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the-californicationist · 2 days

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Pas de Deux

For @glitterypirateduck's May 2024 Ghost challenge (item #100)!

I don't write Ghost, but I love Duck too much to pass it up. <3

You invited your brother, Kyle, to come and watch your performance as Odette in Swan Lake. He makes it to the theatre, but he brings his friends. That's when you fall head over heels for Simon Riley.

You’d begged your brother to come to your final performance. You needed him there, needed to feel him in the crowd, even if you couldn’t see him out there. Kyle promised he would be there, and as you went through your pre-show routine, you hoped he would be true to his word.

You knew it was difficult for him to get away from work. You’d left him with four tickets, asking him to invite his mates, if that would make it easier. You remember seeing his soft smile as he fanned out the bright gold tickets, inwardly laughing at you for not understanding the contrast between your world and his as he commented,

“These blokes aren’t really keen on ballets, Duck.”

He’d always called you by that stupid nickname. Well, the longer version had been his favorite as a teenage boy: the Ugly Duckling. But, it was fine. You’d called him Vile instead of Kyle most of his life, so you felt like it was an even score.

“It’s important to me,” you’d insisted.

“I know,” he nodded, conceding, “I’ll try.”

So, as the lights were warming up and you were applying your third layer of powder, praying for a smooth night, your heart stretched itself out, begging not to be broken, the whining strings of the cellos and violins in the pit below your feet made the sounds that your heartstrings were feeling — too quiet, too off-key.

“Hey, babe,” one of your fellow dancers hissed at you from behind the backstage door, “Why didn’t you tell us you had a hot brother with a bunch of hot friends?”

“What?” You asked, confused, shaken out of your mental focus.

Then, over her shoulder, you saw Kyle’s face. He beamed at you, giving you a little wave. You leapt up from the floor where you were stretching, not yet in full costume, wrapping yourself in a warm wool sweater, rushing to greet him.

“You came!” You smiled up at him, wrapping him in a big hug. He hugged you back, full of his immense strength. You stood back to get a better look at him. He was all dressed up, and you couldn’t believe it. Someone behind him cleared their throat, getting your attention.

“Oh, right. Duck, these are my mates,” he pointed them out one by one, “Johnny MacTavish, John Price, and Simon Riley.”

When he pointed to the last one, you felt your breath catch in your throat. It felt as if he was the one who caught it. He was a tower of a man, and his broad, muscular shoulders dwarfed his big friends, making the dancers who were rushing by him back and forth to the stage seem so small. Unlike the other two, his face didn’t light up in a warm smile. His bright eyes simply took you in, drinking you like a long draught, swallowing every piece of you. He studied your makeup, your neck and your shoulders, all the way down your legs, scanning you like he would be given an exam.

“Nice to meet you. Thank you so much for coming, seriously. I’ve been trying to get Kyle to show up for months.”

The stocky man with the beard smiled back at you warmly,

“We love a good ballet, don’t we, lads?”

You didn’t miss the way his elbow jutted out to stab Simon in the ribs, prompting him to speak.

When he did, his voice was quiet, and although he had a thick Manc accent, his tone was controlled, measured, even,

“Aye. Big fans.”

“Oh, well,” you couldn’t stop staring at Simon, so you pinned your eyes to the floor instead, “I hope you enjoy it.”

“Drinks after, yeah?” Kyle said, rubbing your arm supportively.

You nodded, watching them head back to the main auditorium.

A few friends, dancers and stagehands alike, rushed up to you as they left, gushing about how attractive they all were.

“Who was that bloody blond giant? Dressed in all black. He was lookin’ at you like he was hungry.”

“I want the Scot with the mohawk. I’m not takin’ no for an answer, girlie. Oh, my God. Did you see his kilt?”

“Your brother is so damn fit! What the fuck, babes?”

“I liked the scruffy one the best. Bet that beard feels good between —”

“Okay! It’s almost showtime. Let’s circle up,” you escaped from the prop room, scurrying back onto the main stage, trying to get your head back in the game.

You went through your warmups with your dancers, and you let your costumers fit you into your opening dress. You needed to think about your work, but you couldn’t get Simon’s sharp gaze out of your mind. He did, in fact, look hungry, and the way his eyes raked over you made you feel every bit like a hot meal.

As the music began, your mind went blank, blissfully quiet and clear. Your muscle memory took over, and you powered through the motions, enjoying the feeling of your blood rushing through your veins. You trusted yourself to get you through the first act, hitting all of your marks and expecting nothing less than perfection.

It wasn’t until you put on the black mask for Odile’s dance with the prince that you began to lose your concentration. There was a wildness that took over you when you played the black swan, a ferocity that your studio director gushed about to the press and to anyone else who cared to listen.

“She’s like an animal! It’s to die for. You must come and see her on stage. It will change this ballet forever!”

You weren’t sure you appreciated being referred to as an animal, but you had to admit that there was something beastial about your transformation. The mask made you feel like you were a new person. It gave you the ability to become someone else, something else. You were sexual and aggressive, dominant and fearsome. It was just what Odile needed, and you delivered.

Except, when you put the mask on tonight, you caught a glimpse of him from backstage. He was sitting in the box that you had bought for your brother, and one of the spotlights’ films had lit his cheek. It was a soft light, but it was enough. As you took your first steps on stage, you couldn’t help but look up towards him, and the flash of hunger in his eyes was still there. So, you decided to give him your animalistic side.

You’d never danced the way you danced that night. The crowd was roaring, and your costar whispered to you,

“Go off, queen. What’s gotten into you?”

“I don’t know,” you whispered back, lying through your teeth.

By the time you left the stage, daring to look back over your shoulder, Simon hadn’t taken his eyes off of you for one moment, and his nostrils flared, breathing deeply, trying to calm himself from your display.

Before you knew it, the curtains closed, and you were bowing, dodging thrown roses and teddy bears, elegantly taking your leave. Your body was dripping sweat, and you rushed over to your bag, scarfing down some power gels and cracking open a nutrition bar, hurrying to bring your body back to normal after its ordeal. You’d be expected to pose for some VIP photos in just a few minutes, so you touched up your makeup, but there was only so much you could do.

“My star!” Your director burst through the back door, “Beautiful! You were incredible tonight. Bring your masks. I have some people who want to meet you.”

You nodded, scooping up your masks and giving your bag to one of the other dancers to take back to the barre room.

You schmoozed for a bit, but something itched at the back of your mind. You felt like you were being watched. Then, just while you were taking a photo with someone’s eager six-year-old, you spotted him. Simon stood behind Kyle, staring at you without shame while the other men laughed and joked with a gaggle of dancers. They had swarmed them, fluttering about, insisting to be invited for drinks, and Kyle was eating it up. You didn’t care, though. There was only one thing you wanted — aside from a hot bath and your comfy bed — and that was to enjoy those things with Simon Riley, if he agreed.

“Excuse me, Madame Savoie. I’m exhausted, and my brother is in town. May I take my leave for the night?”

“Of course!” Your director beamed at you, “After that performance, you can take whatever you want.”

She laughed. Her rich friends laughed. You didn’t, but you managed a smile.

You made your way through the crowd over to Kyle and broke the news,

“Kyle, I’m not going to make it to the pub. I’m beat. I think I’ll just walk home.”

“You can’t walk home by yourself, Duckie. You live in bloody Soho.”

“I’ll be alright. I’ll just —”

“I’ll take her,” that Manc accent oozed its way through the din, and almost everyone turned to look at Simon as he offered his services.

Kyle made a face at you, his arms wrapped around two dancers, one on each side, and he shrugged,

“Alright, Duck. Tomorrow for breakfast, though. No excuses.”

You watched as your brother untangled his right arm from one of your swans, and stuck out his hand for Simon to shake. You saw Simon pause, making clear eye contact with your brother, and extending his wide, pale hand.

You weren’t exactly sure what weird sort of ritual you were witnessing, but it seemed like the two men had an entire conversation in just that short span. Then, Simon’s attention was turned fully back to you.

“C’mon, then. I just need to get my bag.”

He didn’t say anything, but he did hold the door for you, and his huge stature did help part the crowd like some sort of biblical sea, making sure you had easy access to the exits.

The barre room was a bright, white open space, and the wooden floors popped and creaked as you walked across them.

Your impromptu bodyguard followed close behind, but he paused near the door when he was presented with the huge room.

“I’d hate to meet that ballerina,” he chuckled.

You turned around, confused by his comment,

“Which one?”

“The one who hit her head on the ceiling to make them build it this bloody high.”

You looked up to where he was pointing, laughing at his odd joke,

“It’s for the piano,” you explained.

“That’s even scarier,” he grimaced, staring up at the high ceiling as if pianos would start falling from it.

You laughed harder, then, imagining a flying baby grand.

“No! No,” you caught your breath, “The sound. It helps us hear the music.”

“Ahh,” he nodded knowingly, conceding to you, “I see. That makes me feel safer.”

You knelt down and started to pack your back, changing your shoes and slipping out of your outer costume, laying the pieces out like you had been trained to do.

“So, which one do you like better?”

“Hm?” You looked up at him, and he bent his knees to squat down in front of you, plucking your white swan mask out of your bag and touching the fine silk bow with his thumb.

“Which swan?” He asked, his eyes staring at you carefully. You got the sense that your answer really mattered to him.

“Well,” you said carefully, “Every girl wants to be Odette. She’s the star. It’s her story. And she gets to fall in love with a prince. But… once you play Odile, I think you realize that there’s… well, there’s something to be said for falling in love with yourself, too.”

You smiled, grabbing your black mask by the nose and holding it up to your eyes, glaring at him to make your point.

“Same person on the inside, though,” he commented, looking down at the white mask in his hand.

You stood up, and you grabbed his hand to help him up,

“C’mere. I’ll show you.”

“You’re not going to find a tutu that fits me, love.”

“No tutus for you, I promise. Just… stand here. Like that. Put your hand out like this. Good.”

Once he was in position, you grabbed the white mask from him and tied it around your face, willing your sore body back into position.

“This is Odette,” you said, making your hands and feet flutter to life. You spun into his hand, letting him feel the weightlessness of your body as you moved against him, the soft silken rustle of your leotard against his huge, callused hand. Eventually, you came to rest facing away from him, your thigh brushing his hip in a long, extended arabesque. His hand never moved from your waist, and you leaned into it, letting him balance you, his palm warm against your belly through the thin fabric.

“And this…” you replaced the white mask with the black one, changing yourself for him, metamorphosing right before his eyes, “...is Odile.”

This time, you challenged him, making him feel your muscles and bones with each spin, pushing against him like a threat. You could feel his uncertainty, but he naturally steeled himself, grabbing you with more power, trying to harness your energy. But, you knew he couldn’t. He didn’t know what do to. All he could do was stand there and feel you as you moved against him, aggressive and virulent.

As Odile, your final arabesque pressed into him lustfully, translating that fiery rage, your thigh slammed flush with his body, your hips forcing his hand to grip you to keep you from pushing him backwards.

Then, you stepped away, removing the mask and doing a little bow for effect.

“I see,” he murmured, seemingly unphased. But, even though he tried to hide it, his slight adjustment in his black dress pants did not slip by you. He stalked closer to you, closing the space that you had opened. His thumb came up to rub your cheek, right at the edge of the black mask, “Does the mask help?”

You dropped your volume to match his, still catching your breath a bit from the turns,

“Yeah, it reminds me that I can be someone I’m not.”

“Or maybe you can finally be someone you are,” his thumb traced your smooth skin down to your mouth where your lipstick stains and cracked powder were surely a right mess. But, he didn’t care. He pressed the pad of his finger to your bottom lip anyway, moving so carefully and deliberately you felt like you were under his spell.

“Maybe.”

“Hm,” he said noncommittally, backing away from you, releasing you from his invisible hold.

You finished packing, and you made your way into the dark night with him, walking quickly to get out of the spitting rain. He kept his arm around you, wrapping you in his warmth, shielding you from passersby.

Your mind was racing. You had taken this stranger home with you, no questions asked. It was a risk that you just didn’t take. When was the last time you even had a bloke in your flat, much less one that you desperately wanted to snog? At least you had cleaned yesterday. It was too small of a place not to pick up at least a little bit each day. There was no room for you to be messy.

“This is me,” you jingled your keys and pointed up to the tall, modern apartment building, gleaming in glass and steel amidst the historical Soho houses and businesses.

Every floor was the same. It was all modern and white, almost sterile. You felt like you lived in a museum.

“Mm, posh,” he commented, a little disgruntled.

“Free,” you rolled your eyes, “The ballet company houses all of us here.”

“Why can’t my free accommodations ever look this good?”

You cracked open the door to your flat and let him inside. Your cat, Mustard, immediately began her figure-eight dance between his legs, her favorite hello to every person who dared enter her domain.

“What do your accommodations usually look like, then?” You asked, pouring out some kibble for the cat and hanging your bag on its hook.

“Usually a tent, sometimes a cave. They even gave us a house once, no windows in it, but hey. You win some, you lose some.”

“I worry about Kyle, you know. You lads don’t have an easy job.”

“He’ll be alright. He’s a good one.”

“I know,” you smiled softly, staring up into Simon’s eyes, then you remembered your manners, “Can I get you a drink?”

“No, I’m alright,” he smiled back, turning his head to look around your flat.

You gave him the short tour,

“Bathroom’s in there, and here’s my bedroom slash office slash den… Only enough room for the bed, really. I’m not here very much.”

“And…” He spoke slowly, carefully, no joviality in his tone this time, “Is it alright that I’m here, love?”

He eyed you cautiously, moving toward you, towering over your small frame, his hulking shoulders curling in on you, casting dark shadows across your vision, keeping you from the light.

You peered up at him, ignoring his question,

“Do you want to shower with me? I’d fucking murder someone for a hot shower.”

“Yeah,” he said softly, bending forward so that he could press his soft lips to your mouth, kissing you as gently as you’d ever been kissed. But, you could tell, just by the way he moved his jaw, letting his tongue lazily trace your bottom lip, there was so much more fervor under his skin, waiting to be unleashed. Right now, he was Odette, on his best behavior.

But, you wanted to see his Black Swan. Where was the beast that you knew must lurk within?

He pulled away from you, smiling a bit, and you giggled softly, dragging him along by his wrist, ducking into your spacious bathroom. It was the one thing you loved about this place. There was no living room to speak of, but damn if the bathroom wasn’t perfect. The huge glass shower was enough for a party of four, and the dual shower heads made you feel like some sort of royalty. You couldn’t wait to let your muscles soak under the cascade. Maybe tall, blond and handsome could put those strong hands of his to work and rub you down.

You stood in the mirror together, looking at each other, and you started to undress. He twisted a finger under the collar of your sweater until he could feel your skin. Then, he slipped it off of your shoulder. You dropped your arm, letting it slide to the floor. Then, as slowly as he could, you watched as he writhed his finger under your leotard’s strap, pulling it down your arm. When it got to be too taut, you helped him, removing your arms and rolling the soft nylon down your aching body.

Your wig was still on, but you weren’t about to wear it to bed, so you took it off in front of him, running your fingers through your short curls, letting your close-cut fingernails scratch your scalp.

Now, as you stood in the low light of your bathroom mirror, you were naked in front of him, standing with your back to him, covering your breasts in the mirror. Simon bent his head down so he could kiss your neck, and you felt him wrap a big hand around the nape of your neck, holding you in place. His kisses felt hot, and they were deeper than before, more hungry, pressing into you with more power.

You sighed, enjoying his mouth as it worked on you, but well-aware of just how caked on the sweat and the makeup were after a show, making excuses for yourself,

“I’m sweaty,” you whispered.

“I know,” he smiled, sticking out his fat, pink tongue and licking his way up to your ear, just to make his point.

He wrapped his arms around you, retreating for a moment, looking at you in the mirror. Then, when he saw you covering yourself, he gently pushed your arms away, making you reveal your bare breasts to him.

“So fuckin’ pretty,” he praised you, kissing your scalp chastely.

You turned your back to the looking glass to face him, and you tangled your fingers between the buttons of his dress shirt. You weren’t in any hurry to peel him apart, but as you did, you saw more and more evidence of his hard life. His enormous muscles were inked with old tattoos, war scenes etched into his creamy flesh in black and gray. But, carved across his skin were tens of deep, jagged scars, standing as proof of the cruelty he’d endured.

You let your mouth fall to his chest, kissing him indiscriminately, licking when you wanted to, nibbling when you wanted to, giving in to your hedonism fully.

He untucked his shirt for you, peeling it off of his shoulders, and you watched as his muscles rippled and bent around his bones, stretching under his will. You worked on his belt, and he watched you take him apart, both of your heads craned down, staring at your hands as you freed him from his trousers. The zipper fell smoothly, and all that was left were his boxer briefs, underneath which hung a very girthy cock.

You touched him through the fabric, and he let out a shuddering sigh of relief.

“You’re a big man, Mr. Riley,” you teased, playing with his head through the thin fabric, meeting his gaze and finding him fully unraveled. His eyes were hooded and lustful, and it made you wonder how he liked to be touched so you could keep him like this, under your spell.

He tucked his thumbs in his pants and pulled them down, bare with you, and he held your body flush to his in a warm hug. You could feel his cock trapped between you, wet and warm on your belly, and his big hands came down to grab two handfuls of your ass, prying you apart so that the cold air of the room would hit your pussy and tell you how wet you were, enjoying the feel of your meat between his fingers.

“Good thing you’ve got a bloody big shower, love. Might actually be able to stand under the tap, me. Can’t believe it.”

You watched him step into the large glass box and turn on the stream, the heat making him sigh. You joined him, jealous of the feeling, and let your own shower head beat your muscles into submission.

You hissed in pain and he heard it, snapping his attention to you like a dog with a bone.

“What is it?”

“Sore. End of the week is hard.”

He poured some of your soap into his hand, way too much, but you didn’t correct him, and he commented as he bathed you,

“I read about it before we came, you know. Read about the story. About what you have to do to be the star. Hard work, that.”

“There are harder things,” You said in a low voice, tracing a particularly suspicious-looking wound in the shape of a bullet on his right hip.

“Not many. Turn around,” he commanded. You were pleasantly surprised how much you liked it when he took control.

Here, in the warm nest of the shower, you gave him your weakness and let him take care of you. He massaged your shoulders and your back unprompted, rubbing slick suds all over your skin, and he washed your hair. You moisturized on your own, letting him smell all of your tonics and potions, washing your face as he fondled your ass again, enjoying you fully.

You felt like time had stopped.

You washed him, letting your hands roam, caring for him as he had cared for you, and when you were both clean, you couldn’t help but linger on each other a bit. He reached between your legs and explored you for a moment, swiping his huge finger through your curls. When he found your warmth, so different from the steam of the shower, and a different wetness, too, he sighed.

“Is it alright if I stay the night?” He asked.

It surprised you. You assumed that getting naked and showering in front of a man who would be immediately boxed up and shipped back to Khandor on the next flight out would have stayed without asking. He would have assumed that his presence was his invitation.

You nodded,

“Please stay, Simon.”

He touched your breast, plucking at your nipple softly, seeming like he was uncertain despite your answer. You pried,

“Are you worried about Kyle? Did he say something —”

“No,” Simon smiled, “He knows you’re a big girl. It’s just been awhile… for me.”

“If you want to go…” You let your hands spread wide across his chest, purposely avoiding his cock, not wanting to sway him in a covinous way.

He shook his head,

“No. I just want you to be sure. I can’t… We leave again, and I can’t make promises.”

“No promises. I know what you do. I know who you are because I know who Kyle is. You aren’t misleading me here, Simon. But, if you don’t take me to bed, I might lose my bloody mind.”

The smile that spread across his face then was a true one. It couldn’t hide. It squeezed his cheeks up into his eyes and wrinkled their edges like a paper fan. His full lips pulled tight across those white teeth, his incisors long like fangs and just as sharp. And he blushed, that pale skin giving away his feelings to you.

He kissed your forehead and turned off the taps, retrieving two towels and bundling you in one, on your way back to bed, you snatched your lotion and started to put it on in a half-assed way, hurrying for his benefit.

“Hey, stealin’ my duties?”

Simon plucked the lotion out of your head and nodded to the bed. You lay down for him, waiting for what he had in store. He pumped the lotion into his hand, less this time, you noticed, and began at your thighs. His wide palms rubbed and massaged you until he had covered you, paying attention to your hands and feet, before commanding you again:

“Flip over, love.”

You gladly did, sighing and moaning shamelessly as he rubbed lotion all over your back and legs. When he got to your round, plump ass, he took more of his time.

“Watchin’ you move up there on that stage, tryin’ to seduce the bloody prince, fuck… it made me feel like you were dancing for me. The way you move… your body… I’ve never seen anythin’ like it.”

“I was,” you confessed.

“What?” He stopped massaging you, putting the lotion on your table and crawling into the bed with you.

You waited until you were under the covers with your head firmly planted on his chest before admitting it to him,

“I was dancing for you tonight. When I saw you with my brother… you were all I could think about. I could see you in the box, when I was Odile, and I wanted you to look at me.”

“I couldn’t stop looking at you.”

You weren’t sure who kissed who, but you were now trapped within each other, sucking at each others’ mouths, moaning and writhing in each others’ arms. Snogging like you were dying.

His cock was already hard, but you felt its smooth, silky body pressing and throbbing against your belly as he held you close, hungry for your wet hole, eager to be the one to fill it.

You let your hand fall between you, jerking him off, rubbing slick circles around his head until he had to break your kiss to cry out for you. You raised your leg over his hip and moved to put him inside you, but he shook his head and started chanting in short, breathless whispers,

“Wait, wait, wait…”

Then, he disappeared, leaving you at the top of the duvet alone, licking and sucking his way down your body until he reached your pussy. As he began to eat you, he also spread you apart. You’d never felt so exposed before, but he wanted to lick your petals, slurping them into his mouth like the lobes of a sweet orange, one by one devouring you in your sensitive state.

Your hands scratched at his scalp, which he seemed to enjoy. You watched his eyes flutter with pleasure after a particularly vigorous passthrough.

“Taste so fuckin’ good. Gimme that come, baby,” he growled, gently circling your entrance with two thick fingers before fitting them into you with a wet, slick sound.

“Oh!” You called out, staring down at him as he planted his mouth over your clit, suckling at its swollen body, razing your nerves to ashes.

It didn’t take long before he had you coming for him, and when he felt you tense up beneath his hands, that true smile was back. He sat up on his knees and helped you come back down, slowing his movements just enough to calm your breathing, but keeping you precariously balanced on the edge where he wanted you.

“Turn over on your belly, love.”

For some reason, it made you feel incredibly vulnerable to have him behind you, and your body shivered from the tension. He noticed, and he lay himself over you, soothing you, whispering right into your ear,

“I’ve got you, love. You wanna stop, we’ll stop. No problem. That clear?”

You nodded your head, and he met your eyes, making damn sure. Then, satisfied, you heard him digging around in his discarded dress pants, the crinkle of the foil condom, and then the slick roll of the barrier slipping over his head.

“Thank fuck for condoms,” he laughed, “Might give me a chance to last more than a few minutes in this pretty fuckin’ cunt.”

You laughed with him, shrugging,

“You come, we try again. I’m not bothered.”

“Mm,” he nuzzled your ear, laying his body over yours and letting you feel his weight. His cockhead was tickling your entrance, but he didn’t go any further, saying, “This must be my white swan I have beneath me. Sweet on me, huh?”

“Mmhm,” you nodded, reeling from the sensation of his tip rolling around your hole’s entrance, desperately grinding for more.

“What would the black swan say to me, huh?”

You looked over your shoulder at him, meeting his eyes, and just like you had in the barre room, you showed him your other side. When he saw the flash in your eyes of your wildness, he knew he’d gotten his wish. You shoved your hips down, spearing yourself onto him before he was ready for you, making him gasp as your pussy slaked over the first few inches of his cock.

“Give me your cock, Simon.”

He recovered, biting his lip and thrusting into you, stuffing himself inside of you deeper and deeper,

“There she is. My girl…”

The power that he used to fuck you was beyond anything that any other man had dared give you. You didn’t know this was a possibility. Your whole body was trapped beneath him, being kissed and crushed and fucked into a wet, submissive mess. His arms were planted beside you, pinning you in, and honestly, you had never felt so safe.

You could smell your coconut body wash on him, mixing with whatever it was that made him a man, musky and dark, a hint of his Camel Blues. You wanted to bathe in him, just as he had washed you with his hands. Instead of soap, you wanted it to be him, smearing himself all over you, caking you in his essence.

“Fuck, you are so tight. Squeezin’ me. Fuck…”

He was off of you in a flash, and before you knew it, he’d flipped you over. He spread open your legs and played with you for a moment, trying to stop himself from coming. His cock was in his other hand like a vice, and you watched him struggle with no small sense of pride.

You decided it was your turn to lead this dance, and you sat up, kissing him full on the mouth, letting your tongue loll against his, sensuous and warm. Then, you wrapped your knees around him and shoved him back toward the foot of the bed, riding him down. When you caught your balance, you reached behind you to feed him into your pussy again, pressing into him with your weight.

“Wait! Oh, fuckin’ hell.”

Simon’s hands went to your hips and then immediately to cover his mouth, stopping himself from gasping from the sensation. You ignored him, bucking against his huge cock, discovering you could take him even deeper. As you began to grind against him, you let your hands play in your folds, vibrating your clit and driving yourself wild. Your other hand went to his balls, rolling them gently in your hands behind your back.

“Ungh… You are gonna make me come, love.”

As soon as you heard his confession, you released him from your hand and paused at the top of your thrust, hovering on his tip in midair, teasing him ruthlessly.

“Oh… you —” Simon never finished his sentence because he grabbed you around your hips and dropped you back to the bed, prowling over you and huffing like a stuck bull. You were laughing in gasping breaths from the shock of his strength, and you almost missed the moment when he began to press his swollen rod back inside of you, spearing you mercilessly.

You whimpered, wrapping your hands around his neck like a lifeline.

“Mmm,” he purred proudly, “She needs me, now. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, letting him kiss you languidly with soft, pliant lips.

“Needs me like this, huh? Tell me.”

“I need you, Si—”

“Tell. Me.”

“I need you so bad! Please, please… fuck me like this. Fuck —”

He covered your mouth with his own and chased down your orgasm like a thief, watching as your eyes got wide, pulling away so he could hear you keen.

“Yes, yes, yes…” He chanted in your face, not moving away for a second, unwilling to miss even one moment of it.

“Simon…” You whined, feeling the shock of your release and the afterburn of your pleasure as it flooded through your core, messy and salacious.

“Feel so good, baby,” he was barely speaking above a whisper, sounding like he was drunk, struggling to keep his rhythm.

“You gonna come in me?”

Hope and bliss flashed across his face, and he kissed you again, pressing his nose right beside your nose and muttering into your mouth,

“Fuck yes, fuck, fuck, fuck…”

As he came, he held his breath, locked, frozen in time, his eyes wrenched shut and his mouth wide open in a silent scream. You held his head in your arms, keeping him close to you, keeping him safe like he had kept you.

When he finally took a breath, it was ragged and gravelly. He panted like a tired hound, sucking in air and leaning against you to recover. For a while, you just lay together, his big body draped over yours, healing in you, using your wet come as a salve.

Then, he slipped away, leaving you bereft at the loss.

He pulled you into his arms, making sure you were covered and warm in your bed, finding your eyes and kissing your cheek, wordlessly thanking you for what he had done to you.

“Do you want me to go?” He whispered, his eyes closed as if he couldn’t face the answer.

“Please, stay. Don’t leave me, Simon. Not yet.”

“C’mere,” he sighed, curling his body around yours, securing you in his arms, breathing with you until you both tumbled into a deep, dark sleep.

AO3 Link

#call of duty fanfic #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod #call of duty #gpdrecs #gpd #gpdrecs writing challenge #simon “ghost” riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #ghostchallenge

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mammonsrockstargf · 2 days

Text

Solomon has a bad leg. At first, he didn't really notice it, or maybe he just assumed that he pulled a muscle or something. Whenever he's been sitting down for a while and he has to get up, he feels a slight pull in his right leg. When he has to bend down to grab the thing he dropped or get on his knees to collect a certain root, a small, sharp pain shoots up through his leg.

Solomon has lived a long time. He's experienced a lot of pain, but it's always gone away eventually. Sometimes he needed a healing spell, or he would borrow a little power from one of his pacts to heal it. But this stupid pain in his leg won't go away, no matter what he does. He's tried every single healing method he remembers, and it just won't stop.

He feels silly. He feels helpless. He wonders if the years have finally caught up to him.

He wonders if all the times you teasingly called him an old man were just a secret ploy to curse him. Because he certainly feels like an old man now.

He's good at hiding his pain. Expertly, in fact. So it takes a while for you to notice. But you do, and when you do, you get really upset.

"You’ve been hiding this from me? Why didn't you tell me?" you ask, and Solomon sighs and grips his leg. It's so stiff that he has a hard time walking around on it. Usually, it isn't all that bad, but he was in the human world the other day, and the temperatures were unusually cold, and now his leg is acting up, and wow the world really isn’t on his side these days.

"I didn't want you to worry," is all he responds, and you cross your arms, staring furiously at him, trying to control your temper.

"I want to worry about you. I want to know if you're hurting!" you say, and Solomon feels a flash of annoyance. Not with you, but with himself. For making you worry and for making you upset.

You go to him and cup his face, worry etched into your face from the way your eyebrows furrow to the way your lips purse. "Let me in," you ask, and Solomon feels his heart swell with sorrow. You give so easily, you open so easily, you never ever blame him for anything. So why can't he do this one thing for you?

"I've been alone for so long," he says, and you nod, bringing him closer to you. Your foreheads touch, your noses brush against each other, and he closes his eyes, surrendering himself to your care.

After that, whenever his leg acts up, you hand him an ibuprofen. The first time you do, Solomon feels very silly. All this wisdom, and it never once occurred to him to take a pill. What's even worse is that the pill works. His leg begins to feel better.

It still acts up sometimes, but you recognise the signs by now and hand him the pill each time without a single word.

And he no longer feels silly. He just feels very loved.

a/n: i'm working on a longer fic, and i wanted to post a lil something, so here's a quick little thought i had. hope you enjoyed it, thank you for reading, mwah mwah mwah <- free kisses for anyone who wants one.

read more here. >:D

divider by @/cafekitsune.

#ficlets #solomon #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me solomon #obey me x reader #obey me solomon x reader #obey me headcanon #obey me swd #obey me fluff #obey me drabble #obey me x mc #obey me x you #obey me solomon x mc #obey me solomon x you #obey me solomon headcanon

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fanaticsnail · 2 days

Note

Oh snail, i know you already have a long list of WIPs (i can't wait to read them) and your Inbox is probably already full with requests, so i understand if its not in the cards right now.

I was just wondering what the kid-pirates would do, or how they would react if ther precious doc-reader is the one that was injured badly or was very sick. Especialy how Killer would react after that romantic tention between them (i need more of that 😩). I don't have a particular song in mind, because the seires already has a vibe to it, hope thats okay.

I wish you a wonderful day/night/evening! 💕Sooo looking forward to your next work, whatever it may be 🐢

I love you for this prompt, @daydreamer-in-training. Thank you!

Sit your ass down, would ya, Doc?

Hey Doc Masterlist here

Word Count: 2,000+

Synopsis: You've taken care of your crew and nursed them back to health from their flus... but now it's your turn. The Kid-Pirates do their best to take care of the worlds worst patient, their doctor: you.

Themes: platonic!kid-pirates, eustass kid x gn!reader, swearing, illness, comforting, taking medication, kid is a bit of a dom, doc is a bit of a bra, you're the kid-pirate doctor: the crew calls you 'doc'.

Notes: I am currently struggling with the flu myself, and this was simply too cute to not write about. Thank you for your ask, it's been fun to write about!

Tag List: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @sinning-23 @gingernut1314 @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @since-im-already-here @sordidmusings @nerium-lil

“Hey, Doc? Did we need any more petroleum jelly from the-...?” the fire breathing devil-fruit user called beside you, hating when you turned to face him, “...-Shit, Doc. You look like absolute balls today.”

Rolling your swollen, glassy and red eyes at him, you draw another tissue from your counter and sneeze into it. The silky tissue felt like sandpaper over your leaky nose, the skin splitting surrounding your nostrils and leaving small stains of red on the pale paper.

“Always so full of compliments and kindness, Heat,” you huff out, your voice sounding hoarse and cracking along with every word. Heat cringed, recoiling away from you with eyes narrowed in sympathy. You attempt to breathe through your blocked nose, no air passing through the dual nostrils.

Treating the crew for the past two weeks, and nursing them to health in recovering from the flu, had finally caught up with you. You felt both cold and hot at the same time, your skin both dry and sticky with sweat. Mind swelling and cracking behind the tense throbbing throughout your brain caused a dull ache ringing in your ears and fogging your mind.

“I-... I’m just saying, Doc,” he reiterated in defense of himself, “You don’t look too good. Maybe you ought to sit out from the in-land trip to restock. Stay home on the Victoria Punk?” Heat suggested with a soft smile and a subtle shrug.

“What?” you grunted out a cough, “And leave you lot to restock my clinic for me? Not fucking like-...” coughing into another tissue, your glassy eyes pricked at the corners and began to spill out and down your cheeks, “...-likely.”

Heat’s smile fled from his face, his lip downturning in sympathy. He shook his head and extended his hand out to you, gesturing you to follow him out through the door towards the deck. You attempt to sniff back another intake of air to reopen your nose to no avail. Following on, you trudge somberly towards the top deck where the crew were all waiting to step foot onto the pier.

Without drawing attention to yourself, your eyes squinted lazily to compensate for the pain the sun caused your mind. With each achy step, you attempted to bite back the ache your body was going through. Barely aware of your surroundings, you gesture in the medicinal remedy booths at town square for herbs, ointments and aromatic fragrances.

As you reached into your pocket to pull out your small folder of Berry, a large right forearm reached over your shoulder and paid the vendor before you could. Rolling your eyes, you turn to look at the scowling grimace of your captain, Eustass Kid, baring his rage down at you. Attempting to roll your eyes at him again, you clenched them tightly shut instead as the world became far too bright to process.

“Captain,” you acknowledge him with a clumsy nod, fighting the urge to not to fall over with the vertigo overcoming you. He growled at you immediately, gesturing to Wire beside him to gather the supplies and walk back to the ship.

“You’re a real fuckin’ idiot, aren’t ya, Doc?” he spat, scolding you with his heavy growl. You laughed at him, shaking your swirling head and beginning to walk beside him. Your overexertion and sleep deprivation caught up with you as you tripped over an uneven divot in the rocky path.

“I'm not into degradation, Cap,” you respond in a half-joking hum, your eyes feeling heavy and weighted, “Not my kink. Might be yours, though, considering the amount of times I yell at you to hold you accountable.” That comment earnt you another low growl from your captain, his face turning a few shades darker than his hair.

He turned to face you at his side, his lips curling as if to speak. As he opened his lips, he was lost for words as you fell into him, bracing yourself against him to steady your walk. He caught you in his right arm, bringing his face down towards you and brows knitting with concern. Turning towards Wire, he cocked his chin to the side to usher him on towards the ship.

With no further warning, Kid dipped at the knees and hoisted you up into his chest beneath your thighs. He curled his bicep and hooked your head beneath his chin and cradled you firmly into him. Under usual circumstances, you would’ve fought this tooth and nail.

You do not enjoy being manhandled by the crew, especially by your captain. While you enjoy the embrace once in a while with your more sensitive crewmates, particularly Bubblegum, the Captain has only ever been this close to you when he’s sparring with you.

“C’mon Doc, I'll get you seen to,” he grunted down at your position curled into his chest, “I’ve-... And the-...” his words trailed off, the fever raising your temperature higher and prompting you to seek out sleep against his pectoral.

Voices and words fade in and out of your ears, a slow drawl and murmurs of several of your crewmates swelling around your assumed resting spot for the day. The room wasn’t physically moving, even though your vertigo suggested it was.

“When was the last time Doc’s had a day off?” you recognised the feminine voice of Quincy in the room beside you. Several grunts and incessant babbling reverberated around the room, prompting you to flutter your eyelashes open and push through the pain.

“Doc!” you cringed as a body almost flew into your bed, sitting on the plush sheets beside you, “You’re awake! I’m so happy to see you’re up!” You wince, slowly waving Bubblegum away, swatting at his zig-zagged head.

“Off, off,” you shooed him, wincing as you shrugged your duvet off your thighs and swung your legs over the side of the bed. As you began to wobble to your feet, the booming voice of your captain called over the chatter of the room,

“Sit your ass down, would ya, Doc?” he growled, striding over in intentional steps and giving you a shove from his right hand in the middle of your chest, “The medics here said you need a week in bed to rest. Sit down.” You growled at him, doing your best to gather the strength to growl at him.

“If I’ve been prescribed ‘rest’,” you began, gesturing to the crewmates surrounding your current room, “Why the fuck are you all here?” Several sheepish mutters surround the room, a few members pinching the scruffs of their necks, a few more wringing their hands in front of their waists.

Your captain clapped his hand on your shoulder, pushing you to lay back down and wrangling you into your bedsheets. Refusing to go down without a fight this time, you wriggled in his grip and fought both the fever and the strong arm of your captain.

“For fucks sake, Doc!” Kid yelled at you, pushing and shoving you down into the very comfortable and unfamiliar bed in front of the crew. “Just lay down and rest, damn it! Go back to sleep.” You wriggled harder.

“No!” you yelled defiantly, kicking off the duvet and fighting each and every time your captain attempted to shove you into your bed. Kid looked around to the crew, angled his chin sharply to wordlessly order them to leave the room. As they left, Kid turned back towards you and crawled up onto the bed.

“You are more of a pain in the ass than that fucking bullet to the buttcheek,” he growled, climbing over you and baring down his weight onto your smaller frame. Straddling your thighs, he placed his knees on your open palms and successfully pinned you beneath him. He pressed his forearm over your chest and gave you a firm shove to force you to lay down. You had no choice but to thump your head back into the plush pillow behind your head.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you clench your jaw and growl behind your lips. The rumble in your throat hurt the raw swell in your jugular, but you pushed past it to air your frustrations at him regardless. The chuckle from your captain above you only served to propel your anger to rise higher.

“Yeah, yeah. Growl and groan all you want,” he scoffed at you, pinning your chest with his bicep while reaching his hand between you and gathering the blankets in his fist. Slowly raising it up, he continued his place straddling your thighs until he thought you would no longer fight him.

“Why are you doing this, Captain?” you snarl at him, finally opening your eyes to gaze up into his eyes. He smirked at you in response, pressing his palm to your forehead and clicking his tongue at the temperature.

“Because,” he leaned over to the bedside, taking two small spherical tablets into his hand, “We love you, Doc.” He leaned back over you, gesturing with his chin for you to part your lips. You take a moment to snarl at him before complying, parting your lips and allowing him to place the bitter tablets on your tongue.

He leaned back over to the bedside, finding a glass of water and bringing it down to your lips. Tilting the glass slowly as it brushed with your bottom lip, he carefully fed you a sip of water to take the pills with. Placing the glass back over on the table, he drew his attention to the small amount of water seeping from the corner of your lip.

“Now, be a good Doctor and get loved on, idiot,” he softly huffed, his voice low and husky as he leaned forward. He used the pad of his thumb to gently collect the spill of water from the corner of your lips. Your eyes never ceased its glare up at him. He grinned tauntingly down at you, arching his brow and ensuring you swallowed the tablets.

“Get off, Captain,” you growled at him, bucking your hips up in an attempt to remove him from your body. He cackled his rumbled laugh down at you in response, shaking his head.

“You gonna get up again if I do?” he asked, leaning down and caressing your cheek in a gentle stroke. His eyes held nothing but mischievous mockery, but his hand felt like it was gently coaxing you to comply with what he asked.

“No, I’ll behave,” you snarled at him. His laugh was genuine this time, low and gentle. Slowly backing off you, he slid off your body before adjusting the sheets and smoothing them over.

“Good,” he nodded, beginning to leave the room by the door off to the side of the room. Halting at the door, he fought with himself for a moment before looking at you over his shoulder and uttering, “I’ll-… I’ll get Kil to check on you in a few hours. Get some rest, okay?”

What he said next was something you weren’t expecting to come from his lips. In all the time you served with him, he only ever called you ‘Doc’, or ‘Doctor.’ You were your title, and you appreciated that about the crew. You were Doc, only ever Doc. But what he said changed all that.

After he uttered the word “okay,” it was immediately followed by your name. Waiting a few moments, you responded in a cadence just above a whisper.

“I’ll be right where you left me, Kid,” you replied with a soft smile back at him. He closed his eyes, offering you a reflection of your smile in return before it grew back into its usual mischievous face.

“Good,” he again offered you, scrunching his nose up at you and looking up through his red eyelashes at you, “Otherwise I would’ve gotten your doting daddy to come coddle his whiny baby.” Your eyes went wide, your jaw clenching and your eyebrows shot up to your hairline.

Eustass Kid just laughed in response, exiting the room and giving you both the time and space you needed to recover. Your recovery was not only the flu, but of the second hand embarrassment that Killer must’ve relayed to Kid what he’d said to you in the consultation room. Either that, or you left the shell of your Den-Den accidentally activated from when you spoke with your captain earlier in the day.

Either way, you pouted as you did as you were told and huffed back into your bed and went to sleep: the paracetamol activating and stilling your swelling head and masking the undertones of pain in your body.

#one piece #x reader #ask snail #snail answers #eustass kid #kid pirates #op kid #kid x reader #op kid x reader #one piece x reader #gn!reader #one piece x platonic!reader #eustass kid x reader #subtle killer x reader #killer x reader #one piece kid x reader

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lokideservesahug · 2 days

Text

Bound to falling in love

-°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°--°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°-

Mick Schumacher x reader Soulmate AU

Warnings: None that I can see?

Notes: Unsurprisingly this won the vote. But I hope you like it :)

Summary: Mick Schumacher has been extremelyprivate with how soulmark his whole life. But what happens when the interest does ehat its best at, snooping. Well Mick Schumacher might just finally meet the celebrity that he doesn't at all have a tiny crush on...

-°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°--°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°-

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

Yourusername

Yourusername: WE ARE SO BACK BABY!!🖤🖤 Mercedes CCH 2024 Incoming (I'm delusional)

Liked by Mickschumacher, Lewishamilton and 756,986 others

View all 533 comments

User1: I knew Y/N was an F1 girlie but I didn't know she was a Mercedes girl🤔

↳Yourusername: Have been for ever🖤

User2: Y/N is like me fr eith that caption

↳User3: Fr though😭 Like wdym 2nd place in sprint doesn't mean Lewis will get his 8th!?

↳Yourusername: Maybe he performed so well just to improve his ex-husband

↳User4: LMAO Poor Nico

Lewishamilton: Glad to see your support lies in the right place💪

↳Yourusername: OH my gosh. Sir Lewis Hamilton. It is an honour to speak to you

↳Lewishamilton: Maybe you should come to the Mercedes garage some time. I think certain people would love your company👀

↳User5: I think he just killed Y/N

↳User6: Wa she talking about himself or someone else. George perhaps? I'M so nosy!!!

↳User7: Well Mick is in the likes so that's where my money is...

↳User8: Sure grandma, the mkst soul ate obsessed obsessed In existence is caught up over Y/N...

↳User7: I mean it is Y/N Y/L/N

↳User8: True...

User9: Mick being in the likes👀

↳User10: Meh even if he does have a thing for Y/N, he'll still stick to his soulmate like he has done for decades.

↳User11: Hear me out, Y/N is his soulmate...

↳User10: Girl actualy shut up

↳User11: Just look at that twitter thread

↳User10: Hmmm interesting. It looks like it could be possible but the chances are 0.001% of it being her. Just because one user recognised it doesn't mean it's her

User12: Is anyone else really confused by all this talk of the twitter thread and that "one reply"

Liked by Yourusername

↳User13: basically people are trying to find out who Mick's soulmate is and currently people think it's Y/N

↳User12: OH... how random

↳User13: Yeah but tell me they wouldn't make the perfect couple...

Liked by Yourusername

↳User14: Y/N liking this comment + its replies twice is wild and shows she's as curious as us...

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

Mick's phone

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

Your phone | Mick's | Your phone

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

Yourusername

Yourusername: This guy wouldn't leave me alone in Italy. He says he's in the family business of driving cars or smt

Liked by Mickschumacher, Lewishamilton and 1,023,987 others

View all 674 comments

User1: NO WAY.... DOES THIS MEAN WHAT I THINK IT DOES

↳User2: Girl probably? Hopefully? Idk?

User3: We don't need confirmation now...but also we so do!!!

User4: Awww they really are perfect for each other!🥺🥰

Liked by Mickschumacher, Yourusername

Lewishamilton: Glad you two finally found the time to go on a proper date rather than letting Mick ogle you all day!

↳Mickschumacher: Thanks for that man...

↳Yourusername: Aww Micky, you stare at me all the time?

↳Mickschumacher: How can I not Schatz, you're the most gorgeous person in the whole world❤❤❤

↳Estabanocon: How sweet 🤢

↳Mickschumacher: Aww just let me be in love this once.

User5: Ugh he's so bf coded

Liked by Yourusername

↳User6: I SEE YOU LURKING Y/N

User7: did you guys see Mick say love? Ooh is this a new word added to the equation or....

Liked by yourusername

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

New story from Mickschumacher

(My darling, my soulmate. Finally all mine to love)

-°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°--°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°-

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it.

As always, likes, reblogs and especially feedback is always welcome!

Taglist:@nikfigueiredo @mysoulispainted @leclercings @d3kstar @hiireadstuff @a-beaverhausen @nichmeddar @lozzamez3 @stinkyjax @marymustdie @littlesatanicassholebitch @mehrmonga @insanedeathwish @ems-alexandra @a-disturbing-self-reflection @cherry-piee

#f1 #f1 x reader #f1 x you #formula 1 #f1 fanfic #mick schumacher x reader #mick schumacher smau #mick schumacher #mick schumacher x you #mick schumacher soulmate au #f1 soulmate au #ldah's writing #f1 smau

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grandline-fics · 1 day

Note

Hiiiii this is my first time requesting something so sorry if this doesn’t make any sense, but is it okay if you do some silly Headcanons of Ace, Shanks, or Crocodile with a serious s/o that is just the complete opposite when seeing something cute like a puppy??

DESCRIPTION: You’re completely serious until you see something cute

WARNINGS: nothing comes to mind

CHARACTERS: Ace, Shanks, Crocodile

WORDS: 1,933

A/N: Thank you for this request, sorry you had to wait so long for this and I hope you like how it turned out.

I've been making the most of this burst of energy and feeling well by getting as much writing done as I can. Here's hoping it lasts. As always thank you all for reading. Enjoy

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

MASTERLIST | PROMPT LIST

———————

ACE

You were a naturally serious person and you couldn’t help it. Sure you enjoyed spending time with the people you loved and cared about but when it came to expressing that emotion, especially a smile that went beyond the brief upturn of the corner of your mouth it was a rare occurrence. You made no turn to apologise for your personality, those that knew you had no doubt about how loving and loyal you were and they wouldn’t change you for anything. Ace especially adored you just the way you were. Besides he was the one that smiled constantly so he would always say you both balanced each other out perfectly.

There was also another reason why he liked how your smile and expressions of light-heartedness were so rare. He loved that they were mostly reserved for him and if anyone else got to see them then they’d try and take you from him. Obviously Ace knew that was impossible but he still liked to think of something that was intimately yours and his. However one day Ace and the rest of the crew stumbled across a sure fire way to get passed your natural stoicism completely by accident and it was all Ace’s doing.

“Hey check it out! My little brother’s crew got posters!” Ace called out the the crew one day with a proud grin as he read over the story that accompanied the Strawhat crew’s introductory bounties. Playfully you rolled your eyes despite your expression remaining as calm as always as you approached your boyfriend. You’d heard him talk countless times about his little brother and had heard about the small crew he’d assembled from the time Ace briefly reunited with them in Alabasta but apart from the Captain and his second in command, Zoro you hadn’t seen their appearances until now.

“They attacked Enies Lobby?” You asked, letting out a low whistle of respect at the new crew’s reckless actions. The rest of the crew listening finally took notice too, all of them could repeat Ace’s adoring speeches about Luffy word for word by now so hadn’t really taken noticed of the second division commander’s announcement until now. “At least they know how to get the world’s attention.” You mused, taking the pile of posters into your hand to inspect the totals. Your eyes flicked over the likes of Luffy, Zoro, and Robin with familiarity. They already had bounties so it was nothing new. For Sanji, Nami, Franky, and Usopp you took in their features to recognise them in future. In Ace’s mind his little brother’s crew were like family too.

Finally you pulled out the last poster and a strange noise broke from your lips, startling everyone in the crew as they looked at you. The noise had been shocking enough but to see your eyes all but sparkling and giddy smile light your face threw them off even more. “He’s so cute!” You grinned at the picture of Chopper in your hands, overcome by the adorable reindeer. “Ace! Why did you hide this from me!”

“I did!” Ace protested, recovering faster than the others since he’d been privileged to see this side of you before. “I told you there was a reindeer thing on Luffy’s crew!” Wincing when you lightly flicked his forehead.

“He’s not a thing! He’s adorable!” You admonished before smiling broadly at the bounty photo again. ”He looks so soft, I just want to hug him.” Ace watched you with a deepening pout, jealous suddenly of a photo and hoped you and the reindeer never crossed paths.

SHANKS

Sometimes your seriousness felt like a curse when you were on Shanks’ crew. While everyone else followed their Captain’s whims of adventure and revelry without any thought of consequences or limitations, you felt alone at times in being the one to offer a voice of reason when the occasion called for it. While you knew your crew was an immensely strong one, practically undefeated you also knew how quickly the tide could turn against anyone who wasn’t careful. In the unpredictability and cruelty of the life you’d all chosen for yourselves, it was better to be safe than sorry. When you and Shanks became a partnership in a physical and romantic sense, that weight of having to be the serious and level-headed one only seemed to increase.

Thankfully Shanks was the perfect partner to have, even before you were a couple he would boast to anyone that would listen that he knew you’re every emotion despite the neutral and serious expression you had. As imperceivable as you appeared to many, Shanks could read you like a book. It was also a little infuriating that he knew your weaknesses and what would make you show your feelings a little more to others. You don’t even know how it happened but Shanks liked to make a game out of it, whoever could make you a full smile got anything they wanted. Obviously Shanks wasn’t allowed to take part and the game was only when you permitted it such as when you were all in a safe territory. In all the crew’s attempts no-one had ever won.

On one evening you sat beside Shanks as you waited patiently for the others to start making their first of many turns to get a reaction out of you. As always, everyone that was taking part was filled with swagger and ‘had the winning technique’ but after a couple hours with your expression as unmoving as always, the bolster had ebbed into mass dejection and turning to their drinks for consolation. The only people truly enjoying their night were those that knew better than to try and Shanks who laughed happily and pulled you close. “Imagine if they found out how easy it was.” He grinned in your ear. Quickly you glanced at him, amusement in your eyes while you expression was masterfully neutral.

Just as you were about to relax you heard a rustling behind you and you looked towards the noise while the others paid no notice. Which was why they hadn’t known what took your attention until you’d gotten out of your seat to investigate and you let out a surprised squeal when you found what it was. Having never heard the sound from you before the crew was frozen in place and their eyes bugged out when you reappeared, the largest adoring smile on your face aimed at the bundle of fur in your arms.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me!” Ben muttered as he watched you settle back into your seat beside Shanks, your attention raptly on what he now saw what the answer to Shanks’ game was. “A kitten? They smile for a kitten.”

“Well anything cute, but yeah.” Shanks grinned, looking over your shoulder to lightly scratch under the kitten’s chin as it purred.

“He’s just like you Shanks, look.” You cooed, the smile never leaving your face as you adjusted the kitten against your chest to show it only had three legs. “He’s coming with us, by the way.” You added before getting lost in pouring affection onto the tiny creature. Shanks let out a small amused huff. All the other times you’d pleaded to bring all the cute animals you came across onto the ship, he had to restrain himself from giving in to your every wish and tell you no, this time however there was no room for arguing and he wasn’t going to if it meant he got to enjoy your smile more.

CROCODILE

“Crocodile, you might want to go to do some damage control before they murder someone.” Crocodile looked up from his stack of paperwork to see Mihawk had already left his doorway. There was only one person that the swordsman would warn him about, you. With a heavy breath he rose and walked down the hallway and opened the door to see you sitting at your desk, papers fisted tightly in one hand while the other was clamped against your head as you tried to rub the knot causing a tension headache away. Slowly you lifted your head at stared at your lover with cold fury.

“If that clown blows the budget I’ve assigned him one more time I’ll kill him and I don’t care how valuable he is to the face of this business.” You seethed, watching him approach and set himself against the edge of the large desk. You eyed him evenly watching as a growing smirk appeared on his handsome face. Obviously you didn’t share his humour in this situation but then again you were the outwardly colder of the couple. Compared to your constantly serious expression, Crocodile came across as a sweetheart. When his large hand fell over yours and lightly coaxed your fist to relaxed you only then realised how tightly you’d been holding the now wrecked papers. With a sigh you discarded them with a swipe before returning your hand to Crocodile’s hold. “Out of curiosity, is there anyway we can just get rid of him and hire a normal clown to take his place?”

“As much as I’d love to fulfil your wish, my love sadly he’s needed and the Marines would notice a fake.” Crocodile chuckled.

“You give them too much credit.” You muttered evenly, you had more faith in Buggy’s ability to stick to a spending budget than you did in the Marines as a whole. You glared at your ruined paperwork that had caused your anger and the untouched bundle of work that you couldn’t bring yourself to touch. Sitting back in your seat, you dropped your free hand to pinch the bridge of your nose while your eyes closed slowly.

“Headache still there?” He asked, watching you nod. Crocodile made a note to punish Buggy in his own way later on but at this moment you were the priority and he grinned triumphantly when the surprise he was withholding until later on was now just what you needed. Crocodile stood and pulled your hand, a silent request for you to stand. “Come on, I know what will help.”

“Unless it’s putting a sea prism stone boot up the clown’s ass I’m not in the mood.”

“Oh come now, entertain me.” Crocodile urged smoothly, leading you out of the office and down the corridors. “I’ve never steered you wrong have I?”

“Apart from seducing me, corrupting my innocent soul, and leading me into a life of crime? No.” You said sarcastically earning a laugh from your lover. The only thing he was guilty of in that list was seducing you. You were already a criminal and far from innocent when he met you.

When you both approached the basement you gave Crocodile a suspicious look before realisation hit you. Without him needing to say anything you hurried into the area only you and he entered, the Bananawari enclosure. You approached the warmest section and gasped in excitement to see heavy cracks had appeared in the cluster of eggs in the centre. Crocodile smirked as he stood beside you, it seemed your timing couldn’t have been more perfect. In moments the eggs broke open and the newest additions of his pets appeared eliciting an excited laugh from you. With a bright smile that only Crocodile got to see you started to talk affectionately to the newborns as someone else would a puppy or baby. To him there was no better sight in the world.

“Oh you’re all so precious, yes you are.” You grinned. “Would you all like to meet your dear, possibly delicious Uncle Buggy?”

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maxtermind · 2 days

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you're the risk, i'm gonna take it

★ : feat :: ex!charles leclerc x reader ★ : genre :: smut; angst ★ : word count :: 2.3k ★ : tags :: (semi?) public, jealousy, possessiveness, tears lol ★ : a/n :: me posting smut?? has the world turned upside down? kinda anxious to post this one lol

The air at the charity gala was thick with anticipation and the soft murmur of high society mingling. The grand ballroom sparkled with chandeliers, and the scent of roses hung in the air.

You, draped in a stunning red gown that hugged your curves perfectly, walked in with your head held high.

It was all a ruse, of course. A ruse brought up just for your ex.

It had been three months since you and Charles had parted ways, and you were determined to show him you were doing just fine. Especially since he was already out there with a new girl in his arms.

It was a fatal blow the very first time they were caught at the paddock together. She was one of his old friends that you were always pretty insecure about and to see her with him when you were sure that in a month’s time you and Charles were going to get back together?

It made you want to vomit all over the posh expensive carpet laid under your feet.

You spotted him almost immediately, it was like his head was sticking out just to catch you off guard. Charles stood near the bar, his dark hair perfectly styled, and his tailored suit accentuating his broad shoulders.

It made your heart ache and suddenly the carpet wasn’t too good to be puked upon.

He laughed at something and your eyes shifted to the blonde woman beside him. It was still a fresh wound, your breakup, and despite knowing what awaited you, it was hard to maintain a composure for face sake.

That was when you realized that seeing him with someone else was always gonna make you yearn. He was never supposed to be not yours.

”Y/N, hey!” A voice broke your reverie. A smile broke on your face as Lando’s eyes roved over you appreciatively. ”You look hot.”

”Thanks, Lan,” you replied, giving his cheek a soft kiss. You linked your arm through his, grateful for the distraction. ”Let's get something to drink, yeah?”

As you walked deeper into the crowd, you were oblivious to Charles's gaze burning into your back.

You didn't dare turn around, the possibility of disappointment too intense to play a game of chance. You chatted animatedly with Lando, laughing at his jokes and subtly touching his arm.

It was when he leaned in to whisper and you faced the other away that you looked at your ex. Who stood out like a sore thumb, but this time, his eyes were trained on you and his hands were no more on the girl.

Knowing that Charles was watching made a different kind of fire ignite in you, you wanted to make him feel every bit of the jealousy that had gnawed at you for weeks. It was a huge risk, getting your heart broken again. But to hell with it, two can play this game anyway.

Minutes turned into an hour, and every time you glanced in Charles's direction, you found him watching you, his jaw clenched and eyes dark.

His ‘girlfriend’ beside him seemed to be losing his attention, her presence fading into the background as his focus remained fixed on you and Lando.

Lando, suspiciously playing the role of a perfect gentleman, leaned closer again. ”Are you okay, Y/N? You seem... distracted.” His eyes glanced at Charles as he nodded at your ex’ direction.

”I'm fine,” you lied, your eyes flickering back to Charles. He didn’t even acknowledge your date greeting him. That made your stomach drop, but in excitement this instance.

”Still hung up on him, huh?” Lando’s tone was gentle but knowing.

”No, silly, I’m all moved on,” you replied, tilting your chin defiantly and rolling your eyes. ”It was only a year or three right?”

Lando sighed. ”You know, this is a dangerous little gamble. But if it helps...” He pulled you closer, your faces inches apart. ”I'll play along.” He was so close, chest to chest with you and you smirked.

Before you could respond with your own witty accomplice, Lando kissed you softly, his lips warm and soft. It made you feel tingly all over. He didn’t even linger for more than a second, it was more of a peck really. But fuck if you weren’t touch starved.

It didn’t feel right though. It wasn't the same as with Charles, but it served its purpose. When you pulled away, Charles was no longer at the bar. You felt Lando squeeze your hand once before he dragged you to the corner and excused himself to get a drink.

A shiver ran down your spine, a mix of triumph and fear. Everyone saw that and you were alone for the first time all evening. You scanned the room, looking for a familiar face. The ballroom suddenly felt too crowded, the air too thick.

Then you felt a hand on your arm, firm and demanding. You turned to find Charles standing there, his expression a storm of emotions with furrowed brows, narrowed eyes, flared nostrils and a forced smile courting his face.

”Y/N,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. ”We need to talk. Now.”

Lando was back beside you in a second and started to protest,”Mate—” Charles shot him a look that could have melted steel.

”This is between us,” he growled, dragging you away. You barely had time to process before you were pulled away. You looked back and scoffed when you saw Lando shoot you a wink.

A few seconds later you were in a secluded hallway, the noise of the gala muffled by the heavy doors.

What do you think you're doing?” you hissed, yanking your arm free. ”You can't just—”

”Me?!” Charles suddenly screamed, cutting you off as he turned around and pushed your back against the wall.

”Do you think I'm blind?” He continued, his eyes blazing. ”Parading around with him, trying to make me jealous?”

”Why should you care?” you shot back, your own anger rising. It was embarrassing that he saw right through you. ”You have your new little blonde, don't you?”

Charles stepped closer, he backed you further against the wall and his presence was overwhelming. ”What is that supposed to mean?” His voice was a harsh whisper. ”Do you think she means anything to me?”

”Doesn’t she?” your voice wavered, the vulnerability slipping through your anger. It killed you to see him with her for three months and he couldn’t even take it for a few hours?

”No, she doesn’t.” He declared as his jaw tightened further. ”But you... seeing you with him… ” He ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident. ”You have no idea what that does to me.”

”Maybe I do,” you replied, your voice softer now. ”Let’s hear it, Charles. What did that do to you? Couldn’t be worse than if I were to kiss him for three months straight and force you to watc—”

He grabbed you by the shoulders, his grip firm yet tentative, as if he couldn’t even fathom the thought of hurting you,”You want to know how I feel? Fine. I can't stand seeing you with anyone else.” He sounded so broken that it brought tears to your own eyes.

”I can't think straight. All I see is you, every moment. It's driving me mad.” Charles rambled on as he drew in shallow breaths, evidently struggling for air.

”Charles...” Your resolve was crumbling. ”You can’t say that. I thought we were just taking a break and a week later you were all moved on? You don’t deserve to feel bad now”

”She’s not.. We never...” His eyes softened, the anger giving way to raw emotion as he brushed a tear away from your face. ”I thought it was for the best. I thought you'd be happier without me. We were arguing so much and then you said that you were unhappy and it made me want to die.”

You searched his eyes, looking for the truth. ”And now?”

”And now,” he said, his voice breaking, ”Here we are.”

Before you could respond, his lips crashed onto yours, the kiss desperate and full of the longing you had both been suppressing. You melted into him, your arms wrapping around his neck as he pulled you closer.

The hallway seemed to spin around you, the world narrowing to just the two of you. Charles broke the kiss, his breath ragged. ”Tell me you feel the same,” he pleaded. ”Tell me you want this. Me.”

More tears fell down your eyes as you nodded. ”I never stopped wanting you, Charles.”

A strangled sound escaped his throat as he captured your lips again, this time with a fierce, possessive hunger. His hands roamed your back, pulling you tightly against him. You responded with equal fervor, your fingers tangling in his hair.

Your need for each other was palpable, a wildfire that had been waiting to ignite. Charles's kisses trailed down your neck, his teeth grazing your skin and eliciting a gasp from your lips. You tugged at his jacket, desperate to feel more of him.

”You look so gorgeous” he murmured against your collarbone, his breath hot and teasing. Your breath hitched softly as he sucked at your neck. “Here?”

”Yes,” you whispered, your voice trembling with desire. ”Here. Now.”

Charles didn't need any more encouragement. He pressed you further against the wall, if that were even remotely possible. His hands slipping under your dress, caressing your thighs and lifting you just enough for your legs to wrap around his waist.

The feel of his hardness pressing against your core sent shivers of anticipation through your body. It was familiar. He was your everything and you felt right at home as you cried tears of frustration out.

Charles kissed your tears away while he held onto your face, caressing the side of your cheekbone with his thumb as a soft sigh escaped your lips. ”You have ruined me.” He whispered, groaning as he pressed himself harder against you.

With one swift motion, he freed himself from his trousers, his fingers working quickly to get you ready when he scoffed to find you bare underneath the dress. ”I swear to god, if you tell me that you planned to take Lando bac—”

You shook your head and leaned forward to peck his lips. He looked into your eyes, seeking one last confirmation. You answered with another kiss, your tongue dancing with his, your body arching into him.

The first thrust was slow, almost agonizing in its intensity. You both gasped, the sensation overwhelming you as a low groan parted from his lips. Soon enough, Charles set a rhythm, each movement deep and deliberate, making you feel every inch of him.

”Mine,” he panted into your ear, his pace quickening. ”You're mine, Y/N.”

”Yes,” you gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders. ”Always— yours, Charles.”

Your bodies moved together as he held you tightly, aching and desperate for the release you’d both been deprived of. He picked up the pace, his hips slamming against yours with an animalistic need you couldn’t resist.

With each thrust, each kiss, you rediscovered the connection that had never truly been broken. The world outside ceased to exist, leaving only the two of you, lost in each other as he pushed you closer to the edge.

You bit his ear, the action alone causing Charles’s grip to tighten, his movements becoming frantic as he thrust into you harder, faster.

You felt yourself nearing the edge, your trembling thighs tightening around his hips when you felt his hand sneak between your legs, towards where you were connected, your breaths coming in ragged gasps.

You clung to him, your entire being focused on the pleasure coursing through you.

”Let it go, darling,” he commanded, his voice rough with need. ”Be a good girl for me.”

The words pushed you over the edge. You cried out his name, your body shuddering with release. Charles followed moments later, his own climax crashing through him with a force that left you both trembling.

For a long moment, you stayed entwined, your foreheads resting against each other, your breaths mingling. The hallway was silent except for the sound of your breathing, the intensity of what had just happened settling over you.

Charles finally pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours for the affection he thought he’d lost. ”I love you,” he said, his voice hoarse and you winced when his tears dropped down your face as he kissed your forehead. ”I never stopped.”

Your own tears spilled over as your knuckles tightened against his wrinkled shirt. ”Okay.”

You knew he wanted to hear it, but it was too soon, too soon to just flush down the feelings you had to suffer through for the past few months. Too soon to forgive him for the pain he’d caused.

Charles nodded in understanding. He could see the adoration you still held as you latched onto his arm, clinging to him with a white knuckle dying grip as if you were afraid to let go.

He kissed you softly, a promise of the future you would build together.

And in that moment, surrounded by the echoes of your passion, being in his embrace, you knew that you had found your way back. That despite everything that had happened, he still loved you, and you wanted nothing more than to be in his arms.

After all, he was the only risk, the only what if, you were always gonna leap into head first.

(grid masterlist \ masterlist \ drop a request ) ©maxtermind // do not copy, rewrite or translate any of my work on any platforms.

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loserlvrss · 2 days

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꒰ 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐀𝐌𝐄 ꒱ 박성훈

summary : you and your boyfriend were too much alike in a lot of aspects, especially stubbornness

genre : angst, suggestive, sunghoon x afab!reader, drabble tws : language, suggestive content, arguments author notes : this ones for my wife xx word count : 0.6k

"sunghoon," your thumb and index finger pressed to the bridge of your nose in an attempt to ease the tension coursing through you, "you're not listening right now."

truthfully, neither one of you wanted to hear the other out — and that's resulted in an argument. one that seems like it won't fizzle out no matter how much the two of you raise your voice.

you both had too much pride to give the other the last word. you were too much alike; your friends and family only confirming your hard-headedness. but, you had to admit that he was pretty when he was mad.

"no, y/n," he laughed, humor twisted with frustration and disbelief, "you're not listening. i have to do this, it's not something i can just skip — believe me!"

you rolled your prettily-done eyes, which only furthered his annoyance, slumping into the wooden chair you paired with your pine table, "i don't care that you made other plans — we decided months ago. we have to go, sunghoon, we've already canceled... twice!"

"and now i'm saying that i can't go. you can go by yourself, can't you? it's not a big deal, is it?"

your mouth practically hit the floor at his audacity, "it is a big-fucking-deal, babe! i need you there, you know this!"

and despite being mad at each other, the love was still there. he drove you up a wall, but at the end of the day, there's no one else you'd rather have push your buttons. yes, it was a hostile environment right now, but it was bound to break; it always does.

"well, i can't go."

your head met your hand, elbow pressed to the table, "fuck," you were going around in circles, neither one willing to compromise, "sunghoon, how many times do i have to tell you that i don't care? you promised the last time we canceled that that would be the last time. so, you just lied to me?"

it seems like fuel to the fire was the only thing you both could throw at it, poisonous words with a twisted tongue, "oh my god, are you kidding me? you're really going to fucking hold that to me, baby?"

your eyes widened, hand hitting the wood with a smack, "well, when i promise you shit, i actually mean it. so, yeah, i'm going to hold it over your fucking head."

"we're getting nowhere." he stated the obvious, making you huff, "let's talk later."

he wasn't asking, but you honestly didn't have a care in the world for it; to you that was just as good as a suggestion. you got up, approaching him with a calm demeanor. you didn't want to back down, but you knew you'd be here for a lifetime if you didn't let the dust settle — even if only a little bit.

as you were passing, you mumbled out a defeated, "fine, hoon. do whatever you want."

you felt a firm grip on your wrist, him pulling so you'd face him again. and before you got the chance to angrily-question his intentions, his lips were pressed to yours, a firm, yet gentle, hold on your cheek.

you both felt the wire snap, your bodies relaxing into each other.

between alternating sides, he whispered a confession of love to you; reminding you that despite the attitude, he was made for you.

you pulled back momentarily, still prideful enough to not let him have the last word, "i'm still mad at you."

"you know i'll make it up to you, baby," he smiled, hoisting you onto the wooden surface carefully, and slotting between your parted knees, "i promise."

but he was just like you, wasn't he?

reblogs, likes and comments are greatly appreciated! thank u!

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hiddenlife-manager · 2 days

Text

Carlos Sainz X Needy Fem Reader

cw... Not edited, fingering, dominant carlos, slight dom reader at the start, slightly jealous reader, fucking, unprotected sex, kissing, moaning, cumshot on stomach, etc...

request...Hey girlie, could you write smth smutty for Carlos? I’m feral for that man 🥵 Like I saw the pics of him in the club in Monaco last night and the unbuttoned t-shirt?!?!? Maybe just smth along the lines of the reader being feral for her man and just being super needy and he gives it to her good? Please and thank you 🫶🫶

notepad... So I have around 22 request so I WILL BE BUSY. Thank you all who have requested. My goal is two a day but I might get them all done by the end of June. But I am pretty inspired so who knows.

Your hands traveled to his luscious hair, you moaning into the kiss. You two were standing so close to his bed, your hands placed on his chest, pushing him back and crawling onto his lap. You began to unbutton his shirt. You needed him; you needed all his clothing to be off. It took all your willpower not to fuck him on the car ride to the hotel room.

“Mi amor, me quieres mala.” He moaned while your lips pressed against his bare skin, which you slowly revealed by taking his shirt off. He was nothing but handsome at the club. Everyone was drinking, touching him, and cheering for him and his partner due to the Monaco Grand Prix. You giggled, kissing his chest and going up to his neck, leaving love bites.

“Mhm, I need you.” You whimpered out close to his ear; no matter what you did, you always got him hard. It was mainly because he loved you and your body more than anything in the world. But if anything, he loved the fact that you needed him badly. He smirked the moment he heard those words leave your mouth. His arms went up to your waist, flipping you over to be under him.

“Then I will grant; just sit there and look pretty.” He was so close to you, his smirk showing a bit of his teeth. He was nothing but intoxicating to you and everyone. You knew how much people desired him, and you had him. You caught his attention, and now you could have him for the rest of your life.

He raised your one leg up, your dress riding up; he couldn’t help but admire your beauty. He leaned to you, his soft plump lips pressed against him. You moaned into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck even if he had your one leg up. You suddenly gasped into the kiss. His fingers are entering your wet pussy. You arched your back in shock at how amazing it felt.

“Carlito!” You moaned, head back, saliva attached to his lips and to yours. You felt his fingers curl inside you, going in and out, the lewd sound of your pussy echoing throughout the hotel room. He knew how needy you were, and he was going to deliver. “Don’t stop!”

He didn’t, opting to shove another one of his fingers into your soaking hole. He loved how your pussy would squelch while he fingered you. It was only to get you even needier before he shoved his cock into you. You were smiling, trying to push away from the amazing sensation, which slowly got more and more overwhelming. He still had your leg up on his shoulder, his other hand on your cheek, caressing it, hearing your moans leave your lips.

“Tell me you want my cock; tell me amor.” He wanted you to beg; how else would he know how desperate you are for him and how needy you are for his cock? But all he got in return were loud moans. He shook his head and slowly took his fingers out of your sopping wet cunt.

"No, no, no, I need you. I need your cock, please.” He managed to pull it out of you, and he smirked. He knew how to get what he wanted from his needy little plaything. He shoved his fingers back into you, quickly going in and out covered in your juices. His other hand slowly took his pants off and boxers off. His cock felt the cool air of the room, and a muffled moan could be heard from him.

He removed his fingers from your hole once more and used your juices on his hands to pump his cock a few times. He loved the way you smelled and the way your cunt leaked each time you got aroused by him. He grabbed both your legs and pulled you towards him, and there you felt his cock enter you rather quickly.

“Ah~” He felt your cunt clench down on him, and he groaned. It was clear from entering you that you were cumming. He did not care; he needed his fill of you. He began to go at a rather quick pace. You were left moaning about how overstimulated it was. “Too much, Carlito.”

“You can take it, mi amor.” You nodded, hearing his groans. You were happy he wanted you as badly as you wanted him. He could feel himself reaching the end. His cock went in and out while he held your arms down and your legs on his shoulders. No matter how much you squirmed, he wasn’t going to stop fucking your pussy.

There, he slowed down his pace, making his thrust deeper, causing your body to gently bounce. You were a moaning mess, no longer able to speak. You were extremely overstimulated from cumming right when he entered you. His thrust was deep, and with his last thrust, he pulled out, cumming onto your stomach. He sighed, looking at how exhausted you were. He leaned down and took your lips into a kiss.

“You asked for it, my love.”

#submission #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz smut #ferrari carlos #carlos sainz #cs55 x reader #cs55 smut #ferrari x reader #ferrari smut #formula one x reader #formula one smut #f1 smut #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #monaco gp 2024

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atlabeth · 14 hours

Note

🧸 - i hope this piques your interest LOL but i'm deep in a benedict bridgerton mood waiting for s3 to air

could you do a fluffy slow burn blurb for him where reader completely takes him by surprise? up to your interpretation men are just always sexier when caught off guard and proven wrong 😁☝🏼

happy 3k again my love!!

twin flames

pairing: benedict bridgerton x fem!reader

summary: you and benedict bond at an art exhibition. he only seems to be oblivious when it can embarrass him most.

a/n: thank you so much for the request!! it was literally the first one and it's taken me almost a month. lol. im so sorry. but i hope you enjoy!!!

wc: 1.1k

warning(s): all fluff

“This is beautiful,” Benedict murmured, and he glanced at the man beside him. “Is this not one of the best pieces you’ve seen?”

“I suppose it’s alright,” the man shrugged.

“Just alright?” He frowned. “Are you feeling well, sir?”

The man frowned as well as he moved onto the next painting, fully ignoring Benedict. He just shook his head and focused back on the painting, thinking aloud.

“The use of color is just—” he shook his head again. “It’s incredible. The way the brushstrokes are used for depth and the unique way of shading… It all melds together so well, and yet I never would have thought to use any of it in that way.”

“Is that true?”

Benedict’s eyes flickered down to see you by his side, a pretty woman in a rather unassuming dress. He’d never seen you before at one of these exhibits, so you must have been new. He would have remembered a face such as yours.

“Certainly,” he said, nodding with exuberance. “Art is meant to make you imagine, feel— when I look at this piece, I feel some sort of amazement. It captures the beauty of a starry night impeccably, but the technique gives it a completely fresh feel. It is as if I am looking up at the horizon on my own for the very first time again, amazed by the vastness of the world.”

You smiled. “That is very kind of you to say, sir. You’ve quite an eye, sir—and certainly a way with words.”

Benedict shrugged. “It is very simple with a piece such as this. I could wax poetic all day, Miss…” He trailed off, and his gaze fell back to you. “I apologize, my lady. You have me at a disadvantage.”

That coy smile remained on your lips. “Miss Tilbury. And you are Benedict Bridgerton, yes?”

He nodded, and he couldn’t help the slightly nervous laugh that came along with being in your presence. “I am embarrassed. You knew my name, but I didn’t know yours. You must forgive me.”

“Oh, it is of no matter,” you said, brushing your hand through the air. “You already know more about me than most.”

His eyebrows rose, and when his mouth opened, he found himself at a loss for words. It took a moment to compose himself—it was awfully difficult to think with those pretty eyes focusing so intently on him.

“Pardon me for asking, but are you new to these exhibits?”

Your eyebrows rose. “What makes you think that?”

“I’ve not yet seen you around here,” he said. “And I am sure I would remember a face such as yours.”

“No,” you said, and your smile widened. “No, I frequent these sorts of exhibits. I’ve seen you before—I just must not have caught your eye.”

“Oh, I think that impossible,” Benedict insisted. “Not only are you quite beautiful, my lady, you’ve also a sharp mind and a quick wit. Those are three things I can never ignore.”

At that, you fully grinned, and he felt a smile of his own form. He’d only just met you and yet he felt this innate need to bring you joy. Perhaps it was a good thing you’d only just now met, for he could easily imagine thoughts of you consuming his every waking hour.

“And you are quite the charmer, Mister Bridgerton,” you said. “Are you always this forward with women you just met?”

“Only ones such as yourself,” he assured. “It is a delight to be able to discuss art with a twin flame.”

“A twin flame?”

“Someone who sees things the way I do,” Benedict said. “I tried to have a conversation about this piece with a man just before you, but he did not seem to understand it the way I did. You are refreshing, Miss Tilbury.”

“Ah,” you said, and you nodded sagely. “Well, I may have just a bit more insight into this piece than that man did. I am the one who painted it, after all.”

Benedict blinked. The words didn’t fully register in his mind. “What?”

“I am the artist of this piece,” you said, gesturing at the painting they stood in front of. “I’m certainly flattered to know you enjoy it.”

Benedict blinked again, and he felt heat spread across his whole face. He could not find any words in him for a strikingly long moment.

“You can see my signature in the bottom right corner,” you continued. “My initials, of course. I paint under a pseudonym, for though those who run these exhibitions are more progressive than most, it can still be difficult as a woman to get our art displayed.”

“I— I apologize, my lady,” Benedict finally managed to stammer.

You tilted your head to the side as you looked back at him. “For what?”

“For not knowing your name,” he rushed, “and insinuating that you were a newcomer, and acting as if I know more about your own art than you do.”

You laughed, and Benedict once again found himself smiling at it. It felt like fresh snowfall—you were indeed refreshing.

“You need not apologize, Mister Bridgerton,” you assured. “I do not lie—it is indeed flattering to know you see my art in such a light. I have seen some of your own pieces, and you are talented.”

“I do not always feel it,” he mumbled. “More often than not, I can only see the flaws in my work. You have a rare quality indeed, my lady—you are able to compliment yourself.”

“I do not believe in the need for self-deprecation in the artistic world,” you mused. “I am proud of this piece, so why would I not compliment it? I already have enough men trying to scorn me each day—I see no reason to contribute to the fire with my own words.”

“And there is no reason for you to!” Benedict exclaimed. “Miss Tilbury, you’ve a way with a brush that very few do—at least with what I’ve seen. I— I consider it an honor to even be standing in your presence, if I am honest. Have you any other works I can see?”

You smiled. “I do, but none of them are available in a manner such as this. I hope to display more soon.”

“As do I,” Benedict said, nodding rapidly. “Mayfair should consider itself lucky to be graced by such fine artistry.”

“And I consider myself lucky to get compliments from a man such as yourself.” Your smile turned slightly coy. “I could offer you some tips, of course. Since you were such a fan of my artwork.”

Benedict could only stare at you for a moment. He did not know whether your words held more or not, but he realized he was alright with either—or both, if he found himself lucky enough.

“I would love to, Miss Tilbury.”

“I see no need for formalities.” You said your first name, your eyes sparkling. “We are twin flames, after all. Yes?”

Benedict’s throat bobbed, but he could not help his grin. “Yes.”

#realized it has been TOO Olong since ive written so i finished this real quick before work lol enjoy #sadie's 3k celebration #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict x reader #bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton fic #benedict bridgerton fluff #bridgerton fic #bridgerton fluff #sadie writes

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deadtired-highkeyenergetic · 1 day

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Can I ask for prompt 13, Nightmares?

Yes of course you can! Here you go!

Summary: Astarion wakes from a particularly bad nightmare, thankful that you're right there when he needs you

Astarion hates nightmares. He hates the way he’s all alone in them, running from something he can never escape. He’s always trapped, back against the wall, nowhere to go as his worst fears swallow him whole and then he wakes up with a start, gasping for air he no longer needs, eyes wild with panic.

He hates how pitiful he feels each time he wakes from a nightmare, wanting nothing but to curl up into a ball, hugging his knees to his chest and cry. It makes him feel vulnerable, raw, naked, and nothing good has ever come from that.

He hates the way his skin crawls moments after he wakes, lingering ghostly imprints of the night causing bile to form in his throat and he shivers, wanting nothing more than to leave the tent but the fear that the creature of his nightmares may be waiting for him outside keeps him curled in his bedroll.

His clawed fingertips dig into the flesh of his arm, a quiet sob slipping past his lips. He feels weak, pathetic, and shrinks further into himself. He hates the trembling that follows suit, he can’t stop himself from shaking no matter how deep his claws sink in and tears continue flowing down his cheeks.

He hates how no matter how far he runs, Cazador is always there, taunting him, laughing at him, shattering his dreams. The vampire lord’s claws are always around his throat, squeezing all the air out of his undead lungs, the despicable choking feeling tearing his mind apart even though he doesn’t need to breathe anymore, the pain that explodes from where Cazador’s hands clench around his throat.

He hates hates hates hates —

“Star?” Your whisper slices through the haze, a light reaching out to him in the darkness. He whimpers in response, instinctively shifting in the direction of your voice and you wrap your arms around him, pulling him close.

“I’m right here, my star,” you murmur, running your fingers through his hair. He grips your clothes tightly, curling tighter into you as he buries his face into your chest, shoulders shaking with each sob. It breaks your heart to see him like this, curled into a fetal position, in pain and yet you can’t do anything to help.

You would do anything if it meant he would be free of all that haunts him.

Your free arm slips around his waist and you shift until your back faces the tent flap, blocking the sight of anyone who may happen past. He burrows deeper, pressing as much of himself against you as he can. You smell of warmth, safety, everything he needs right now.

“I’m right here.” You say again. You’ll say it over and over again until he fully understands and accepts what it means, no matter how long it takes. You continue threading your fingers through his hair, the rhythm soothing the vampire and his sobs begin to die down, his grip on you loosening slightly but he remains glued to you.

“Don’t leave.” His words are so soft that you barely catch them.

“Never,” you reply firmly. “Not for anything in the world, I promise.”

He keens, resting his head on your chest so that he can hear the steady pounding of your heart and suddenly he feels a little less alone in the chill of the night. It’s still cold, but at least he has your warmth to curl into when it gets too much. He can lean against you, knowing that you’ll be there to catch him should he fall.

You’ve given him so much in the short time you’ve been travelling together, more than he knows what to do with and he doesn’t know how to pay you back, or if he can even pay you back. Yet you never demand compensation for your efforts, never seeming to want anything from him, leaving him confused and lost.

Each time he wakes from his trance, he expects his side to be empty just like it usually is. He’s used to waking up all alone, picking himself from the messy sheets to clean up, feeling the coldness of the bed on the side he didn’t lie on, but ever since that night in the forest, the other side of the bed has never been cold. You’re always there when he closes his eyes and when he opens them back up again, sometimes curled into his side, sometimes wrapping him in your arms, but you’re always there, lying next to him.

It’s the only reason you know about his nightmares.

There are times when he tries to push you away, telling you to leave once you’ve done whatever it is you’ve come to his tent to do and you do leave, only to pop your head back in moments later with a lame and clearly made up on the spot excuse just so you can stay in his tent for the night. He tried forcing you to leave before but you stubbornly refused, so each time you throw him a new excuse, he simply sighs in resignation and lets you stay.

Tonight he’s glad he let you stay.

You gently rub his back, an area nobody had ever touched without causing him to feel sick until you, and he leans into the touch, yearning for something gentle. You can’t help but smile softly when he does so, noticing that he has finally calmed down and has stopped trembling.

He still buries himself in your arms, quietly pressing his forehead against your shoulder with his eyes closed as he takes a deep breath, letting it out with a shudder. His gaze flicks up, meeting yours for the first time since he woke up but quickly flicks back down again.

You don’t ask. You know he will tell you when he is ready and you’re more than happy to simply accompany him for what remains of the night. Still, you worry for him, this nightmare must have rattled him quite hard and you yearn to know the reason for his pain tonight but you hold yourself back. He comes first.

Astarion wordlessly tugs at your hand and you blink, confused but let him do what he wants. He slips his freezing hand into yours and you jump slightly, but quickly give him a reassuring smile when he looks at you with concern.

“Your hand is just a little cold.” You give him a gentle smile. He stares at you for a little while, as if discerning whether you are speaking the truth, before looking back down at your intertwined fingers, holding your clasped hands to his chest.

“Stay,” he pleads softly. You’re the only thing shielding him from the chill his nightmares leave behind, and he’s not sure he’ll survive the night if you leave.

“As you wish, my star.” His eyes light up at your words, a hint of gratitude in them as he curls up against you once more, still holding your intertwined hands to his chest.

“Thank you.” Those words barely scratch the surface of what he wants to tell you, but it’s all he can manage tonight, and that’s more than enough to you.

“Anytime.” With that, he drifts back into a trance to the steady rhythm of your beating heart, your warmth enveloping him. The nightmares still terrify him, but he takes comfort in knowing that should he wake up, screaming and sweating, you will be right there to pull him back to reality — the reality that he has you, always.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #astarion bg3 #baldurs gate astarion #astarion romance #astarion x durge #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion ancunin #tavstarion #durgestarion

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starlostseungmin · 2 days

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husband!changbin

✰ notes: finally a changbin fic after 2 years omg and i apologize for posting this late as i was busy studying !! special mention to @l3visbby for giving me ideas <33 not proofread. DO NOT FORGET TO REBLOG, COMMENT AND LEAVE TAGS! thank you <33

ꔛ

Husband Changbin who proposed on a random Thursday evening when you were on a car ride home. He suddenly parked the car by the sidewalk and asked the million-dollar question that would determine your relationship in the future.

Husband Changbin who would always ask you to hold his hand while driving.

Husband Changbin who is tough on the outside but sweet and soft inside. He’s the cutest human being in your life.

Husband Changbin who would send pictures of him while he’s at the gym making you giggle and blush every time. Sometimes he would ask you to work out with him as a form of bond, “You need to exercise to be healthy!”

Husband Changbin whose muscles you want to bite (he would say yes) that you would often ask him to headlock you but he’d refuse because he might choke you later.

Husband Changbin who loves taking an interest in your hobbies and asks you to teach him. (e.g. if you happened to like crocheting then he would gladly pick up his favorite colors of yarn and crochet Dwaekki). At first, he would mess it up and complain playfully but he gets it later on.

Husband Changbin who spoils you A LOT and lets you use his card.

Husband Changbin who’s loud and gets even louder when he’s with his friends.

Husband Changbin who has the most precious and contagious laugh.

Husband Changbin notices everything subtly and gives you the things you want without you asking for it.

Husband Changbin who loves showing you off, enjoys writing songs about you, and telling everyone how great you are, how much he loves you, and how he is so proud of having you in his life.

Husband Changbin whose love languages are words of affirmation, quality time, acts of service, and gift-giving.

Husband Changbin who loves taking photos of you. He would often ask you to pose on a pretty scenery/background so he could choose something to be his home screen later on.

Husband Changbin who takes you on a trip once a month and goes to your favorite places when you need to get off from work.

Husband Changbin who is protective and makes sure you don’t get hurt. He takes care of you diligently, tells you to eat on time, and nags you (lovingly yet strictly) like a mother when something he doesn’t like happens.

Husband Changbin who would put you first before everything and let the world burn just to save you.

Husband Changbin who panics when he sees you crying and sad. He would automatically capture you in his arms as he whispers how much he loves you and that he’s always there when you need him.

Husband Changbin who’s calm when you’re having an argument and tries his best to make up with you. He’s the type to never let anyone sleep in this household unless everything is fine. He may lose his temper sometimes but apologizes a few minutes later.

Husband Changbin who refuses to leave your shared apartment without you giving him a sweet kiss and showers you with kisses when he gets home.

Husband Changbin who loves cuddles on random nights after having a very long day until you two fall asleep on the couch or your shared bed.

Husband Changbin who loves to joke around but when he noticed that you weren’t laughing he’d turn away out of embarrassment and sulk at the corner making you baby him.

Husband Changbin who acts cute and makes questionable noises to get what he wants which you would immediately give in to.

Husband Changbin who would bring up the topic of having kids in the most subtle way but just like the other members, he doesn’t pressure you and lets you decide whenever you’re ready to have one or two with him.

Husband Changbin who never misses a call or text from you and updates you a lot whenever he can despite his busy schedule.

Husband Changbin whom you promised to love to the moon and back no matter what challenges come in your way. You never said your vows for nothing and will love him to eternity.

Husband Changbin who loves you more than anyone and promised to stay with you until death do you part.

✰ taglist: @notastraykid , @ameliesaysshoo , @l3visbby , @reignessance , @lix-ables , @skzfelixlove , @rachabreathing , @hyunverse , @minluvly , @sleepyleeji , @starseungs , @midsoulz , @oddracha , @armystay89 , @lashaemorow

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biteofcherry · 2 days

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Raised voices and boasts of triumph hushed as if cut with a blade the second you stepped into the brightness of the throne room.

Eerie, how the grand hall always seemed shrouded in soft shadows when your father sat on the throne, but now lit up with brilliance.

It wasn't a blessed change, however.

You knew not to welcome the light, as deceiving as it was, for one monster replaced the other.

You walked across the polished stones, knowing that far below it dungeons spread, where your father's broken body lied.

There was no tune of mourning in your chest. Not for the man who kept you locked and groomed like a pig to be served at the most celebratory feast. It was all you were to your father - a tool to gain more power and riches.

Not allowed to step a foot outside the tightly secured inner walls of the citadel since you were a child. Living in shadows and shrouded in legends he spun about you to the outside world.

Though you knew, thanks to your servants, that as much as others believed you to be of rare beauty and a docile lamb of a potential wife (like your father wanted everyone to believe), there were also mocking rumors that you were kept hidden due to ugliness, or sickness.

Whenever you tried to rebel, it always ended with vicious words, more restrictions and an accusation of being ungrateful for the protection he gave you from the cruel world.

But that protection was false.

The proof of it making you walk through the throne room toward the bloodthirsty conqueror, who broke your father's defences in less than two days of siege.

A beast, who awaited your approach.

His men stared at you, hungry like a pack of wolves ready to strike and rip a pound of flesh.

It only made your spine lock into a steel rod. Your head held high as you continued in a poised stride.

You wore your most ornamental dress; adorned yourself with jewels, as a warrior carries his weapons.

You did not bow, nor court, when you reached the steps on which the throne was raised. Where the new ruler of your kingdom stood, his lips curving into a grin the longer you held his gaze without flinching.

Tall and broad, his dark armor still carrying splatters of blood.

His eyes, however, were a striking hue of blue.

"Look at you," he stepped so close to your side that you could feel the heat of him seeping through the fabric of your dress into your skin.

"Ice and fury barely contained."

There was a delight in his voice, as if he was pleased finding out that you weren't the fragile flower like the rumors claimed.

"You're honed from harder steel than any weapon, aren't you?" He said your name, rolling it on his tongue with a low purr.

One that reminded you of what conquerors did to the Princesses of kingdoms they've just obtained.

"And you have a taste for breaking me." You didn't let your voice quiver, challenging him with a promise of resisting every pain he slashed your way.

"Breaking you?" His brows arched in surprise and then he burst out laughing.

"No, my fury." He shook his head as his laughter faded.

"I have no desire to break you." He touched your cheek with a single finger, tracing it gently.

When you hissed and made a move to turn your face from his touch, he gripped your chin between his thumb and forefinger.

"Rulers have wild animals, leashed and sitting at the foot of their throne. Bobcats and cheetahs. I shall have a wild cat of my own, too."

His words clipped around your neck like aforementioned leash, vowing to keep your life bound to his; this beast who was excited to meet your fury with his own relentless ferocity.

________________________

Who is he?

#which babe do you imagine here?#I left it open for anyone to pick whoever they see fitting #Steve rogers x reader #Bucky barnes x reader #Ari levinson x reader #Curtis everett x reader #Lloyd hansen x reader #Andy barber x reader #Nick fowler x reader

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green-typewriterz · 1 day

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hello 🥹 could you possibly write an unrequited love oneshot with art donaldson that’s actually just the reader being oblivious and projecting art’s actions and looks onto tashi

QUICK GOSSIP

Tashi Duncan/ reader, Art Donaldson x reader

Ask: hello 🥹 could you possibly write an unrequited love oneshot with art donaldson that’s actually just the reader being oblivious and projecting art’s actions and looks onto Tashi

summary: Art had never looked the your way… at least not while you were looking

Warnings: none really, reader is jealous i guess

Author Notes: hello ml! Thank you so much for this ask it was fun to write… its not ofen i do unrequited love oneshots!! I essentially listened to l’oeuf from the challengers soundtrack on a loop while writing the stairwell scene idk if you can tell.

word count: 1504

THE CAFETERIA

Art. It was always Art. You had been friends for a long time, growing up together playing tennis and deciding to go to Stanford to further it. He was someone you’d describe as your best friend. Though, you had always hoped there’d be something more.

Then, however, Art met Tashi.

Tashi Duncan was nice enough to you - though you weren’t sure it was in her biological makeup to be more than ‘nice enough’. The one thing you didn’t like (you hated admitting this) was that Tashi made you jealous. It was impossible to not notice how Art looked at her, his eyes tracking when she played or drinking in her outfits.

So, it did feel a little uncomfortable for you when the three of you would sit together at lunch and you didn’t know what to say. You liked to listen, sure - Tashi had interesting things to say - but you wished Art would talk to you. Or even just at you.

“Y/N hit a great shot the other day,” Art said to Tashi, practically gushing over you (though you were the ever oblivious fool toward this), “I was surprised it didn’t go straight through Mia’s racket.” He continued, talking about your match with Mia Lee-Kendall. It wasn’t a match you thought much of, sure you were good, but Mia wasn’t and so your win didn’t feel all that special. At least that’s what you told yourself. Maybe the reason you didn’t want to think about it that much was because of Tashi watching from the audience…right next to Art.

You practically zoned out of the conversation, eyes tracking Art’s in a sense of solemnity as he spoke (you weren’t even sure what he was saying anymore) and eventually, when Art leaned forward into his conversation more, you had had enough and stood up with the claim you were thirsty.

It only took a few moments for you to reach the fridge yet it seemed Tashi and Art were already in a world of their own, giggling about something. Giggling.

You could admit that it hurt, seeing how happy they looked beside each other, whispering about something you were almost certain didn’t concern you. This assumption was answered when you walked over and the laughing stopped, Tashi turning to look at you as if there was some sort of joke you weren’t in on.

Art’s face was gently warmed, cheeks pink from some sort of embarrassment - though you weren’t sure why. The conversation quickly shifted to some other matter concerning tennis, though you found you weren’t really listening.

TENNIS PRACTICE

You had been practising the same backhand swing for the past hour, still not managing to get the movement how you wanted it - you were nothing if not a perfectionist. Maybe you would’ve gotten it eventually, but Art and Tashi had decided to grace you with their usual gossipping. It was the same position of leaning into each other, eyes darting across the room as if they were preparing for something big. It pissed you off.

“Want to play?” Art asked, lifting his racket up to show that he wanted to play a match with you. You didn’t reply, only sending a quick, distant nod and he crossed the courts, ending up opposite you.

The game was harsh, fast - not something Art was used to when he’d play against you. Your usual style was calm, calculated yet equally as powerful so this sudden shift to aggression caught him off guard. He tried to match your energy, but was stopped short when you returned the ball he had served with such force that he had to move out of the way - dropping his racket as he dodged.

He raised his hands, looking at you with confusion and annoyance. “What the fuck? You could’ve hit me!” He said, brows furrowing as he walked closer to the net - a sentiment you made no attempt to copy.

“You wanted to play.” You replied, voice harsh as you went to get another tennis ball from the side of the court. He scoffed, crossing his arms.

You finally turned to look at him and found him staring directly at you, eyes full with an emotion you couldn’t understand. Mother evening picked at your skin, raising your hairs as you approached again. It wiped the sweat from your neck, cooled the heat against your cheeks. “Sure, but that doesn’t mean I want a tennis ball shaped hole in me.” He replied.

There was no reply. You simply furrowed your brow and raised your racket, showing him you wanted to go again. Art sighed but gave in, heading for the back of the court once more. He matched the energy this time, hitting with force as you did (you could admit it made it harder to play, but you weren’t thinking of tennis at that moment).

All it took was for you to miss a shot and your racket was left shattered on the floor, its golden handle the only thing intact. You grabbed your bag and headed for the door, though that meant passing by Art on your way out.

And of course that meant he wanted you to say.

Art’s hand gripped your wrist, mouth centimetres from your ear as he whispered, “What’s your problem?” His eyes were set on yours, cheeks flushed from exertion. You tried to pull away from his hand but he only pulled you closer, bodies pushed toward one another.

“You.” Was your reply, one that seemed to shock Art. “You and all your secrets.” His hand released you now, trying to move to your shoulder in what seemed to be an attempt at comfort - something you didn’t let happen. Instead you walk away.

He follows, of course, arms trying to wrap around you in some sort of reassuring hug but your struggle proved you had no want for it and he acquiesced. Tashi was his resort, as if she would have the answers to his confusion.

STANFORD DORMS - BLOCK A - THE LIFT

You wait. The lift was a temperamental thing, but you were too tired, too annoyed to walk up the stairs. Instead, you leant against the wall, face still warm from practice that day. The lift offered a pathetic beep as the doors opened and you had to fight not to scream at who was inside. Tashi and Art stood there, silent and awkward - neither making direct eye contact as if you were some wounded animal.

“I’ll take the stairs.” You said with an irritated grunt before turning on your heel and pushing the door of the stairwell open.

Art followed behind you, as you had unfortunately expected and sped forward to stop you. That’s where the two of you stood, still and silent in the bottom of an echoey stairwell.

“Why do you hate me?” His question forced a new kind of silence into the room, a tension sitting thick against your chest as you found the words to reply to a question you never thought you’d get. Though, he had decided that you had taken too long to answer and asked again, though this time with more anger behind his tone, “Why do you hate me?”

Your words were just as sharp as yours, arms rising in frustration. “I don’t! I hate that you don’t love me.” You responded and he blanched, face contorting in shock before shifting into an almost invisible smile.

“I do.”

The word seemed to echo, and as his smile grew you stepped forward (though you weren’t sure it was by choice). “What?” You asked, words quiet and unsure.

Art smiled again, looking downward - you found your eyes flitting to the soft blond curls that fell over his face. “It’s um-” He began, seemingly trying not to laugh, “It’s always been you.” His hand rose to his mouth and he pinched his lip, a habit he had that you were especially fond of.

You placed your hand over your necklace, fiddling with it awkwardly and replied, “But Tashi-”

“Was giving me advice, trying to convince me to ask you out.” He laughed awkwardly afterward and you joined him, both of you leaning forward. You were willing to admit, it wasn’t your smartest moment.

He stepped closer to you, hand twitching, reaching out for yours. Art’s eyes, a beautiful mix of brown and blue, stared into yours, that same smile still playing on his lips. “I really want to kiss you.” The words were so quiet, so soft. You closed the gap between your hands, allowing his cool skin to settle against yours and he leaned in. There was a gentleness to it at first, which was quickly deepened as you moved closer. Your hand travelled up his neck, finding a place in his hair which elicited a shiver from him, a gasp. His breath shuddered as you kissed his jawline, head turning upwards. Art’s hands pulled you into him, fingers tickling gently against your waist. He whispered once more, through soft breaths,

“It’s always been you.”

#fic #fanfic #one shot #writing #art donaldson #art donaldson x reader #art challengers #mike faist #mike faist x reader #art donaldson oneshot #challengers #challengers 2024 #challengers oneshot #tashi duncan

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kendyzzlewp · 19 hours

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Creatures in Heaven||ART DONALDSON

pairing: art donaldson x fem!reader

summary: you run into your old college sweetheart, art, in a hotel bar. old wounds resurface as you tried to make sense of it all.

tags: college sweethearts, angst, non graphic smut?, reconnecting, pain, sad!art, divorced!reader, tears

“I don’t think I realize just how much I miss you sometimes. We were young and so in love. We were just creatures in heaven.”

You’ve always loved hotel bars.

The dimly lit space, the chatter of the guests around you, the overpriced drinks. Sitting down on a stool at the hotel you frequent after a particularly hard day at work, you can’t help but let your mind drift off. The TV above you plays a recap of the latest tennis match. Your old friend shows up on the screen, brown head stuck to his forehead, a huge goofy victorious smile on his face.

You quickly pull up your phone, sending a congratulatory text to Patrick. Making plans to meet before he leaves town.

A glass of wine gets placed in front of you, the maroon liquid swirling slightly.

“Y/N?”

You could recognize that voice anywhere. Turning slightly in your stool, your eyes met surprised blue ones. The pounding of your heart could be heard from miles away. He looked older, fitter. His blonde hair was now shorter, a stark difference to his Stanford days.

“Art,” you whispered, placing your drink down with trembling hands. “Wow, it’s been so long.”

As your gaze meets Art's, memories flood back, and you're reminded of the countless conversations and shared moments in your college dorm. You could lie and say you haven’t been following his career but you weren’t kidding anyone but yourself. You watched every tournament, every match, cheered silently from your apartment as took the tennis world by storm.

As he sits down beside you, you can't help but feel a rush of emotions—nostalgia mixed with a tinge of sadness. The memories of your last encounter weigh heavily on your mind, the pain and heartache still fresh despite the passing years.

"I can't believe it's really you," Art says, breaking the silence. "I've thought about you so often, wondered how you were doing. You look great.”

You look into his eyes, seeing a mix of emotions mirrored back at you. There's regret, longing, and a hint of hope.

"I've thought about you too," you admit, a sad smile playing on your lips. "I watched your matches, saw your rise to the top. I'm so proud of you, Art.

"Thank you, Y/N. That means a lot to me." Art's expression softens, a bittersweet smile crossing his face. “Wouldn’t be where I am without your support.”

The air between you is heavy with unspoken words and unresolved feelings. You both know there's much to discuss, but the weight of the past sits between you like a barrier.

“How’s Tashi?”

You had to ask. Patrick talked about them all the time. Even drunkenly confessing he had slept with Tashi in Atlanta when they bumped into each other for a tournament. You wonder if Art knew, you wonder if he hurt the way he hurt you.

“She’s Tashi,” he whispers, motioning the bartender for a drink. “Same as always.”

Art's response is cryptic, and you can sense the tension in his voice. You remember the pain of hearing about his relationship with Tashi, and it stirs up a mix of emotions within you.

"I heard about your marriage," you say softly, searching his eyes for any reaction. "I hope she makes you happy."

Art looks down at his drink, swirling the liquid around in his glass. His silver wedding band caught the bar’s overhead yellow light.

"It's complicated. Things are... not what they seem."

You nod silently, understanding how complicated a marriage like that could be. You think about your own failed relationship, how it was necessary for you to let your husband go because he couldn’t compare. He could never compare to the man sitting next to you.

“Are you married?” He asked, taking a sip of his whisky.

You hesitate for a moment, the weight of Art's question sinking in. It's a question that holds so much significance, one that forces you to confront your own feelings and past decisions.

"Divorced," you reply softly, meeting his gaze steadily.

There's a flicker of something in Art's eyes, a mix of surprise and curiosity. You wonder if he can sense the unspoken truth behind your words, the lingering emotions that still tie you to him despite the passage of time.

"I've had my share of relationships," you continue, your eyes fixed on the drink in front of you. "But they just… didn’t compare."

Art's gaze intensifies, his eyes searching yours for any hint of what you're feeling. The air between you crackles with tension, the weight of your words hanging heavily in the dimly lit space of the hotel bar.

"I'm sorry to hear that," he says softly, his voice tinged with regret. "But I'm glad you're here now."

You feel a rush of emotions at his words, the familiar warmth of his presence washing over you like a comforting embrace. Despite the years apart and the pain of the past, there's still a connection between you that refuses to fade. You were only really yourself around Art. The rest just got this fucked up, fake version of you.

“I heard you have a daughter,” you said, changing the subject. “How is she?”

A pang of sadness hits you as you see the light in his eyes at the mention of his daughter. You wished you were the one to give him a child, just like you planned together all those years ago. Laid up together in your small dorm bed, hand intertwined, whispering promises and dreams at three in the morning.

“Lily,” Art's expression softens even more at the mention of his daughter, a warm smile spreading across his face. "She's the light of my life."

You can't help but smile at the genuine love and pride in his voice. Despite the complexities of his marriage and the challenges he may face, it's clear that his daughter brings him immense joy and fulfillment.

"I'm so glad to hear that," you say sincerely, feeling a bittersweet tug at your heartstrings. "She's lucky to have a father like you."

Art's eyes meet yours, and for a moment, it feels as though the weight of the past and the uncertainties of the future fade away, leaving only the warmth of the connection between you.

"Thank you," he murmurs, his voice filled with emotion.

As you continue to talk about Lily, you can't help but feel a sense of warmth and nostalgia enveloping you. Despite the complexities of your past and the uncertainties of the future, there's a comfort in the shared memories and the genuine connection between you and Art.

As the conversation flows, you find yourself opening up more than you ever expected, sharing stories and laughter in the dimly lit space of the hotel bar. It's as if the years apart have melted away, leaving only the familiar ease and familiarity of your college days.

You look down at your phone, eyes widening at the time. “Wow,” you exclaimed. “It’s three am.”

Art chuckles softly, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Time really flies when you're lost in conversation, doesn't it?"

You nod, feeling a mixture of surprise and contentment at how quickly the hours have passed. Despite the late hour, you find yourself reluctant to leave the comfort of Art's company and the warm ambiance of the hotel bar.

"It's been so wonderful catching up with you," you say, a genuine smile tugging at your lips. "I've missed this."

Art's smile mirrors yours, his expression filled with warmth and sincerity. "Me too, Y/N. It's been far too long."

As you gather your things and prepare to leave, you can't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the unexpected reunion and the chance to reconnect with Art after so many years apart. Despite the complexities of your past and the uncertainties of the future, you know that this moment will always hold a special place in your heart.

As you bid Art farewell and step out into the cool night air, you feel a sense of renewal and hope stirring within you. You start walking down the street, your heart bleeding from reopening old wounds you swore to never touch again.

“Wait!”

You turn around to see Art jogging to catch up to you. He slows down as he approaches you, panting slightly.

“Is everything okay?" you ask, a hint of concern in your voice.

Art looks at you, tears pooling in his eyes. "I know it’s too late, but I just don’t think you realize just how much I miss you sometimes.”

His voice trembles, and you can see the raw emotion in his eyes. He steps closer, his hands trembling slightly as he reaches out to take your hand.

“Y/N, it’s been almost ten years, and not a day goes by that I don’t think about you. I miss the way you laugh, the way you’d stay up with me all night just to help me study, the way you believed in me when no one else did. I miss us.”

Tears well up in your eyes as you listen to his heartfelt confession. His words hit you with the force of all the years you’ve spent apart, all the moments you’ve both lived without each other.

“Art…” you begin, but he shakes his head, needing to say more.

“I thought marrying Tashi was the right thing to do, but it never felt right because she wasn’t you. Every achievement, every milestone—it felt hollow because you weren’t there to share it with me. I’ve tried to move on, to live my life, but no one ever came close to making me feel the way you did. I still love you, Y/N. I never stopped. And seeing you tonight, it’s like all those feelings just came rushing back.”

You’re overwhelmed, your heart pounding in your chest as you try to process his words. You feel a mix of hope, fear, and an undeniable longing.

“Art,” you whisper, tears streaming down your cheeks. “We can’t.”

He takes a step closer, gently cupping your face in his hands. “I don’t know what the future holds, and I know we both have a lot of shit to deal with, but I can’t let you walk away again. I refuse.”

You look into his eyes, seeing the sincerity and desperation in his gaze. Despite the years apart and the complications of your pasts, the connection between you is undeniable.

“I don’t know what the future holds either,” you admit, your voice shaking. “But I do know that I’ve never stopped loving you.”

Without another word, he leans forward and presses his lips against yours, the taste of whiskey and longing lingering in the air. In that fleeting moment, everything else fades away—the pain of the past, the uncertainties of the future—leaving only the warmth of the connection between you and Art.

You both pull back, foreheads pressed together, heavy panting as you both try to catch your breath. Your heartbeat resonating in your ears as you find his hand, interlocking your fingers.

“Take me home?” You asked, silently hoping he understood the underlying tone of your invitation.

Art nods, a soft smile playing on his lips. "I'd love to."

Together, you walk through the quiet streets, the only sound being the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze. The world feels hushed and intimate, as if it's just the two of you in your own little bubble of time.

As you reach your apartment building, you turn to face Art, your heart pounding in your chest. The moment feels charged with emotion, a mix of longing and uncertainty swirling between you.

"Do you want to come in?," you say softly, searching his eyes for any hint of what he's feeling. "I think I have some wine…”

He leans in and kisses you again, his lips soft and warm against yours. In that moment, all doubts and fears melt away, leaving only the certainty of your feelings for each other. You opened the door to your apartment, still locked in the passionate kiss.

Art kicks the door closed, walking you further into the room. His hands getting reacquainted with your body, muscle memory kicking in as he lifts you.

“That way,” you mumble against his lips, motioning to a door in the back.

With a soft chuckle, Art carries you towards the direction you indicated, his lips never leaving yours. The heat of the moment ignites a fire within you both as you stumble towards the bedroom.

You want to savor each moment. You need to remember it in case it’s the last time. There’s no rush as your hands lift his shirt over his head, his pale skin glowing with the moonlight that streams from your window. You press a kiss to the scar on his shoulder, feeling goosebumps appear on his skin.

Art does the same, tenderly lifting your dress over your head. His fingers tracing stroking every inch of your skin as he lays you down on your bed.

The room is filled with the sound of your breath mingling with the soft hum of the city outside. In this intimate space, you find solace and connection in each other's arms, lost in a whirlwind of passion and longing.

As the night stretches on, you lose yourself in each other, exploring every inch of each other's bodies as if trying to memorize every detail. Time seems to stand still as you become lost in the moment, consumed by the intensity of your shared desire.

—

Hours later, as the first light of dawn filters through the curtains, you find yourselves tangled together in the sheets, your bodies still humming with the echoes of your passion. Clothes strewn around the floor of your bedroom. With a contented sigh, you bury your face in Art's chest, feeling a sense of peace and fulfillment wash over you.

As you lie there in the quiet stillness of the morning, you realize that this is where you belong—wrapped in Art's arms. He holds you as if you were made just for him, so tightly and close. Trying to bound the pieces of you he broke, together.

And as you drift off to sleep, you know that no matter what the future may hold, you will always belong to Art Donaldson.

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