Alex, I need you so bad, please mommy,” The moment she heard that last word leave your lips, she pushed her lips to yours again, sliding her tongue into your mouth, exploring every single centimetre that she could reach. Her hands slipped into your sweater, discovering every curve until she reached your breasts.
Her lips travelled south, softly biting your neck. “Gosh, you’re so gorgeous for me, baby,” her voice radiated a warmth through you, that ended up all the way into your pussy.
She bit into your skin, making you let out a soft moan. “Please, mommy, I need more,” You pant out, your hands pushing her head down. “Shhh baby, I’ll get there, I promise,”
Her teasing didn’t seem to end, leaving a countless amount of hickeys and bite marks all over your neck.
Finally, after what seemed both hours and seconds, her hands grasped onto the sweater. “Can I take this off?” The brunette looked into your half closed eyes, her eyes filled with nothing but love and need. “Yeah, please,” the words came harder than you ever could’ve expected.
Finally, she took off your shirt. She stood there, allowing herself to take in this moment, cause who knows when the next time will be when she can see you like this (which will most likely be next Friday, if not sooner).
Your needy hands pulled onto the rim of her shirt. “Off,” you murmured. All Alex just did was grant you a smile and the little nod that allowed you to pull the shirt over her head. Your eyes scanned over her body, desperate to remember absolutely everything about her. Every freckle, curve and ‘imperfection’ that was scattered over her skin.
“You done staring, baby?”
“Mm, you’re really pretty,” you whisper, as your hands wander over her exposed skin.
“Oh, well thank you baby.” She kissed the tip of your nose, making you let out a small giggle. “I think you’re really pretty as well.”
Her hands slide towards your ass, “Take them off, please,” You practically beg.
“Your wish is my command,”
She quickly pulled down your trousers and underwear, throwing it somewhere on the floor. The linguist picked you up with ease and carried you to her desk, where she put you on.
The brunette immediately dove into your pussy, eating you eat like it was your last meal. Her tongue lapping up your juices.
It was just embarrassing as to how close you already were. Your thighs were shaking, you back arching and your hands pushing her head impossibly closer to where you needed her the most. “Mommy, I’m so close, please,” You moan out.
“Are you coming inside or not?” A voice shook you out of your daydream, as Alex Blake stood there in her doorframe, looking down at you.
#alex blake x reader#ao3 writer#fanfic#ao3#criminal minds#smut#fanfiction#ao3 fanfic#wlw post#wlw ns/fw#mdni#18+ mdni
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Setting the scene
Work in progress for my next story to tell. One (two!) I have been looking forward to telling for literally 5 years. We’re getting ready for a Monte Vista Wedding...
#TS3#the sims 3#TS3WIP#Eva#Jasper#and all my favourite students get to come too#and bring their personal drama#wedding#monte vista
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not to project too hard onto a fictional character but at what point did it just become so standard for John to get high grades in academics that his family stopped acknowledging it because that was the norm
#is this bc i told my family about my results and literally no one said anything despite responding to my second question#so i know they saw it#yes 😔#come on fam I'm allowed to be proud and excited and I want to share that 🥺🥺🥺🥺#yes I DO want to be told congrats for every result I worked hard for that!!#how is it that my friends and colleagues are more hyped than you i don't get it#(i will make character sad for the same reasons as me watch out)#anyway my family are very lovely but alas tall poppy syndrome is rampant#and i'm just more senstive bc the sads are here for other reasons#but also dude :(#idk#also this is not a post meant to be like john's soooo much smarter than everyone else bc he is not and I'll die on that hill#they're all smart#but i do like the idea of him being into academics and basing just a bit too much of his self esteem on his grades#and falling just a wee bit on the arrogant side of pride when it comes to those smarts#bc that is something I do unfortunately relate to 🤪🤪#forreal physics students get a bit of a god complex and are super insufferable for a few years source: me#so#am i rambling to make myself feel better yes#poking fun at john is a favourite past time of mine what can i say#anyway releasing this into the world bc screw it#then I should probs make dinner bc it's getting a bit late
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training wheels | k.h.j
pairing : Professor!Hongjoong x innocent!reader ft!Wooyoung
♡₊˚( wrote this listening to ‘training wheels’ by Melanie Martinez)
summary: Too innocent for your own good, your professor's little hidden crush only grows the more he could spend time with you. You were so pure before his eyes. A sweet young woman who deserves the sweetest kind of love but still had trouble in paradise with her boyfriend…but he’ll be there for you. After all, he only wants what’s best for you and to protect you.
wc: 10.7k
cw: University AU, smut, coquette-ish fem!innocent reader, virgin reader, slightly older Hongjoong, manipulation, obsessive stalker-ish behavior, yandere behavior, corruption kink, cheating , frat boy behavior from Maknae line, oral!male receiving, there'll be more spice in the next part
REMINDER : my works do not represent the irl members in any way, this is purely a work of FICTION.
a/n: hello so it’s been awhile and this has been cooling in my drafts for so long. Special thanks to @songmingisthighs for helping me whenever I’m stuck with writing and for being one of my favourite persons on this app 😭i wanted to write something that isn’t apart of the Sway With Me universe just for a change and a breather ( I hope you guys don’t mind that). I just wanted to write.
- this is will be a two part series!
READ CONTENT WARNING BEFORE READING!
DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE, OR OTHERWISE REPURPOSE ANY OF MY WORK HERE. I DO NOT NOR WILL ALLOW IT.
Note: Hongjoong is a couple years older but he’s still young for a professor. Maknae Line is in their last year of Uni and is part of the University’s Varsity baseball team.Y /N is innocent ( smh). Kinda coquettish vibes but yuh, sweet girl.
The rain storming outside made anxiety bubble in your chest as you clutched your laptop bag and books tight. You glanced at your phone, the bright red bar of the little battery icon glaring at you. That just made your situation even worse and it didn’t help that the last message you saw was the reason you were stranded here in the first place.
“I’m so sorry sweetheart. The team meeting is going overtime tonight. Get home safe. Please message me when you’re home.”
You waited for him. You should be angry at him but instead, you were only heartbroken and sad that he didn’t keep his word. You were frustrated that you couldn’t even hate him the slightest bit for forgetting to pick you up and the sudden downpour was just the cherry on top.
“Ms. L/N, is that you?”
That voice. That familiar tone that you heard every Monday and Wednesday from 8 am til 10 am. The voice that made your Art Appreciation lecture so interesting that you’re excited to come early every morning to learn sounded from behind you.
You turned around and quickly bowed your head in his direction out of respect.
“Mr.Kim.”
The young professor frowned at your presence.
“It is you. What are you still doing here?” He asked, extending his arm a bit to glance at his silver watch. “It’s almost 11 pm.”
“I-It started raining…” was all you could say. You couldn’t nor want to admit to your university professor the real reason why you were stranded on campus.
“Indeed…,” he gently grasped your arm and pulled you into the covered shade of the hall. “Do you need a ride home, Ms. L/N? I was just about to leave and go home but I can drop you off at the nearest bus stop or if you’d like, your home.”
His offer made your heart melt. Mr. Kim Hongjoong has always been so kind and sweet to his students. He has always shown such care and patience to their studies and well-being, and as the many girls in your classroom would whisper amongst each other, he was also very handsome. Which was a fact everyone in the whole campus knew.
“I don’t want to be of a hassle to you, Sir. I can wait for the rain to stop.” You tried to kindly turn down his offer, not wanting to bother him but also you felt it was inappropriate for a student to be in any proximity to a professor alone.
“Ms. L/N, it’s late and the rain doesn’t look like it’s going to stop anytime soon. I assure you it is not a bother to take you home. I’ll be worried if I just left you here.”
He was right. Both about the rain and the time, and you’re never out this late. Well at least not alone and it made you antsy. Mr. Kim looked at you with so much care in dark brown eyes that it felt impossible to say no to his kind offer.
“O-okay.”
And that’s how you found yourself in the passenger seat of your professor's fancy car.
You looked around subtly observing the luxurious interior of the vehicle. It smelled like new leather and Mr. Kim’s cologne. Your phone buzzed breaking your little observation as Mr. Kim typed in the location of your apartment into his phone GPS.
“Baby? Are you home? Please let me know.” The text message notification shone brightly.
You let out a little sigh.
Hongjoong couldn’t help but notice your rather wilted demeanor. He looked over you in the corner of his eye as he started the car. Little did you know, he was admiring your look today. You didn’t have class with him on Fridays so seeing today was rather…refreshing. Baby pink always looked so pretty on you, he thought to himself. Your blouse almost had a ballet-like aesthetic to it, it wrapped around your torso so elegantly and gently accentuated your curves. It was matched with a very pretty flowy white skirt that wasn’t too short nor too long, and there was a thin pink ribbon in your hair, the finishing touch to your very sweet ensemble. You always dressed so cute.
“Are you okay, Ms. L/N?” He asked his voice so calm and gentle that it calmed your silent frustration.
“Not really…” you muttered your gaze down at the hem of your skirt, your books, and your laptop sleeve on your lap.
The defeated expression you wore made the older man’s heartache for you. He didn’t like to see you like this. You were like a ray of gentle sunshine whenever you entered his classroom, a doe in a beautiful blooming field of flowers that radiated warmth that made anyone and everyone around you comfortable and calm. It was odd to see you like this.
“If you want to talk about it I’m all ears,” he offered with a smile, reaching behind the head of your passenger seat and glancing behind as he reversed up his car from the parking lot.
Your heart raced at the gesture. You didn’t know what about it was making you feel all flustered and small. His kind words and warm tone made it hard to keep your emotions in. Maybe you can just tell him…a little bit.
“I waited for my boyfriend to pick me up…but he didn’t come.” You murmured, heart aching as you said those words.
Hongjoong’s heart dropped, and he raised a brow at what you just said. Your boyfriend didn’t show up?
“I know I shouldn’t be so upset…it’s just he promised. I understand he has obligations to his team…I just feel like he forgot about me.”
Your sweet voice was so small. Hongjoong wanted nothing more than to soothe you and reassure you. Underneath all of that, he was bubbling with irritation. He kept a softened and caring expression on his face as he listened to you, gripping the stirring wheel to hide his annoyance.
“I-I’m sorry to hear that,” he said so sympathetically. “You’re such a sweet girl to be so understanding of your boyfriend. If I remember correctly your boyfriend is…”
“Wooyoung.” You whispered his name, your lips between your teeth as you tried to hold back your disappointed tears and hurt.
Hongjoong’s jaw tightened.
Right.
Jung Wooyoung.
“Ah…yes. The university’s baseball star.” He was also a student in one of his classes. A heartthrob along with his best friend and Baseball Vice Captain, Choi San.
“I’ll feel better when I get home and sleep it off.” You didn’t want to talk about him forgetting to pick you up any longer.
“If you don’t mind me asking, Ms. L/N, how long have you been together?” He asked, hoping his question was not so out of the blue as he continued to drive.
“Almost three months now, Mr. Kim.” You replied, the idea of being with Wooyoung for so long making you a little happy despite tonight’s disappointment.
Lucky bastard. “Oh, that’s very recent.”
“I know…but he’s very sweet to me. He takes care of me and he really makes me happy.” You listed the good things that always made your heart flutter. Your sweet loving boyfriend who had pursued you and never pushed for anything you weren’t ready for. If you were to describe your relationship with Wooyoung, it was like the love you see in the movies.
“That’s good to hear. You’re one of my sweetest students and I’d be worried if you weren’t happy,” Hongjoong smiled, earning the reaction he wanted and expected from someone as innocent as you.
Your pretty eyes widened at his words and you looked even shyer. He wondered if that’s why your boyfriend was attracted to you.
You didn’t know what to say but there was a small smile on your face when he called you one of his sweetest students.
“Thank you, sir.”
Sir.
Hongjoong’s night was getting better than he could ever imagine. First, the surprise of seeing you still on campus alone as he left, then you accepting his offer to drive you home, and now, Sir? For a long time, he loved how that name slipped from your pretty glossed lips.
“I’m sure your boyfriend feels really guilty about not having shown up. Sometimes these things happen.” Hongjoong tried to reassure you, not really wanting to defend the University senior you were seeing but he needed to say what you wanted or needed to hear.
You take his words as it is. He was older than you so he knew about these things more than you. He was wiser. He was right, these things do happen. Wooyoung did apologize too. So maybe it’s not as bad as you were making it out to be.
Hongjoong noticed how you sat up a little, no longer sulking so cutely in the passenger seat. He smirked a little to himself, his eyes on the road. Did you trust his words that much? Was that how much power he had over you?
You were too innocent it concerned him.
You were truly a doe in a field of flowers. So pretty and so completely oblivious to the wolves hiding in the tall grass. He was sure your boyfriend was one of them and that he too had a deep dark desire for your innocence.
“Is this your place?” He pulled up outside an apartment complex, people passing by in the street as he looked up at the building observing it.
“Yes, it is!” You chirped, happy that you were able to get home safely and it was all thanks to your kind and sweet professor. “Thank you so much, Mr. Kim. I really appreciate it. I really cannot thank you enough…and talking to you made me feel better. I’m really lucky that you were here tonight.”
Hongjoong smiled, holding back from reaching over to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear. He didn’t want to scare you away.
“If you ever find yourself in any kind of trouble, Ms. L/N, you can come to me okay? Here,” he reached into his pocket, getting his card but writing down his personal phone number in the back of it before holding it your way.
Like he expected you didn’t think much of it, what a sweet girl.
“Mr. Kim you’re so kind.” You took the pretty name card with his phone number in the back. “I don’t get into trouble but I appreciate this. Thank you.”
“Let me help you get inside, okay?” He got out of his car with an umbrella, going over to your side to open the passenger seat door and to hold the umbrella over you and him so that he could escort you to your apartment lobby.
You stepped out of the car and blushed when you felt his arm wrap around your shoulders to gently guide you to the sidewalk and your apartment lobby. He made sure you were dry and safe and also took note of how an access card is needed to get in. He was glad you lived somewhere so safe.
You thanked him again, unable to look him in the eyes because the warm smile on his face was making your heart flutter.
“Now I can go home without worrying if you got back safe,” he lightheartedly teased, making you giggle. He was such a kind person. “Take care of yourself, Ms. L/N. I’ll see you on Monday.”
“Enjoy your weekend, Sir.” You bowed your head respectfully, appreciating how handsome he was in his coat and suit. It made him look like a character from the dramas you see on television.
Monday rolled around quicker than you thought while Hongjoong found the weekend went by agonizingly slow. As he set up his laptop in the lecture hall as other students filed in, he couldn’t help but anticipate your arrival. He kindly smiled and greeted the students who had the energy to wish him a good morning, he even kept glancing at your seat that was still empty.
Were you not well? Did you catch a cold over the weekend from the rain on Friday night?
“You really didn’t have to walk me, Woo.”
Your gentle soft voice made the professor perk up and his heart race a little. Subtly, he glanced at the door, more students entering but behind them in the hall was you.
“Hey, I still feel guilty about not having picked you up on Friday. I’m gonna make it up to you.” Wooyoung placed his hand on your waist, feeling the soft fabric of your skirt. “You’re too nice if you’re just gonna let me off the hook. I’m gonna be extra attentive, okay baby?”
Hongjoong narrowed his eyes at the young dark-haired boy, his varsity jacket telling everyone that passed who he was and the status he had in the university. He zeroed in on the hand on your waist, Wooyoung’s thumb caressing you gently and his fingers even playing with the cute ribbons on your skirt.
“O-okay,” you blushed, trying to fight back the giddy smile that was forming on your face.
Wooyoung grinned at your response and glanced left and right before pulling you closer til you were pressed against him. Your wide eyes looked up at him in surprise and you got your body tingling when both his hands rested on your waist.
Your fluster only made your handsome boyfriend grin even more with that twinkle in his eyes that always made you feel special.
“You have a nice day, okay?” He whispered and before you could respond, without a care in the world and with no shame if any other student passing would see, he leaned down and kissed your glossed lips.
Heat bloomed in your cheeks. This was different from the soft pecks and quick kisses he’d give, these were the kisses you liked from him. The deep ones that made your head feel all hazy. The one that made heat pool in your lower belly.
Wooyoung pulled back and pressed another kiss on your forehead. “I’ll see you for lunch.”
“O-okay.” You murmured, feeling everyone’s curious eyes on both of you and wanting to remain hidden by Wooyoung’s form.
Wooyoung smiled and then licked his lips. “Oh? Strawberry?”
The mention of your flavored lip gloss made you look up at him, a cheeky smile plastered on his face.
“You’re gonna have me craving you all morning, baby.” He dramatically placed a hand over his chest. “How will I ever survive? One more.” He tried to go for another kiss and you squealed as he pulled you back.
“Woo, I have class!”
“But strawberry!” He pouted as he kept you in his embrace, some students rolling their eyes at the two of you and some finding the two of you cute and amusing. Wooyoung’s teammates from down the hall caught wind of the two of you and hooted.
“Sorry to interrupt but I’ll be starting my lecture soon.”
The voice of Mr. Kim made your eyes widen as embarrassment made you want to hide from his gaze.
“Oh, Mr. Kim,” Wooyoung spoke his professor's name with no shame of getting caught being affectionate with his girlfriend. “Morning!”
Hongjoong could only manage a nod to his greeting before turning to you, still in your boyfriend’s hold and unable to look him in the eyes.
“Ms. L/N, class starts in five minutes.” He spoke sternly, his tone making your lips form a small pout.
The way you reacted to him made the older man before you swoon. God, you were too cute.
“Yes, sir.”
There it was again. The way you said ‘sir’ all defeated and cute.
“Sorry, Mr. Kim.” Wooyoung apologized. “My bad.” He removed his varsity jacket and draped it over your shoulders before kissing your cheek. “I’ll see you at lunch, baby.”
Then Wooyoung sauntered away with a swing in his step and his bag over one shoulder, on his way to his respective class.
“Sorry, Mr. Kim.” You murmured, keeping your gaze down and hugging your books to your chest as you went inside the room along with the last few students who arrived.
Hongjoong watched as you made your way to your seat. Your pretty skirt swayed with each step and he wondered if skirts made up most of your wardrobe. It must be such a delight for your boyfriend.
Loosening the grip he had on his pen as he watched the whole interaction between you and Wooyoung, he smiled at his students. What mattered the most to him was you were safe. You were here and you were safe and well. Never mind the fact that you and your boyfriend easily made up from Friday night’s incident.
You were here.
The lecture was an enjoyable one not only for the students but him as well. As he discussed the significance of art during the Roman Empire, his students were all hooked in with his explanations and discussions, and even he got carried away excitedly with every question and topic.
“Mr. Kim is so hot.” A classmate beside you, Jennie, whispered to her friend, the two of them giggling as your professor shared his knowledge with the class.
“And he’s so nice too. You think he’s a virgin?” Minsol whispered back and you felt your heart grow hot listening to them.
You fidgeted in your seat and tried to block them out, focusing on Professor Kim.
“He’s so young to be a professor. Maybe he spent all that time studying to the max, you know! Maybe he is!”
“He’s so cute.” Minsol chuckled. “But then he’s so sexy when he pushes his hair back.”
And almost as if on cue, Mr. Kim ran his fingers through his dark brown locks, pushing them back as he smiled at his students in awe at the discussion.
He was handsome. You admitted that a long time ago. Attractive? Yes. But he was your professor. It was wrong to think of him the way Jennie and Minsol were.
Til now, their voices couldn’t be blocked out completely.
“I’d gladly blow him for a good grade,” Jennie whispered, her eyes looking Hongjoong up and down.
“Jennie!” Minsol playfully smacked her friend, her voice still hushed.
“What? Just think of it. Goody two shoes Mr.Kim so kind and worried that your grades are slipping, and then you tell him you’d do anything to raise your grade.” Jennie described the scenario so vividly. “No one needs to know what goes on behind closed doors.”
Your heart was racing in your chest as you listened to the fantasy. It didn’t help that Mr. Kim was right there before your eyes as Jennie’s voice whispered discreetly to her friend such a scandalous scenario.
“But it won’t stop there.”
That piqued your interest and you felt ashamed to have been so curious.
“He has a nice car too. Imagine fucking in the backseat of that luxury car way past campus hours in secret.”
Your heart thumped strongly at the mention of his car. You had been in his car and the dirty thought of Mr. Kim being all over your body and kissing you in the spacious backseat crossed your mind.
You couldn’t help but rub your thighs together.
Hongjoong’s eyes scanned all his students, happy that they were enjoying the class but paused when he saw you. Your body was swallowed by your boyfriend’s big varsity jacket and you looked flustered, even biting your glossed lips, fidgeting in your seat.
Then he saw the two girls next to you giggling and gossiping. What were they talking about that was making you blush so much? Briefly, your eyes moved from your notebook and locked with his but you immediately looked down when you saw that he had been looking your way.
Hongjoong could only assume they were talking about him. In what way? He wasn’t sure but it was a way that was making you look even shyer and could he dare say, hot and bothered?
Then the bell rang.
“Alright, we’ll continue the discussion on Wednesday and I’ll hand you all your Renaissance art period essays that I already graded then. Have a nice day.” Hongjoong’s elegant and calm voice echoed in the lecture hall, as he made his way behind his desk, sitting out the papers.
A chorus of thanks was sent his way as the students little by little exited the lecture hall. He looked your way, watching as you packed your things and gathered your books.
“Hey, Y/N!” Jennie turned to you. “How are you and your stud of a boyfriend?”
“Oh, m-me and Woo?” Your lashes fluttered so prettily as Hongjoong pretended he couldn’t hear you and the girls.
“Yeah! We saw you two being all cute and kissy out in the hall.” Minsol chuckled as she touched up her makeup with powder.
“We’re great.” You couldn’t stop the happy smile on your face as you thought of your boyfriend.
“He’s your first boyfriend, right? Have you two…you know….”
Your brows furrowed. “Have we what?”
Hongjoong fought his sigh at how oblivious you were.
Minsol’s eyes widened as she snapped her compact closed and leaned over. “You guys haven’t?”
“What are you two talking about?” You tilted your head like a puppy.
The two girls exchanged looks of shock.
“Y/N…” Jennie leaned closer, lowering her voice even further but Hongjoong’s ears were sharp. “Are you a virgin?”
Immediately, your face was burning as you hugged your books to your chest, wanting to cover your face with Wooyoung’s jacket.
“Holy shit!” Minsol exclaimed then realized she had been loud. She looked towards the whiteboard and saw Mr. Kim looking at the three of you questioningly. “Uh…sorry Mr. Kim!”
Hongjoong only smiled and he shook his head, returning to his papers and was glad that he was sitting behind his desk as the idea of you never being touched morphed from shock and into desire. He kind of guessed you were…but dating the star athlete and heartthrob of the campus made him second guess that you were.
“Girl, you need to come with us!” Jennie hooked her arm with yours and Minsol on the other as the two of you made your way out of the lecture hall.
“Bye, Mr. Kim!” They chimed as they dragged you out with them.
“B-bye, sir.” Your little voice reached his ears as the three of you finally left him alone in the empty hall.
Hongjoong hunched over, crossing his arms on his desk as he groaned.
You were driving him insane.
What’s worse was that you didn’t even intend to do so.
He wanted you.
He needed you.
As the afternoon passed, Hongjoong made his way to his office. The hall was empty as students were in their classes or their club activities. It was peaceful til he heard hushed whispers ahead from an empty classroom, the door only slightly ajar.
The professor frowned. Were there students doing another weed deal on campus? Before concluding, through the very small gap of the wooden double doors, he took a peek.
“S-someone could walk in.”
Was that his sweet Y/N’s voice? Hongjoong’s heart began to race.
“Baby, I promise no one is. This room is always vacant at this hour.” Wooyoung reassured you, kissing your neck as his hands roamed your body, specifically caressing your thighs that were parted as he stood between them.
Hongjoong swallowed the lump in his throat.
Perched on the large mahogany desk, was you. Your skirt was hiked up higher as your boyfriend pressed against you, his paws all over your soft body, feeling you through your clothes.
“You look so sexy in my jacket,” Wooyoung whispered in your ear, his hand moving lower til they were under your skirt. “I couldn’t stop thinking of how good you looked during lunch.”
You softly yelped when his fingers pressed against your core through your cotton panties. “W-woo!”
“Awe, baby, are you getting wet? All for me?”
“W-woo,” you whimpered when he traced his fingers along your slit, embarrassed at the dirty talk.
“Fuck, you’re soaking through your panties, baby. Tell me you want me to touch you. Ask me and I’ll make you feel good, baby.”
You wanted him to keep touching you but you felt a little guilty. You had started to feel hot way earlier than your boyfriend knew. Jennie and Minsol’s hushed whispering from class about Mr. Kim…ashamedly had made you ache.
“M-make me feel good, Woo.”
Your boyfriend groaned against your neck, rubbing you through your panties. “My pretty baby. You deserve so much.”
Your back arched when he applied more pressure to your clit.
“I’ll make you feel good, baby. I promise…. but I won’t make your first time here in a classroom.” He kissed your neck messily, licking your skin.
“But Youngie…” you didn’t want him to stop touching you. He has touched you like this many times before when he came over but it never went past that. He didn’t want to force you into something you weren’t ready for but as time passed and the more you fell for him, you’ve been wanting to go all the way with him.
“Don’t worry, baby. I’ll make you cum. I’ll be a good boyfriend and let my pretty girlfriend cum.” He kissed your forehead, slipping his hand under your panties to truly feel you. “You’re so wet, baby.” He moaned, collecting your slick and spreading it all over your pussy.
“Youngie,” you whimpered, gripping his shirt as your thighs trembled at the delicious friction.
“I love it when you call me that,” he sighed, repressing the urge that he indeed in fact wanted to ruin his pretty untouched girlfriend. He loved you and he wanted to treat you right as best as he could. You weren’t like the other girls he’s been with. He liked how you looked at him with stars in your eyes.
Your thighs squeezed at his sides unable to close as he continued to play with your pussy, touching you heavily and the way you liked. You couldn’t help but softly moan and pant at the intoxicating pleasure.
Hongjoong was burning with jealousy. A part of him wanted to disrupt the two of you and scold the two of you for misconduct as he had every right as a professor to do so. But…you looked so pretty falling apart for your boyfriend. Brows furrowed as your lips part and sigh, the setting sun hitting your skin in such a way that the lewd imagery before him was like a movie. He could feel his desire straining in his trousers. He wanted to watch.
“Youngie,” you whimpered so prettily.
Hongjoong took note of how your back arched when Wooyoung nibbled and kissed at a spot on your neck. You must be extra sensitive there. He also imagined how soft your breasts would be if he was the one cupping them through your cute blouse.
“You close baby?” Wooyoung rasped against your ear, rubbing your clit faster, making you lean your head forward to rest on his chest.
“Nuh-uh,” Wooyoung clicked his tongue, his right hand leaving your breast to grab you by the chin, making you look at him. “Let me see your pretty face, baby.” He swiped his thumb over your lower lip and bit his lip when you suddenly took his digit into your mouth, softly sucking on it. Where the fuck did you learn to do that? “C’mon, baby. Cum. Cum for me.”
You released his thumb with a soft pop, your lips even glossier from your gloss and saliva. You were panting and moaning so cutely, Wooyoung felt he was going to cum in his pants just at the sight of you getting off his fingers. He massaged your clit faster, watching the way your lids began to droop as you blinked up at him hazily and your lips part in a cute little ‘o’.
“Youngie!” You cried out, back arching and thighs trembling as you reached your high, your pussy dripping more arousal all over your boyfriend’s fingers.
“That’s it, baby. Such a pretty baby.” Wooyoung cooed, enjoying your fucked out expression. It was addicting really. His sweet innocent girlfriend falling apart for him. If you were this fucked out by just fingers, he can’t imagine how fucking delectable you looked when he finally fucked you.
Hongjoong bit his lip as he watched you come down from your high. How your arms wrapped around your boyfriend as he slowed his circles on your clit. He wished he could see how your pussy looked, how wet it was, and how sweet the nectar it produced.
Wooyoung took his hand from your panties and brought his fingers to his lips, your eyes widening. His hand left its grip on your face.
“W-woo!”
That didn’t stop him from letting his tongue dart out to lick his digits. “You taste so sweet, baby. Maybe I’ll come up tonight once I drop you off and really have a good taste of you.”
You blushed at his words and felt heat spark in your lower belly at what he hinted. Did he mean that he was going to kiss and taste you down there? With his tongue? The idea made your cheeks grow hot but that only made your boyfriend grin.
“Oh? You’re not opposed to it?” He teased, enjoying the way you only huffed and pouted your pretty lips. “Here, baby. Taste yourself.”
Hongjoong watched as you wearily, so curiously, poked out your cute tongue to lick your boyfriend’s fingers. How did you taste? Did you like it? You batted your lashes up at your boyfriend who awaited your verdict.
“So? How do you taste?” He took your hand in his other one, just relishing the moment you two had in the orange sunset-lit classroom.
“G-good.”
“Atta, girl.” Wooyoung grinned, taking you into his embrace and kissing you again.
Hongjoong felt his head pound from how hard he was in his pants. He wanted a taste. He needed a taste.
How was he going to get close to you when you and your boyfriend were all fine and dandy again?
“What do you say, baby? Friday night? I’ll come over and we’ll watch a movie. I’ll bring your favorite strawberries coated in chocolate. Then maybe…” he caressed your cheek. “We could go all the way?”
“W-won’t it hurt?”
Wooyoung and Hongjoong’s hearts ached at your sweetness.
“Well, when Friday rolls around, and you’re not up for it. It’s okay. We’ll just have a cozy little date and make out. I’ll wait for you when you’re ready. Okay?”
His gentle voice along with his care for you made your stomach flutter. “O-okay.” You leaned your cheek into his palm. “I love you, Woo.”
“I love you too, baby.”
While you and Wooyoung basked in the moment you two found yourselves in, Hongjoong made a beeline to his office and locked the door. He glanced down and saw the bulge of his cock poking through his tailored trousers. He threw his head back, slamming it against the door as he groaned.
He was going to have to take care of it himself cause it wasn’t going to go away til he did.
He didn’t know when the stalking— okay, in his defense, following and keeping an eye on you, started.
All Hongjoong knew was, he needed to get to know you. He needed to get closer somehow, be a friend. Someone you could turn to and cry to. Plus, you lived alone, away from your parents. You needed someone to protect you.
From all the wolves that surrounded you, including that boyfriend of yours.
As he passed the baseball field from where he parked his car, he couldn’t help but overhear a group of young wolf pups gathered and talking beneath the morning sun. They all wore the same varsity jacket, making Hongjoong’s pack of wolves analogy even truer.
“So? Did you and Y/N go all the way yet?” The Vice Captain of the team asked, the young and handsome Mr. Choi.
The rest of the boys began to nudge and tease their Captain who had been tossing the baseball in his hand nonchalantly.
“Yeah, have you and little Miss all prim and proper done more than just second base?” The tallest of them, Song Mingi, joined in the teasing, the boys all grinning and tossing oo’s and ah’s. “Your girl has a nice ass.”
“Hey,” Wooyoung harshly hissed at his teammate. “Yeah, and that’s my girl you’re talking about.”
“Can’t blame Mingi. You’re with the campus’s dream girl.” Jongho added, running his fingers through his brown hair.
“Dream girl?” Wooyoung’s brows furrowed.
“Yeah! Sure she’s lowkey and literally the nicest person on campus. Hell, she even helped me with calculus. I even thought of asking her out on a date.” San chirped. “But you got to her first. Anyway, that’s beside the point, did you guys finally do it? Friday night?”
Hongjoong remained hidden behind the shadows of the bleachers, needing to know the answer to San’s question.
“We didn’t. She got nervous and you know, I have to be a good boyfriend and wait. I don’t want to pressure her. She’s a nice girl.” Wooyoung finally responded, his answer earning a groan from his friends.
Mingi stared at him for a moment. “You should be a saint. That amount of self-control is crazy.”
“Well, good things come to those who wait, Mingi.” Wooyoung grinned. “I’m a hundred percent sure my girl is worth the wait and more.”
“You’re really down bad for her, huh?” Jongho laughed softly, actually admiring the fact that Wooyoung was becoming a better guy with you.
“Y-yeah…she is. I really love her.”
“I just can’t believe she fell for you. After all the girls you slept with in the past and the parties. She still fell for Jung Wooyoung. Anyways,” Jongho clapped Wooyoung on the back. “I hope you get some soon.”
San wouldn’t relent though.
“Has she at least been…you know….giving? I know you worship the fuck out of her in different ways but has the pretty princess given back?���
Hongjoong should head back to his office before he’s caught but…he needed to know the details.
“San, she doesn’t know how.”
Wooyoung’s response made San groan and Hongjoong fought back his own.
“She’s a fucking angel your girlfriend.” San huffed his crush on you not concerning Wooyoung as he knew San would never cross the line.
“Dude, when you get to teach her, it’s gonna be so fucking hot.” Mingi sighed, thinking of who to contact for his next hookup. He needed to fuck.
Hongjoong couldn’t help but agree. To teach someone as beautiful and pretty as you, how to use your cute mouth and delicate hands…the fantasy of you between his legs while he sits on his office couch…guiding you while you look up at him for him to lead you…the young pups have a point.
“Okay, can you guys chill and not talk about my girlfriend like that?” Wooyoung lightly scolded his friends. “Anyways, you guys better be on your best behavior for tonight’s practice. I'm driving Y/N home for our date and I really don’t want to have to bail again because Coach isn’t happy with our performance.”
“We’ll do our best,” San spoke for them, sending a pointed glare to Mingi and Jongho, they’re bickering always getting their Coach to overtime their practices. “But coach hasn’t been in a good mood as far as I know.”
Wooyoung swore under his breath, worry bubbling in his chest when he imagined your disappointment and the way your eyes become glassy as you fight back tears. He really didn’t want to make you feel like he didn’t care about you again…he knew you understood his obligations to his team. He just hoped he wouldn’t forget to update you this time and keep you waiting for him.
Hongjoong didn’t stay long after that. He went off his merry way back to his office, wondering if tonight would be another chance to have some time with you again. Be your knight in shining armor if your boyfriend doesn’t pick you up again.
All he needed to do was stay in your good graces.
After all, he just wanted to take care of you…
It began with longer conversations after class, asking how you were doing and if you understood the lecture or not. Then when midterms started to round the corner he would casually stay past campus hours just so that he could ‘by chance’ be finishing up late at the same time you were finished up studying in the library.
But this time, when he found you, the sun was beginning to set and you were in one of the library aisles, in the sections students don’t frequent, on the floor hugging your knees to your chest. Your back was against the tall wooden bookshelf and you were by the window, your head below the window pane as you softly sniffled.
Hongjoong felt his stomach twist. What did your boyfriend do?
“Ms. L/N?” As softly as he could, he called out to you and he saw you visibly stiffen.
“M-Mr. Kim?” You kept your head down, too embarrassed to look up at him because he would see the tears and puffiness in your eyes.
“Are you okay, Ms. L/N?” He slowly approached, observing your body language if you would shrink away from him. He kneeled before you. “Did something happen? Why are you crying?”
You bit your lip, fighting back the way it quivered as you wanted to tell him exactly what happened but you were crying over something so silly.
A gentle warm hand softly patted your head, your heart stopping at the touch. Maybe you could tell him everything. Besides…he has been so kind to you and only ever wanted to make sure you were okay. When the two of you spent time together and talked, you would sometimes forget he was your professor and not just a friend.
And yet, your heart couldn’t help but want to be in the palm of his hand, knowing he’d be gentle with it.
When you lifted your head to look at him, the tears in your eyes had Hongjoong almost falling to his knees and wanting to embrace you right then and there. “I’ll take you to my office okay?” He offered, taking out his handkerchief and putting it in your trembling hands.
“O-okay.” You murmured.
With a guiding arm around your shoulders and making sure no wandering eyes would see the two of you, the likelihood being low since it was past class hours, the varsity teams were training and it was a Friday, he led you to his office.
You stood awkwardly in the middle of his office, clutching his handkerchief in your hand, a part of your brain contemplating the idea of being vulnerable in your professor's office. It was highly inappropriate. Should anyone find out—
You were torn from your thoughts when a pair of warm arms wrapped around you so gently. You blinked a couple of times unable to process what was happening and the beating of your heart. Hongjoong cradled the back of your head as he held you close to him, your cheek brushing against his neck.
“It hurts to see you cry.” He whispered, unable to hold himself back from soothing you then he pulled away and led you to the leather couch in his office.
You sat on one end while he was on the other, the gap between you reminding you of the intrusive thought of the distance you and Wooyoung might have soon…
“What’s wrong, darling? You can tell me, you know. I’m always here to lend an ear. Whatever it is I won’t judge you, especially when it hurts you this deeply.”
Hongjoong tried to meet your eyes that were cast down on your fingers on your lap, fiddling with his handkerchief. Was it your boyfriend? He swore if it was Jung Wooyoung he was going to teach that boy a lesson.
Hesitantly, you allowed yourself to speak freely to him.
A moment of weakness?
“I-I overheard Youngie’s friends when I was in the library…they were about to leave for practice and…” you felt that lump in your throat creep up higher, making you want to sob again as you remembered what they said. “They said that they felt b-bad for him.”
Bad for him?
“It’s a bit…tmi…sir. I’m sorry it’s hard to speak about it.” You stared at the edge of your skirt, feeling the shame and embarrassment you had felt earlier crawling on your skin.
“Ah? TMI.” Hongjoong crossed his arms over his chest, trying to play it off as if it’s nothing to make it comfortable for you to tell him. “Well, Ms. L/N, we are two adults, aren’t we not? Plus, it’s after university hours. I’m here for you right now as a friend and I’d like to help soothe your troubles if you would let me.”
It was almost too easy the way you caved into his words. Jung Wooyoung did not deserve a sweet girl like you.
“Youngie’s teammates…said they feel bad for him because I haven’t…” you paused, heat blooming in your tear-stained cheeks. “I haven’t slept with him.” Then you felt that ache in your heart return. “I don’t want to lose him, Mr. Kim. I love him so much. I-I want to be a good girlfriend.”
Hongjoong’s heart broke. His beautiful wilted rose. How dare those dumb boys speak so ill of you?
“You’re a good girlfriend I’m sure, Ms. L/N.” He reassured you with such calmness, his words made you perk up a little. “You didn’t hear these words from Wooyoung himself right?”
You nodded.
“But even though…I still want to make him feel good. He always makes me feel…” you trailed off, realizing that you were talking about the intimate things you and your boyfriend do. “It’s not that I don’t want to be with Wooyoung like that…I just…I don’t want to disappoint him.”
“Disappoint him how?”
“Wooyoung has been with girls…with experience. He’s my first boyfriend and he’s the first man to ever touch m-me…kiss me…”
Hongjoong was fighting back the attraction grew the more you spoke about your lack of experience. He couldn’t believe those boys had you questioning your worth all because you were scared to go all the way with your boyfriend.
“I-I even tried watching…videos…on how I can do things for Wooyoung…but I just am too scared to initiate it. What if I do something wrong and it goes horribly?”
“You shouldn’t need to worry about that. I’m sure your…” Hongjoong held himself back from saying what he said with jealousy. “…boyfriend would be more than happy to teach you. Has he offered to?”
You shook your head.
“Ah…I see.” Hongjoong sat back, trying to think of what to say next. “I’m pretty sure what you lack is practice…” he trod carefully, gauging your expression with each word he was choosing. “You’ll never know til you give it a try. With everything in life, you learn as you go.”
He watched as you took each word seriously, a rather sweet pensive look on your face as you nodded at his advice. Hongjoong hoped he didn’t cross the line by saying that and made things awkward between the two of you.
“If I may speak as another human being helping another,” Hongjoong continued, hoping to calm your stormy mind. “I just hope you don’t feel pressured to do anything with your boyfriend or anyone. It’s very sweet of you to want to do something this intimate with someone you desire but I’d rather you won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with.”
You fiddled with the hem of your skirt, going over all the caring and sweet affirmations Mr. Kim was giving you. How was it you felt so safe with him? He was too kind to you…yet you enjoyed the company he gave.
When Wooyoung wasn’t able to take you home from extended practices and last minute cancellations and texts, Professor Kim was always there to somehow salvage the day. To stop the breaking of your heart with his warm smile and effort to get to know you and make conversation.
“M-Mr. Kim…”
You finally spoke. Hongjoong smiled warmly at the call of his name. He observed how your cheeks began to flush. Your teeth sink into your lower lip as you hesitate to continue. You suck in a shaky breath, forcing yourself to be brave and look him in the eye.
“Could you guide me?”
Nothing but your voice rang in his ears at this moment. Hongjoong was shocked by the question. Was it a question? With the way your eyes were bleary and glossy, how your lips were trembling, and how flustered you appeared. It was a plea.
“Ms.L/N….” He tried to resist as much as he could, knowing that if he were to cross the line, he wouldn’t be able to go back. You were his forbidden desire. If he were to take a bite, he would want nothing more than to consume you.
You knew what you asked was silly and inappropriate, and a part of you regretted asking but if you were to leave this room right now, all you would be able to think about was how Wooyoung’s friends talked about you and wonder how much Wooyoung shared to his friends about yours and his relationship.
Mr.Kim looked speechless and flustered from what you asked of him. Maybe you shouldn’t have asked.
“Mr.Kim, I-I’m so sorry,” you quickly blurted out, trying to salvage the odd atmosphere. “Please forget everything I said. Thank you so much for comforting me—
"Are you sure you want me to help, Ms. L/N?” Hongjoong stopped your rambling, taking your hand that you hadn’t realized was trembling from nerves but the moment he spoke and he touched you, your body found a sense of calm. “I just don’t want to make you do anything you’ll regret.”
Oh, he wanted to help.
“I-I wouldn’t have asked anyone else but you...I feel safe with you.” You mumbled shyly, staring at his pretty hand holding yours, his thumb rubbing soothingly over your knuckles.
“Your trust in me is something I shall cherish and I wouldn’t dare break it.” He looked you in the eyes as he said that, the warmth and intensity of them made your heart flutter. “I promise I’ll keep it strictly professional and I’ll make sure to put your comfort first.”
Your heart fluttered again. “O-okay.”
“How would you like this to go?”
“I-I’m not sure…Wooyoung usually takes the lead whenever we do anything more than kissing…” you were speaking so softly, it was pulling at Hongjoong’s heartstrings. You were so precious. “I wouldn’t mind you taking the lead…teach me how to make Wooyoung feel good.” You squeezed his hand nervously and he kept his soft smile on his face, hiding his excitement.
You’ll let him take the lead?
“Okay, sweetheart. I promise I won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with okay?” He caressed your cheek fondly, forcing himself to not brush your lips with his thumb. “Tell me to stop when it gets too much.”
“Thank you, sir.” You whispered, feeling all tense as he got closer.
Sir? Were you trying to kill him? He scooted closer, your knees touching his own. “Do I have permission to touch you, darling?”
The pet name made you feel just a little bit more hotter. The way he said it, his voice a low purr, made you feel things you thought you’d only feel with Wooyoung.
“Y-yes, sir.”
Experimentally, he slowly glided his hand up the side of your thigh, the sweet gasp falling from your lips making him smirk against your neck. He brushed his lips against your neck, before whispering in your ear. “You’ve watched videos as research, correct?”
You stuttered out your response, feeling your body grow warm with the way his hand smoothed up and down your thigh, never going higher than where your skirt stopped. “I did…” Was it wrong that you wanted his hand to move higher?
Hongjoong held back from kissing your neck, testing the waters of what exactly he could do to you. His hand moved to your waist now, caressing the curve of your side then stopping so that his thumb was just below the underside of your bra covered chest.
“Why don’t you show me what you learned, hm? Then I’ll guide you along the way.” He suggested, his tone going just a little lower than usual.
And that’s how you found yourself on your knees, between your professor's trousered thighs, your eyes looking at him with such uncertainty and the willingness to learn.
“Don’t be shy. I’m sure you won't disappoint,” Hongjoong reassured you, petting your head lovingly while his thoughts were going wild at the mere sight of you all cute and demure between his legs.
“O-okay.”
As you had watched and observed, you placed your hands on his thighs. They trembled a little. What if you messed up here too? You shook the thought away. Professor Kim was going to guide you. You’ll be okay and then you’ll be able to make Wooyoung feel good too.
All of this was for Wooyoung.
You slowly slid your hands up his thighs feeling the smooth fabric of his trousers as you recounted the videos you had seen. You remembered how the woman in the video would trace her fingers over the man’s groin…but was Hongjoong even…turned on?
You remember how stiff Wooyoung would get when you were on his lap as you two made out, his hands running up and down your sides then over the curve of your ass, squeezing it.
Do you need to kiss Mr. Kim too?
Before asking, you experimentally softly placed your palm against his groin, blushing to find that he was hot and rather stiff through his pants. A shaky breath escaped him and you retracted your hand.
“W-was that not okay?”
“It was fine,” he managed a smile for you, getting hard at just how shy and sweet you were. “You’re doing fine.”
“O-okay,” you swallowed the lump in your throat, gliding your palm over his clothed groin before sliding higher, your other hand joining to unbuckle his belt.
Each gentle and inexperienced touch or ghost of your fingers over his crotch was making his cock twitch to life. It was so easy for him to be turned on…well…because it was you. It was endearing how focused yet nervous you were and once you tugged his briefs down low enough for his cock to spring up, your eyes stared at his length.
From his reclined position on the couch, his legs spread to accommodate you, he was able to notice the way your thighs squeezed to tether at the sight of him.
Your face was hot as your eyes took in the sight of his cock. It was way more intimidating to see one in person than on a screen…was it odd for you to think it was rather pretty? The head was a soft pink and it glistened with something that made your tongue somehow itch to want to try and wrap your mouth around him. Would he fit in your mouth? Would he fit in— you stopped yourself from thinking that. You can’t go all the way with Mr. Kim, you were going to do that with Wooyoung.
Feeling his warm gaze on you, you gently wrapped your hand around his length. The feeling of him hot and heavy in your palm, the girth of him, made your core pulse.
Hongjoong bit his lip at the gentle touch, the smoothness of your palm, and the dainty way you held him making him sensitive to whatever you were doing. He knew it wasn’t on purpose that you were prolonging any sort of movement, you weren’t sure what to do next.
“Tell me what you learned,” he managed to speak calmly. “Or what you observed.”
Squeezing your thighs together and inching closer to get into a comfortable position, you thought of what to answer. “In the videos…the girls take their partner in their mouth…and some just move their hand…I'm not sure what to do next, I’m sorry.” You looked away, embarrassed.
This was exactly why you never initiated it with Wooyoung. If you did and you messed up or did not even follow through, he would’ve mentioned it to his friends somehow in their talks.
Hongjoong saw how nervous you were and tried to suppress the desire to command you what to do and how you should do it, he placed his hand over yours that was softly holding his cock. He couldn’t be mean to you…as much as he wanted to completely control you and make you feel pleasure that would have you falling apart for him, he wanted to be gentle with you.
“I’ll guide you, okay?” His other hand petted the top of your head, making the nerves yo I had been feeling dwindle. You nodded.
“You have to spit on it first, sweetheart.”
His words made your eyes widen. The dirty notion was embellished with a sweet term of endearment. Hearing it from him, from the mouth where only kindness, care and knowledge was all you heard come out of it, made you feel warm.
“Spit on it?”
“I know it sounds odd but it’ll help. I’ll guide you on how to use your hand first. Don’t be shy, darling.”
His encouragement only made you want to do as he says. You told yourself it only feels weird because you’ve never done it before and Mr. Kim was kind enough to help you be more confident when the time comes for you to do it with your boyfriend.
Leaning over, you collected your saliva and spat softly. Hongjoong bit back any sound that dared escape him at the moment not ready to break the promise of being professional for your sake but the warmth of your spit and how shyly you did it turned him on even more.
“Now,” he guided your hand. “Spread it around with my precum like this.” He loosely moved your hand, letting your dainty fingers be covered by the mix of your spit and his precum. “It’ll be easier to move your hand this way, it’ll feel good.”
You nodded, feeling the slickness against your palm and how it now easily glided along his length with his hand still over yours.
“You have to hold it just a little tighter.” He closed his hand over yours a little tighter but not too tight but just enough to tell you how much pressure you should be applying.
“L-like this?” You adjusted your grip and slowly while your hand moved in slow up and down motions, he removed his hand and a deep sigh of bliss left him.
“Just like that, sweetheart…just like that.” His voice dipped lower and his head rolled back a little, giving you the perfect view of his sharp jawline and pink lips.
Your eyes kept shifting from his face and to his cock in your hand, entranced somehow by the idea of how he was feeling good by just your hand. Watching a video was completely different from actually doing it. You recalled the way a girl in a video would twist her hand as she glided her hand up and down, and you decided to try the motion.
Hongjoong hissed out a curse at the new movement. “That feels good.” His hips bucked up a little, pushing his cock up in your hand.
Feeling a little braver, you leaned forward to press your lips on the head of his cock, kissing it and feeling heat surge to your core at how warm the tip was against your lips.
Hongjoong lifted his head from its thrown back position to look at you, the sudden sensation of your soft lips on his cock turning him on further.
“You want to try that already?” He asked, his hand gripping the armrest of the couch when your doe eyes looked up at him so innocently, your lips wrapped around the head of his cock, and nodded, it was driving him crazy. It was getting harder and harder to retain any sense of composure. “Go ahead, sweetheart. Show me what you learned. You’re already doing so well. You look so cute like this too.”
His words of praise and compliments made both your heart and core throb. It made you try even harder to please him. You wondered if it was okay that you were getting wet. You could feel your slick sticking to the gusset of your panties and against the lips of your pussy.
Hongjoong moaned softly when he felt your hot tongue swirling around his cock head. He twitched within your hand continued their rhythmic twisting and up and down rhythm. He watched as you tasted him. He could see the way your brows furrowed at the taste and when he felt you take more of him in your mouth and suckle at the sensitive tip of his cock, you were making it harder for him to not buck his hips up into your pretty mouth.
“You doing okay?” He asked, gently placing his hand behind the back of your head, caressing you.
You nodded, humming, the vibrations of your sound adding some extra pleasure to the way you were giving him head.
“F-fuck, you’re doing so good, sweetheart. Such a good girl.”
The way he said that made your pussy clench. Why did that have some effect on you? It sounded so hot coming from him and it made you want to please him even more.
Eventually, you took what you could of him in your mouth, fighting back your gag reflex and bobbing your head shallowly along his cock. Your hand continued to jerk what you couldn’t fit of his length in your little mouth. You were aching so bad, you couldn’t help but let your free hand slide between your thighs to find your pussy, surprised at how wet you were. It was easy to spread your arousal all over your cunt and begin massaging your clit the way you liked, settling for the friction of your fingers.
Hongjoong noticed your dainty hand between your legs. The sight of you suckling and bobbing your cute head up and down along his cock, and touching yourself was sending him to the edge. Plus your lips tinted with pink gloss were mixing with your saliva as you continued to suck him off. You were so fucking cute.
“I’m close darling. You’re doing so well. You had nothing to be so nervous about. F-fuck.” He shuddered when he felt the head of his cock hit the back of your throat and you squeaked so adorably, the sound muffled. What a cute little slut you were touching yourself as you stuffed your little mouth with his cock. Though he was saying such sweet praises, deep down he wanted to fuck his cock into your mouth and watch you cry from taking him. He was betting you’d look up at him with wide pleading eyes with tears as you let him use you as his personal cock sleeve.
The mere thought of that sent him over the edge and without warning, he came. A small squeak left you as sudden hot spurts of cum spilled into your mouth. You latched off of him in surprise, your hand still pumping him as he came. His moans and the way his head was thrown back, made you stop touching yourself so you could focus fully on the way he climaxed all over your face.
“Fuck!” He groaned as his hand that was cradling your head gripped your hair and his hips bucked up into your hand, riding out his high. You whimpered as he tugged at your hair, the sensation making your clit throb. Why did that feel good? Why did having his release on your cheeks and in your mouth, turned you on?
“Open up, darling. Let me see.” Hongjoong tugged your hair back almost forcibly, his gaze almost predatory, it scared you a bit. You’ve never seen such a dark, menacing yet charming expression on your sweet and kind professor.
You parted your lips and he smirked.
He wondered if you knew just how cute and ruined your look right now. Pink gloss smeared over your lips and your cheeks flushed and stained with his white sticky cum, and the best of all, his seed was on your tongue.
He wished he could take a picture.
You didn’t realize you were breathing slowly as your heart was racing and he stared down at you with a glint in his eye that you couldn’t quite place.
“You look so pretty like this, darling.” His grip on your hair loosened and his hand moved to cup your cheek, his thumb dipping into your mouth as you still obediently kept your lips parted for him. He smeared more of his cum all over your lips and chin, finding the idea of him on your skin so hot…it’s like he marked you. “Such a good girl.” He cooed and you didn’t know why you did what you did but you swallowed his salty release, and his reaction made it all worth it. “What a perfect girl you are.”
His praise only made your heart flutter, his words only feeding that part of you that wanted to please him…to please Wooyoung.
“D-do you think Woo will like it?” You asked, your voice a little hoarse as you sat there on your knees, looking up at him so sweetly.
Hongjoong held back from rolling his eyes at the mention of the boy who didn’t deserve you. He masked his annoyance with a smile. “He’ll like it, darling. You did really well. I mean it.” He took his handkerchief and began to clean you up, gently dabbing your cheek.
Despite the ache between your thighs, you couldn’t stop the way a smile grew on your face at the approval from your most trusted mentor.
“Thank you so much, Mr. Kim—
“Hongjoong.” He cut you off with a gentle smile, looking at you lovingly.
“What?” You stuttered that same feeling you felt earlier, the confusion of the same way he made your heart flutter like Wooyoung does.
“You can call me Hongjoong when it’s just the two of us, darling. I think with how close we’ve gotten…I’d like you to call me by my name. Don’t you think we’re rather close?”
There was something about his eyes that captivated you. It was so magnetic it was hard to not be completely wonderstruck and in control of that powerful gaze.
All you could do was nod.
“That’s a good girl…” he cooed, smiling warmly. “Perhaps, you need more guidance. You want to be a good girlfriend for your Wooyoung right?”
You did, you wanted to be the best girlfriend for him.
“I do…”
“Sometimes what you see online is not entirely reliable. I’m offering you…private lessons…doesn’t that sound good for you?”
You nodded, letting him pull you up on and onto his lap, gasping when your core pressed against his thigh.
“I’ll teach you all there is to know. I want what's best for you and for you to know exactly what you’re getting into.” He ran his hand up and down your thigh, slowly. “You don’t want to disappoint Wooyoung, right?”
“I don’t Sir…” you said so quickly.
So innocent. So naive. So dumb. So perfect for him to ruin.
He never thought he’d get to this point.
All this time, he has only ever admired you and desired you from afar. He kept his reputation as a well-loved and kind professor so that no one and you, especially you, would ever question his motives.
“Now, I think we should try this again. You did really well but I can teach you a little extra something that will make your boyfriend so, so, so happy.”
feel free to scream in my askbox about the fic I will gladly fangirl with you and I love feedback. It keeps me writing.
special tags : @khjcs @skteezcursed @caityelise99
#hongjoong x reader#hongjoong smut#wooyoung x reader#wooyoung smut#ateez au#ateez x reader#ateez scenarios#ateez fanfic#ateez smut
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gojo nuttin in you and plugging you up!!!!
a/n: request: “I’m sure you’ve probably done something about it but the way that the idea of gojo coming in you and pulling your panties up after is so IRBDJEHDBEBSBNS makes my brain numb no thoughts off the walls feral” + so im combining these two! uhm. horny devil took over me while writing
warnings: fem!reader, reader is deep in sub-space, semi-public sex, multiple rounds, pet names, calls you ‘slut’, unprotected sex, creampie / breeding kink, lots of cum, n*sfw under the cut
no one really knew where this breeding kink of gojo had come around, not when he was the student talking about how annoying kids were and then got blessed with megumi and tsumiki.
he’d like to think that it wasn’t because he wanted to see little yous and hims running around the house. sure, it definitely was in his future plan, but with everything going on it would be too chaotic, so he’s willing to wait. it unveils itself to him one night after cumming deep in you; it related more to his possessiveness over you—
it rings true when he’s got you riding him in his office chair, the pleasure of his cock deep in you overtaking the discomfort in your thighs. you’ve been holding back for the longest time in the meeting with the higher-ups and the other sorcerers, unable to stop your glances toward your boyfriend while they talked of another emerging curse user.
you jumped him as soon as the meeting was over.
“f . . fuck, baby,” gojo’s breathless as he says it, a thumb to your clit and drawing languid circles. it only prompts your pussy to clench around him and your head falls down to your connected bodies. “hear how sloppy your fuckin’ cunt is, sweets.”
you can both hear and see it, see the drag of your pussy along his length and the pleasurable stretch of your walls around him. your hands go around his neck to play with his hair, messing with the abandoned blindfold resting along his clavicle.
“were you this wet for m-me, for the whole meeting?”
your scrunched up eyes struggle to open as you meet his blue ones, a choked yeah leaves your lips as you continue to bounce on him. there’s sweat lining both your bodies from the clothes still inhabiting your persons, slowly getting soiled from your juices, too.
“oh, baby, you know i would’ve dropped everything to fuck you then and there—” satoru grits his teeth when you tighten around him again and you moan out loud at the words he says. you’re not even sure whether you came, thighs shaking from your mini orgasm that you limp forward into your boyfriend’s arms.
gojo coos into your hair, doing the work now as he fucks into your spent body. the slap of his balls against your ass is obscene, whining into your ears before he starts to rut in short little thrusts again. “cumming— cu—”
gojo’s eyes squeeze shut, hiding his forehead in your neck as he spills deep in you. a deep groan reverberates from his throat, feeling his cum feel you up spurt after spurt and you’re the same, mewling softly beside his ear that only gets him hard again.
“that’s right, take all my cum, baby.” gojo mumbles, drunk on the feel of your pussy before he remembers he has a class to get to.
“you gonna keep my cum in you?” he asks breathlessly, a little softer than he expected to. but his heart soars when you nod obediently, letting him help you put your other leg into your panties. his cum still threatens to spill out, but it’s still better with the fabric barrier.
gojo is disgusting like that, “i’ll see you at home, alright?” he taps your butt playfully, landing a sloppy kiss to your lips and indulges you with a few more pecks.
that one feeling hasn’t left him since the afternoon, determined to pump you full again that he couldn’t even conduct a class properly. all he wanted to do was to rush back to you, with a sweet reward granted to him.
you were so dazed from his cock that you decided it wouldn’t hurt to put on your favourite set under your clothes, tending to your own errands as you wait for your boyfriend to return. so when you’re welcoming him with more touches than usual and a sultry voice to match, he knows he wasn’t the only one with that creampie on his mind.
you aren’t sure what round you’re on by now, pussy feeling so slick and full from how much he’s cummed in you that your mind is fuzzy and muddled.
“like it when i breed you, hm?” he slams into you from above, bed creaking from just how rough he was being. he’s got your body pressed deep into the sheets and your ass up and as usual, he’s got your back arching uncomfortably.
“y— yeah, yeah, s’much, ’toru!” you whine into your hands, feeling your orgasm approach again as you feel like you’re driven to your limit everytime and yet you come back for more. gojo is quick to cum again, cock stilling in you as he pumps you yet again and the sight is so messy.
your ass and pussy is painted with white and gojo grins seeing your hole push out his seed. he purses his lips, scooping up his cum and pushing it back in. and then he’s got you on him again, thrusting into you from below. the strings of his cum stick to your pelvis, paired with your cum pooling at the base of his cock. it’s so sticky and lewd, the squelching sounds of pussy.
“can never get e-enough, of pumping you full, princess.” you groan into thin air, juices spraying everywhere from the sheer amount of it.
“love it— wan’ more, pleasepleaseplease.” you’re out of your mind, driven into oblivion and you think that this truly was your limit, sobbing out your lover’s name when he starts to rub circles along your clit and you’re squirting, hips bucking away from the overstimulation and you grab onto his forearms like a vice.
“good little slut . . mh, squirting all over my cock— s-shit—” you’re cumming so much he can feel it on his thighs, soaking his skin and sheets. the grip you have on his cock is insane, making him so difficult to move that he grunts and stammers, pelvis faltering with a twitch to his dick.
“going to— give you another load, baby.” he mumbles breathlessly, giving one last deep thrust that has your eyes rolling back into your skull and body trembling and you’re so deep into sub-space that you just let him manhandle you roughly. satoru’s hips snap up into you impatiently before he’s cumming deep again, mind turned into mush once ropes and ropes of cum is pushed into your womb. you feel so full, so dumbed down that you don’t notice him scrambling for something in the bedside table.
“got your slutty pussy somethin’,” he whispers. the first pull out of gojo’s cock is gross, a translucent sheen of white covering his shaft from how much he’s cummed in you before he removes himself completely. you gasp at the emptiness, sinking behind into his embrace before you feel full again.
a cute little toy takes the place of his cock, a baby blue plug that is stuffed deep in you and possessiveness is starting to turn into wanting to get you knocked up. gojo isn’t sure any more.
your boyfriend prompts you to look down, caressing your thighs as he hums into your ears and you shiver lightly.
“need you to keep every last drop — can you do that, baby?” you feel him smile against your lips when you turn your head to kiss him, an affirmative response muttered against his lips together with a confession.
tagging @hyomagiri @jabamin @shotorus @satohruu :3
#asks#alpha-mommy69#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk gojo x reader#jjk x you#jjk drabbles#jjk thirsts#jujutsu kaisen x you#gojo smut#gojo x reader#gojo x you#gojo satoru drabble#satoru gojo x reader#satoru gojo smut#gojou satoru x reader
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the aftermath of being turned into an ex jujutsu kaisen — gojo satoru.
gojo's a man of commitment. if rounding up a ‘band’ to serenade you into taking him back is what'll do the trick, then he'll organize it.
+ extra. this is meant to be unserious dont attack me for mischaracterization n shi 😞
“we're done.”
“we are not!”
in the end, he got kicked out. due to the shame he felt by being kicked out of a house he once lived in, satoru actually leaves. don't party too soon though, he's going to come back within five hours.
the plan he had in mind was simple: go to the department store, buy some roses, a poster, led lights, a table, some chocolates, and hire a band. for this the budget will be endless.
you thought you got rid of satoru but little did you know that he still has his share of keys. with that trick up his sleeve, he unlocks the gate, sneaking in everyone and the props.
satoru wasn't able to hire a band, but he was able to get a substitute. you see, todo, inumaki, and yuuji have hidden talents. they can all play instruments and one can sing! he always knew there was a reason why he's proud of his students.
quietly, the four men set the stage that's actually your front yard. in the center holds the white table with a black satin cloth delicately placed on it. the three bouquets of roses sit beautifully on the table. some petals were picked out and carefully spotted as well. on the table's center held the chocolate and wine — your favourite wine, to be exact. the finishing touch is the led lights. they're circling the ground, illuminating it with a soft yellow glow.
at the right and left sides of the table are inumaki and yuuji. inumaki's holding a wooden guitar while yuuji holds the hand drum. todo's position is in front of the table but a little off-center. he's holding the microphone, ready to pour his heart out on the song.
the star, satoru, is the one in the center. one hand hides behind his back. it's holding another rose bouquet with hundred-dollar bills wrapped with the roses. his free hand holds his phone. as soon as the clock strikes 7:00PM, he's going to call you. everything should play out perfectly.
anxiously watching his wristwatch switch from 6:59 to 7:00, he immediately calls you. one, two, three, six rings later you answered.
“you. i forgot to block you.”
“excuse me?” satoru scoffs, “whatever, i'm not calling for that.”
“chop chop then. i don't have all night.”
“can you come outside?”
“no. i will be calling the police.”
“OH C'MON,” he whines, getting desperate. “please? after this i'll leave you alone. promise.”
“...”
yuuji painfully watches. he feels incredibly sorry for his teacher. he doesn't deserve this!
“i don't think this is going good,” yuuji whispers to the boys, moving his head side-to-side.
todo raises his fist, gesturing to the boys to have some faith. “let's put our hopes high.”
they watch satoru closely. his hand that held the phone dramatically dropped to his side. slowly, he turns his head to face the boys behind him. his face breaks their hearts. he's pouting with eyes nearing tears — a pain only males like them can understand!
before satoru can say something, the front door clicks open. as it swings open aggressively, you made yourself tonight's main star unwillingly. you were not dressed for whatever this occasion is. your front yard has been ruined, your ex is there, three of his students you've met a few times, and while they're in suits, you're in a fancy robe with fluffy indoor slippers.
your eyebrows crease together, just when did they do all of this?! maybe it's time to install cameras.
“satoru, what the fuck did you do to my—”
“shh, tonight it's just you and him,” todo cuts you off, switching the mic on and beginning his performance. inumaki tunes the guitar and starts stringing random strings in hopes that they sound good. yuuji follows by tapping a simple “dun-da-da-dun-dun” beat on the drums.
your mouth's now opened. baffled by the sight, you stood there motionless.
“i have died every day waiting for you~”
as todo sings, satoru walks up to you, cheekily smiling at your shocked expression.
you back away from him, eyebrows still furrowed at whatever's going on.
“darling, don't be afraid~”
at this lyric, satoru takes the opportunity to shove his phone back into his pocket and grab your wrist. although you attempted to wriggle free, you are no match for his strength. gently, he pulls you into the yard.
both your eyes lock on each other. you search his eyes for emotions, he searches yours for any signs of longing. it's not there, he thinks. he feels a pinch in his heart, but it won't stop him. sending you a wink, he pulls you closer to the table.
“i have loved you for a thousand years (ooh)~”
“seriously, what's all this bullshit?!” you whisper-yelled at him, using your other hand to point at the table.
satoru simply shrugs.
“i'll love you for a thou-sand more (ooh, yeah)~”
todo ends his singing, clapping along with the other two to end the performance. it was the most touching thing he's ever done besides gifting yuuji and his idol a trio matching keychains set.
satoru coughs three times in attempts to hide his laugh. this has probably been the most unserious yet serious he's ever been, but his perfomance doesn't end there. he still has something else to whip out.
“baby—”
“that's not my name,” you cut him off.
“anyway. as i was saying,” he stops, revealing the rose bouquet with multiple hundred-dollar bills. “all of these are yours.”
your eyes bulge, but you quickly regain yourself.
“i'm not going to be won over with some roses and money.”
“there's wine and chocolates too,” yuuji says, immediately shutting up after you shot him a look.
inumaki stands awkwardly. he feels immense second-hand embarrassment. to counter such feelings, he starts playing the guitar again.
satoru cups the side of your face with his hand. his thumb caresses your cheek as he locks his eyes on yours again.
“i was serious about not breaking up, y'know,” he softly speaks, “i know i'm pushing it and all that stuff but i don't think i can leave you.”
it's once again your turn to be speechless. at this point, you're sure that there's no way all of this is happening in one night.
since you won't take hold of the bouquet, satoru places it in your hand. to solidify it even more, he lifts your other hand to place a kiss on it.
“what level of romance is this?” again, yuuji speaks. this time, it's satoru who gestures him to quiet down.
inumaki's still playing the out-of-tune guitar, enjoying the way the wind gently blows. it's truly a beautiful night. under the full moon's light, you and satoru glow together.
todo gears up for another round of singing. he immediately does a dragged-out “ooh~” adlib. this, however, wasn't going to last as long as his previous one did.
“NO — no more, please. you have a wonderful voice but i've heard enough. please.” you turned around to todo, begging him to mute the mic and possibly himself.
“and you,” you turn back to face satoru, “clean this up, get the boys home safely, and then come back.”
after that, you walked back to inside your house with the bouquet, making it satoru's turn to be left speechless. he still didn't win you over with some roses and money (wine and chocolates too) but his stupid commitment to keeping the relationship is what did.
#+ rizsu: jujutsu kaisen.#jjk x reader#gojo satoru x reader#gojo x you#gojo fluff#gojo satoru fluff#gojo satoru x you#jjk scenarios#jjk fluff#jjk x you#jjk x fem!reader#gojo satoru scenario#jujutsu kaisen fluff#jjk oneshot#gojo oneshot
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Yandere!mean!Winter fucking you good in a motel, making you wear outfits which would barely cover anything of yours, dry hump her, suck her off, let her cum in you whatever she wanted as you took it like her good little bunny. Saying “thank you thank you thank you” everytime she thrusted in you, her dick going so deep in yours that you could feel a bulge forming, she would record all this as she herself is a cam!girl and you were the viewers favourite guest because of how pretty, delicate and obedient you are. The viewers loved it when you would go on all fours as winter entered inside you with no prep making you jerk forward as your boob jiggled, while she is thirsting in you her fingers are in your cunt fingering you making you cry tears of pain and pleasure.
♡ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ CRAZY OVER YOU ┊ kim minjeong
parings: gp!yandere!camgirl!winter x bimboish??f!reader
warnings: voyerism, dry humping, oral (w receiving), pet names, dumbification, tummy bulge, doggy, fingering, creampie, darcyphilia, choking, degrading, overstimulation, she’s a big meanie :((, not proofread
a/n: title is DEFINITELY not from the blackpink song 😉 didn’t mean for this to be so long but enjoy this fic as i’m currently writing the cop minjeong fic<33
your camgirl girlfriend, winter is just super possessive over you! you guys are college students so money was of course, a struggle. having to balance work and college was hard, so your girlfriend decided to become a camgirl. and it seemed to work after her first video dropped, about a year before you two began dating. she proceeded to bring you onto her stream once and her viewers loved you! the way you sound when winter edges and overstimulates you and the fact that you’re so pretty and obedient for her is so cute to them!
but who would’ve thought that your girlfriend is so…crazy over you? at first, it was lighthearted things like asking where you’ve been and who you were with, but then they stared to get concerning. she started to demand for your location and would go as far as to put a tracker on your phone, she would start to drop you off to whatever location you needed to go to and would ALWAYS tag along with you, giving you no time without her damn near breathing down your neck.
but you’ve found a way around her, or so you thought. your besties really wanted to hang out and eat at a restaurant so you just had to tag along! you barely get to see them due to your girlfriend forcing you to turn down all their plans. you wore a pretty pink dress, nothing too absurd, pairing it with clear heels with a little bit of makeup. you had to turn your phone completely off, bringing out your old phone to carry with you.
at first it was such a good night! taking photos and having a good time with your friends, ning, rina, and aeri. talking about random shit and laughing, doing what friends do yk? that was up until you saw your girlfriend from afar, causing your heart to sink.
“hey y/n, you okay? you look like you’ve gotten sick!” rina asked you, noticing how the look of fear painted your face.
“yea..i’m great! let me go to the restroom, if i don’t come back i probably went home.” you told her and the rest of the girls, the bill was already paid so you guys were free to leave.
you began to walk over to your girlfriend, heartbeat ringing in your ears when she grabbed your hand to pull you to the restroom. she immediately pinned you to the door with her hand on your throat, making you gasp out as tears began to swell up in your eyes as apologies began to spill out of your mouth.
“my stupid pretty girl, thought you got away, huh? didn’t think that i put a tracker on your old phone too?” she mocked you with a grin.
she was wearing black shorts with a basic white top, paired with a long leather coat on. it must’ve been raining because her hair appeared to look wet and puffy.
“aww, pretty don’t cry..” she said, rubbing your tears off your face.
she finally removed her hand off your neck, making you gasp out, taking in all the air you can before she dragged you out the restroom and to the car, shoving you in the passenger seat. you didn’t know where exactly and you wouldn't dare to ask. the car ride was silent, aside from the the rain dripping onto the car and the faint sound of music playing along with her hand gripping your thigh.
you must've fallen asleep when you arrived because you heard the car stop and the door slamming. your door opening with winter's hand out for you to take with her free hand. she must've planned this out because she had a big duffel bag on her shoulder. you took her hand and she closed the door, locking it and wrapping her arm around your waist.
-
you weren't expecting her to start a stream here, but here you are. all dolled up in a pretty pink outfit that hardly covered you up, matching bunny and butterfly clips in your hair.
the stream began rolling, you two at the edge of the bed. winter was wearing a black lacey bra with matching boxers, her boner was shown to her viewers.
"hey guys~ our favorite guest is back! my pretty baby, isn't she so cute? she's been a bad bunny for me so she deserves be ruined and treated like a slut." winter spoke out, causing you to whine out. she's always fucked you so good so you really couldn't care!!
she'd place you on her lap and force you hump her clothed cock. bare cunny was barely getting any pleasure making you whine out because you wanted to cum badly but you wanted to be a good girl for her! :((
she chuckled, watching you on her lap, she was basically touring herself. you look so pretty she wanted to take her boxers off and thrust into you brutally. she watched as the viewers left their dirty comments, she doesn't even know why she lets these nasty pervs see your pretty body and hear your cute sounds.
she would forced you down on your knees, and push your head all the way to her pelvis, making you gag on her thick cock as she was groaning at the feeling of her cock in your mouth.
she began to use your head to her pleasure, holding your head in place so she can thrust into your mouth. you were looking up at her pretty face twisted in pleasure, your spit dripping down the the valley of your plush tits and your eyes were filled with baby tears.
"ah! shit- baby, cumming!" she moaned out, thrusting into your mouth quicker until you felt her warm seed fill your mouth as you swallowed it all up for her.
she pulled you up from the floor and threw you onto the bed on your tummy, not even giving you a chance to flip over. she forced into doggy before she and pushed into your tight cunt, making you cry out because she gave you no prep! :((
“t-thank you! thank you!” you stuttered out, she was pounding into you so forcefully it made you jerk forward and the bed squeak.
the viewers went wild at the sight. comments after comments of them saying how adorable you were, still thanking your girlfriend even though she’s abusing your poor cunny with your ass smacking against her pelvis.
winter began to use her fingers as well, whenever she thrusted out she would push her fingers in. giving you no room to breath making you squeal and cum all over the sheets and her pelvis!
she finally turned you around, your face was stained with tears while you eyes were shut tight from the overwhelming pleasure. her eyes began to drift from your face to where you connected but stopped when she saw a tummy bulge, making her groan out.
“you feel me, baby? am i fucking you good?” she asked you, pressing down on the bugle, making you moan out as you nodded your head.
“words, pretty.” she demanded, pulling her finger out to rub your little bundle of nerves, watching how you tried to run away from her torture.
“y-yes! yes! you feel s-so ngh~ good!” you mustered out looking into her eyes, watching how she smirked.
you came once again with winter behind you, cumming inside you, marking you up with her warm seed, reminding her horny viewers that only she can fucked you stupid and cum inside you <33
#ningvory#♡.nabi’s asks#♡.nabi’s anons#kpop smut#g!p#aespa smut#wlw smut#aespa x fem reader#aespa winter smut#winter smut#winter x fem reader
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SUMMARY: Someone's picked a fight with Prefect! But he isn't going to let anyone hurt you anymore. Not on his watch. Part 1! Part 2 with Vil and Silver can be found here.
WARNINGS: Uhhh Prefect (you) gets hit in the face & your nose bleeds. also blackmail.
COMMENTS: I actually wanted to write this firstly for some of my moots! I was gonna write more of their favourites but it accidentally got too long to put in one post, so I'm planning on making a part 2 tomorrow. Anyway, @azulashengrottospiano and @i-like-forgs, enjoy!!
It must be raining.
You were just out in a storm. That’s all.
That would explain the crack of thunder that collided with your face and gave you a throbbing headache. The warm liquid blurring your vision and dripping out of your mouth and nose was just the rain, not some unholy mix of blood and tears. The chills that froze you where you stood was just humidity and the cold, not adrenaline and raw fear.
And yet, even with your desperate brain trying to come up with some reasonable explanation, the only thunderstorm you could see in front of you was a student you couldn’t recognise. Not with your head pounding like this. Not with the thunder in your ears.
There was something about the boy that scared you. That wasn’t uncommon - this school was full of terrifyingly promising mages. But the scariest thing wasn’t how he wielded his magical pen with deadly accuracy, or how strong he so evidently was.
It was just how much he seemed to be enjoying the mix of horror and pain, of blood and tears, that must have been so evidently and delicately splashed across your face.
His smile twisted as he raised his pen again, something in those cruel eyes of his setting off alarm signals in your aching head.
“This’ll teach you not to meddle where you don’t belong.”
The pen glowed, pure magic surrounding it as he prepared to shoot. His sadistic eyes were alight with entertainment. He knew what he was about to do. He didn’t care.
You squeeze your eyes shut and braced for the lightning.
A chuckle and an arm wrapping around your waist made your eyes snap back open.
“C’mon babe, gotta run!”
Pulling you by the waist, the boy broke into a run. You stumbled for a minute, but soon followed after. He released your waist but gently took your hand, tugging you along, urging you to be faster.
A stray spell flew between the two of you.
The boy looked back, an uncharacteristic flash of annoyance creasing his brow.
He caught your eye and winked.
“Split card!”
A second boy seemed to appear next to you. He was an exact copy of the first - the same stylishly ruffled orange hair, the same piercing emerald eyes, the same practiced, perfect smile.
The same red diamond under his right eye.
“Hey, keep ‘em busy for me!”
“You got it, king.” The second boy - the product of Cater Diamond’s unique magic - winked at you. He planted his feet, whirled around and started to cast spell after spell at your assailant.
The real Cater Diamond pulled you along, into the school building. Together you ran, through corridor after corridor, passing empty classroom after empty classroom.
Finally, he slowed to a stop in front of a classroom you’d never seen before. Glancing around and putting his finger in front of his mouth in a shushing motion, he grinned at you.
“In here.”
He held open the door for you, shutting it behind the both of you as you looked around. There were all different kinds of instruments and sheet music scattered around, along with an abandoned satchel. You saw at least one set of drums, along with two electric guitars and one acoustic, amps, even some microphones and music stands.
You supposed this was the Light Music Club’s room.
Cater winced, scratching his nape. “My bad, forgot it was so messy here. Whoever that was won’t find us here, though!” He grinned at you, his smile fading when he noticed the condition you were in.
He took both of your hands and, holding you as though you were made of glass, led you over to an amp. He gently pushed you onto it. It was not the most comfortable thing to sit on, but that was not what you were focusing on.
How could it be?
Cater Diamond was standing in front of you. He glowed like the sun wherever he went, commanding your attention and leaving you blinded.
If he ever called you, you would gladly follow.
The light faded a little as he let go of your hands and stepped away. He walked over to the discarded bag on the ground and started rummaging through it.
“There’s gotta be something… aha, #jackpot!” Pulling out a packet of tissues, he made his way back over to you. Pulling out a tissue, he smiled hesitantly. “Do you mind if I…?”
You blinked. You had forgotten about the pounding in your head, which started to come back with a vengeance. Putting one hand to the side of your head, you gestured for him to go ahead.
He stood just in front of you, one hand cupping your face, the other gently trying to clean as much of the blood off as possible. He didn’t say anything as he went about his work, but there was a look in his eyes as he worked. One filled with kindness and empathy, soft enough to make your heart skip a beat.
He stepped back and, crossing his arms as though to survey his handiwork, he nodded satisfactorily. “The blood on your shirt will be hard to wash off, but the bleeding from your nose has stopped.” He gave you a strained - albeit gentle - smile.
You nodded and placed your hands in your lap, studying them instead of meeting the gentle emerald eyes you could feel searching you.
“Prefect…” he started, the hesitancy in his voice evident. He cautiously sat next to you and you glanced up at him. “Is- are you okay?”
You closed your eyes and leaned into him. He startled a little at your touch, then wrapped his arm around you. “I am now.”
“My my, what have we here?”
“What… the hell?!”
That voice… wait, it couldn’t be-
Blinking rapidly to rid your eyes of the tears, you registered three things.
First, and most obvious, was that the thunderstorm was being contained.
Easily.
I mean, the new arrival held him as easily as a newborn kitten for goodness’ sake. He looked almost as twisted as your assailant, with pure glee in his yellow and olive-brown eyes, his wide grin revealing sharp, pointed teeth. He was evidently enjoying the student’s squirming.
“Got him! I wanna squeeze him ‘til he pops~”
The second thing you registered was the hand resting on your shoulder.
Looking up, you noticed another boy, practically a mirror image of the first. One hand was resting protectively on your shoulder, his other hiding his smile. He looked a lot calmer than the first, but his eyes - the exact opposite of his brother’s - betrayed him. The air around him was crackling with excited energy.
“Not yet, Floyd. I believe that Azul has something he wishes to say to him first.”
“Boo. Hurry up.”
Wait.
Azul?
Looking around, you finally registered the third - and final - new arrival. Azul Ashengrotto, the head of the Mostro Lounge, was strolling towards the boy. There was something about him that was different. His curly hair caught the sun, making the silvery colour feel akin to pure, vivid white, as though it was glowing. From this angle, you couldn’t see the face you’d studied so many times - his enchanting grey eyes, or the beauty mark just below his mouth.
There was nothing physically different. So what was wrong?
Ah, that was it. He was angry.
“Do not fret, Floyd.” He stopped in front of the boy, directly in front of you. “You’ll get your chance soon enough.”
“Wh-… what the hell is wrong with you?!” The student shouted, twisting and scratching at Floyd’s arm in a desperate attempt to free himself.
“Wanna find out?” Floyd squeezed the boy tighter and he yelped.
“No! No thank you!”
“Well, at least you have some manners.” Azul drawled.
“What do you want from me?”
“This won’t take long.” Azul fished out some photos from his pocket and showed him. “Do you know who this is?”
“H-… how did you-?!”
“Unimportant.” He waved off the question as though it was simply one about the weather. “However, I believe that it would be in your best interests to leave the Prefect alone now.”
“Hah… you’re trying to blackmail me?”
“Blackmail is such an ugly word. I am simply offering you a way out.”
“A way out?” The boy scoffed.
“Certainly. I believe if your mother saw these photos, you would be in a great deal of trouble, would you not? If I am correct, you promised her you’d be on your best behaviour this year. After all, one more incident could be enough for an expulsion, with a track record such as yours.”
“Hey-!”
“It’d be a shame for the school to lose such a promising mage. How about you meet with me in the VIP room tomorrow around 4 o’ clock tomorrow? We can discuss things in more… detail… then.”
The boy glowered but said nothing.
Azul sighed. “I’m a man of my word. As long as no harm will come to the prefect, no harm will come to you in the meantime.”
“Fine.” The boy spat.
“Very well, we have a deal then.” Azul took a step back. “Let him go, Floyd.”
“But he hurt Shrimpy! I don’t wanna~”
“Floyd. There will be plenty of opportunities in the future.”
Floyd complained loudly, but let the boy go. He smoothed his jacket, glaring daggers at you and Azul in turn. Then he whirled around and stormed off.
Three pairs of eyes now turned to you.
You blinked in return.
“Shrimpyyy~!” Floyd bounded over to you and squeezed you in a rib-cracking hug. “Did the bad man hurt you? Don’t worry, you’re with us now, Shrimpy!”
“Give them some air, Floyd.” Jade said and tugged Floyd’s shoulder, attempting to pull him away from you.
“Nooo-“
“Are you alright, Prefect?” Azul asked. He sounded worried.
Floyd and Jade exchanged conspiratorial smirks and Floyd let you go. There was blood on his jacket from where your head had rested against him.
The realness of what just happened began to set in. The pounding sensation in your head came back with a vengeance.
“I-…” the world began to spin around you, and Azul grabbed you, panic in his eyes. You felt your legs buckle and he caught you smoothly. “Sorry- I just-“
“It’s quite alright. I will stay with you as long as you need.” Azul reassured you, although you didn’t - couldn’t - miss the quiver in his voice or the pink dusting his face. He pulled out a handkerchief and put it to your face. You took it and applied pressure to your nose, angling your head downwards in order to stop the bleeding, as Azul hesitantly rubbed patterns into your back to help you feel better. The sensation made you feel warm.
With a smile, you realised it wasn’t storming anymore. The sun had finally come out.
♥Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed it!!♥
#Rhea's twst fics~!#twisted wonderland#Azul Ashengrotto#twst#twst fanfic#twisted wonderland x reader#azul ashengrotto x reader#azul x reader#Cater Diamond#cater diamond x reader#cater x reader#twst fluff#Azul twst#Azul Ashengrotto twisted wonderland#Cater twst#Cater Diamond twisted wonderland
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The Assembly sees a cast of thirty-five interviewers who are autistic, neurodivergent or learning disabled, question an A-list celebrity for one extraordinary TV interview.
In this half-hour special, it's multi-award-winning actor and director, Michael Sheen, who is to face the grilling of a lifetime from the unique collective. No subject is out of bounds, no question is off the table.
On subjects as diverse as ex-girlfriends and on-screen kisses, to the OBE he gave back or his favourite motorway, how will the Good Omens star fare as The Assembly bring their unique approach to the celebrity interview?
The Assembly cast is a diverse cast ranging in age from eighteen to seventy-seven, amongst the group are musicians, artists, writers and students. Each will take their own approach in their attempt to get to the truth of Michael Sheen like nobody before has- whether that’s finding out his favourite sandwich filling or how he felt when his daughter was born.
The format is an adaptation of French show Les Rencontres Du Papotin, which saw the likes of Emmanuel Macron and Camille Cotin (Call My Agent) face the neurodivergent journalists of the Papotin. Gone was the flattery of the usual celeb fare – in its place, a mix of mischievous prodding, leftfield quizzing and profound exchanges. The superstars left completely off guard: actors asked about a driving ban or the death of a parent, the President asked if it’s really the behaviour of a role model to marry one’s teacher.
The show comes from Michelle Singer and Stu Richards' Rockerdale Studios, creators of mischievous content which seeks to put disabled agency at its heart. Stu is also known for co-creating and writing the BBC Three comedy, Jerk, and Rockerdale are most known for Channel 4’s Mission: Accessible.
Rockerdale Studios has worked closely with the BBC’s Creative Diversity Team, to ensure every element of the series works for and with autistic and neurodivergent voices.
The Assembly is a half-hour special to celebrate Autism Acceptance Week. Expect profound revelation, glorious chaos, and a lot of laughs.
The Assembly airs Friday 5 April, 10:40pm on BBC One and iPlayer
Interview with Michael Sheen
What made you say yes to being a part of The Assembly?
I said yes to being a part of The Assembly because it was just such an extraordinary and interesting idea. Then reading about the original French series, it just sounded so extraordinary, different and potentially a very revealing way to approach the tried and tested interview process, but obviously it is a lot more than just being an interview. The interview part of it is just one aspect of the project and I think there is still a lot of confusion, ignorance and fear around people with any kind of difference. I think being able to be involved in a project like this could maybe break down some of those barriers.
How is this different from any other TV show you’ve been a part of?
It’s very much unfiltered and that’s really exciting and quite nerve wracking for that reason! So much on TV is sort of smoothed out and filtered and made safe and this, certainly in the making of it, felt very not that! All the better and more refreshing for it too. I know a lot of work is put into the research and preparation for a show like this, but in terms of the actual questions being asked and the experience that you have in all being together when you’re filming, it feels very unpredictable in a really good way and really lead by the people taking part, which is terrific.
How did you feel going into filming?
Well I didn’t really have anything to go on, so I was excited. Sometimes when I’m going to be interviewed, I know what the interview is going to be about, I have a vague idea of the questions that will come up, I know the sort of things that I need to get across about what I’m there to talk about. But with this, I really had no idea what I was going to be asked, so I had to be prepared for everything and anything, there was a kind of freedom in that I suppose. Because of the unfiltered nature of what was going to happen and not being able to anticipate what might be asked, it was a little nerve wracking yes, but I was mainly just very excited!
Did your experience differ from what you were expecting and if so how?
Well I didn’t know what to expect really, so it’s not that it wasn’t what I was expecting because you can’t expect anything! There's no way you can expect anything because you just don’t know what’s going to happen, and because it is so unfiltered and unpredictable in terms of what might happen, where things might go, how people might be feeling on the day. For all the difficult questions that got asked at times, it just felt very loving and joyful and that everyone was very happy and excited to be there even though people were nervous or had anxiety at different times. There was a genuine feeling of community and I felt very welcomed into that community and ready to play so to speak, and you have to be ready to play. I felt very safe and looked after and it was just really, very funny as well – there was lots of laughter and wonderful things that people asked, responded to and performed, I mean I wasn’t expecting all of that, that was just wonderful! So many moments that I’ll never forget.
How does this compare to any other interview you’ve experienced?
It’s so unfiltered! The closest thing I can say is The One Show, where you go on to talk about one thing and then they ask you about everything else that’s going on on the show, so you get a question about your favourite bus route, then they ask you about otters! There’s an extraordinary pinball effect of questions and that’s the closest I could describe, but The Assembly is that x100. It really is extraordinary and that’s very unlike any other interview I’ve done really, usually everything is meant to follow on logically and have a kind of smoothness and polish to it, and this is just really raw and unfiltered and uncensored and I love that, I thought that was wonderful.
What can viewers expect from the show?
I imagine it will be very funny and I think quite moving. I was quite moved at times by seeing how much people had to struggle to overcome certain things they were dealing with in order to ask questions at times. That was uplifting. I think it will be different, it will be thought provoking I hope, and challenging in certain ways; challenging certain kinds of myths and stereotypes I think and ultimately just really entertaining and fun and joyful. I can’t really remember what I said, so I don’t know what people will learn about me... but it’s not about me, it’s about that fantastic group of people, but I certainly got a huge amount out of it too and I hope an audience will as well.
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severus snape fic recs
my personal favs
Young Snape:
a life of smoke and silvered glass: Slight AU in which Severus apologizes, tries harder, and stays friends with Lily. Severus doesn't become a Death Eater because he believes in it, Jily get married. Sweet, slightly sad ending. (So cute).
Falling Apart: Time travel fic, no pairings, Severus goes back to when James levicorpused him. (I loved this, I loved how Mary was included and Avery had a redemption arc. Severus never calls Lily mudblood.)
in glory and in ruin: Mulciber/Snape but it's not a main part of it. Basically, a Triwizard Tournament in between the school houses, and Severus gets chosen even though he's only 16. The Marauders and Lily aren't really in it, focuses on Snape's Gang, Charity and Aurora. WIP, and I LOVE it!
The Gryffindor Sort: WIP. Long. In which Severus is a Gryffindor, Lupin is hiding something, Potter and Black are the worst, and there's a Wizarding War about to erupt.
Severus and the Marauders: Long. What if instead of being insulted and excluded from the group, Severus was embraced instead. After all, it was the actions of the group that shaped history from the sidelines. So what if they shaped history a little differently?
That Awful Snape Boy: It had all happened on Wednesday 3rd of September 1973; Minerva committed the date to memory. She would always be amazed that this discussion could happen in the first place. If the boy hadn’t been unconscious, would they even have learnt anything before it was too late?
The Unwanted Boy From Spinner's End: Severus Snape’s existence is a mistake. His mother hints at it often enough with her regretful, drawn-out sighs, while his father prefers to get the message across with a good strapping and a lecture on his worthlessness. Needless to say, the twelve-year-old is not particularly inclined to trust adults, no matter how concerned or caring they claim to be. His life changes abruptly, however, one late evening in September when an illicit brewing session results in a forced trip to the Hogwarts infirmary. Not only is the truth about Severus' home life discovered, but an investigation reveals that shortly prior to his mother’s unexpected death, a single piece of parchment was deposited into her Gringotts vault—a Last Will and Testament in which Eileen Snape née Prince grants guardianship of her son to none other than Albus Dumbledore himself.
To Recollect the Future: Hindsight is 20/20, but when Harry's last steps into the forest set him back further than he'd ever thought, he never realised how grateful he'd be to have Snape there to help too.
Severus' choice: How one choice changed history's course, or the life of Severus Snape from Hogwarts to adulthood if characters were less caricatural, and Voldemort and the Death Eaters were more than bogeymen. This is an AU, events before and after may differ from the books.
the lost generation: The Marauders era at Hogwarts, Voldemort's rise to power and the subsequent war, family loyalties and dishonour, and the struggles of friendship in a difficult time.
Snily:
Come Once Again and Love Me: My favourite Snily fic ever. Snape and Lily time travel back from their individual deaths to when they were still at Hogwarts. Realistic-Lily misses James and Harry and their falling in love is slow burn too. Made me want to cry. I almost liked James!
The Fields of Summer: Short and sad. His past was bleeding into the present, just as his future was bleeding out of the gaping wound in his neck. And since memories were useless to a dead man, Snape plucked them out of his mind and gave them to The Boy Who Lived. He didn’t realize that in so doing, he’d forget her.
seventeen moons: After the werewolf prank. Severus was bitten and Lily figures it out. I hated Sirius so much and he was barely in it but he wasn't villainised-it's just the consequences of his own actions.. Loved the Snily! Short.
Surprising Lessons: Tensions run high between the students of Hogwarts in the time when Severus Snape, Lily Evans, and the Marauders are teenagers. New spells are invented, insults are traded, new bonds form, and unexpected support blooms. Short and sweet.
Vox Severus: SO cute. When Severus Snape's voice changes in fourth year, everyone notices.
Ambiguous: Order member Lily did not have a baby. Death Eater Severus did not hear a prophecy. Consequently, the Dark Lord did not fall. ...but what happens when a long forgotten prophecy suddenly shakes, and flashes through the colours of the spectrum..?
Switching Wands: Severus and Lily acted as best friends should and talked about the Whomping Willow incident.
Lily is less than impressed with Potter’s behaviour from that point onward.
Her Slytherin, His Gryffindor: Lily has had enough of James' bullying ways, so she decides to finally take advantage of her Prefect status. Or, in another universe, Lily helps Severus, and they become even closer.
Sweet Root: Lily decides to get Severus drunk one summer night. Angst thereby incurred happily resolves itself into, uh, happiness.
You Don't Bug Me: “Is there any reason you’re half naked in my room?”
Snape/Sirius:
Two Sides: A time travel fic where Severus and Sirius find themselves back on the evening before they graduated Hogwarts. With no idea how and why that happened, they set out to get back to their respective timelines. After all, Sirius has to save Harry at the Minstry of Magic, and Severus needs to tell Potter about the final Horcrux. Right? Too bad that they find themselves back on that evening over and over again. (Personal thoughts: I loved this one, very in character and I loved how they 'fixed' their regrets of the past).
Broken Me Found Broken You: It’s determined that Severus Snape and Sirius Black are immune to punishment after years of near-fatal pranks, bullying, and homemade curses. The only person who thinks them capable of ending the feud and finishing their education is Professor McGonagall. For the summer of ‘77, she gives them a pair of charmed hand mirrors and an ultimatum: communicate. That’s it, a mere ten minutes every Saturday. Back at Hogwarts, when their animosity proves insurmountable, Sirius and Severus are relegated to a small, Eighth Year dormitory. The tight quarters—wandless—are intended to force them to make a peaceful reconciliation, but peace is impossible with a bloody war ramping up inside and outside the castle.
Sorry: Sirius Black decides to make amends for the horrid way he treated Snape when they were teenages. Snape is less than amenable to the idea. (Written around the time of book three/four). Basically, Sirius apologises a lot. And then some fucking.
The Sin in Your Grin (And the Shape of Your Mouth): The Order needed Sirius, but he doubted they'd mourn him very long when he finally disappeared. The first Wizarding war, Snape and Sirius are fucking. Sirius thinks Remus is the spy, Severus tells him otherwise. Canon-compliant: James and Lily die, Peter is the spy. The last line. Shaking.
Dead Reckoning: Severus Snape delivers a potion to Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, holding a twenty-year-old grudge in his heart. He has yearned for revenge for so long—and he will have it. Along with something else he did not ask for.
Beyond The Veil: In one world, Sirius Black ignored Severus Snape's warning and went to the Department of Mysteries to save his godson's life. He died and went beyond the veil. In another world, Sirius Black stayed back. This made all the difference. An AU where Sirius Black survived and now knew Severus Snape's deepest secret.
Rings And Ringing Bells: A bastardisation of a traditional love story. Two men both broken by the world are at wit’s end trying not to kill each other. There’s Severus, a bitter insult who does not take fools lightly, and Sirius, a drunkard who has a habit of pressing his buttons. It involves a curse which forces them to get married, an immaculate conception, and the blurring of the line between hate and love. They fear that they have no control over their lives and are doomed to make the mistakes their parents had done before them. They’re not good for each other, but the fiasco that is their romance may be enough to teach them how to hate each other and themselves a little less.
Always (Come For Me): Snape might have been lying when he said Sirius Black wasn't punished for the prank he had pulled on him. It all started with Sirius having to live with the Snapes for the remainder of his summer...
An Interlude: Set during Order of the Phoenix. Snape comes across Black looking through some of his old school things. Memories are stirred up, grudges are held, old conflicts refuse to be resolved, and new ground might be (dis)covered. A series of conversations in the year before a death.
bite your tongue, go to the funeral: A funeral, a departure, a chance encounter, a war, a funeral (again), a snide remark, and a revival.
Two Boys Kissing: Sirius goes to a gay bar and meets the last person he expects. Under cloudy skies, two boys kiss and that one moment comes to define generations of want, need and hope.
An Occlument Heart: Snape knows that, usually, keeping a secret is the bravest thing you can do. But sometimes the bravest thing is to tell one. Complete. Canon (more or less) up to the start of Book 5, when this story begins.
Found in the Moments Between the Search: When Sirius returns from beyond the Veil with knowledge of Voldemort's Horcruxes, he takes on the task of finding and destroying them. Somewhere along the way he finds an unexpected ally and perhaps something more. (AU from the end of OotP, takes place during HBP period)
Walking the Monochrome: That’s what being a dog is like – it's like you’re walking the very edge of the world, where almost all colour has run out, and you know that should you miss a step, you’ll fall off that edge... Then again, you already know all about it. The edge and the falling.” AU of the first war.
Second Life: What happens when two men are given a second chance.
The Welcoming Feast: Severus opened his eyes and he was suddenly inside Grimmauld Place. His hand flew to his neck. He remembered Nagini biting him, Potter coming to him and then he closed his eyes, expecting death, but instead he was back here.
The Devil-and-All to Pay: Albus Dumbledore is mad. Severus is sure of it, when the old man sends him to persuade Sirius Black to come back to England and let the Order use his family home as headquarters. The problem, as always, is that Severus cannot say no.
Black Out: Snape and Black try something they have never done before. Talking.
eighty-twenty: In seventh year James left Severus for Lily. Best choice he could have ever made. It never would have worked out. Besides, he and Lily are married now, she's pregnant with his soon to be child and Severus...Severus is with Sirius.
First and Last and Always: Severus had his wand. He swallowed hard. His wand. Magic. His only defense, because Black outweighed him by at least three stone. But magic was more than enough. Severus had never needed physical prowess. His magical strength, and the keenness of his mind, gave him the advantage. Except when it didn’t.
Visions of Doom: Severus gets injured in the shrieking shack (his fifth year). While unconscious he witnesses some scenes from his future and realizes becoming a death eater wouldn’t bring him power and glory but pain and servitude. He spends the rest of his schooling trying to shape a different future for himself.
Anything by FabulaRasa on AO3.
Remus/Snape:
Fuel the Pyre of Your Enemies: A paired class assignment for Astronomy incites a mutually beneficial agreement between Remus Lupin and Severus Snape. An exploration of sexuality and friendships. (One of my favourite Snupin fics, really realistic. Also no evil!peter).
where the wolfsbane blooms: Remus and Severus friendship, and then more. 7000 words-short but sweet. Severus tries to cure the lycanthropy. James is constantly befuddled.
Have Your Cake and Eat It: Remus POV. Long. Incredible. Changed my world view. I cried with Remus at the end. Still kind of happy! Time travel fic. Remus lives. Realistic for the characters and especially for the seventies (although lowkey Remus is too woke for the nineties why does he know the word heteronormative). I loved Sirius in this one. Lying in hospital after the Battle of Hogwarts, Remus Lupin has a lovely lucid dream that he's gone back to his school days at Hogwarts. Only the day passes, then another, and another, and soon he must face the terrifying possibility that it isn't a dream — that he has irreparably altered the events of the past. Cunegonde is SO good!
DELOCAPONUM: 𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟏. A new acquaintance to the territory of teaching, an old friend to grief and misfortune, and entirely off on the wrong foot, twenty-one-year-old Professor Severus Snape reverts to an old charm of his — a charm for things that are lost — in attempt to find the one book in which he wrote it. But when the spell starts working against him and mysterious things start happening to his own students, it seems he has no choice but to form an alliance with an old schoolyard enemy in order to find a culprit, a book, and his own identity. And one thing is for certain: the irritating charm of Remus Lupin is nearly impossible to refuse.
Creature Comforts: A classic! Remus and Severus are paired to work together in Care of Magical Creatures in 6th year. Neither one is too happy with the arrangement at first.
That Awful Boy: CLASSIC! Severitus. Petunia lets slip a twenty-year-old secret, and Harry is sent to Spinner's End to study Occlumency early. Severus Snape can see no way in which this could end in catastrophe.
Not Really Here: After the werewolf prank, Severus disappears. He’s still at Hogwarts—at least, he thinks he is—and he’s probably still alive, but no one can see or hear him. Except for Lupin. Remus, meanwhile, is avoiding the other Marauders—as well as everyone else—and Snape becomes the sole exception to his self-appointed isolation. As they work together to look for answers about Severus’ condition, the unlikely pair drift toward friendship. But building a relationship of any kind presents a challenge when neither of them is sure Severus exists at all. I've only read this once but I love it. No Marauders bashing, but no pretending they're saints either. And they have a pretty big part but obvs Snupin is at the forefront.
The Heir to the House of Prince: Harry is the main character and the main ship is Harry and Theo. While Snupin is secondary it's pretty central. Summer of 4th year and Harry's all alone, dealing with his grief and the sudden revelation that James Potter is not his father. Support comes in a strange form. The form of Theo Nott, son of a death Eater. A strange friend who says he'll help him find his true father, whoever this Lord Prince might be. Technically Snily ig? But not really.
Sight Unseen: After losing his sight during the Battle of Hogwarts, Remus struggles to adjust to his new circumstances; when depression threatens to overwhelm him, he receives unexpected assistance from an unknown source.
The Other Side of The Mirror: In sixth year, Remus Lupin nearly killed Severus Snape in wolf form. Miraculously, Severus escaped unharmed. But what if he hadn't?
The Meaning of Mistletoe: What was going on was that Severus Snape had no trouble tracking down one Petunia Evans, now Dursley, to a little town in Surrey where he saw how exactly she was treating her nephew. Which somehow led to last night and Severus knocking on Lupin’s door with a toddler half-asleep in his arms.
Spymaster: Former spymaster and one time headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry Severus Snape left the house just once a week on a Tuesday. Wherein Snape wears tracksuit pants and smokes too many cigarettes and Lupin is into it.
Well They're No Friends Of Mine: Whenever his friends pull a prank on Snape, Remus always looks the other way. But what if there's another option?
The Other Side of the Mirror: I haven't read this, but it's a 'what if Remus bit Snape.' 60000 words.
Artemisa Absinthium: The Rat and the Snake: AU set during the First Wizarding War. Severus has defected from the Dark Lord, and become a double agent for Dumbledore. When he learns of an informant it sends the Order into disaray. Can he uncover the identity of the traitor before his own true loyalty is revealed? What price is he willing to pay for his redemption? And can a man like Severus Snape ever be worthy of love?
Capnolagnia: Three times Remus caught Severus Snape smoking.
About Wolves and Snakes: Unfinished. Remus Lupin woke up being fifteen years old again, having no idea how or why. Upon learning that he could not return, he decided that he would try to change the way things happened.
One Thousand Galleons: It's been six years since Remus Lupin, age 25, left England after the death of his father and the slow dissolving of his friendship with the Marauders. A letter from James finds him in Canada at an opportune time, asking him to come home to meet his soon-to-be-born son. Remus never expected that his time away would give him the perfect resume for teaching at Hogwarts, nor did he expect that his return would spark both conflict and resolution. If only he could get the Potion's Professor to understand how sorry he is for the way things turned out. “What is the price for your forgiveness?” --- “One Thousand Galleons.”
Living Legend: Marauders-era fic, Snape decides he needs some "hands-on" experience and chooses Remus as his very special study partner. But there's more to these extracurricular activities than meets the eye.
Lily's Boy: With help from unexpected places, Harry starts on a journey to end the war, and reshape the wizarding world. With how much he looks like James Potter, people have forgotten one important thing about him - he is Lily Evans' son, and she was one hell of a witch. Side Snupin.
It's Not Over Til It's Done: Unfinished. Severus did not expect to survive the Second Wizarding War, but survive he did. Remus didn't either, yet due to unforeseen circumstances, Remus finds himself taking care of Severus in the wake of surviving Nagini's venom.
Ten Aprils: Severus must find a way for Harry to defeat Voldemort. Remus must find a way for Severus to free himself from the past. The Dark Lord is about to attack Hogwarts, and Harry needs to get over his rage, hate and despair in order to learn to summon the phoenix needed to defeat Voldemort. Snape must find the answers, then teach Harry how. In the next thirty minutes. Like it would ever happen.
A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love: A story in which Severus Snape is unable to sleep; a certain werewolf is impersonating Celestina Warbek and cauldrons are used as prevention, sort of.
the week that changed it all: It’s Christmas break in Remus’ 6th year of Hogwarts. Sadly, his parents aren’t home so he has to stay over at Lily’s house for the week. He makes a discovery he didn’t know was possible. The first one was that apparently, Severus lived not far away, the second one was that he started to like the boy.
A Prince By Early Frost: While preparing his chamber for the Philosopher’s Stone, Severus encounters the dark fae borne by a black glass mirror, buried deep beneath the castle. He is chosen, but unsure by what, until over a year later, when a figure from his dreams takes the Defense position, asking for a favor.
Chocolate Cake and Other Intimacies: Remus Lupin is spending his birthday alone in the hospital wing. Severus brings him his homework to cheer him up.
That Awful Snape Boy: It had all happened on Wednesday 3rd of September 1973; Minerva committed the date to memory. She would always be amazed that this discussion could happen in the first place. If the boy hadn’t been unconscious, would they even have learnt anything before it was too late? Guardian fic but Snape is the ward in this one. AU set in the Marauders Era. Rated T to be safe.
Basically anything by McKay on AO3.
Snape/James:
Knowledge of the Gods: Severus was either in a coma and dying, already dead and trapped in some purgatory, completely and utterly insane, or living in the body of his past self. And, perhaps most suspiciously, why did James Potter keep looking at him like that?!
A Touch, A Kiss, A Whisper of Love: After Severus Snape and James Potter find themselves stuck in an awkward detention together, an unlikely friendship forms. As their newfound friendship develops, James discovers something new about himself while Severus tries to fight his growing attraction to the Gryffindor boy.
Cake, Please!: Slight SA gives me the ick, but vaguely fun to read. A story of blackmail, the wonderful world of sexuality, and lots of cake.
Revenge is Sweet: A teenage Snape plots his revenge on James Potter for making his life hell, but little does he know that James has plans of his own that will send both their lives spiraling irrevocably out of control.
Ninety-Three: James promises Severus that if Severus has sex with him 93 times, he will break up with Lilly and advocate that she date Severus.
Absolution: What is it that draws James to Severus? A disease? A curse? A secret wish... a need? Try as he might to ignore the Slytherin, in the end, to Severus is where James always finds himself. **SLOW BUILD** Rated M for... certain kinds of scenes later on.
The Dreamer in the Well: James got the girl....finally. She even stopped being friends with Severus, whom he absolutely hated. But one day, his curiosity changes everything.
Love Is Strange: At the start of his sixth year, James Potter decides to finally stop ruining Severus' life. His friends agree to stop the bullying but what they do not know is the reason why James decided to put an end to it. They think he just matured or grew tired of it but the truth is a little more complicated than that.
A Fickle Thing: James Potter's marriage is failing- What a perfect time to disguise himself as a muggle, follow Severus Snape to what is either a makeshift dance club or a party for gay muggles, and then do a series of things he really should not do.
Rise: Severus Snape was tired of his fate, to be a lowly snake. Luckily, fate was kind to him this time and the arrival of a tournament had come. It was a spur of the moment kind of thing, a moment of weakness and strength that led Severus to put his name in the Goblet of Fire. But he was chosen now, and he had no choice but to play in the game, maybe he will live or die, but either way he wasn't going to become what everyone said he would be.
Apocrypha: Two can keep a secret, if one of the two is dead.
Norwegian Wood (This Bird Has Flown): Long, loved it, well written. James Potter starts his seventh year with a secret. He has amazing friends, Sirius is always right by his side, Lily is finally starting to warm up to him. His life is an endless cycle of partying and drinking. So what if the Wizarding World is on the precipice of war? So what if Severus Snape has disappeared from Hogwarts? That's not James's problem. Life is beautiful, and even if it's all an illusion he wants to hold on to that dream for just a little bit longer.
Colours of Redemption: Severus Snape was meant to die. Instead he was placed into hell. Trapped in timeloops, Severus tries to make sense of the future knowledge he suddenly had. If he made one bad move, everything is reset for him to try again. Being placed into a new house and everyone being nice to him, Severus is doing his best but it is hard. Especially when James Potter is noticing him in a different way.
Goeey Melting Hearts: In their 5th year James, Sirius and Remus over hear a conversation that makes them reconsider their opinions of the ‘future Death Eaters’. The Marauders stop bullying, but guilt eats at James until he decides to apologize. That summer James tracks down Severus, but sees something that crushes him.
Regulus/Snape:
Burning Doves: The first Snape/Regulus I ever read. Regulus needs help with potions and Snape tutors him. Not much Marauders, they're just offscreen assholes. Narcissa and Severus friendship which I always enjoy. It's done, but I haven't finished it yet. Whoops.
Severus and Snape: Severus Snape finds Lily dead in Godric's Hollow, her son's screams echoing in his ears, and decides to end his life with hers. Fate has other ideas. Next thing he knows, he's facing an 11-year-old Lily Evans, on their way to their first year at Hogwarts.
Snape & or / Narcissa:
Seven Days: Severus knows a lot can happen in seven days. Slash.
Living A Lie: All of her life, Narcissa Black has had to live as the perfect lady, and witch; to never reveal one's inner heart, nor ever go against the wishes of one's family. After being forced into an engagement she does not want during her sixth year at Hogwarts, Narcissa has kept the desires of her heart on ice; particularly, for a wizard her family would never in a million years have approved of: Severus Snape. Even after the birth of her son Draco, she has harbored these desires deep in her heart for the enigmatic Potions Master. But when she comes to Spinners End to ask Severus to watch over Draco at the start of the school term of 1997, she finds that she cannot keep her heart on ice for the wizard of her dreams any longer...
What Lies Beneath: "Please, Professor, I saw him-I saw Snape," Harry said, struggling to breathe, "he's hurt...we've got to find him-we've got to find him right now or he's going to die!" Severus Snape's redemption story told in the span of three books from multiple perspectives.
Snape/Others:
Redemption: Severus died that night at the hands of the Dark Lord, the man he "worked" for and was "loyal", at least that's what the Lord believed him to be, an impeccable servant. Even so, he ended up dying for his master's snake. He knew it would happen, he was sure his time was coming, just like the manipulative old goat's plan. However, what would he do when he found out that he wasn't the only one who had the memories of his past life? How would his life turn out? Better or worse?
Breaking the Mould: Everyone knew Severus' future. Everyone knew he'd become a death eater, maybe get his mastery in potions and eventually die at his master's hand. But what if they didn't know Severus as well as they thought they did? Rather than conform to the role people expected him to play, Severus takes action. During 6th year he leaves Hogwarts, joining an apprenticeship overseas that guarantees not only a future but his own happiness. Meanwhile the Marauders (minus Peter) are left regretting what can never be. They each had a secret, something none of them were willing to admit. Only now it's too late. But what happens when Severus re-emerges during the war? Not a death eater, not a teacher even. But a strong, independent and most importantly a free man. How will the marauders react?
Dinner and a Show: James takes Lily out to dinner, an unhappy evening made more difficult by the arrival of Severus and Lucius Malfoy at a nearby table.
Snape & Others:
O Mine Enemy: Severitus, long. When Harry finds an injured Snape on his doorstep and must hide him from the Dursleys, he has no idea that this very, very bad day will be the start of something good. Alternate 6th summer (and part of the school year): post-OotP; ignores HBP and DH. No slash, no romance. NOW COMPLETE!
I Know Not, and I Cannot Know; Yet I Live and I Love: Severus Snape has his emotions in check. He knows that he experiences anger and self-loathing and a bitter yearning, and that he rarely deviates from that spectrum… Until the first-year Luna Lovegood arrives to his class wearing a wreath of baby’s breath. Over the next six years, an odd friendship grows between the two, and Snape is not sure how he feels about any of it.
Second Life: What happens when two men are given a second chance. Snape & Sirius.
Not Entirely Tedious: Young Professor Severus Snape shows up for a meeting, but the only other person there is the Deputy Headmistress. He wants to leave and return later, after the other participants will have arrived, but Professor McGonagall explains why that is impossible. Cross about having his plans for the day disrupted for a meeting that’s not taking place, Snape resents having to spend the afternoon with McGonagall. She doesn’t seem very pleased, either, but is content to relax and wait. Snape isn’t so patient, and soon manages to annoy his companion.
The Young Potions Professor: The staff avoided him like the plague, ignored him, or straight up left when he went into the staff room. And the worst thing was that they didn't even try to hide their collective disgust for him. If he got into the staff room in the morning and any of them were there, they would immediately get up and go sit on the furthest side of the room, as far from him as possible.
Slytherin Career Day: The student of Slytherin House were born with everything: wealth, prestige and pure wizarding blood. Now it's Severus Snape's job to help them find the one thing they don't have: careers.
In Another Lifetime: HP AU. In a world where Tom Riddle was slaughtered, the wizarding wars did not occur, and Albus Dumbledore promoted peace in Hogwarts, Lily Evans and Severus Snape did the impossible: they remained lifelong friends. Snape meets his potential, and has a shot at happiness along the way.
immortalists with points to prove: The Snape kid is hardly a hero. Then again, neither is Alastor.
#pro severus snape#pro snape#anti snaters#snames#snirius#snupin#remus lupin#james potter#sirius black#regulus black#narcissa black.#wolfstar#marauders#snily#lily evans#lily potter#marauders bashing#anti james potter#harry potter#severitus#fic recs
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HOW TWISTED WONDERLAND'S HOUSEWARDENS ACT WHEN YOU ARE THEIR FAVOURITE CELEBRITY
— ; gender-neutral ; might as well do the second and the third part with vices and first years if you want ;
Riddle Rosehearts. ❤️
— You are his favourite fashion designer. It might sound ridiculous on some extent, but he fell in love with your collections of clothes in his early childhood;
— Not only you made an exquisite pieces on your own, but also, as a former student of NRC—most likely, from Pomefiore—you often create collections inspired by each of houses;
— Riddle's mother strongly shares his strange obsession over you, so she bought him a lot of your clothes;
— When he becomes a student, he indulges himself by ordering a special lining of clothes that will be made only for him.
•
”I see,” you nod, gripping a pencil harder as you frantically draw something on the paper. ”That wouldn't be a problem at all. In fact, I actually enjoy your ideas.”
”Really?” Riddle blushes traitorously, almost knocking the tea cup of the table. Gladly, you don't notice due to being too involved in sketching. ”I, I mean, it is pleasant to know.”
Just as rumours told, you were a very interesting, though, extravagant creature. Not in the rude way. But it seemed like an outside world hardly existed for you. All your attention was centred on your works.
”Give me two weeks, and I will finish everything,” you finally look at him, eyes sprinkling with a pure inspiration. ”Will it be fine for you, mister Rosehearts?”
”Of course,” he offers you a nervous smile. ”Take all the time in the world, please”
”Good,” you hum, standing up from your chair. ”It is pleasant to work with you.”
He nods, being completely at loss of his words. You are his idol, his legend... He doesn't know how to talk with you.
”Oh, and... Thank you for this short opportunity to visit the walls of my old school once again. It is interesting experience,” you wink at him, before disappearing in the depth of his garden.
Riddle gasps.
That is so much better than his dreams!
Leona Kingscholar. 💛
— Might be a controversial opinion, but you are his favourite political figure in the Afterglow Savannah;
— Perhaps, it is because you are not dazzled by his brother, always keeping your coolheaded and calculated attitude. Or maybe it is because you actually tried to help him to get involved in the country's council. Nevertheless, he strangely adores you;
— As a kid he dreamt a lot of becoming a king, and making you his consort. But, of course, his dreams were useless and quite embarrassing;
— Yet, even after all these years, are the only person, who makes him stutter. Ruggie honestly loves it;
•
”It is pleasure you meet you again, prince Leona.”
As soon as Leona makes an eye contact with you, he gets absolutely lost. It takes almost a minute from him, to bow his head before you respectfully, and to answer.
”...Farena never mentioned you coming,” he tries to sound cool as usual, but his tail is swaying nervously, betraying him. ”But, of course, you are very welcomed here.”
You nod, but stay very oblivious to his excitement. You never actually notice his adore towards you, always too focused on your work, rather than paying attention on people around.
”I had a meeting with this head of the school of yours,” you frown a little at these words, and he assumes you didn't really like Crowley. ”And his Majesty decided to bring Cheka along. Since he insisted, I couldn't deny the wish of little prince.”
”Yeah... Thank you very much for taking care of this little cub.” He mutters, tugging his own braids nervously. ”May I ask what could possibly be required from Crowley?”
Your ears perk up a little; a good sign of you being interested in the topic. Leona instantly feels smug that he was able to raise a right topic to drag you in conversation.
”If prince Leona doesn't mind, we could discuss it while walking around your school,” you suggest, now with your tail swaying enthusiastically. ”I also think, you will be interested in my proposition."
As if he isn't interested in everything you do...
”I wouldn't dream of anything better,” he answers honestly. ”Ruggie will take care of Cheka then.”
Ruggie, whose present was forgotten easily, rolls his eyes. As two of you leave, speaking in the hushed tones, he couldn't help but cuss at Leona. What an annoying brat he is.
Azul Ashengrotto. 🩵
— Quite predicable. You are his favourite lawyer in the whole world, much to his stepfather's displeasure;
— He is actually the one, who told stories about you—since you are working in the same area—but he couldn't imagine that his son will be so invested in your figure;
— Azul has a whole wall with cutouts from news about your wins in the court. He stares at it every morning, for—as he says—a manifestation a luck and success;
— He is buzzing with excitement, when Crowley invites you on the orientation day to inspire his students.
•
You let out a tired groan.
It is not the first time you are invited on lections for kids, but it was definitely the hardest one. Mostly, because there was this very enthusiastic boy, who asked you a million questions about everything. Your work, your ideals, your previous cases.
And while you could feel a great potential in him, you also was drained. That is why when you hear his voice again, you are thinking about running away.
”Excuse me, Y/n Y/s? I... I apologise for the interruping your rest time, but I simply wanted to say how impressive you are, and—”
You raise your hand, gesturing him to stop. He does so, a little bit ashamed.
”What is your name?” You ask him instead.
”I... My name is Azul Ashengrotto,” he pauses, glancing at the floor, probably, assuming you will scold him.
”Oh,” you blink in late realisation. ”I know your father. He is the lawyer, too, isn't he?”
He nods, and you finally realise where he got this persistence from.
”Well, Azul...” You shuffle in your pocket, finding one of many visit cards you carry with you, handing it to him. ”You are truly quite smart kid. And if you will still be sure in becoming a lawyer later, after your school ends, you can always contact me. I think, I could become your mentor.”
He stares at your visit cards so shocked, that you wonder if he is okay. Nevertheless, as he is speechless, you are quickly attempting to leave the corridor, before he starts asking more.
”T... Thank you very much! I will.” You hear him saying, when you are already at doors.
It is a shame you miss his screeching sounds of happiness as you left, though. People will kill to see Azul Ashengrotto acting like this.
Kalim Al-Asim. 🧡
— Another predictable answer. You are his favourite dancer;
— You dance in some different styles at the same time, and he honestly adores the way you switch so easily between them;
— ...He is crying from the pure excitement, once you try east style of dances, and Jamil listens him sobbing for an hour, while he spams your Magicam with millions of complements;
— Of course, Kalim shoves a sack of money in Crowley's face, so he could invite you on some ball in the school to perform, lmao.
•
”I am honestly flattered,” you admit shyly, while Kalim kisses your hands adoringly. ”And surprised! We, dancers, rarely appreciated as much as actors or singers... But, uh, thank you very much!”
Kalim jumps on his feet, smiling even wider with each word. Not only you danced gracefully, but also spoke this way! He is so amazed by you!
”No, no, thank you! You can't explain how much joy you bring in my life!” He practically screams, making others to glance in your direction suspiciously. ”I actually wanted to show my gratitude! So, maybe you want to have dinner with me and Jamil! Jamil's cooking is just amazing! You will love it!”
You raise your brows in surprise, but laugh quietly. This boy is very, very funny.
”Oh, that sounds nice, but... I have a special diet, so I assume I cannot...”
Before your finish your sentence, a lean and dark figure of the boy around Kalim's age appears behind you. With a slight nudge to your shoulders, he whispers, almost pleadingly.
”Please, agree to this offer. He is literally will cry for hours if you don't.”
Ah, that is supposedly Jamil...
You return your gaze on Kalim, who is watching you with big, watery eyes. You really can't say no...
”I assume... If only for an hour or, so...”
"Yay!”
Idia Shroud. 💙
— You are his favourite cosplayer, because of course you are;
— A love from the first sight, some can call it. But he is obsessed with each character you do! You nail it!
— He is not social enough to actually write comments on your photos, or even appear on the same Cons as you, so instead, he keeps his love anonymous;
— And by that I mean sending you a lot of donations, and buying all your Wishlist for new cosplays, lmao.
•
You stare at the big amount of money that came to your account this morning. The sender stays the same throughout this year; an anonymous fan named as a Hounddog666. No matter how concerning it is, you are actually flattered. Someone really loves you this much!
So, as usual, you message to him to thank for it.
His account—the only one you has—is private and closed, no photos, no names, no followers. You assume it is fake.
You:
Hello, hello! :) I just received your new gift, and I wanted to say how much I am grateful for your support. I wish I could do something for you as well, though.
Answers comes immediately.
Hounddog666:
Greetings. Please, continue to make all of us happy with your art. It means a lot for me. (っ.❛ ᴗ ❛.)っ
You smiled, shaking your head slightly. How sweet.
You:
Thanks, really. Maybe we should meet sometime, if you are such a fan of mine, haha.
Perhaps, it is slightly stupid and naive decision. This person could be a possible stalker or maniac, but... Well, you couldn't help but be curious of how exactly looks a person that adores you like this.
Hounddog666:
Perhaps.
You hum as he vanishes from online.
At the meantime, Idia Shroud falls from his chair after recieving your message, making other students in the History of Magic class glare at him with disapproval. But what would they know? He is just became closer to his idol!
Vil Schoenheit. 💜
— Surprisingly... You are his favourite writer;
— The connection between actors and writers is always a strong one. Writers and books are a constant tools for actors that help them understand characters and their inner thoughts;
— Vil isn't an expectation! He loves your books for many years, and his only dream was to play some of your characters;
— That is why he immediately suggested his candidature on the main lead in the film adaptation of your book that was announced recently.
•
Vil huffs, staring at his reflection absent-mindedly. A closed scenario in front of him ache his eyes, making his chest to tighten nervously.
This character, whose role he got, is his favourite actually. As a teenager, he found this boy with a complicated writing, a very relatable one. And he thought, it would be easy to play him as they share the same issues and pain. Bur instead, he finds himself... Feeling worse as he does so.
Each conversation with your about this character makes him feel nauseous. It is as if he is playing himself! And for some reason that he can't understand, it is not pleasant at all!
”Here you are,” he hears your warm voice, and before he realises you are close, you already put a cup of green tea in front of him. ”Are you okay, Vil?”
He nods thankfully, accepting the drink.
He should be happy now. He met his favourite person in the world, he has a possibility to speak with you so casually. Then why, he feels so shattered?
”I am,” Vil answers. ”It is just... A hard role.”
You nod, and he catch the glimpse of understanding in your eyes.
”Trust me, I know. Writing him wasn't easy, too. Do you know why?” He shakes his head. "Because I put a lot of myself in him. And it felt... Awful. As if I was peeling my own skin from myself, layer by layer, until I was left naked in front of thousands... No, millions people. It is never easy to be sincere, I am afraid.”
Vil blinkes.
This! This is why he loves your books. It is the way how beautiful you yield your thoughts, putting them in gentle, yet piercing, words. It is about you understanding him, despite never knowing before.
He finds himself smiling widely.
”This makes me even more glad that I am playing him,” he says, more collected than before.
You laugh, patting his shoulder slightly.
”I feel the same way about you playing him, Vil. Believe me or not, you look and act exactly as I pictured him to be.”
He gasps happily.
You are satisfied with him. That's absolutely beautiful!
”I will try not to disappoint, then.”
Malleus Draconia. 💚
— You are his favourite artist whose works were introduced him by Lilia;
— He fell in love with your drawings first, but as soon as he realised that you not only draw, but also make sculptures, he fell in love even more;
— Buys and adores everything you do, but especially likes it, when you give interviews, explaining all little details and historical context behind your works. You are smart. He likes it about others;
— No surprise he commissions a gargoyle statue from you, eventually.
•
”You speak so beautiful, young prince,” you murmur, astonished by the fae in front of you. ”I... I can't explain how charmingly inspiring your stories are!”
Malleus feels unexplainable amount of joy, when he sees you pacing from one side room to another, inspired by his words. His stories.
No one ever shared his interest in gargoyles, and this kind of reaction feels... Strangely rewarding.
”It is only small part of what I have to say about gargoyles,” he assures you quietly. ”But I am glad that you find it as curious as I do.”
”Curious?” You echo his words, stopping in front of him. ”That is not curious, young prince, that is ethereal. Ephemeral. It feels like chasing a dream.”
He smiles at your excitement, baring his fangs out. He feels the same way about it. For once, Malleus's assumptions were right; you are exactly who he searched for all these years.
”Young prince,” you take his hands in yours, making his breath hitch, ”please, if you enjoy my result on your commission later, I am begging you to work with me on my next project about gargoyles. I feel like it will be my magnus opium. I—”
You continue to chatter actively, voice becoming higher with each sentence, but Malleus only can stare at you and at your linked arms. The tip of his ears are reddening. Is it even real?
Not only he will have new works from you, but also... He will be able to spend time with you?
Does you expect him to refuse?
”It will be a pleasure of mine,” he tells you, with a genuine adore in his eyes.
”My prince,” you squeak,” I already love you. Thank you, thank you!”
And at this point, others can't say for sure, who is whose fan here...
#twisted wonderland#twst wonderland#leona kingscholar#leona kingscholar x reader#malleus draconia#malleus x reader#azul ashengrotto#kalim al asim#leona x reader#riddle rosehearts#riddle x reader#kalim x reader#azul x reader#azul ashengrotto x reader#kalim al asim x reader#riddle rosehearts x reader#vil x reader#vil schoenheit#vil schoenheit x reader
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eddie munson; tiddies
next : 2
pairings : eddie munson x female!reader
summary : after a drunken evening eddie's name ends up written on your tits. he catches a glimpse in the cafeteria
warnings : soft smut (minors dni), underage drinking (reader is a senior), mild swearing
i’d just like to thank a wild night out for the inspiration on this one. i’m a slut for eddie munson. part 3 of tutor is coming and I've got two requests i'm writing plus another eddie headcannon series in the works.
masterlist and taglist
okay hear me out, getting drunk with eddie and somehow he ends up signing your tit with a sharpie. it doesn’t click that the pen is sharpie until you wake up the next morning and it’s not coming off in the shower.
do not ask how it ended up happening, neither of you know it just did
sods fucking law you’ve not done your washing recently and the top you’re wearing has a pretty low v-neck. one wrong move and the whole of the student body is going to see eddie (or at least the start of it because it’s so big the first few letters aren’t even covered by your bra).
it’s kinda hot. knowing that you’ve got his name, written by him, somewhere that people only ever really see unless you’re getting intimate.
or you’re drunk with your best friend who you’re only a little bit in love with
eddie doesn’t remember straight away, but when you sit down at the lunch table and lean over to give gareth some english notes he sees it
this boy chokes, he’s beet red and that part of the evening is coming back to him, it’s not that he blacked out or anything but he was definitely thinking it was just something his drunk brain imagined
now he’s got a hard on in the cafeteria and whilst the jeans look cool there’s nothing left to the imagination
the rest of the hellfire club have no clue what’s going on, but your eyes widen slightly as you realise what’s got him so worked up
he’s turned on, you’re turned on. and this is where the tension finally snaps
‘meet me in the van’ he murmurs as he quite abruptly grabs his stuff and stalks off
you’re excusing yourself not long after he left, telling the hellfire club you’ve got to go and see mr mundy about some extra credit
when you get to his van the first thing he does is grip your hips and pull you closer into a needy kiss
this is new but you’re not complaining
neither of you have to say anything about your feelings for each other, your actions are saying it for you
eddie is so needy
you would think that he’d be all dominant, and maybe if he’d written his name and then gotten off with you at the same time he would be
but this caught him unaware and he’s just so weak
his favourite girl with his name, written haphazardly in sharpie claiming what’s his
he’s a puddle
before you know it you’re making out straddling him in the back of his van
your hands are in his hair, pulling gently on it
and his hands are palming your tits through your shirt
‘let’s take this off,’ he murmurs into your skin, whilst tugging at the bottom of the fabric
‘wanna see my name on my tits,’
as soon as your shirt is off eddie’s kissing, and sucking on the top of your breasts, leaving hickies on the unmarked one
he’s starting to unravel and this is all too much for him so when you decide to start palming him through his trousers
it’s all over
putty in your goddamn hands
moaning into your tits, pushing his face so far into them he’s basically suffocating
‘eddie…eddie baby,’ your voice breaks him out of his trance, pulling him back into the moment letting out an absolutly pathetic whine when he realises the movement of your hand has stopped
‘i’m not sleeping with you for the first time in the high school parking lot,’
he just kind of short circuits because you said first time. and that’s implying it’s going to be more than once and he just can’t quite believe how someone so beautiful actually wants him
you lean in nice and close to his ear, your voice low and sensual with the promise that, if he can drive you back to his trailer you’ll let him fuck your tits
he’s never moved so fast in his life
#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson headcanons#eddie munson x you#stranger things fanfiction#eddie munson fic#eddie munson imagine#stranger things fic#eddie munson smut
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Rigor Mortis (part 9)
College roommate!Miguel O'Hara x reader
(AO3 Mirror) (Wattpad) Series Masterlist, Main Masterlist,
Part 8, Part 10
summary: You both come to a realisation.
warnings: smut! f! masturbation, grinding, humping, fingering, (implied) recreational drug use, alcohol, dubcon (-ish! reader is drunk but the interaction is consensual, tagging just in case xx), teeny tiny bit of mutual pining. 18+ Minors DNI
a/n: yuhh
Thank you to my beta readers, @tianyhi and @urgonnaneedabiggership (they also write Miguel fics, I highly recommend! my favourite is this series), I couldn't have done it without you guys <3
Join my taglists here
wc: 7.2k
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
all that light lost in gaps
You're gone, in the morning.
…he should've expected it. Miguel stumbles out of sleep, groggy and disoriented. He finds himself reaching out for something in the half-light.
He finds himself reaching for you. And when you're not there, leaving a person sized gap at the crook of his arm, his stomach churns. He pretends it's not disappointment, or the sharp crack of yearning ; settling at his chest like a crowbar, and prying open his ribs. It's worry, he decides resolutely, a perfectly normal, healthy amount of worry. As your roommate; and nothing else, he keeps reminding himself; he's just worried about where you've rushed off to, especially after yesterday.
Senior year. He was assigned a bullshit paper in a Civics class – one he'd usually half-ass for an easy A. He'd wax poetic about morality – amorphous, vague platitudes about duty and societal expectations. By the end of the year, he had it down to a science: a couple thousand words remixed and plucked from lesser known philosophers, videos online, and overdue library books. Either he was getting too good at it, or his teacher was too stupid to notice; but regardless, he coasted through the class right up until graduation. His last paper, and he remembers it distinctly, was on the book of the same name; aptly titled What We Owe Each Other. A plodding, pluralistic read; of which he had only scanned through, anyways. Extra credit, anything to graduate early, and he'd had more than enough on his plate at the time.
And so, he wasn't expecting the B+ underlined and circled in red ink on the front page. It felt like his teacher had handed it back to him face down, slammed onto the desk like the thunderous crack of a whip. And he didn't need that A, strictly speaking. Yet, he had found himself staying over after class, crinkling that piece of paper in hand as he'd asked why.
She sighs. Miss Hunter's glasses slip down her nose, as they are prone to do.
"You're an outstanding student. I hear you're graduating early, and you're off somewhere prestigious in the fall. This is… definitely not a bad grade, and it's nothing, I promise you."
It doesn't work like that, for him. His teacher doesn't get it, but it will eat him up inside-out if he's not able to understand.
"Was it my referencing?" He fumbles with the strap of his bag.
"No. Not at all–"
"I did the extra reading…the article you mentioned in class, and–"
He's cut off by the scrape of a desk chair. Miss Hunter gets up to close the door, before settling on her desk.
Arms crossed, she seems tired. Worried, maybe, but it doesn't register with Miguel. The thought doesn't even cross his mind, that there are others with the capacity to worry about him.
"Technically, it's well written. As usual, Miguel." She gives him a weak smile. "It just… lacked heart."
His brows jump up. "...heart?"
"There's not really a narrative voice, here."
He taps at the paper on the desk, frustrated. "You didn't ask for a narrative voice, though. You didn't ask for… for heart. I read the book, I did the extra reading, and I wrote a report. That was the brief."
"Not quite." She says it gently, but it still sounds like nails on a chalkboard to him. "The brief was vague, intentionally so. 'What Do We Owe Each Other? Discuss.' I gave examples, sure: excerpts from the book we touched on in class, articles, academic papers, etcetera. They were… suggestions."
"...suggestions." He's incredulous.
She nods. "You followed it to the letter, Miguel. You gave me a summary, with a few key links. Fully referenced, yes. Well-written, yes. But this feels like a sum of parts. It doesn't tell me anything about you; your perspective, your angle. Your voice."
He's biting back choice words. It sounds like bullshit to him, for lack of a better word. Flowery, hoity-toity BS; served up to him on a steaming platter. That's it?
Maybe it shows on his face, because she's asking, as delicately as possible,
"Is everything okay?"
Instinctually, he seizes up.
"Yeah. Yes. I'm good."
"I know you don't take this class as seriously because it's not an AP, or an elective, or maybe not as challenging as you need it to be. And that's okay, Miguel. I'm happy for you to use my class as a break from all the other stuff." She swallows thickly. "You're not from our usual feeder schools. The Academy is particularly rigorous. But considering your… situation, we can make exceptions. If there's anything I can do–"
"There isn't a 'situation'."
"Right. Of course, I'm sorry. But if you need a couple days off of school because of…" She pasues, saying the next part softly. "Because of the baby… I mean, you're already acing my class–"
"No." He says it firmly, eyes trained onto the wood grain peeking out from underneath piles of documents. He wants to ask how she knows, and how he's always the last to find out that rumours have spread, and–
"Miguel." Her voice cuts through dense fog. She repeats her previous statement. “If there's anything I can do–”
“If you want to help, you can give me that A.” It's bone dry, said with the kind of sarcasm he's grown accustomed to. He wears it over his shoulders, sometimes; draped to keep out biting cold, or unfamiliar warmth from a stranger - it all feels the same, now.
She gives him a rueful smile. “Need more than that, m'afraid.”
Heart. Voice. What We Owe Each Other – and he doesn't know why that phrase sticks in his throat. It's been drilled into him since childhood; family and community, helping each other out of the starting blocks; and beaten out of him during adolescence. The creaking and cracking of bones after each step, where out in the world it's a different matter entirely.
His mama has bad taste in men, and he finds himself picking up the pieces. Gabi is more sensitive than he'll ever admit, trying not to cry amongst broken plates and chicken-wire hidden in a bouquet of peonies: prickly words that cut and hack, and it's Miguel that wipes the tears from his brother's cheek. That devastatingly gentle sigh when he had told his mama what he had done - how he had fallen for a soft bed and even softer lips at the ripe age of 16 and a half - and Miguel carries that weight. What We Owe Each Other – and he's only ever fed entitled egos. Not his family, of course, but he's been burned. He's had more than his fair share of it.
He doesn't owe the world shit, he thinks.
He doesn't owe you shit.
It doesn't help that he's been stuck in place, grasping at cushion covers and a raggedy blanket. Trying not to drown in the heady scent of you, he's been dragging thick fingers over the fabric as if in a trance. You don't owe him anything, either. Nary an apology, an explanation; so much as a sorry spilling from pretty lips in that way where they quiver like a gentle flame.
He's touched them, felt them drag across his skin like the finest silk, and dropped to his knees in search of something you've never given him. It doesn't matter if you don't; kiss him , that is; the swirling, desperate sort that leaves him heaving and creaking and begging for more. He thinks he'd still scuff up the denim at his knees if you asked, regardless - he'd do anything , if it was for you.
It's not realistic to expect anything from you. You don't need to tell him where you've gone or why you've left so early. You don't need to, and yet he finds himself reaching for his phone.
Miguel sends a well placed message; deft fingers tapping away at the screen. Before he changes his mind, it's sent; and he's chewing his lip whilst waiting for a steady three dots. Lyla is slower than usual, but she comes through. She doesn't ask questions - because she knows him better than he knows himself - and gives him a thumbs up.
They'll call each other later, that much he's sure of, but for now he reads between the lines. Short bursts of text, like firecrackers flashing across a night sky, and only through nonsensical emojis and odd slang can they understand each other.
This part, he can do. And he'll do whatever he needs to, not what he owes.
~~~
You make it to Pam's just after it opens.
At 7 o'clock sharp, you've made the journey; in an empty subway car, spilling out onto the streets like treacle left in the neck of a bottle. It's not quite a squeeze, passing by only a handful of people, with nothing but a jacket thrown over last night's clothes. In a daze, you realise too late: it's Miguel's. A dusty, worn thing; brown leather crackling at the sleeves and heavy on your shoulders. It feels like a hug, and it feels like him : warm and stiff. It smells like him too, and you bury your nose in the collar on the subway, sleeves kissing your palm like his hand is in yours.
It's a feeling that takes you all the way to the doors: past the slats bolted shut and down a familiar alley. You push past them, sneakers on slick tiles, and give a weak smile to the woman that perks up from behind the counter, kicking away the mop and bucket.
"Hiya, welcome to Pam's! How can I–"
"Oh, God , no." You wave her off. "Take your time. I need a minute, if that's okay."
Settling on the barstool, you watch as the young woman smiles, picking up a rag and wiping at the counter. You sit in it, for a while.
Dregs drip in through the front. The bell at the top of the door chimes, tinny and cheerful in the relative gloom of a quiet morning.
It's cold , outside. Autumn, biting at your fingers and nose. Eventually you opt for a coffee, piping hot to stave off that chill. Bitter, the aftertaste lingers at the back of your throat. You find yourself picking at the chipped mug, chasing away that taste with fluffy pancakes. The combination doesn't feel quite the same – not after many a morning with your roommate.
You settle into the seat. You wrap that old jacket around you. You sip at tart coffee and pick at your nails. A quiet morning, one to yourself, one to keep hidden at the crook of your chest. Some semblance of peace , wrapped up in the spindles of a dandelion. That is to say; delicate and fleeting, whipped away by the breeze.
You've decided not to think too hard about it. That kind of thinking ends dangerously, you've realised: with long, hot nights spent tossing and turning. It ends with a head full of cotton, and a pounding at your chest. With blood, with tears, with a stranger in your bed. And so, you go for the cleaner option. The safer one, all things considered, that's less likely to end in a broken heart.
You float around for a while. Walking without a real destination, trying to ground yourself. Eventually, you end up home, opening the door to an empty apartment. There's no traces left of a night spent in Miguel's arms. Good, you think, slipping your shoes off at the door. It doesn't feel good , but if you say it enough times you just might believe it.
The cleaner option; the one with less gristle and bone; is a familiar one. You settle into a shower; steamy and soapy, taking your time to clean out the blood from under your fingernails. The grime, the dirt ; you watch it swirl into the drain, hands running across soft flesh. You try to do it like Jamie did, once upon a time. It doesn't feel right, and has you leaning onto the cool tile. The shower head sputters, a shaky pressure on your back but you lean into it and close your eyes. You rub a hand at the crook of your chest, and then down, down, down, circling your breast and then following the curve of hips to the apex of your legs. Tipping your head, letting the hot water stream through your hair and then your back; and you touch, feel , and you can almost taste him ; sweet and saccharine Miguel, at your lips.
With two fingers flat against your clit, you rub little circles at the nub, dipping into your hole for much needed wetness. Your other hand travels up soft skin, pads of your fingers grazing collarbone, and then they curl around your neck. With a little pressure, your thumb grazes your jaw. Like he does, except your hands aren't as deliciously rough or as large. You slip a finger in, and then two, water pounding your back and eyes screwed. You push past that initial tightness, searching for a little give. When it comes, cunt clenching around your fingers, just shy of that sweet spot as you press your clit with the heel of your palm; you're imagining it's your roommate. He'd wrap those thick forearms around you, press his cock to the crest of your back and touch you like you deserve.
You do it like Miguel would, reverent , touching you as if you were clay at a potter's wheel. In the hands of God herself, you cum; falling, falling, falling; tumbling down white water rapids and spit back up into the rushing water. You're panting, now, out of breath.
When you sink onto your bed, you realise it's not quite enough. Still in a fluffy robe, steam curls from your skin like clouds – ones that smell of cheap body wash and shampoo. Before you know it, you're reaching for your phone, sending two quick messages to a certain somebody.
[Sent: 15:32]
hey mig
[Sent: 15:32]
where did u go?
You don't expect a quick reply - he's never been much of a texter. But those three dots pop up in no time at all, much to your surprise.
[Received: 15:33]
Out.
[Received: 15:33]
Running errands.
It's succinct and to the point – of which you expect nothing else from Miguel. Your thumbs fly to the screen to reply but another message tugs the rug out from under your shaky legs.
[Received: 15:35]
Is everything okay?
[Sent: 15:35]
yeah
[Sent: 15:36]
all good
When that provides no response, you're left chewing on your lip, anxious. He's seen the message, he's read the message; but for some reason, several minutes go by and there's no response.
You're ready to give up and chalk it to your roommate's hot-and-cold nature, when your phone rings.
Immediately, you pick up.
" Don't believe you." His voice rings out, tinny, nestled amongst the covers.
"Hey, Mig." You settle down on the bed, putting him on speaker and placing it by your ears.
" Did you hear what I said?" His tone is deep and intense, making you shiver. It's not quite the same, of course, but you're reminded of nights spent with his lips tucked close the shell of your ear.
You swallow. "Yeah. I… I did."
" You sure? Because you suck at lying."
"Don't be an asshole."
" Think I get a free pass when you disappear for the whole day."
You roll your eyes. “You didn't call–”
“ Would you have answered?”
Ouch. He sounds frustrated, the quiet chatter of his background bathed in heavy silence. Silence thick with tension, and you almost choke on it.
He breaks it with a heavy sigh. “ You okay? ”
“No. Not really.”
“ Okay. ” He lets it sit for a while, before saying, “ I'll be home, soon. There's leftovers in the fridge, and you should eat, sweetheart. You want anything from the store? ”
His voice is so, so soft. It crackles like kindling on a fire: warmth that blooms and spreads to your chest. Like slipping off frozen gloves to thaw off in front of a heater, and he just makes you feel impossibly warm.
“Not really, thanks.” You mumble it, and hear a satisfied grunt from the other end. Before you change your mind, you say, “Sorry. M'sorry.”
Miguel gives a light chuckle and you think you can hear him smile, the kind you always chase after a stupid argument: one that tugs at the corners of his pretty lips.
“ You've got nothin' to be sorry about .”
He gives you a moment to feel the weight of his words, and ends the call. That heat at your chest blooms.
If Miguel O'Hara is the Sun, then maybe you don't mind being pulled into his orbit; bathing in steady light and warmth.
~~~
He comes home with flowers. A beautiful bouquet; delicate and balanced, featherlight wildflowers and brush, interspersed with sprays of blue and purple and pink. It's wonderfully dense, reminding you of the tangles of colour a child might decorate a picture with in wobbly crayon. Simply put, it's nothing short of a vision, and you notice how delicately he places it on the dining table.
With the rest of the grocery bags, Miguel clatters in, and you can't help but be curious. You're poking through the bags, sitting on the counter as he puts them away – after offering to help, of course, but he bats you away easily. Your bare legs bristle in the chill brought on by the window cracked open, and he just breezes past.
The cabinet opens with a thud , and your roommate busies himself with putting away food. Carefully, you watch the way the muscles of his back flexes this way and that - cut and lean under that thin sweater. He��s otherwise occupied, and so you take the opportunity to stare, playing with a loose string at the hem of silky shorts. And so, it makes you jump when your phone buzzes beside you. Innocuously, you glance at the notification, and your eyes go wide.
“Who’s that?” Miguel asks, voice light. With that freaky sixth sense of his, he doesn’t need to turn around to know, it seems.
“Lyla.” You murmur, reading the rest of the message.
“ ...And? ”
“Uh. Well…” Blinking, you can’t quite believe what she’s asking. “ Girl’s Night . I-I mean… she’s asking me to come with her for a Girl’s Night.”
“Really?” His tone is surprising, and you can hear how he beams by its lilting nature. Maybe he’s laughing at you, maybe he’s not, but you snap back regardless.
“ ... don’t act so surprised.”
“ You sound surprised.” He laughs.
“It’s different when I do it.” You say simply. “I just… I didn’t expect it. I didn’t even know we were close enough to–”
“Bullshit. You text her all the time.”
“A couple of times, Mig.” You correct him, trying to pin down a suitable response to give Lyla. You draw a blank. “I don’t want her to feel like she has to, or anything.”
He turns around, sleeves still rolled up. The look he gives makes you wither: one that could say about a million things. You think it means cut the crap , but he could just be constipated: you haven't quite mastered the art of reading Miguel O’Hara.
“Do you want to go?” He gets closer, hand flat on the counter next to your thigh.
You nod, and his hand creeps up and up.
Giving you a little smile, he shrugs. “Then go.”
It makes you shy. Bashful , even; and you’re wriggling as he squeezes the flesh. A hand on his forearm, and he’s close; so much so that all you can feel is the press of skin, and feel gentle breath fluttering past your cheek. You’re stuck underneath the gaze of his pretty lashes, and entranced at the way he licks his even prettier lips. A sudden thought seizes you - so heavy it makes your chest tight and leaden.
Oh. You want to kiss him.
In a moment, it’s gone. A broad palm nudges your thigh aside, and you’re shifting so he can reach the drawers just by your legs. You oblige, falling back into familiar routine.
Life moves on. Like Miguel said it would, and you find yourself entwined with the idea of time passing. Lying awake each night, picking out sand from underneath your fingernails, after clawing your way out of the hourglass. Steady, slow dregs; and it's tipped over each morning, restarting the clock.
The flowers disappear from the dining table. Miguel retreats into the folds and dark corners of your apartment; you see him less and less. Passing ships in the night, you seem to miss each other by a fraction of a second. All of a sudden he's busy , and all of a sudden you're swamped with work. You only see each other at night, looking out for the bits and pieces left as proof of life: sometimes he'll leave a hot flask out for you in the mornings, and you'll greet him with a cheesy soap in the evenings. If he's not leaving later and later after work, that is.
He looks tired, you note. Exhausted; prone to little yawns as you turn to him every now and then whilst watching on the couch. It's sweet, the way his frown has made way to a dopey smile, but it's frayed at the edges, tinged with something you can't quite place. You let him sleep that night, bringing pillows to lay his head on, and wrapping him up in that old blanket.
Girl's night creeps up on you. It shakes you by the shoulders when you collapse on the sofa after a long day – and you're rushing to get ready. There's no Miguel to make sly remarks or prod you into action, this time. You wonder what he'd say about what you're wearing; a leftover dress buried in boxes from your ex's apartment.
Short, tight, snug; it has you feeling glamorous – but you hope it doesn't look as fanciful as it feels. Too much; yet again, you're worried about being too much. Even though you're running a little late, you take the time to carefully apply makeup; something shiny on your lids, a dab of blush, and gloss slathered onto your lips. When you sling on little heels, and snatch a petite bag from the hooks near the door, there's barely enough time to catch that last glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Down and out you go, into a dusky night.
~~~
“I had to go through her manager– and wait, can you believe this girl has a fucking manager, now?” Lyla bats at MJ's shoulder, and the redhead laughs good-naturedly.
“It's not– she's exaggerating! My manager's just my mom, I swear.”
“It's a good thing, no?” You smile, taking a healthy swig of a brightly coloured cocktail.
“It means she is booked, and–” Lyla hiccups, raising an unsteady glass that threatens to tip. MJ straightens her elbow instinctually, before raising her own. “ – very busy .”
It's your turn to laugh, glass held high in the air. With a clink , there's a clash of crystal that's all but drowned out by the chatter in the upscale bar.
Somewhere fancy, courtesy of Lyla. One of those places that serves tiny portions in big, empty plates, a fusion of cultural food with white, upper class owners. No-doubt the result of summering somewhere in the ever-broad global South , Lyla had said slyly, under the lip of a menu.
There's powdered sugar on the rim of your flute. It dissolves on your tongue. You down the rest. Sickly sweet, and you wipe what drips onto your lips.
It has you checking your phone. Miguel hasn't called, not that you were expecting anything. Whilst Lyla and MJ talk, you scroll mindlessly through his chat; a smattering of one word answers. Missed calls. Unanswered messages.
" –what about you, babe?"
Your eyes snap back up to meet Lyla's, expectant.
"Uhhh…"
"Nevermind." Sharp eyes travel to your phone, and there's a flash of recognition. "Miggy said you're in school. He said you're gonna graduate early, this year."
"He said that?" You're confused. "I mean… I'm trying but it's not looking like that, right now."
She wags a finger, shaking her head like she's trying to remember something. "No, no, he seemed adamant. Said you're working hard, doing well."
"Doing better ." You correct her, shyly.
" Bullshit. " She says it the way Miguel does, and it makes you laugh. You see it now; he's the product of the people he loves. A kind of Frankenstein's monster, he's stitched together those bits and pieces; he's made himself beautiful. You wonder what piece of you he carries. If he even holds you that close to his chest.
"I bet you're doing amazing. " MJ finishes. Her smile is warm, and copper-coloured; it feels hazy and ambered in your little corner. "Better than me, anyways. I would rather die than go back to college."
"Back?" You ask.
"Oh, of course! You don't know." She giggles, leaning in like she's about to say something scandalous - the drink is clearly doing its job. Her next words are an exaggerated stage whisper. "I dropped out."
" Seriously? " You play along, with faux shock.
"...damn right she did." Lyla gives a drunken wave to a nearby waiter, asking for another glass of wine. Something expensive, she whispers, giving a deceptive smile.
"It just wasn't for me, I guess. I went because everyone around me was going, even Pete. Uhh, English Lit, or something. And it didn't… I–I mean it just wasn't–"
"It didn't click."
" Right!" She snaps her fingers. "It was too much. I didn't know what I was doing, I was 18, for God's sake. Think I stuck at it for a bit too long, honestly."
"...and the world didn't explode." You breathe.
MJ answers with a knowing nod. She chugs the rest of a crisp Mojito, raising the empty glass once more.
"To doing better ."
You're quick to follow. "To doing better."
Lyla frowns, looking for a glass that's tucked into the corner. The room must be spinning already, with the way she pats around for it. You nudge it towards her with an elbow, and she's raucous; crumpling into a fit of giggles.
One drink turns to two, two turns to three, and then four ; until you're ready to spill out onto the busy strip. When the waiter places a slip of paper into the centre, one with so many zeroes it makes your eyes bulge, you don't even have to pretend to reach for your wallet. Gleefully, Lyla picks up the bill, sliding a shiny Amex card onto the dish.
She's generous, you note, as she buys a bottle of wine to go when MJ picks up her bag. She's perceptive, too. You see it when MJ wrings her hands, still tipsy and stuttering in her heels as you pile onto the street. She's making apologies already - I've got an early start and need to see my May - but Lyla intercepts. There's the gentle clink of a bottle thrust into her hands, something expensive, and she kisses the apples of her cheeks before sending her off in a taxi.
Her own cheeks are ruddy, rosy with drink and she splits into a wide smile. The back of her hand comes up to your neck. Warm , she whispers, before linking arms with you like a schoolgirl off to do something they shouldn't.
Eventually, with shaky legs, you end up in a nightclub. She knows someone who knows someone, apparently, and you're ushered into a packed place just off 76th. Lights and pounding music, a flurry of limbs; you let the crowd take you in. If this is what it means to be a part of a whole; some writhing, heaving beast, to be more than your hand in someone else's and theirs in yours; then you could live here forever, you think. Forever, for the night, for the next ten minutes; you blink , and time passes.
You're having fun, you think. Letting the blood rush to your head, hips swaying to the music and you don't push away the quiet snap of a phone camera, nor it's red recording light. Dancing, singing, many seem to be pulled into orbit around you. This is how it works , pushed into an ebb and flow of people held together by broken lyrics and a thumping bassline. You let it wash over you, all-consuming, dragging yourself into murky depths.
You're in a booth, now, anchored by a dainty hand around your wrist. Pupils blown, she cups your face to inspect you, to figure out where you've gone. Someone's bought you a drink, there's a stranger's arm around your shoulders, but Lyla pushes them both away. Too much? It's a question, of which you shake your head firmly - lolling and with a distinct lack of fine motor skills - no. Not enough.
You blink. Bitter liquor hits your throat, and you chase the taste of somebody else's lips. A stranger, and even under the influence you know it doesn't feel right. Bile rises, and you're gone, clamping onto your stomach and trying not to hurl.
You blink. You're on the sidewalk, with a heavy head on someone's shoulder. The strap of your heels dig into your ankles and you fumble with it, trying to stop the road from spinning. Lyla holds you up, not much more up to task than you are.
A car pulls up, and at first you don't recognise it; entranced by shiny rims coming to a stop. You look up, still buried in Lyla's thick jacket; and you see it. You see him.
Miguel's wearing glasses. That's the first thing you notice, stumbling to your feet. Immediately, your face cracks into a dopey smile, leaning onto the lip of the open window. He gives you a once over, swallowing thickly, brows drawn.
Quiet chatter flys straight over your head. Lyla arguing, Miguel wagging a finger at her; but all you can see is him. It's like you've got blinkers on, tunnel vision making you focus on the curve of cheekbone, and the way his eyes scrunch up around black rims and glass.
You clamber into the backseat.
“Get in, Ly.”
The other woman seems resolute. “ M'not –”
“Did you take something?”
“Fuck you.” Flashing a middle finger, she wraps up her coat like a robe, walking away down the road.
He's adamant, driving up next to her. You keep your head on the glass where it's cool.
“Let me take you home. Please. ”
Frowning, she stops. When he leans over to open the passenger's side, she slips off her boots, and sidles in.
Their voices feel like a blur. You can barely register, only picking up half of the words hissed under their breath.
“... I called you, you can't give me a lecture…”
“...not fair, Lyla…. can't keep babysitting…”
“... fucking hypocrite… not the only one… I'm going through some shit…”
“...too far…. always taking it too…”
He drops her off outside of the apartment. From the backseat, you're sobering up; able to catch his heavy sigh as he watches her through the window. It's only when he sees her walk in does he turn to you, passing bottled water kept in the console.
“You want to come out to the front?”
You like the way he says it, for some reason. Any anger or frustration he had towards Lyla dissipates. He doesn't bring that into a quiet conversation with you.
He's too solemn, too serious, and so you clamber into the front over the console; limbs and legs everywhere, as obnoxiously as you can. A slight elbow to his chest, a hand clutching his shirt; you want to make him laugh. As you settle onto the seat, you see it: huffing dramatically, he gives you a small smile.
Miguel reverses back out onto the road.
You blink, and you're home. Legs still shaky, he helps you up the stairs, settling you onto the sofa. Car keys clink onto the dish by the door, and he slips off his coat – that brown one, your favourite, you think.
Fumbling with the strap of your heels, it must be too painful for him to watch as Miguel settles by your feet. His big, strong hands are surprisingly deft when he undoes the dainty buckle.
“Are you mad at me?” Meekishly, you watch and he shakes his head, not making eye-contact. Maybe it's the alcohol, but you're staring; looking for that light in his eyes amongst the dark room.
Now, he looks up. “What?”
“M'just looking.” You say, chewing the inside of your cheek as one shoe slips off. “ I'm not allowed to look?”
The other one comes off, and he hisses when he spots a little cut where the strap dug into your ankle. He can't help it, rolling it gently in his hands, trying to ease the pain with a massage.
“You wear glasses.” You say it softly, more to yourself than to anyone else. Giggling now, you cradle his face and he sits up. “I didn't know that.”
“ That's not – I've always worn glasses. You're just not paying attention.” He shrugs lazily, but he's smiling.
“Not true , Mig. I would've noticed.”
“You're drunk–”
“When it's you, I always pay attention.” Absent-mindedly, your hand curls into his hair. He keens . “Like… your hair's getting longer.”
Gently, he shakes out of your grip, getting up. “I know, I know. I need a haircut.”
“I like it.” Starry-eyed, you look up at him. “You're so pretty, Mig.”
It makes him heave. Still tipsy, your legs spread ever so slightly, hand taking his and pulling him closer. Placing his hand on your thigh, you let it trace up, up, up, catching at the hem of your short dress.
He practically caves in, collapsing next to you on the couch.
“You should–” His eyes are glassy as you ease yourself onto his lap. “ F-Fuck . You should go to bed, sweetheart.”
Wrapping an arm around his shoulders, you roll your hips, watching as he groans wantonly.
“But I'm not tired.” His hand ends up on your waist, applying just the right amount of pressure. Underneath, you can feel him stir, increasingly hard under loose sweats. “And you haven't touched me in weeks. ”
You're exaggerating, but it goes to his head anyway. He buries his head into the crook of your shoulder, whispering into the bare skin.
“I know, I know…”
“Just the tip, Miguel.” You're grinding your clit onto him, pussy barely covered by a thin thong. Whispered into the shell of his ear, you're a siren, honeyed words dangerously close to breaking him down. “Just the tip, and I promise , I'll let it go. Please , baby.”
Your dress rides up, and his hands come down to palm at your ass.
“ Please…” You're pleading, lips on his neck as he squeezes, forcing you down to hump directly over his cock.
“Oh, shit.” His hips jump once, twice; and then he stills, hands at your hips and ass to stop you.
Desperate, you whine, trying to fight against it. He doesn't let up, hand cradling your chin so you can look him in the eye.
“ Bed .” He says, shakily. “Not like this.”
He slips you off, noticeably adjusting his pants. Legs spread wide, head tipped back as he sighs; he looks delicious , and you're fighting off the urge to let him take you right there and then.
You stumble through the little hallway, pushing past some doors. Something clatters into your thigh, and you hear a dull thud as another thing falls to the floor. Frustrated, you strip down to your underwear, something light and lacy and it leaves very little to the imagination.
There's a bed, and you collapse on it; swimming in the silky sheets. It smells like him - musky and oaky and gentle - and you think you must be dreaming already. And then, you sit up, realising too late - this isn't your room.
Miguel wasn't too far off, hearing the thumping and clattering; hesitant as he opens the door. You're wrapped up like a present, spilling out of lingerie on his bed. He swallows, turning away to dig into his wardrobe, intending to pull out a baggy shirt for you.
“ Miguel .” You croak, but he ignores the want in your voice, so heavy it goes straight to his cock. “Miguel, please. ”
All his shirts blend together. He can't concentrate.
“Do you think I don't want it? Because I do, fuck, I need it. So bad, baby, please.” Your body heaves with a half sob.
Heart splintering, he turns. Finally, you meet his eye. You spread your legs.
“ Here. Right here .” You tap your clothed cunt with shaky fingers, pulling your thong to the side. His eyes drink it up, the way you glisten when your cunt eats up the fabric. You know he's watching, and you take advantage of it, circling your clit with the pads of two fingers. “Like this . When I touch myself, I think of you… d-did you know that?”
Swallowing roughly, he can't take his eyes off of you.
“What… What else?” He croaks.
“I think of your tongue, a-at my pussy. And your fingers… God. ” You slip a finger in, and he watches as your cunt clenches around it; gushing and sloppy. “Your l-lips. Meant it, before. When I said you were pretty. Want to sit on that pretty face and watch you melt– oh-h- fuck- ”
He wants to lick it up, all that slick that sluices from your hole. His mouth waters, just thinking about it.
“Put another one in, for me.” He says it low, sinking to his knees to watch you fuck yourself.
Nodding, you oblige.
“Does it feel good?”
“ Yes. ” You don't hesitate.
“Can you fit another one? Want to see how good she looks when she comes, sweetheart.”
Three fingers in, now, and he slides your thong a little further aside; reaching up to press his thumb to your clit. Light streams in from blinds cracked open and highlights your thighs perfectly. Nevertheless, he adjusts his glasses to make sure he doesn't miss anything.
The twitch of your leg, the way your hand cramps up, the way your lips curl into a delicious O - he sees it all, commits it to memory.
“ Faster , please.”
“ Doesn't –” You're frustrated, clearly chasing something that refuses to surface. “Not the same. Can't fucking reach. ”
He titters, nipping at your thighs and soothing the bites with the flat of his tongue.
“Poor baby. Will you let me help?”
Fervently, you nod, slipping out your fingers as he takes off his glasses. They're discarded, too foggy to be useful right now.
“Did I tell you to take them out?” He sighs and gestures for your hand. Wrapping his lips around them he sucks them clean, humming lightly. He pats your clit with a wet slap, content. “Put two fingers in, sweetheart.”
Doing as he says, your head feels full - cotton wool and bubble wrap, only able to focus on the pleasure building behind your clit. And when he slots two fingers in next to yours , it rips out a gravelly moan.
“ Here? ” He says dragging himself deeper, curling his fingers up. “Or is it… here? ”
You groan, limp against his hand as you feel impossibly full. It reminds you of the stretch of his cock; creaming around the base of his two fingers and yours. That wonderful curl as he pumps himself in and out, cupping your hand in the process to make sure you match his pace. He can feel your walls spasm around him, impossibly soft and velveteen.
“Can't say no to you,” His eyes are low, grunting as he palms himself roughly. “Even though… fuck … even though I should.”
It's wet, the slap slap slap of skin against skin echoing in his room. Miguel sits up, pressing his lips to your neck, and you take the opportunity to slip your other hand into his sweats. You start pumping, in time with his ministrations, eyes blown as you swipe your thumb over his weeping slit.
You know he likes it rough, and you jerk him into your palm; fast and hard and you watch as he matches your pace. Even now, you're competing, trying to catch the him up; to see who can make the other cum first.
You push back on his fingers, hips slotting against his, whispering nonsense into his neck. You're too fucked out to care; confessions you never thought would see the light of day. All the little things you like about him, things he says, things he does; and you don't even register the ochred flush smattered along the ridge of cheekbone.
He spills into your hand, and you're quick to follow; cumming around him as his fingers stutter in and out. It feels good , dangerously so, and has you pressing shaky kisses around his mouth, and nipping at his bottom lip.
He stills, but you're greedy, aching for more. You want him in you; seating his thick cock deep inside, painting your walls with hot cum, and pushing it back in with deft fingers. Every part of you is on fire, barely satiated by your heated foray.
You tip back onto the bed, and he joins you; caging you in with thick forearms, looking at you like you've stolen all the stars in the sky. That feeling , again, slams into your chest like a bullet. Messy hair, ruddy cheeks, hand gently tracing your jaw; he looks gone, and oh so soft. You want to kiss him ; and it's a thought that sticks, embedding itself somewhere you can't reach to dig it out.
“ Miguel .” You whisper, enough alcohol at the edges of your mind to stop thinking and spill your guts to him, unfiltered. “Are you sleeping with someone else?”
His eyes flit over your face before answering and he shakes his head.
“No. No. Just you. Only you.”
“ Don't believe you .” But you want to. So, so desperately. “Promise me?”
“I promise, sweetheart.” He swallows. “Are you?”
“No. Don't think I could if I tried.” It comes out watery, stuck at the back of your throat.
He just looks, for a moment, cradling the back of your head.
“I want to kiss you.” It spills out from your lips.
“I know.”
“Then why won't you kiss me?”
“Not a good idea.” He strains, kissing your forehead, and then each cheek. Hesitating, he places a gentle peck to your chin. “Ask me tomorrow.”
He says it simply, too easily; and it makes you want to sob. When Miguel slips away, and you hear the sound of a light turned on in the bathroom, you can't move. Catatonic; you blink, and he's cleaned you up, and slipped a shirt over your shoulders. Laying back in his bed, you watch as he lingers by the doorway, shrouded in shadow.
Goodnight. Y ou think you say it out loud, but it echoes in your head.
He says back, but not really. Instead, he leaves that goodnight hanging by the doorway like an old coat, and you wrap it over your shoulders.
It keeps you a little warmer through the night.
_
_
_
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#miguel o'hara x reader#across the spiderverse#rigor mortis 😼#miguel o'hara#miguel o hara x reader#kat_writes😼#spiderman 2099#miguel o'hara smut#miguel x reader#spiderman 2099 x reader#angst#heavy angst#mutual pining
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lean on you – cl16
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Summary: The one where you learn to lean on Charles more than you thought you ever could.
Pairing: charles leclerc x medstudent!reader
Word Count: 3.9k
Warnings: it’s been a while since i went to an actual hospital, so that, and also worried charles, mentions of sickness and vomiting, also mentions of food poisoning
Request: “Hiiii! I don’t know if you still accept request😅 but I have something in my mind if you are open to it, like the reader is quite sick before Charles’ race, he wanted to stay to take care of her but she insisted that he go on with the race and that she’ll be fine. But during the race, Charles’ got a call that she have been taken to the hospital by Lorenzo since she almost passed out. Charles went straight to the hospital and bit mad and angry at her being so stubborn. I just think Charles can be over protective and can be so upset or angry when he get very worried. Like how Charles will emphasise that she have him instead of being so independent all the time. 🤍🤍🤍 thank you if you will do it, but if not, it’s alright too! I just love and enjoy reading all your works!🤩 ”+ “Can you write a fic where the reader is a med!student with Charles? (definitely not projecting🫣)”
Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! i loved both of these concepts and i though they’d go well together, because most of my friends who are also med students love diagnosing themselves?? i kind of wanted to based the reader off of bow from black-ish if you guys ever watched it, it’s my current watch and i love her so much!! it was very fun for me to write, and thank you to both of the anons for their requests! Feedback is always appreciated, and i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee
Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms.
“Are you sure you’re fine, mignon? You look worse than you did last night.” Charles lets his eyes look over your fatigued figure in your bed, worry etched into his eyebrows.
Giving him a weak smile, you do your best to reassure his worries by reaching for his hand resting on the side of his body. “I’m fine, love, I feel better than I did yesterday.” Charles sighs softly, his worry not entirely dissipating. He moves closer to the bed, his hand tightening around yours, and you squeeze his hand gently, relaying the message that you appreciate his concern. “I really am, you don’t have to worry about me, okay?”
“You say as if that’s an easy thing, love.” He emphasises, giving you a small smile that still allows you to see the dimples on his cheeks. “I just don’t want to leave you alone, you seem worse than you did last night.”
Your expression softens as you recall the way he doted on you the previous evening, no matter how much you told him that you were doing fine. “I promise I’m feeling much better, it’s nothing but a stomach bug – and I promise I’ll rest today, too.”
Charles leans down and places a gentle kiss on your forehead. “You better keep that promise and rest, it’s doctor’s orders," he says with a hint of playfulness in his voice. "I'll hold you to it.”
You chuckle weakly, appreciating his attempt to lighten the mood. “I promise, Charles. I'll stay in bed, take my medicine, and rest. I have some lecture stuff I have to go over, anyway." You pause, looking up at him with sincere eyes. "And you need to focus on your race. I don't want you to worry about me, be careful out there please.”
His lips form a mock pout, making your facial muscles to pull in an involuntary smile, “But my favourite part is the part where my doctor takes care of me,” his thumb draws a comforting circle on your hand, “your kisses help immensely.”
You blush at his playful comment, grateful for his affectionate nature even in times of worry. “I promise I’ll give you kisses when you come back, but only if you promise you’ll be careful.” You sigh deeply at the boyish grin he sends your way, “I’m serious, Charles.”
Charles's expression softens, and he reaches out to cup your face in his hands, his touch gentle yet firm. "I promise, my love. I'll be careful. Do you need me to bring you anything before I leave?”
Your nod is sluggish and doesn’t go unnoticed by Charles, but he chooses to remain silent as he gives you a moment to think about your answer. “Can you just give me my computer and anatomy book, please?” You watch as Charles nods in understanding. He leans down to give you a tender kiss on the lips before making his way to the desk where your belongings are kept. Retrieving the items you requested, he returns to your bedside, placing them gently on the bed beside you.
"Here you go, mignon," he says softly, his voice filled with genuine concern. He notices the way you keep fiddling with the collar of his your sweatshirt – a habit you usually display when you’re sick because the clothing usually causes overstimulation in your mind. “Do you want me to bring you some water? Or maybe order room service?”
You shake your head to the either side this time, giving him a sleepy smile as you start talking, “I’m good, but thank you, darling.” You let out a small giggle at the unapproving glance he sends your way, “I promise I’ll order some food when I get hungry, Charles.”
Charles chuckles softly, his eyes filled with a mix of amusement and concern at the way you emphasise the word. "Alright, love. Just make sure you take care of yourself and eat something nutritious. I don't want you skipping meals, even if you're not feeling well."
You nod, appreciating his reminder. "I promise, Charles. I'll make sure to eat when I need to. But for now, I think I'll focus on studying and getting some rest."
He leans in to press a gentle kiss to your temple, his warm breath brushing against your skin. "That sounds like a good plan. I'll leave you to it then, but remember to reach out if you need anything, okay?"
"I will," you reply softly, your eyes growing heavy with fatigue. "Thank you for taking care of me, Charles. I love you."
He smiles warmly, his eyes filled with affection. "I love you too, mignon. Rest well and take all the time you need. I'll see you soon." With that, Charles gives your hand a final squeeze and presses his lips to your forehead in a parting kiss before reluctantly pulling away and leaving the room. Taking a deep breath, you focus on the task at hand, determined to make the most of your day even if you’re feeling a bit down.
It’s not easy for Charles to focus on his driving that day, not easy at all. He can’t seem to focus on the track when you seem to occupy his mind and linger in his thoughts. The people around him notices the way he seems almost detached at the garage that day, and also noticing your absence, thankfully they accommodate him and his aloofness the best they can. He keeps an eye on his phone the entire time before he gets in the car – something he usually never does before a race just in case you call him in need of assistance. Charles takes a deep breath, trying to clear his mind as he prepares for the race. He knows he needs to focus, but his thoughts keep drifting back to you. Concern and worry gnaw at him, making it difficult to fully immerse himself in the adrenaline of the race.
Before climbing into his car, he approaches his brother, who is thankfully standing nearby. He looks into Lorenzo's eyes and speaks in a hushed tone, “Hey, can you do me a favour?”
Lorenzo, sensing the urgency in Charles' voice, gives him a nod, his own concern mirrored in his eyes. “Of course, Charles. What do you need? Is everything alright?”
Charles takes a moment to gather his thoughts before responding. “I need you to keep an eye on my phone, Y/N wasn’t feeling too good this morning, and i have a bad feeling about it.” He hands Lorenzo his phone, making sure to check one for one last time to see whether you’ve texted or called him, you haven’t.
Lorenzo's brows furrow with worry as he listens to Charles, but he understands the gravity of the situation and the significance of Charles' request. "Don't worry, Charles, I'll take care of it – and I'll let you know if anything happens. You focus on the race, and I'll make sure everything is handled."
With that assurance, Charles turns his attention back to the race ahead and quickly puts on his balaclava and helmet. He climbs into his car, adjusting his helmet and securing himself in the cockpit. The anticipation and excitement of the race surround him, but his mind remains consumed with worry for you as he tries to assure himself that you are fine and resting back at the hotel. The race begins, and Charles pushes the limits of his car, manoeuvring through the twists and turns of the track. But no matter how hard he tries, he can't fully immerse himself in the competitive spirit. Thoughts of you and your well-being linger, distracting him from the task at hand. His racing instincts seem dull, his reaction time slightly delayed, and he struggles to find his usual pace.
As the laps pass by, Charles notices that he's slipping further and further behind, unable to keep up with the leading pack. Frustration mounts within him, battling against his worry for you. The race that should have been a chance for him to shine becomes an arduous struggle to maintain his composure, as he struggles to keep up with the cars infront, the ones behind him seemingly passing him with ease and causing him to drop out of points. So despite his best efforts, Charles finishes the race with a disappointing result, far from his usual position on the podium. He steps out of the car, feeling a mix of exhaustion and disappointment washing over him. The familiar cheers from the crowd seem distant, overshadowed by his concern for you. His mind is occupied by imagining the worst as he gets out of his car, takes off his helmet and stumbles towards the team's garage. The once vibrant atmosphere now feels muted, as if the world around him has lost its importance. He can sense the curious glances and sympathetic looks from his fellow team members, but he can't bring himself to socialise with any of them.
His eyes hastily search for his brother, but Lorenzo is the one who finds him before he can spot him. Lorenzo's concerned gaze locks with Charles’, and he quickly makes his way toward him, his steps mirroring Charles’ urgency. Understanding the look in his brother’s eyes instantly, Charles asks, “What’s wrong? Is it Y/N? Is everything alright?”
Charles watches his brother expectantly as he places a comforting hand on his shoulder, making him want to slap his hand away, but the next words that come out of his mouth is enough to takes his breath away, “Carlos is on the phone with the hospital–”
“Hospital?” Charles interrupts Lorenzo, “Qu'est-ce que tu veux dire par l'hôpital qui t'a appelé?” What do you mean the hospital called you?
“Calm down, Charles, laisse-moi t'expliquer.” Lorenzo gives him a pointed look, and gently steer him towards his teammate’s cousin, “Y/N called me from the taxi, she said she was going to the hospital because she wasn’t feeling well,” he raises a hand to stop Charles from interrupting again, “she also told me that she’d call me once she got to the hospital but she didn’t, I’m guessing her phone died and the hospital called me instead. But my Spanish is non-existent and Carlos is talking to them, so for the love of God, calme-toi un peu.”
Charles's mind races with a mix of relief and anxiety upon hearing Lorenzo's explanation. He takes a deep breath, trying to regain his composure as he listens to his brother's words. The realization that Y/N is at the hospital sinks in, bringing a wave of concern to the forefront of his thoughts. Nodding in acknowledgment, Charles tries to calm his racing heartbeat and focus on the information at hand. “My girlfriend is at a hospital in a country she’s not familiar with, how do you expect me to calm down?”
“Just wait for a moment, we’ll have more information when Carlos is done talking to the hospital-people.” Lorenzo reassures him, and it helps Charles to focus on the current issue at hand – learning the name of the hospital and finding his way there as fast as possible.
Taking Lorenzo's advice to heart, Charles tries to steady his racing thoughts and focus on the present. He takes another deep breath, reminding himself to stay calm and composed. The minutes feel like an eternity as they wait for Carlos to conclude the call. Finally, Carlos hangs up the phone and approaches Charles and Lorenzo, his expression grave but determined. "The hospital confirmed that Y/N arrived safely," Carlos begins, his voice steady. "They're currently conducting some tests to determine the cause of her discomfort. The initial assessment suggests it may be a severe case of food poisoning."
A certain degree of understanding and relief washes over Charles as he lets Carlos’ words sink in. He offers his teammate’s cousin a grateful look, “Thank you for your help, Carlos,” he nods his head in appreciation, “do you have the name of the hospital?”
Carlos returns Charles's grateful look with a reassuring smile and a nod, “It’s the Hospital Quirónsalud Barcelona, she’s a smart girl, Charles, it’s an international hospital so she shouldn’t have any problems communicating with the doctors.” He pats Charles’ shoulder when the latter gives him a confused look, “You weren’t exactly quiet, mate.”
Charles lets out a small chuckle, realizing that his worries may have been more apparent than he thought. He appreciates Carlos' attempt to lighten the mood and offers a grateful smile. "You're right, I probably wasn't the most composed person just now," he admits, "but I'm glad Y/N is in good hands at hospital and thank you for your help, I appreciate it."
“No need to thank me, I hope she’s doing okay.” The older man smiles and gives him a final nod as he makes his way towards his cousin.
“Charles,” one of the PR people starts as they make their way towards the duo, “you still have media–”
The look Charles gives the poor intern in return can only be described as a mix of exhaustion and frustration. He interrupts the PR person before they can finish their sentence. “Bill me.” He, then, turns to his brother as he shoots him an expectant look, “Can we go?”
“Come on, I’ll drive,” Charles hears his brother’s voice, which causes him to raise his eyebrows and receive in return, “you’re obviously too high on adrenaline right now, let me drive.”
Charles, recognizing his own state of mind, doesn't argue. He nods in agreement and takes a seat in the passenger side, grateful for his brother's support, but because he is Charles, he mumbles, “You better drive fast,” under his breath as he follows his brother out of the garage.
As the car navigates through the busy streets of Barcelona, Charles finds himself lost in his thoughts – he glances out the window, his eyes darting from building to building, as if searching for answers that lie beyond the glass. The tension in the air is palpable, the silence between the brothers punctuated only by the hum of the engine and the occasional sound of horns from other impatient drivers. He tries contacting the hospital once again, but it seems like luck is not on his side as the operator speaks to him solely in Spanish, which makes him reconsider what Carlos told him earlier. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the Hospital Quirónsalud Barcelona comes into view. Charles feels a surge of hope mixed with anxiety as Lorenzo skilfully manoeuvres the car into a parking spot. Charles is out of the car before Lorenzo even turns off the engine, which earns him a scolding from his brother, but he’s almost halfway through the walk to the entrance as he waves Lorenzo off.
As Charles approaches the entrance of the hospital, his pace quickens with a mix of urgency and concern. The automatic doors slide open, welcoming him into the bustling lobby. The sterile smell of disinfectant fills his nostrils, and the sound of footsteps echoes through the halls.
He makes his way to the reception desk, where a receptionist greets him with a warm smile, and (thankfully) speaks in English, “Good evening, how can I help you?”
Breathing heavily, Charles tries to gather his thoughts and speak clearly. “My girlfriend was admitted through ER earlier today, Y/N Y/LN. Can you please tell me her room number and how she’s doing?”
The receptionist nods sympathetically. “I understand your concern, let me check the system for you.” She begins typing on her computer, her fingers dancing across the keyboard. After a few moments, she looks up at Charles. “I do see her in our system, but I don't have access to that information. You'll need to speak with someone from the emergency department.”
Frustration wells up within Charles, but he takes a deep breath and reminds himself to stay calm. "Can you at least direct me to the emergency department?"
The receptionist offers an understanding smile. "Of course. Head down this corridor and take the first right. You'll find the emergency department entrance on your left."
Thanking the receptionist, Charles follows her directions, his heart pounding with a mix of anticipation and worry. He walks briskly, determined to reach Y/N's side as quickly as possible. As he enters the emergency department, the sense of urgency intensifies – he watches the hustle and bustle of the hospital; how the medical staff rush by, attending to patients in need and people who are waiting to see their loved ones just like him. His legs aimlessly takes him to the nearest a nurse station and approaches a nurse who seems available. “Excuse me, Miss” he calls out, trying to catch her attention. The nurse turns to him with a professional yet compassionate gaze. “I'm looking for my girlfriend, Y/N Y/LN. Can you please tell me where I can find her?”
“Let me check her records,” the nurse smiles at him, an attempt to calm him and goes through the papers on the chart in her hands. “Here she is, it seems that she was recently moved – she’s supposed be in room 376, it’s on the third level, at the end of the main hallway.”
Relief floods over Charles as he receives the information from the nurse. He manages a grateful smile and nods in appreciation. "Thank you so much. I'll head there right away."
After thanking the nurse, Charles makes his way towards the elevators, following the signs that lead him to the third level. As he steps into the elevator, he can feel his heart pounding in his chest, a mixture of nervousness and anticipation. He makes sure he sends Lorenzo a text message to let him know where’s he’s headed, the ride to the third floor feels agonizingly slow, each passing floor adding to his impatience. When the elevator doors finally open, Charles steps out and finds himself in a long, well-lit hallway. He scans the room numbers, his eyes quickly landing on the sign indicating the direction of room 376. With determined strides, he makes his way down the hallway, passing by other patients' rooms and medical staff going about their duties.
Finally, he reaches room 376, and his breath catches in his throat. Taking a moment to steady himself, he gently pushes the door open, revealing a small but comforting space. Inside, he finds you lying in the hospital bed, an IV connected to your arm and one of your textbooks open on the bed beside you. He realises you’re asleep, however, as he watches you from afar. Seeing you lying there, Charles feels a mix of emotions overwhelm him—relief that you’re safe and being cared for, concern for your well-being, and a deep longing to be by your side. He approaches the bed with cautious steps, taking in your pale complexion and the weary lines etched on your face.
Gently, Charles pulls up a chair beside your bed and sits down, not wanting to disturb your much-needed rest. He reaches out and lightly brushes a strand of hair away from your face, a tender smile gracing his lips as he watches you sleep. Gently, he reaches out and takes your hand in his, offering her a tender squeeze. "Hey," he whispers softly, not wanting to startle you. "I'm here. You're going to be okay."
You stir slightly, your eyes fluttering open. A weak smile graces your lips as you recognise Charles. "Charles," she murmurs, her voice hoarse but filled with warmth. "You came."
Charles feels a surge relief wash over him, he leans in closer, his voice filled with genuine concern. "Of course, I came, I'll always be here for you, chérie. What happened? How are you feeling?"
“I’m better now,” your voice comes off hoarse, and it makes Charles cringe inwardly, “I just wanted to come to the hospital because i kept throwing up and thought I had all the signs of food poisoning – but, honey, what are you wearing?”
Charles glances down at his attire, realizing he's still in his racing gear. “I didn’t have time to change,” he explains, his head tilted to the side as he gives you a strict look, “I should have just stayed with you.”
“You had a race, Charles,” your eyes widen in recognition as you remember the race. “Oh my god, how was it? Did you–”
“The race doesn’t matter, Y/N.” Charles interrupts, eyebrows furrowed in frustration. “I wish you wouldn’t try to be so independent all the time.”
He watches as your lips form a pout, your voice coming off more vulnerable than before as you ask, “What?”
"Y/N," he says softly, his voice filled with emotion. "What were you thinking? Why didn't you tell me you were feeling this sick? I could have been here for you."
You give him a guilty look, the pout on your lips becoming deeper. "I didn't want to worry you, Charles. I thought I could handle it on my own."
His frustration melts away as he takes in your weakened state. He moves closer, his hand gently cupping your cheek. "You don't have to handle everything on your own, love. I'm here for you, always. I would have been by your side if you had just let me. I should have been there with you today, not at some race when you were puking your guts out.” He pauses, his thumb caressing the back of your cheek soothingly. “I know you value your independence, and I admire that about you. But sometimes, it's okay to lean on others, especially when you're going through tough times. You don't have to carry everything on your own.”
You listen to Charles's words, and a mixture of emotions swirl within you. His concern and care touch your heart, but you also understand the frustration he expresses. With a soft sigh, you squeeze his hand gently. You shift slightly in the bed, wincing at the discomfort. "Being independent has been a part of me for so long, and it's hard to let go of that mindset completely. But I'm learning, slowly, to find a balance, and I'm learning to lean on you when I need to and to share my burdens with you." You give him the softest smile you can muster, “I promise I’ll try to be better, darling.”
His thumb brushes away a tear from your cheek, his touch gentle and comforting. "You don't have to apologize, mignon. I understand why you wanted me to race, but your health and well-being will always be my priority. I don't want you to ever feel like you have to face things alone. We're a team, remember?"
You nod, your voice barely above a whisper. "I know we are, and I’m sorry for worrying you, darling." You lean into his touch, feeling the warmth of his hand against your skin, and with a soft sigh, you begin speaking again. "I promise that I’ll lean on you more and remember that we’re a team.”
Charles leans down, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. "That's all I ask, love. Just remember that you have me, and I'll always be here for you, okay? I love you."
As you feel his lips on your forehead, a sense of comfort and love washes over you. You gaze into his eyes, filled with gratitude and affection. "I love you too, Charles," you whisper, your voice filled with sincerity. "Thank you for always being there for me, even when I push you away. I'm so grateful to have you by my side."
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