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jamminvroomvroom · 2 months

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Charles jealous and possessive please! Smut 🔥

no mercy.

CL x fem!reader - 4k celebration ✨

in which lunch with friends turns into charles reminding you that you’re all his

first 4k request up! thank you so much for this, wrote this whole thing in like half an hour bc damn this took me back to my charlie roots. i hope u love this anon, and all my lovely readers - lemme know what you think

warnings: 18+!! minors GO AWAY! smut, swearing, slight breeding kink, use of “slut” (in the sexy way tho!), lando causing his usual chaos (feat. shit stirrer alex), dom!charles/sub!reader, minor hints of corruption kink, slapping like once, fluffy ending

1.4k words

interesting.

the word you’d choose to describe this lunch is interesting.

charles’ hand seems to grow tighter on your thigh with every passing minute, or, to be more precise, every time lando speaks.

“so am i, ahem, are we gonna be seeing you at any races soon?” lando teases, raising an eyebrow, gesturing to alex sat beside him to cover up his slip of the tongue.

“i’ll be there whenever charles wants me there. maybe i’ll even get to see you win a race.” you laugh. you’re enjoying the company, but the impromptu lunch with the other two drivers seems to be riling your boyfriend up to new heights.

you know the brit is teasing him, and alex is lapping up the drama, stirring the pot. you certainly don’t mind if it keeps charles’ hand wandering higher up your leg. you’re just being polite, lando knows that, charles definitely knows that, but his tight smile and clenched jaw paints a different picture.

“i think we need to get going.” charles pipes up suddenly, after what feels like an eternity of silence from the monegasque man, and he throws a few hundred euros down of the table. “see you in bahrain.” he glares at lando pointedly, and extends his hand to you.

you take it, grinning apologetically at lando and alex, who both wear the same shit-eating grins. they know exactly what they’ve done and they’re lapping up the visible irritation they’ve concocted in their friend.

charles opens your door when you reach his ferrari, silently closing it and walking around to the drivers side.

 “not a word.” he grunts.

his hand slips into your panties as he starts the car, and your head tips back against the headrest.

he throws you onto the bed, no mercy, nothing forgiving behind his rage filled eyes. you wriggle up onto your elbows, watching the way his shirt sleeves are haphazardly rolled up, the way his hands rub together. your thighs clench. his jaw is ticking, and you can see the cogs turning in his mind, ideas brewing.

there’s no warning before pounces, shoving your floral dress up your thighs. he’s met with white lace, intricately textured, gone sheer with your arousal from the way he’d toyed with you in the car, and he sighs deeply, pained.

“this is what you wear out under this slutty fucking dress?” charles glares down at you, yanking at the fabric. the band snaps back against your belly and you gulp, hard. “nothing to say?” he tuts. “you didn’t seem to have a problem talking to my friends.”

“wore it for you, promise.” you whisper, eyes wide, pupils blown. charles scoffs.

“did you really? because it seems like you’ve forgotten who you fucking belong to.”

you don’t get a chance to reply because you’re stunned into silence when a tear sounds from between your thighs. you see a flash of white when he discards your underwear, throwing them to the floor. charles forces your legs apart, settling onto his belly as if he wants to examine you.

“still soaked.” he hums, impressed. “question is, cherie, for who?” he tilts his head condescendingly and your squirm.

as if to torture you, his nimble fingers trace your folds, spreading the wetness he’s created. you buck your hips at the pressure, it’s not nearly enough, and a low whine sounds from the back of your throat.

“all for you, baby.” you promise. “please, charlie.” you beg.

“is my precious girl getting desperate? hm?” he finds your clit, circling it with the pad of his calloused thumb. you nod profusely, and he’s obsessed with your compliance. “now you know how i felt watching him want you.” he spits.

charles plunges two fingers inside of you suddenly, and you cry out, grinding your hips to his rhythm. the stretch is so delicious that you barely register the burn, not that it matters with the way he’s slicked you up already.

“baby, ‘m all yours.” you’re getting desperate now, pleading with your eyes as much as you can between squeezing them shut every time your tummy tightens.

“i’m not so sure, think you need reminding still.” charles smirks, and his pace increases tenfold.

all you can hear is the wet slap of his fingers slamming into your pussy, his other hand teasing at your clit, just barely touching it. it riles you up endlessly, and your belly aches from how tight you’re clamping down around his hand.

“wanna cum.” you slur, dizzy from the shockwaves washing over you.

“ask nicely.” charles quips sternly, slapping your thigh. it sends a jolt through you and you can’t help it, spilling around his long digits.

you expect him to stop, to punish you for disobeying him, but he fucks you through your orgasm until you’re spent. he’s grinning when you manage to open your eyes.

“so that’s how you’re gonna be, hm? you wanna act like a slut, cherie? because believe me, i’ll treat you like one.” he speaks concisely, slowly, his voice low and threatening.

he points to your dress. “off. now.”

you scramble to peel it off, throwing it off of the bed, and your bra follows suit. you lay there bare, studying him. if you didn’t know him, love him, you’d think he’s his normal self, but you can see the way he’s digging his nails into his palm, can see the way his neck is flushed red. he unclenches his hands to undo his jeans, just enough so that his cock is on display, red and aggressively hard. you wonder how long he’s been like that.

charles kneels at the end of the bed, shifting until he’s hovering over you. the head of his cock nudges your clit, spreading the remnants of your orgasm over himself and your cunt, watching the way it flutters at the pressure. and then he’s sinking in, slow, deep. he’s heavy on top of you and you revel in the weight of him, his scent.

he grins when he bottoms out, letting out a low groan. he stills for a moment, looks at you, brushes a few strands of hair away from your pink flushed face.

“apologise.” charles coos, mockingly. your eyes well with tears, so much pressure swelling in your belly.

“charles.” you whimper, attempting to thread your fingers through his hair, but he catches your hand, sweeping up the other, and pins both of your wrists above your head.

“apologise.”

and you can’t help but ramble pathetically.

“i’m sorry, charlie, love you so much, ‘m so sorry.”

the feeling of his hips hitting yours is like water in the desert: luxurious, essential. the pace he sets is brutal, utterly fantastic, a stark contrast to anything he’s ever given to you before.

this entire experience is surreal, he usually dotes, whispers lovingly into your ear as he gently coaxes orgasms out of you. this could not be anymore different.

the power he exudes, fully clothed, rocking into your quivering, naked body turns you on endlessly, unlocking a part of yourself that you’d never let anyone else see before.

“you like it better like this, don’t you, cherie? when i fuck you hard like this?” you nod frantically. “pretending to be the sweetest little angel when really, you’re nothing but a dirty fucking girl, letting him gawk at you. bet you loved it, all that attention.” charles grunts.

you arch into him, the elastic band in your core growing that bit too tight.

“maybe i need to fuck a baby into you, make sure everyone knows you’re all mine.” he whispers.

that’s all it takes. you reach your high instantly, spurred on by the filth he spouts. the tight, hot hold you have on him makes him see stars, and then he’s cumming, too, spilling warm and white into you.

it’s quiet for a moment, the air still, the smell of sex settling over the space. you relax into the bed, and gently, he pulls out of you. he smiles softly, fingers grazing your sweat dampened face. he unbuttons his shirt as he walks to the en-suite, returning to you shirtless and with a warm, damp cloth.

you smile sleepily as he cleans you up, wiping away the mess he’s made between your legs - as best as he can, anyways - and then he strips off his jeans, and clambers into bed beside you, pulling you into his arms so that your back is flush to his chest.

“was that okay?” he asks quietly. you roll over in his arms, raising your head to peck his jaw.

“more than okay.”

“i didn’t take it too far?”

“baby, it was perfect.” you giggle.

“you know i’m not mad at you, right? but i swear, if lando ever looks at you like that again, he won’t be having kids.”

first 4k request happy dance 🕺🏻✨

taglist

@thegirlinthefandoms @mcmuppet @japanesekel @vinvantae @ggaslyp1 @dr3lover @smiithys @rachstash @infinitebells @fizzpopsnap101 @gaily19 @icecoldtires @mysticalnightenthusiast @thatchickwiththecamera @oyesmendes @disneydaydreameralways @canyouseethesainz @ferrarifwendvale @fcbformulaeri @tony-stank3 @maih23 @soleilgrec @carolineworld @anthonykatebridgerton @allywthsr @iamasimpingh0e @ophcelia @lovelynikol16 @coffeehurricanes @jennx03 @blueflorals @lqvesoph @sidcrosbyspuck @better-dead-than-smeg @buendiabebeta @pjofics @kovalcin @wintergilmore3 @for-writing-shit @youdontknowmeshh @im-an-overthinker @jule239 @darleneslane @jazzy722 @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @therealone4r @pleasecallmeunhinged @theonlyadrienne @spideylovin @formulaal

lemme know if u wanna be added or removed <3

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ediths · 4 years

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request absolutely anything here

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you can come chat about anything / ask any questions here

my etc. masterlist with the pieces i’ve written for other people that i no longer write for is here

pieces are listed from newest to oldest | last updated march 28, 2021

do not post my writing anywhere, regardless of whether or not you give credit. you do not have permission to do so.

* - indicates smut

h a r r y s t y l e s

o n e - s h o t s

Celebrating* (2.7k) - You want to congratulate Harry on his Grammy win.

Undrunk (2.1k) - When Y/N receives Harry’s wedding invitation with a picture of him that she took on it, she’s sent back to the night where she threw everything important to her away.

Baby* (2.5k) - Harry wants a baby, and you’re more than happy to help him make one.

The Weekend (5.3k) - You get a lot more out of a songwriting session with Harry Styles than you ever bargained for.

Pearls* (3.7k) - There’s something about Harry’s pearls that just get Y/N going.

Here’s To Us (5.3k) - When Harry’s the last option to help you with a project that you’re working on, things are either going to go very well, or they're going to crash and burn.

As Bright As You (1k) - You and Harry share a birthday. (a birthday fic for miss jas @kiwismoon)

Hard To Hide It (When You’re Right There) (1.8k) - You and Harry have been friends for years, and you both can’t keep pretending that there’s nothing more than friendship between the two of you.

Treat You Better (1.3k) - Harry doesn’t like the fact that your boyfriend is making you cry, and he just wants you to see that he’d treat you the way that you deserve.

Great Minds Think Alike (2.7k) - You and Harry both have surprises this Christmas.

I Should Probably Go To Bed (1.2k) - Harry tries to go out with his friends, but when he hears that you’re back in town, he knows that he needs to head home early.

Tell Me You Want Me (1.5k)- You play truth or shot with Harry, Mitch, and Sarah backstage and things get a little out of hand.

Just The Way You Are (1k) - Harry’s been more affected by the comments some people are making than he’d like to admit.

Thinking Out Loud (1.5k) - You and Harry are at his parent’s house for the holidays, and you get roped into playing their games.

The Guessing Game They Love To Play (25.3k) - Y/N doesn’t tattoo people that can even be considered famous, but when Harry Styles calls the shop and asks her which artist specializes in watercolor tattoos, she finds her first celebrity customer.

Braids (1.8k) - Harry’s at your house, and he asks you to braid his hair.

More Hearts Than Mine (1.2k) - There are some things that you need to warn Harry about before you take him home to meet your family.

What I Wish Just One Person Would Say To Me (1.6k)- You’re always going to support Harry’s dream, no matter how much it can hurt you at times.

Sunsets And Surprises (1.7k) - A trip to Italy isn’t the only thing that Harry surprises you with.

The Best Kind of Night (2.2k) - After a long day filled with meetings and overbearing reminders of deadlines, Harry’s in need of a little time with his girl.

Not Going Anywhere Without You (2.6k) - When Y/N finds out that she’s expecting, she’s scared out of her mind. She doesn’t know how she’s going to get through it all. She doesn’t know if Harry even wants to be a father. Fortunately, Harry’s more than ready to take a step back from the stage for a while to start the family that he’s longed for his entire life.

Mercy (4.1k) - Having a roommate is hard, being in love with them is harder. What’s hardest, though, is them not loving you back.

You Broke Me First (2.2k) - He broke your heart and wants you back, but you can’t take the chance. You can’t put your heart back in his hands. You can’t give him the opportunity to break you again.

Congratulations* (4k) - When Harry sees you ‘flirting’ with a guy at one of his games, you have to reassure him that you’re his and only his.

The View From Both Sides of The Mirror (23.5k) - Who would have thought that being stuck on a boat with your worst enemy would be a good thing?

Extras: The Beginning Of The End (1k) - Harry doesn’t know how to get Y/N to realize that he doesn’t hate her. Thankfully, Mitch has the perfect idea. Not Every Show Is Perfect (1.5k) - Harry messes up live for the first time in what seems like forever and he gets all broken up about it. Thankfully, you’re there to help him realize that one mistake doesn’t mean he’s horrible. The Future Awaits (1.2k) - Harry asks you a very important question in Japan.

We Don’t Have To Be Ordinary (~800) - You’ve always told Harry everything, which is exactly why you’re comfortable telling him about your sexuality.

There For You (1k) - You’re always there for harry, but he doesn’t seem very grateful.

All The Things I Didn’t Say (3.4k) - You and Harry get into a fight and the things he never told you tear him up inside.

s e r i e s

Bloody Valentine (Fake Dating + FWB AU) - Coming Soon

Chasing Colors (Soulmate AU) - deleted, to be continued soon Teaser Post

s t a r w a r s

☆ a n a k i n s k y w a l k e r

o n e - s h o t s coming soon

s e r i e s coming soon

☆ h a n s o l o

o n e - s h o t s coming soon

s e r i e s coming soon

☆ o b i - w a n k e n o b i

o n e - s h o t s coming soon

s e r i e s coming soon

#:D #hope you like what you read :)

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razmahdaz-art · 3 years

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I Did It! I Wrote The Geraskier Birthday Fic! Let the Fluff and Angst REIGN! Happy Holidays and I hope this makes up for a lot of void on my end. Enjoy these Idiots! 4k words so snuggle up and have fun!

Geralt was in trouble.

Every winter had been hard, no matter how routine he presumed going home would be. Terrible monsters that forced him off the Path and delayed him to the point of being blocked from Kaer Morhen, the castle itself crumbling far worse than previous winters because of far nastier storms, or those rare and often heartbreaking winters spent without one or both of his brothers because they simply couldn’t make it through the pass in time. There were most certainly harder winters that Geralt had survived through, but now, in this moment, he couldn’t describe a worse or more threatening feeling than what the bard had just told him.

It was partially Geralt’s fault, and standing in the moment, he’s never felt more stupid. Every spring when he finds his companion and asks how his winter was, Jaskier always said “I’m a year older but still ready to out walk Roach.” Geralt would give a smile or laugh. It just made sense to him, the phrase, Jaskier saying he was older. A year had ended and started, so Geralt never felt the need to question it.

He suddenly began to question how he could be such an Idiot.

This year, finally, to even his own surprise, Geralt invited Jaskier to Kaer with him, finally letting himself have the luxuries that Jaskier has always said he deserved. Thankfully, Jaskier agreed, and the hike and travel had been remarkably kind to them. As well as everyone who stayed with them, Lambert and Eskel throwing arms open for the bard to finally walk into after so many decades of mere stories and mentions and passed “He says hello”s. The keep was being improved upon, Jaskier bringing a new motivation to their work through the inspiring songs and funny tales he would share while they did mundane chores, and the storms came and went without much complaint, which impressed Geralt by how well Jaskier seemed to be adapting to such a harsh climate.

This past week, however, Jaskier seemed to have slumped in posture and attitude. Everyone became used to the morning lute practice and half worked songs that their new companion filled the cold halls with, but those ditties have pittered out with the passing days. And now even the afternoons and evenings were growing a familiar and unwelcome quiet.

Tonight, though, when Jaskier went to bed hours earlier than he normally did, Geralt finally decided it was time to check on him.

The Witcher opened the heavy door to his bard’s room, the fireplace glowing low while Jaskier sat in a chair facing the warmth, his body hunched over himself a bit, his hands rubbing together to keep warm. Jaskier had only had the space for a little over three weeks and it was a stark reflection of his personality. Borrowed books from the library scattered about and the bed barely made, but no matter how intense the mess, it felt homely and comfortable. It felt like He belonged in the stone cold keep just fine.

Geralt walked over and leaned against the chair, his hand pressing against Jaskier’s back to let him know he wasn’t alone anymore. The bard’s head picked itself up and turned to look at him, a gentle smile tugging at the once downtrodden face he had been wearing. Jaskier leaned back into the chair and Geralt moved his hand to his shoulder, as they both just watched the flame flicker.

“You’re upset,” Geralt stated low. He knew Jaskier was upset, that wasn’t even a question, but he didn’t know how to ask what was actually wrong. The Witcher found that as long as he started the conversation, Jaskier would lead him through it.

“Is it showing?” Jaskier asks half heartedly with a hollow laugh. “I’m sorry if i’ve been bringing everyone down with me.” Geralt winces at the words, even if he knows that they’re a joke. He brings himself forward, sitting just on the edge of the arm rest. Jaskier had never needed an invitation, so he let his head roll to the side and rest on Geralt’s arm. They sit in a long stretching, but warm silence, it still sitting harsh in Geralt’s stomach.

“Talk to me. What’s wrong?” Geralt finally asks with no sense of shame.

The bard sighs long and horse before placing his arm and hand on Geralt’s leg, patting it absentmindedly like the large man sharing a chair with him was nothing more than a simple house cat. “Nothings wrong just...Different,” Jaskier admits, blowing a stray piece of hair from his face. That, Geralt expected. Kaer Morhen was far different from Oxenfurt, and he had feared the bard would be lost in such a place, either physically lost while wandering the halls, or emotionally at the cold and dark keep being the only scenery for months. His hand came up and tucked away any stray hairs.

“It’s my first winter here and away from my friends and family. Not that you aren't my Family, that’s not what I’m saying,” Jaksier’s hand squeezed Geralt’s thigh, reassuring him. “I just usually spend my Birthday with family and childhood friends back in Lettenhove, or with my peers in Oxenfurt. And I know how you Witcher’s don’t age, so I’d say the concept is kinda Mute here.”

And there it was. The thing that slammed hard into the Witcher’s skull like a sword was splitting him. Jaskier’s Birthday was the thing that made him doubt every ounce of intelligence he held in his body. Geralt had gone on close to a decade of not ever once questioning it’s date or passing, but now, in this chair with a melancholic bard on his arm, he was whipping himself over and over for such inconsiderate behavior. He could feel his heart pick up a few beats as terror raced through his very nerves, worse than any monster could ever make him feel.

“Ahh,” He said simply, all words throwing themselves into the void that is apparently his head. That’s when Jaskier turned to look at him in the eyes with the gentlest of smiles, and Geralt nearly fell from his perch.

“You’ve never been with me for my birthday, have you?” Jaskier asked his eyebrow raising. He looked tired like Geralt had never seen, a disappointment scorning him but Jaskier dulled it down, and that made it sting something in his core. “Ahh well, nothing to do about it. Maybe some drinks and some Gwent at this week’s end and we can call it another year, hmm?”

Jaskier stood, pushing on Geralt’s leg so he could stand up and stretch his already-aging bones. The Witcher stood up and was tongue tied, barely working out the syllables for a ‘Goodnight’ before he found himself in the hallway outside of Jaskier’s door, his heart aching and the back of his eyelids stained with that horrible hopeless expression Jaskier gave him. Geralt needed to make this right, and he needed to make it good. All these years as friends, all these years of him wanting something more, and he didn’t even have the fucking decency to as much as Ask when Jaskier’s birthday was. The bard was right, Witcher’s never really celebrated their own birthdays, but he should have assumed that someone like Jas would make a large deal out of the personal day.

Fuck.

Geralt wasn’t sure the last time he sprinted so hard his chest hurt, but it was probably deserved. His legs carried him down the stairs and back to the dining hall where, thankfully, Lambert and Eskel were still sitting and drinking the early evening away. They looked at him like the man was running from a pact of starving wolves and stood from their table and rushed to the man’s side in an instant. Eskel’s hand landed on his shoulder to guide him back to their table because Geralt looked like his lungs were about to give out on him. Lambert looked passed the door and down the hall to see if he could spot exactly what had him so startled.

“Bloody hell, what happened to you?” Lambert blurted to him, still keeping watch. “Where’s Jas, is he safe?”

“He’s fine,” Geralt growled out as he sat down, leftover whatever the hell he was drinking earlier pushed into his hand. Eskel knelt beside him just to make sure he didn’t choke. “Somewhat fine, rather. He’s...His…” Geralt tried hard to find the words without it incriminating him too much.

“He’s What? What’s Wrong with Jaskier?” Eskel tried to ring out of him.

His lungs finally settled and Geralt gathered everything in him to speak.

“His Birthday,” Geralt said in a hush, but no whisper could go unnoticed around here.

The heavy door closed on it’s own, the hand keeping it open letting gravity do the work as Lambert turned his head in a swift motion, pure dumbfounded-ness on his face. He walked over and Geralt could see that he was filled to the brim with ‘Are You Stupid?’ waiting to spill out and slap across the back of his head. He even looked to Eskel and found that, even as gentle and understanding the scarred Witcher could be, even he was confused out of his mind.

“His Birthday is...Wrong?” Eskel tried to figure out.

Geralt’s head fell in his hands and he felt the dark flush of shame fill his face. God, this was gonna be hard to explain. But if he wanted the other’s Witcher’s help in this, then he’d have to choose his words and actually speak them.

“It...Feels wrong to him, this year. He’s sad that…'' Geralt paused and looked at both his brothers behind his fingers. This was going to sting. “He’s sad I didn’t know his birthday, and that he wouldn’t get to celebrate with his family.”

SMACK

That did sting, a hard slap to the back of his skull almost knocked him to the table. Eskel yelled Lambert’s name in shock and there was bickering, but Geralt was somewhat lost as to what specifics were said because, fuck, Lambert had an arm on him. Soon enough he’s met with Eskel’s scarred face who just looked equally confused as before.

“So you...forgot?” He asked.

“I just...Never asked.” Geralt explained.

Lambert was about to smack him again but Eskel stopped him before he could make proper contact. They shared a moment of silent speech, a ‘I know but Don’t’ argument had in complete silence.

“But,” Geralt cut into this voiceless fight. “But I want to give him...Give him something. Something he’ll like. I feel Awful for not asking all these years and I just...I just want to make him happy,” his voice petered out at the end, like it was a confession.

Lambert let out a long sigh. “So, what, a Party? Brew up something strong that he’d like, maybe a book from the library?” He asks, trying to give somewhat useful suggestions.

Geralt just shakes his head. “That’s what he’s expecting. I want it to be good, I want it to be personal.”

“I can make dinner with Vesimir, something close to what he likes,” Eskel offers. But no, no, these were great but they weren’t perfect. They didn’t make up for a decade of seeming disinterest. If Geralt was going to make this right, he needed to make it perfect. He needed to Make It.

It hit him, and not like Lambert had. This was Harder and more precise.

“The Forge,” Geralt says. “I’ll make him a blade, maybe two.. Something Silver, something he’d like…” Geralt thinks deeply for a moment, contemplating ideas of make and what would suit him just right for his weight and balance.

“A Sword?” Lambert inquired, giving it some hard thought.

“Like ours,” Geralt informed. “He’s not a Witcher, But he’s…” Geralt paused a long second. “I want him to be something close.”

Silence overtook the room again, but this time, it wasn’t judgemental or harsh. It was warm and full of space for ideas and improvement and excitement. This was beyond thoughtful, in all Witchers eyes, a handmade set of weapons being the one thing that ties them all together, every wolve back to the same pact. Each sword different, but concept the same: a set to defend themselves like all of them were there, to have to remind them that they're not alone on the Path.

They talked that night, endlessly about what would fit right and what would work well for the bard. ‘This has to be great’, Geralt thought. ‘He deserves perfection.’

__________________________________________________________________________

Jaskier swears, with everything in his bones, that there used to be other people in this castle besides just him.

Ever since the other night with Geralt, Jaskier hadn’t seen much of him besides his morning hellos and his evening farewells, the two not having a solid conversation other than what they talk about at Dinner, which even then wasn’t much of anything. Geralt was never a good liar, Jaskier became aware of that fact very early on in their companionship. So when he asked ‘What were you doing’ and Geralt says ‘Working’, Jasker can’t help but know that he was hiding something. It didn’t help that every morning when the bard actually got his eyes on the other, he looked ragged, and every night he seemed worn worse. And it wasn’t like he could ask Lambert and Eskel anything, because of course he couldn’t.

He saw the pair more during the day than he had Geralt, but whenever he did, they seemed in a rush, wanting to be somewhere completely opposite of where Jaskier seemed to be in that moment. Prying never worked. Lambert waved him off, told him it’s Witcher’s work and not to be disturbing them, and Eskel, the one person Jaskier counted on giving him at least a clue, just excused himself and said some random task needed tending to before fumbling his way out of the conversation.

The bard was going mad, feeling like he’s completely lost control of whatever sanity he’s had. No matter how much he picks at his lute, scribbles down verses, or even bite at his nails until it hurts, Jaskier couldn’t seem to understand what’s been going on around the keep. He thinks back to what he said, to what he did the last time things were normal. ‘Did I say something wrong? What if I did make everyone sad along with my moping? Gods, was it the leg touching???’ He racked his brain over and over again, searching for whatever insult he posed to his hosts so he could maybe make up for it.

Though, from the way they seemed to be running away from him like the plague, he doubted he could return next winter.

“You look like you’ve been bit by a chimera,” Vesimir says as he walked into the Library Jaskier had cooped himself in for the afternoon, trying desperately to feel normal again. He can’t say he’s actually been reading anything, just staring at the page in front of him for over an hour. “What’s wrong boy, lost your song?”

Jaskier smiled at that, he did. Vesimir he at least did see, but being the man in charge, he didn’t see him any less than he had already. “Just...I don’t know, I can’t think right, I’m finding. Have you noticed that things are...Off?” He held out hope that the Oldest of this pack might be able to give him some insight.

“More than usual? Maybe, but I think it’s you’re doing,” Vesimir states as he organizes the collection of tomes. And that’s exactly not what Jaskier needed to hear. So it was his fault, of course it was, he had done something and fuck if he knows what it was and it just hurts. He can’t take it, couldn’t let this sit in his stomach one more second.

“What Have I Done!?” His yell echoes in the chamber, the chair he was sitting in screeching back against the stone and almost falling back as Jaskier shoved himself upright. “I’ve been trying, I have, and I know this isn’t my place and I know it’s not my home, but Gods, I thought I was being a good Guest. Then Low and Behold, suddenly i can’t find anyone and no one will tell me things and Fuck…” Jaskier’s voice breaks. He can handle people not liking him, he’s known plenty of people who do. But they at least had the decency to tell him why, even if it was a knife shaped bunch of words.

Vesimir strides up to the bards side and clasps his arms, soothing the strong quaking Jaskier was ringing from his body. "Easy boy, Easy!" He said, ducking his head to make eye contact with the now weeping bard. "I've never seen the boys happier than when you're here. Jaskier, I'm sure they're just being Idiots." Vesimir reassures as he rubs circles into the bard’s arms.

“Come On,” Vesimir says in a tender and gentle voice. “I’ll make you some tea, and we can have dinner and talk. I’m sure we can get down to whatever funny business those boys are cooking up.” Jaskier only nods, weakly. Gods it was time for dinner. He’d been so lost in his own head that he hadn’t realized that Night had settled over the mountains.

Vesimir’s hand came up to his back to guide him down the halls, small shakes still slithering through Jaskier every so often, and it didn’t help that the whole castle was in a constant state of cold. He stumbled through the long halls, his head still running through every possible mistake he made, every wrong reply or ill timed Joke. He wanted to believe Vesimir, that this was just something not of ill intent, but Jaskier dreaded the worst of outcomes. Vesimir’s hand left him to open the large doors to the dining hall, a dim light shining under where it barely hit the floor. It was pushed open, and at the mere crack of it, Jaskier was sent reeling.

There was warm orange light, and an intense warmth enveloping him as the entire hall seemed to be warmed to well above what was needed, and the cold in his fingers and toes started to burn away. And the Smells, oh Gods, Jaskier couldn’t dare compare it to what he is served at banquets or weddings. This was better and strong and it found its way deep into his lungs and stomach and it growled worse than any beast Geralt had ever fallen. They walk in and the table, the one that they always sat at for meals, was heavily set with perfectly cooked and spiced game birds and roasted veggies and bread that smelled fresher than anything he had ever been met with here. Tankards were filled with something dark and strong, he’s sure, and by all the Gods above, Jaskier was about to cry just then and there.

He didn’t realize he wasn’t alone until he heard a solid ‘Ahem’ from behind him. Turning quick, some smiles struck him something heavy. Eskel, covered in flour and wiping his hands with a rag gave the gentlest smile his face was allowed. Lambert stood next to him, smelling of something Jaskier could trace back to the tankards, and that devilish grin staining his face. Lastly, Vesimir with his arms crossed and a beam of pride spread across his lips as he clapped a hand on Lambert’s shoulder. Jaskier could feel his eyes suddenly burn, and every negging word of doubt scattered.

“You...What’s all This?” Calloused hands motioned back to the table behind him and then back towards the line of Witchers.

“Geralt said it was your birthday,” Eskel hummed, the rag he was working getting flung onto his shoulder. “He wanted your first one at the Keep to be Special, so we…” His voice trailed off as his hand gestured to the feast in question.

There was movement, all the Witcher’s knew there had to be, but in a single instant, the bard was pulling all of them into the biggest hug he could muster. His arms barely wrapped around everyones bulky shoulders, but they weren’t going to let him do all the work anyways. A menagerie of arms held each other, solidly, as somewhere deep in the mess, a bard sobbed tears of exasperated relief and joy. There was something missing, though, something that tainted the whole night from being perfect. Jaskier was let go as he tugged back a bit to look at the group, noticing one white haired Witcher missing from the lot.

“Wher-” his question was nipped at the bud.

“Geralt will be here, he’s just cleaning up,” Lambert reassured as he ruffled through that mop of brown on Jaskier’s head. “Come on, I’m starving. We’ve been waiting for you too long, let’s dig in!”

And Dig in they did, not unlike an actual pack of wolves. Everything was divine, the birds roasted and perfectly moist and flavorful, and Gods, Jaskier hasn’t stuffed himself this much since that one time he and Geralt got lost on the backroads for a little bit too long. The drinks were pleasantly sweet, a vast difference from anything Lambert had previously made for him, but it still made his head fuzzy at the edges and warmed his gut. Thoroughly enjoying the display in front of him, the night was carrying onward, and Jaskier was almost worried Geralt wouldn’t be showing his face.

Almost, was the key word.

While Lambert was topping off whatever number of drink they were on, the heavy doors swung open again and let in a wave of cool air that was, honestly, refreshing and just a hint sobering. In the doorway stood the last and late-est Witcher, and Jaskier could instantly see why. He looked clean, neater than he usually does, dressed up in a very familiar silk-trader shirt that Jaskier had dressed him in before more than once. His hair was brushed and half up in a neat bun. There was something tucked under his arm but Jaskier was thoroughly distracted that he had barely enough time to notice before the Witcher was standing next to him

“Hello,” The bard cooed as he turned in his seat to give Geralt his full attention. And he smiled, Metelile, The Witcher smiled at him unabashed and shameless.

“Hey,” Geralt hummed, his one free hand coming to mess with the already tussled brown locks. “Happy Birthday.” They laughed, everyone, cozy and throaty and roaring in Jaskier’s chest.

“Is this why you’ve disappeared all week? Almost sending me into a spiral so you could throw all of this together?” Jaskier waved his arms around at the occupied table in front of him. Geralt just smiled at the floor and quirked his head that Jaskier only saw when he was flustered.

“Partially,” He responded. “This was put together mostly with their help, like you said you wanted,” Geralt’s head motioned towards his two brothers who just raised their cups towards the two of them. “I was busy…”Geralt shifted, kneeling fucking Kneeling, infront of Jaskier and taking the parcel under his arm and placing it on his leg like it was a table. “Making these for you.”

Jaskier’s heart skipped as the leather bound present was offered to him. His hands touched the rough material for a moment before he brought the heavier-than-expected gift into his lap. He locked eyes with Geralt, squinting and suspicious, but that only made the Witcher smile sweeter than before, a hint of Eagerness in his eyes. Leather ties were worked under calloused fingers, strands tugged this way and that to extract whatever this was from it’s wrapping. The scraps of hide were pushed away and left in Jaskier’s lap, intricate and detailed, were two dark leather sheaths, scenes of wildflowers and stars decorating the smooth holsters. Jaskier could already feel tears start to well, almost not wanting to believe what he was just given, but as he looked back up to those molten gold eyes that seemed to be brighter than the very sun, it grounded the bard in reality.

“Geralt you really did-” Jaskier’s words were cut short again.

“Just open them,” Geralt instructed. Jaskier was never one to leave Geralt waiting, so he tugged at the brown leather wrapped hilt of one of the blades.

A Dagger, it was. Steel, cold, and a terrible kind of sharp that made him shiver. It was beautifully designed, the blade itself engraved with calligraphed words down right down the center that read “Yet Here We Are”. It was balanced and shining and so incredibly perfect that his breath caught in his throat as he looked it over. Only a thread was holding Jaskier together that he almost didn’t dare open the second, but he was once again faced with that beautiful face of pleading sweetness that Geralt bore for him that he had no other choice.

He pulled the other one free and this one was Silver, he knew, having to discern the difference to properly care for Geralt’s blades. It was nearly identical, the shape and make just as beautiful and radiant as the steel one but instead of words, engraved down the center was a single dandelion puff, it’s seeds scattering into a wind that drew it up the middle and away into oblivion. They were beautiful, Jaskier thought un-eloquently, every adjective he had deserting him in a second. His eyes were stuck for a long moment that he didn’t realize he was crying until one of his tears smudged his reflection in the weapon.

“You...This...Gods, Geralt, Why?” His voice croaked out, soaked with happiness that it hurt. He caught the Witcher sniffle at the beginning of a chuckle, just as his large hand landed on his knee.

“I’ve missed many winters with you, many celebrations, many words I could have said,” Geralt admitted, his other hand coming to rid the bard of his tears. “I wanted to make it up to you. I wanted to remind you that you matter to us. To Me,” his hand fell to hold his bard’s hand and Jaskier gripped it tight enough to pinch, just wanting to make sure this was real and not some sick dream. “And I’m sorry for being such a fucking fool.”

They laughed, the two of them, just in that little space that they shared. Jaskier’s chest ached in the best kind of way, slow and full of that rumbling thing called affection that clawed at him everytime he was with Geralt; That rumbling churned into a full on storm fueled by tenderness and alcohol and the feeling of being wanted. That feeling of being finally, after a long harsh winter, home. His head bumped against Geralt’s in an unelegant way but he couldn't find the smallest part of him that cared.

“Gods Above Geralt, If you don’t kiss me I might break,” Jaskier whispers, rasped and breathy. Before he could take it back, before he had fucking time to worry about what he said, there were lips against his, inviting and soft and overwhelming and not nearly enough all at the same time. Hollars were there, laughs and roars of excitement, but the bard would be damned if he focused on anything other than here and now and Geralt.

They pulled apart, their lips just ghosting over each other for seconds and all the while Jaskier couldn’t find it in him to open his eyes. It was just right, that solidness he leaned against, sturdy and warm and smiling at him if Jaskier had to guess. Vision returned and it was flooded with gold and a warm blush painted across Geralt’s cheeks, a proper smile carving into his face like it was meant to be there, and be there for him to see only. Jaskier was spoiled rotten, but he couldn’t find it in him to want to stop.

“Hmm,” Geralt hummed again, jolly and soothing. “So...Have a happy birthday?” He asks, chuckling.

“Gods, Geralt,” Jaskier scoffed as he went back into to trap the man with another kiss like this could all be gone tomorrow. “The best,” he responds as they break.

Geralt’s arms envelope the shorter man in front of him and hold him like his life depended on it. Because it really did, he found, his very soul being soothed by the warm contact they shared. ‘Perfect’ he thought to himself, ‘This is perfect.’ His nose buried into his neck and it felt like it was carved out specifically for himself.

This truly was a present fit for his Bard.

#geraskier #geralt of rivia #Jaskier #the witcher netflix #Winter fluff fic #Idiots to lovers #Geralt has no brain cells #Just the way we like em here out in Witcher country

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hazard-and-friends · 3 years

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i watched the first episode of canine intervention tonight, here’s some uncensored liveblogging featuring my spicey dog training takes:

“my dog training system is known all over the world" mhmm. lemme google this guy.

by clicking through his in person training site to his online remote training course, i found a whole lot of big red flags: "Establish pack leadership" dogs don't have pack leaders. anyone who wants to make you a leader is not using a good understanding of dog behavior "Time your praise and corrections" the times when i use corrections are when i'm the least on my game. my goal is NEVER to use corrections/positive punishment. why should i? it's concerning that he uses it as a core part of his method. "Exercise and reinforce your leadership as a way of life" more leadership bullshit.

fancy letters are not the end-all-be-all, and there are trainers i seriously respect who have none of them. but they don't talk about leadership and corrections. it's concerning that he talks about his sports team as a kid, where he went to high school, and his celebrity clients, but not his mentors and education in training.

back to the show

why does his facility have enough dogs to keep them in kennels? how does that teach aggressive dogs how to be safe in a home environment?

not all of the dogs in the first shot of a class (~1:38) have two collars on but a lot do. that's not a red flag (i worked sydney in two collars [her flat collar and a martingale, because syd was very gear smart and it was nice to tell her that we were doing heeling now]) but with what i saw on his website? it's quite likely that one of those is the dog's normal flat collar with tags, and the other is a prong, choke chain, or electric collar

also: "I help the dogs that no one else will" is a flat out lie

if you're willing to take on any human aggression cases, generally you’re willing to take on all of them. now, some of these cases may generally lead to a recommendation of euthanasia. but that's in the best interests of the dog and owner

oop class shot where it's clear that they're wearing prongs

here's two points not about this guy specifically: 1) it is hard (impossible?) to do humane, ethical dog training in a 45 minute episode slot. it's not good tv. it's slow as hell. there's no drama. the aggression trainers i know? have never been bitten. many have never been CLOSE to being bitten. no tv value. 2) the positive dog training community is OVERWHELMINGLY white and middle class.

it's also full of racists.

"Nearly a million dogs are euthanized yearly and over 40% of them are pit bulls" i've calculated that first statistic myself, but it's important to put it in context: this is USA specific, and that's down from 3-4 million 20 years ago. the second one, i would love to see his source.

he's right that it's important to understand where aggression comes from

anyway back to those two points, at the same time that it's really, really hard to do compelling TV with ethical dog trainers, it's also really REALLY important that the positive dog training community be working on being anti-racist. and it's really, really important that low income dog owners and people of color are getting good dog training.

alright first case! he's had her 3 months, 3 bites in that time. 10 attempted attacks. she's a young adult bully breed mix who had one front leg amputated after being shot. owner walks her in a muzzle which is a) too small and b) not bite proof.

"I see what we're working with" he says, after approaching a dog in her crate. hazard responds similarly to someone coming in, but he's not a bite risk. that's not a good evaluation.

he is correct about lady macbeth's motivations: this is a dog who's scared as hell and making herself really big and scary so that everyone leaves her alone.

okay he's also right that playing with her around strangers is really, really good for fear aggression

"frenzied just chaotic state" yeah no

reality check for y'all: i am not an aggression specialist and i have seen more freaked out dogs

she was on edge! she was unhappy! but holy shit was she not even remotely close to what dogs are capable of

"she just bit me!" she nipped your cheek, not breaking skin. that's a level 1 or 2 (of 6). that's not NOTHING but it's well within normal for a dog who's being restrained when she wants to be somewhere else.

[note that at no point in the episode was the owner ever given any sort of indication that lady macbeth is not this horribly aggressive Pit Bull TM. nor was there any discussion of a bite scale.]

"The only option we're gonna have is to [board and train] for 3 weeks" "I have no choice but to take her back to my facility back in San Jose and work daily with her" no!!!!!

[15 minute break]

lmao sorry i had to go yell at gf about how much this board and train is not necessary and in the process penny decided to cause Drama again

ANYWAY, the b&t is not necessary because all of those aggressive incidents bar the first could have been avoided if the owner was on the ball. this is not JUST a lady macbeth issue, this is ALSO an owner issue. both of them need to relearn how to handle new people.

as a bonus, lady macbeth needs to learn to trust her owner, which she categorically cannot do in a b&t

"The box is an important training tool to teaching new behaviors. It's also a first step in establishing pack leadership" ok this is new to me

and new is not a good thing here

text: Obedience depends on a dog's trust and respect for their pack leader calculus depends on your trust and respect for your math teacher! if you respect them a lot you will magically be able to do calc!

I WAS HOPING. I WAS TRYING.

i was HOPING that his training for her fear aggression would be based in toy play.

instead he's got a fake arm and he keeps reaching out to poke her, and the owner says "no!" and does a leash pop (leash wrapped around her neck) every time she tries to bite.

"She doesn't know it's not his hand" it smells like plastic what would she THINK it is

also funky that we're 19 minutes into the episode about an aggressive bully breed mix and the trainer's childhood bully breed mix who killed a dog, and like. not a single mention of what these dogs were bred for.

let's go back to "how are you teaching aggressive dogs to live nicely in a home, if they are spending most of the day in a wire kennel"

for shits take, high school doesn't teach you how to handle your emotions! why should obedience class teach your dog the same?

and then like, every time she breaks the down he yells NOPE and leans over her??????

dude you're scaring her into being obedient. while you're talking about how it's important to treat her fear.

text: Fear based aggression can be reduced by desensitizing the dog to strangers you're right! it sure can! THAT'S NOT WHAT YOU'RE DOING HERE

you've got a dog on her side with one hand over her, the other on a skinny check chain on her neck. every time she does anything but lay flat, the leash is popped and you say no. you are flooding this dog and creating learned helplessness.

jo summed it up well with this: he's good at seeing the behavior, he knows what he's looking at, he just can't change it. he only knows one method.

jo and i are now trying to figure out if "dog training but marie kondo not cesar milan" is a viable tv show

jas correctly stops the friend and changes how he approaches the dog, that's a good response

i'm laughing bc after a 3 week board and train which is not going to be less than $4k, he's giving the exact same "how to meet new people" directions that i would give to a similar client--at the start of our time! not at the end!

"I can't imagine imagine a dog having it too much worse than she did, the fact that she took a gunshot, the fact that she had no security for years of her life" alright dude a) think worse, this PALES to abuse cases b) let's not? shittalk? the care that people without reliable housing give to their dogs (and occasional cat!)?? because what they do for their pets is incredible, and it isn't necessarily connected to her opinions on strangers

so yeah still laughing bc like. that "happy ending" would be my first session with a client. that's how you START handling stranger danger. and for this the owner paid thousands.

#ethics in dog ownership #dog training #ask to tag

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evak-fic-rec-turtleanon · 3 years

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Evak Fics - Christmas 2017

Christmas fics posted for 2017

*** Non-English Fics *** Under 20k fics (Smutty, Angsty, Fluffy) *** Over 20k fics

***** NON-ENGLISH FICS *****

Deilig er jorden by pagnilagni (Norsk, 3k words) - Et lite bakteppe: Tida etter at Maria og Fredrik ble født høsten 2029 ble ikke som Even og Isak hadde tenkt. Ungene sov ikke, fedrene sov ikke, Even ble deprimert, Isak måtte ta seg av hele familien. Nå er det snart jul...

det kommer att regna på fredag, den tjugoandra december by vesperthine (Svenska, 4k words) - Isak har försökt säga att det inte är något att prata om ( – att mamma är dålig och pappa är feg, att han bara vill glömma allt vad förväntad familjelycka betyder och snylta på deras – ) men varje gång har Even bara tystnat och tittat ned; sett så sorgsen ut att konversationen helt har stannat av. Vilket han vet är en dödsstöt ( – en kommunikativ härdsmälta – ) som leder till allt det som han velat undvika; skrik och bråk som påminner för mycket om allting som han vill glömma.

En fantastisk julaften by pagnilagni (Norsk, 4k words) - God jul fra Maria og Fredrik og resten av familien Evak anno 2035

I midvintertid by champagneleftie (Svenska, 8k words) - En saga om en Even, en Isak, och en magisk snöglob.

En helt vanlig enkel dag by Always_and_ever (Svenska, 18k words) - Detta skulle bli den första dag, på länge, då han skulle känna sig ok. En dag spenderad med goda vänner på julmarknad. Han hade planerat och längtat. En helt vanlig enkel dag. Ja det var vad han föreställt sig i alla fall. Eller en historia om flera enkla dagar som inte blir så enkla som Isak hade hoppats på. ELLER en historia om att finna sin väg tillbaka.

den mørkeste tida by pagnilagni (Norsk, 45k words) - Vi er i 2025. Isak har jobbet på Svalbard det siste halvåret. Han holder på med doktorgraden sin i astrofysikk og jobber som forsker i Ny Ålesund. Even jobber med en filminnspilling og har reist mye de siste månedene. Nå skal de feire jul sammen på Svalbard.

Isak og Even -en julekalender by evakyaki, Frieda Echte (Plommesill), pagnilagni (Norsk, 55k words) - En Evak-fanfic-julekalender, fra oss til dere! God advent! Dette er en spesialskrevet desemberfic der vi følger Isak og Even dag for dag fram til julaften, desember 2017. Hver dag fram til jul poster vi et nytt kapittel her.

***** UNDER 20K FICS *****

SMUTTY

O Helga Natt by u_d (3k words) - It's Christmas Day. Isak and Even are far from holy.

santa, baby by empty_venom (SERIES, 14 fics) - Most of these are smutty fics but not all.

Mistletoe and Type O Negative by riyku (6k words) - Isak Valtersen: vampire hunter. Kinda has a nice ring to it.

Where the Lovelight Gleams by Sabeley (8k words) - The one where Even and Isak are stuck at different Christmas parties, but they're determined to have sex anyway.

Uncover Me by Maugurt (13k words) - Now, Isak’s had his fair share of moments that could possibly be considered kind of gay, but those moments could always be regarded as curiosity or something else not homosexual. But straight up making out with some guy at a party couldn’t. There was just no way he could no homo out of that one. It was very homo.

NOT ALL FLUFF / ANGSTY

Love Actually by evak1isak (684 words) - Isak is engaged to his high school boyfriend, Chris, until things change when Even, his high school friend, shows up one day at Christmas, with an important message to tell through some posters while "Silent Night" plays in the background.

Blue Nights by Evak2121 (1k words) - "Still, he missed him more than he thought he could on a Christmas Eve."

I'm not an asshole? by rumpelsnorcack (2k words) - Not Chrismassy. Jonas takes a few moments for himself to consider his reactions to his best friend being gay. It occurs to him that he maybe hasn't been the most supportive friend in the past.

I'll be there, baby by Wolle19 (3k words) - All Isak want is for his husband to be home for the holidays. Even works making documentaries, so being home for the important dates is not a easy task. Isak just want a miracle.

Oltre i confini del blu by Stria (Asia117) (3k words) - Five times Isak's Christmas is completely ruined and one time it goes completely right.

it's going to rain on friday, the twenty-second of december by vesperthine (4k words) - Isak has tried to tell him that there’s nothing to discuss ( – that mom isn’t well, that dad is a coward, that he just wants to forget everything about family and expected happiness and just leech off of theirs – ) but every time Even has gone quiet and looked down; looked so sad that the conversation has just died.

Soul Mates by orphan_account (5k words) - A misunderstanding before Christmas leads to a bit of angst and a whole lot of hurt/comfort. Then lots and lots of Christmas fluff!!!

The Disaster Christmas by tusktooth (6k words) - It's now Isak's turn to meet Even's extended family over the week of Christmas.

my heart held a ledger by cynical_optimist, strangetowns (8.6k words) - A hitmen AU, wherein Isak and Even hate their jobs but love each other.

i wrote you a song, hope that you sing along, and it goes: by traumatic (10k words) - Like a lot of seven year old boys, Even dreams of catching Santa Claus. He dreams of meeting him and shaking his hand, of asking him to show him how he does it, of thanking him for all he's done. When he actually does, Santa is exactly like he'd imagined. Both fortunately and unfortunately, by the time of Even's 23rd birthday, Santa no longer looks like that. He's no longer old or jolly; he doesn't have a large round belly or half-moon spectacles. This Santa is young, lean, and as beautiful as the world itself.

tell me it's a good start by teatrolley (12k words) - A sequel. Even's POV of It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas, before during and beyond. And a New Year's Eve.

It's a Wonderful Life by kapplebougher (13k words) - t's a Wonderful Life AU, where Even believes the world would be better off without his existence. With the help of an angel though, he comes to realize that just maybe - that may not be entirely true.

Life is better with you by charlyflowers (16k words) - A oneshot of Isak and Even during several Christmas times together. Childhood friends.

I Just Want You For My Own by Twinklylightseverywhere (19k words) - Even loves the holidays, really. He loves spending time with his friends and family, drinking hot chocolate by the fire, exchanging gifts, the like. He loves leaving his apartment to see snow falling from the sky, children’s eyes lit up in excitement, and the general busy bustle of downtown Oslo in December. You know what he doesn’t love about Christmas time? Working in a fucking Post Office.

FLUFFY

the way your eyes sparkle by wyoheartsmusic (501 words) - Isak and Even celebrate Christmas apart and neither of them is very happy about it

Under the Mistletoe by evak1isak (952 words) - Isak has a crush on Eva's best friend, Even, but he's too stubborn to recognize it. With Christmas coming, Eva has a plan to set the two boys up.

dance with me by agarina (1k words) - There's always some room for anxiety. And cheesy Christmas music. And dancing. And kisses.

all i want for christmas is you by stringsinmelody (1k words) - Isak and Even enjoy their first Christmas together with their baby.

Slowly Starts Sinking In by bri_ness (1.4k words) - Christmas ish. After a Christmas party, Isak and Eva consider their feelings for their friends.

all the greenery is comin' down by colazitron (1.5k words) - Evilde fic. Vilde decides to try and make a move on Eva, and the mistletoe at the Kosegruppa Christmas Party would be the perfect pretext. If only she could actually get Eva underneath it!

Christmas Surprises by glbertblythes (1.5k words) - Isak and Even celebrate Christmas together by going to Even's house for dinner.

You And Me Here by TotallyTinkerbell (1.7k words) - A little Christmas-themed Evak fluff

I'm FALLing for you by Schedazzle (2k words) - Not actually a Christmas fic but it’s too cute not to include. … the little bell above the door went off and his favorite customer came in. Even couldn’t hide the smile spreading on his face as he spotted the by now familiar golden curls.

from such great heights by lizziemcguire (2k words) - Isak finds himself scared on a Ferris Wheel, and it's all Magnus' fault. Even is there to comfort him.

White Elephant by HazyCosmicJive (2k words) - Vilde turns the office Secret Santa into a White Elephant Secret Santa.

everyone hates christmas music by theyellowcurtains (2k words) - The boys plan a trip to a cabin for Christmas and a group Secret Santa.

Hope by bri_ness (2.4k words) - Isak and Even celebrate hope.

The Beginning of Believing by MacksDramaticShenanigans (2.5k words) - “Santa’s not even real,” Aleksander shouted, his voice so loud that it echoed down the hallway.“Yes he is! He brings us presents!” Elin whined, her bottom lip pushed out into an over exaggerated pout— something she had clearly picked up from Even. Aleksander scoffed and shook his head, blonde curls bouncing. “No! Daddy and Pappa bring us presents!” Elin’s eyes grew as wide as saucers, and a thin film of moisture clouded her pretty green irises. “No, Santa!” She argued.

i can't pretend (guess that's love) by wyoheartsmusic (2.5k words) - Even is tired of watching his friends kiss. So is Isak. The plan? Add more kissing to the mix to get them to stop kissing.Foolproof. Right?

Not so much of a Christmas miracle by Sassy3 (2.5k words) - Isak is trying to earn some money selling Christmas trees. He isn´t doing that well but suddenly the customers only ask for him, who is helping him out?

Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas by colazitron (2.5k words) - Even knows Isak's a bit nervous about visiting his mother for Christmas, so he tries to lighten the mood with a joke.

but cause he really knows me by ourlovelybones (3k words) - Even just wants to plan a perfect surprise for Isak, one where it doesn't go quite as planned and one where he thinks he might have gotten it just right.

But the prettiest sight to see by imminentinertia (3k words) - Even deeply regrets doing Eva a favour for Christmas, but it turns out there’s a reward for his kindness.

You Forgot Cranberries Too? by ultimatelawrence (3k words) - "Isak was a romantic deep down in his heart. A fact he never let anyone know. But a fact that was there and seemed to be exacerbated by the festive season."4 Christmas Eve's in which Isak sees Even. 4 Christmas Eve's to get it right.

Bundle Up Tight! Flurries Tonight by MacksDramaticShenanigans (3.4k words) - Isak obliged and snatched up the first coat of his that his eyes landed on. It was more of a windbreaker than it was a real jacket, and Even quickly pointed that out. “If you wear that you're going to freeze, Is.” “It’s not that cold out, Even. Anyways we’re just walking to the tram stop, we’re not going to be outside very long.”

Ready to Jingle Your Bells by MacksDramaticShenanigans (3.5k words) - It was truly a testament to how drunk Isak was when rather than vehemently denying the request or furiously shaking his head and pushing everyone away, he set his glass down and determinately rose to his feet. And there was also the fact that Isak— sober or drunk— was never one to turn away from any sort of challenge, and Mikael’s wording certainly posed this as one. (Of course, there was also the fact that Even did sing him a song, and what kind of a boyfriend would he be if he didn’t serenade Even right back?)

The best Christmas you've ever had by hannakin (3.7k words) - “I don’t hate Christmas,” Isak sighed. “I just don’t like it.” Isak doesn't really like Christmas but Even does and he wants Isak to do too. “I’m going to make this Christmas the best Christmas you have ever had.” he whispered.

fucking finally by theyellowcurtains (4k words) - It was nearing Christmas and Isak had to do something. He really wanted Even to be in his life forever now.

Tis’ The Season To Be Grumpy by MacksDramaticShenanigans (4k words) - “Jeez,” Even started, giving Isak a pointed look. “Are you supposed to be using that kind of language around children?” He asked, though he didn’t sound mad— more amused than anything, really. Isak scrunched up his face at that. “What would Santa have to say about this?”

It's Lovely Weather for a Sleigh Ride Together with You by princeofnothingcharming (4k words) - It had been snowing all day in Oslo and as Christmas was drawing near they had been playing Christmas music in KB, putting Even in such a cosy and festive mood and he’d decided he didn’t want to lose this festive feeling and wanted to something fun and festive with Isak and knew exactly what he wanted to do.

A Grump for Christmas by Schedazzle (4k words) - Apparently he wasn't as great at hiding his emotions, because as he hastily wiped the table someone behind him said, “Why do you always frown when that one comes on?” Isak looked over his shoulder to where that deep voice had come from. Even. There was a fluttering in his stomach every time his coworker unexpectedly starting talking to him.He rolled his eyes. “It means the CD starts back up again.” Even who had been smiling at him grinned at that and chuckled. “You’re a Grinch.” Fake dating au.

Books by Aceteroid (4k words) - Even picks up a pre-ordered book for his mother and falls for the employee at the store.

Just Kids When We Fell In Love by wyoheartsmusic (5k words) - Isak and Even go to university 3000 km away from each other. Luckily, it's Christmas break and they had the brilliant idea to go on a cabin trip together.

Maybe what matters is being together by evakuality (5k words) - It's Isak's first ever anniversary and he can't imagine anything worse than being forced to spend it with his co-workers. Of course, when your anniversary happens to be around Christmas time, sometimes dates collide.

He Moves Me by warlocked_mundane (5k words) - A huge smile lights up Isak’s face and there is no trace of sleep to be found anymore. He bites his lower lip to contain the giggle that wants to escape. Even talking about their future like there is no way but for them to spend the rest of their lives together and build a family of their own, makes him giddy with so much joy. He’s never felt so happy in his life before.

All The Way Home I'll Be Warm by Alene (6k words) - Eva finds her way back to Jonas, but more importantly she finds her way back to herself. Isak just happens to find Even in the process. Also, it's almost Christmas, and they're snowed in.

(WIP) The Fools Who Dream by Janey_E (6k words) - A collection of moments from Isak and Even's family life, important and not-so-important. Kids, friends, mornings, evenings, weddings, birthdays, bad days, good days.

18 Secret Santa Horror Stories That'll Turn Anyone Into A Grinch by GayaIsANerd (6k words) - Some secret Santa, some unfortunate google results, a whole lot of complaining and a heart full of gratitude.

(Baby) It's Cold Outside by himmelsky (6k words) - December is approaching, but Isak isn’t feeling the Christmas spirit. Barista guy, aka Even, wants it differently.

Cuddle Monsters by sikily (8k words) - One spoke of true love and the other a critic, But Christmas would be the day to believe in magic, A wink of his eye and a tilt of his head, And Isak became a believer instead.

Make the Yuletide Gay by Sabeley (8.4k words) - Isak has been pining after Even for months. Jonas and Eva decide that a romantic getaway at the cabin is exactly what the two boys need to confess their feelings to each other.

helpful magic by everythingislove (straykid), puddingandpie (9k words) - Five times Even uses his magic because of Isak, and the one time he actually tells him about it. Or: the one where Even is a Santa’s Helper with special Christmas magic abilities, and Isak is a normal human who he's quickly falling for.

7 Places I Fell in Love With You by princeofnothingcharming, Victory4 (11k words) - Isak has a unique gift for Even this Christmas. In the form of letters

SKAM ADVENT CALENDAR by salengedusmiler (SilverySparks) (14k words) - Watch your favourite Skam characters open their advent calendars together with their friends. 24 days of more or less Christmassy friendship and couple fluff!

***** OVER 20K FICS *****

Just give me a reason, just a little bit’s enough by Amfelia (21k words) - Not sure if this is Christmas centric. Even discovers life is not always shiny and bright, sometimes it is just really hard. Angsty.

In A Week by allyasavedtheday (23k words) - Not a Christmas fic. But this sequel is a fav. “Fine. I’ll stay at Eskild’s on Friday night. And you can add your 1000kr to our wedding present,” he sniffs. “Or,” Jonas says and Isak doesn’t trust the glint in his eye. “We could make this a little more interesting. ”Isak narrows his eyes at him. “What are your terms?” “You and Even spend the five nights up to Saturday apart. If you do, we’ll pay for your honeymoon.”

Late December With My Heart In My Chest by LavenderWater (24k words) - In order to stop his mother's fussing since he left for college, Even tells her he's dating his roomate, Isak. They pretend to be a couple over the holiday weekend to convince his family.

The Secret Santa App by Crazyheart (25k words) - Secret Santa AU, Isak’s and Even’s altering POV. In this world, Isak and Even met at Nissen, but they were never brave enough to do anything. Isak (25) is a stressed-out salesman for playground equipment. Even (27) is a freshly educated, burned out and lonely children’s psychologist. They meet again when Sana, Eva and Vilde arrange a Secret Santa party. Without knowing it, Isak and Even end up as Secret Santas for each other and they chat with each other on the Secret Santa App.

My Very Personal Ski Trainer by Crazyheart (28k words) - This is before Christmas 2016. Even never transferred to Nissen, so he’s doing his last year at Bakka. He has just broken up with Sonja and is recovering from a manic and depressive episode. Sana has invited Even and her other friends to a Holiday cabin trip, and Even needs to get in shape so that he can beat his buddies in Sana’s planned ski race. He tries out a personal ski trainer app and meets the hot ski trainer Isak Valtersen. Even struggles to focus only on the training. On the cabin trip, when Even arrives early, a surprise guest turns up and a snowstorm threatens to snow them both in. Who knows what happens next?

Under the mistletoe by mazarin01 (30k words) - Isak (23) and Even (24) have been best friends since junior high. The holiday is upon them. Isak hates Christmas, having lots of bad memories attached to the holiday. Even on the other hand loves Christmas, but because of an appendix removal and a closed off mountain pass, he never gets home for Christmas. Being the best friend Isak is, he invites Even to celebrate Christmas with him. Circumstances have them kiss under a mistletoe and neither of them expected the kiss to feel that good...

(I’ll give it to) Someone Special by nofeartina (31k words) - The one where Isak is oblivious to Even’s true feelings about him, but fortunately it only takes the Christmas holidays to change that. Childhood friends. Fake dating.

A Thrill of Hope by mlbee (35k words) - “Yes,” Even breathed before pulling Isak in for another kiss. He pulled away and murmured, “This is so weird. I’m kissing a total stranger.” “Really?” Isak asked. “I do it all the time.” The Holiday AU

Five Dollars by folerdetdufoler (36k words) - You know that one book that changes your life? It just landed in Isak Valtersen's inbox.

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas by teatrolley (49k words) - So, here’s the thing: Isak moves out of his parent’s house when he’s sixteen and it’s fine, really, most of the time it’s fine. It’s just Decembers. Goddamn Decembers. They’re not exactly his favourite time of the year.This time, though: this time he think there’s someone who has it worse than he does.On the first of December that year, Even moves in.

Around the Corner (My Very Personal Christmas Shopper) by Crazyheart (51k words) - Isak (22) works in a record shop for Jonas. Isak’s best colleague and friend is Eva, who works in the shop, too. Isak is still in the closet. He says things as he thinks, though. Doesn't like snowglobes. Even (24) comes and asks for a job. The two get off on the wrong foot, although Isak finds Even irritatingly attractive. To complicate things, Isak has just gotten a personal Christmas gift shopper, who turns out to be a very romantic gift shopper, and who doesn't shy away from a little flirting. Holiday movie AU.

In this bed of snowflakes we lie by MermaidsandMermen (58k words) - Follow Isak and Even in this University Dorm life AU, full of snowflakes, fluffy pillows, and people who are nothing like they seem on the outside. Because people keep secrets. Pretend to be people they are not. And secrets will wear you down if you don't let them out to air once in a while.

that’s all i really know by cammm (95k words) - Not exclusively a christmas fic. Even and Isak have been dating for a while now. They met at a young age and sort of grew up together. Even lives and goes to school a few hours away from Nissen, so there’s a lot of commuting for Isak to see his boyfriend. But what happens when Even says he moving? And then he shows up at Nissen a few weeks later, to start school?Only thing... Isak isn’t out, yet. And Even wasn’t ever told that his boyfriend was still in the closet.

717 Miles by MermaidsandMermen (114k words) - The epilogue is the Christmas heavy chapter. Even Bech Naesheim should not be here. Well it was not his plan to be here. Not at all. Even Bech Naesheim, age 19, is supposed to be on a beach in Bali. He is supposed to be on the first stop on his Asian backpacking trip of a lifetime. THAT was the plan. That is where he is supposed to be. Not here. Alone in a house in fucking London. Being paid to look after some troubled 17-year-old. Isak Valtersen has 3 weeks left of school. He has to survive 3 more weeks. Make it through 21 more days of hell. Then he is going to hide out in his room for the rest of the summer until he can figure out how to get his life back on track. Find a school far far away where he can start over. Not make mistakes. He doesn't need a fucking babysitter. He just doesn't. His life is fucked up enough as it is.

(WIP) You Are Not Alone by TotallyTinkerbell (130k words) - What happened after Isak told us that 'life is now'.

Family Ties by sadgrlsclub (215k words) - Set between Season 3 and 4. Even gets invited to his first Valtersen family event, and discovers things about Isak's past and his relationship with his parents. The story of how Even and Isak get to know each other's families and deepen their bond along the way.

#evak fic rec #skam fic rec #christmas #2017 #there's a lot

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sfujioka1 · 3 years

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情報開発と利活用202001031

https://ameblo.jp/sfujioka1/ テーマ：ブログ

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”大阪市廃止賛成派の大阪市民は「エライ」のか？”

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NEW!2020-10-31 09:50:54

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先端技術情報202001031

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NEW!2020-10-31 09:43:58

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Bah, Humbug!? そんな馬鹿な、たわ言!?（１）

Bah, Humbug!?そんな馬鹿な、たわ言!? Dawn Stevens, Comtech ServicesComtech サービス社ドーン・スティーブンス著It’s the Christmas season and whether or not you celebrate the holiday, you’re almost certainly familiar with Charles Dickens’ Christmas classic, A Christmas Carol, the redemptive story of a crotchety old man, Scrooge, who is visited by the ghosts of Christmas past, present, and future and in the process learns to keep Christmas in his heart all year round. As a reminder, it goes something like this:それはクリスマス季節ですが、あなたが休暇を祝うかどうかかかわらず、あなたはほとんど確かにチャールズ・ディケンズのクリスマスの古典、クリスマス・キャロルになじみがあります。それは、過去・現在・未来のクリスマスの幽霊によって訪問されて、そしてその過程で１年を通して彼の心でクリスマスを祝うことを学ぶ気難しい年をとった男、スクルージのしょく罪の物語です。リマインダーとして、それは次のこのような話です：A Christmas Carol1クリスマス Carol1 (Adapted by Dawn Stevens, with apologies to Dickens)（ディケンズに申し訳ないが、ドーン・スティーブンスによる脚色）WordPerfect was dead to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that. Did Scrooge know it was dead? Of course, he did. How could it be otherwise? Scrooge used the program for I don’t know how many years and was its sole fan and sole mourner when his company replaced it with the Microsoft suite of tools in the mid-1990s. Scrooge never removed the program from his computer. There it sat on his desktop, years afterward, taunting him with its presence and calling him back to the good ol’ days of technical writing.ワードパーフェクトはまず第一に死んでいました。それについてなんであろうと疑いなくあります。スクルージはそれが死んでいることを知っていましたか？もちろん、彼は知っていました。さもなければ、それはどのようになり得たろうか？スクルージは何年かは私も知らないが、そのプログラムを使って、そして、1990年代半ばに彼の会社がそれをマイクロソフトスイートのツールで置き換えたとき、彼は、その唯一のファンであり唯一の葬送者でした。スクルージは決してそのプログラムを彼のコンピュータから取り除きませんでした。それは、何年後も、彼のデスクトップの上に居座り、その存在で彼をあざけりテクニカルライテイングの古き良き日々に彼を呼び戻すのです。

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NEW!2020-10-31 09:09:06

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delorasfryett75-blog · 6 years

Text

A Nerd's Guide To Mindfulness"

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Numerous have actually never ever seemed in a LEGO video game previously, including Super Heroes as well as Super Bad guys from the Marvel Cinematic World, in addition to classic Avengers characters included in Wonder witties.

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jamminvroomvroom · 1 month

Note

I absolutely adore your writing,

For the celebration, could you please do virgin reader first time with Oscar?

sunshine.

op x fem!reader - 4k celebration

in which oscar arrives home to an unexpected guest…

hi hi hi! thank you so much anon, i hope this is what you wanted!! trying to get through requests, loving hearing from you guys! this one is so cute i think, let me know ur thoughts 😚😚

songs to set the mood: fall in love with you by montell fish, fade into you by mazzy star, like real people do by hozier

warnings: 18+!! minors dni!!! smut, fluff, friends to lovers, sleepy baby oscar, teeny tiny bit of angst, mutual pining, r’s first time, swearing

2.9k words

oscar’s exhausted, shoulders sagging beneath the thick material of his mclaren hoodie. he’s glad he left it in his carry on, the miserable london weather not even remotely living up to the warm glow of the middle eastern sun.

he craves his bed, dreamless sleep, entering the code to get into his building and slumping against the cool mirrored wall of the elevator. his eyes droop as the lift travels up, and the ding that sounds when he reaches his floor breathes life back into him.

the double header that kickstarted the season has knackered him, and he longs for alone time and silence to recuperate before he has to deal with the noise of going home and racing in front of a familiar crowd.

his key slides into the lock and he pushes the door open, throwing his bags by the door - he’ll deal with them later. the hoodie is shrugged off and dropped haphazardly on the floor next to the shoes he kicks off. his bed is calling. dazed, he trudges down the hallway, but he’s spooked by a faint sound coming from his bedroom.

as he primes himself to investigate, he hears footsteps, light and quiet against the floorboards. he goes to open his bedroom door, breathing heavy, but he just about jumps out of his skin when it swings open before he gets there. he yelps, and so do you, leaping into the air.

“you scared the shit out of me.” you shout, hand over your thumping heart.

“i scared you? what are you doing here?” oscar bites back, running his hand through his brown locks.

“sorry, sorry, i didn’t mean to be here without your permission but… it’s a long story. i didn’t think you’d be home yet.” you smile apologetically.

“sofa.” oscar mumbles, stalking past his bedroom and towards the living room. “what’s goi- are you wearing my shirt?” he splutters, finally looking at you properly.

your face heats up, and you cross your arms awkwardly.

“um, yeah? god, this is all so embarrassing.” you cover your face, falling onto the sofa. he plonks down beside you.

“tell me what happened.” oscar sighs.

“he dumped me.”

“oh.”

“yeah.”

“why?” oscar asks softly. “ugh, i knew i hated him for a reason.” he wrinkles his nose.

“i don’t know how to explain this without wading into major tmi territory.” your voice is small, quivering slightly.

“you can tell me, love.” he encourages gently.

“he found it weird that i’m, uh, a virgin?” you squeak, your voice raising into a question. oscar goes as red as you are.

“oh. oh.”

“oh god, you’re freaked out too. is there something wrong with me? like, why has this not happened? i thought i was ready with him, but then when it came down to it…” you ramble, trailing off.

“there’s nothing wrong with you.” oscar states, firm and serious. “him, on the other hand.” he shakes his head, disgusted. “he wasn’t good enough for you.” he spits.

“do you mind if i stay here?” you whisper, leaning into his side. “or, keep staying here?” you laugh softly. oscar joins in.

“you know you can always stay here.” he smiles sleepily. you’re just about the only person in the world he can stand right now, and always, actually. “but i need a nap, you coming?”

you nod and follow him to his room. the tv is still on, the one with monica and chandlers wedding playing quietly. oscar smiles. he knows it’s your favourite.

he flops onto his side of the bed, dropping off almost instantly. you watch over him, enamoured and sympathetic, in awe of him and the life he lives. you slip into bed beside him, leaving a respectable distance between you and the aussie.

you pass out right around chandler’s vows.

you stir between two thick arms. pale, warm skin is wrapped around you, oscar’s soft breath fanning your face as he sleeps.

you watch him, scanning each and every mole on his face, trying to ground yourself. you combat the anxiety of being in his arms, choosing to enjoy the moment, while he’s still peaceful. it’s nice to feel wanted, even if he’s unconscious.

for the first time, you’re glad your ex broke up with you, because how does it make sense that you feel safer, more wanted in the arms of your best friend?

“stop staring, ‘m gonna blush.” oscar mumbles, clearing his throat. his eyes are still shut, but he just knows you too well.

oscar opens his eyes slowly, blinking away sleep. you stare at each other, comfortable silence eating away at the palpable tension.

you kiss him.

because why wouldn’t you? it’s oscar, your oscar, and he’s sleepy and cosy and gorgeous, and you’ve waited too fucking long. you can’t resist it any longer, free from the bounds of being someone else’s.

his lips are warm, and he’s startled, but the surprise doesn’t falter him; just as quickly as you kiss him, he’s kissing you back. his large hand finds your face, and the other finds your waist, pulling you closer. you melt into him, impossibly closer than you already were.

he’s gentle with you, tentative but firm and you part your lips, letting him lick into your mouth. his tongue strokes softly over yours and you keen at the sensation. he pushes you onto your back, balancing on his elbow half hovering over you. your hair fans out onto the pillow, his soft fingers running through your strands, pushing them away from your flushed face. oscar pulls away, scanning your face.

“sorry.” you smile up at him, breathless.

“apology very much accepted. i’ve been wondering when that would happen.” he laughs incredulously.

“really?”

“what can i say? i’m irresistible.” he replies dryly, exercising his sense of humour that was a foundation of your friendship.

“yeah. you kinda are.” you giggle bashfully.

and then he’s kissing you again, pressing himself even closer to you. you welcome him in, wrapping your arms around his lean frame, feeling over his shoulders. he’s tense, restrained, groaning into you at the feeling of your hands raking over his back.

“we should stop.” he mumbles, noses bumping. you frown.

“why?”

“because you said earlier, you’re not ready for this and i’m… well, things are gonna get real awkward if we keep going.” he chokes out half a laugh, glancing down at his-

“oh.”

“yeah, i just, i don’t want to make you uncomfortable. we can go slow.”

“osc, i wasn’t ready with him,” you pause, collecting your thoughts. “but you’re not him.”

“i suppose that’s true.” he shrugs.

“then you better do something.”

oscar lays you back, climbing over you completely this time. his trails over your jaw, taking your chin between his fingers.

“are you sure about this? we can stop anytime, just say the words.”

“‘m sure, oscar. i want to do this with you.” you coo, reassuringly.

his lips run over your neck, your collarbone, and he mouths at the collar of the t-shirt that you’re wearing. his t-shirt. his.

“gonna take this off, yeah?” he asks, whispering low, right by your ear.

“yeah, please.” you say, your own hands running under his t-shirt and up his muscular back. he’s relaxed now, no tension between his shoulder blades, and so you push the material up, and he slips it over his head. his warm digits peel your shirt off, too, and you’re warm all over when his eyes trail over your chest.

you’d forgone a bra, ditching it when you’d arrived at his place, and his pupils are blown wide, hazel hues sparkling with desire. his hands slide up your ribcage, thumbing at the underside of your breasts, while he plants open mouthed kisses down your chest. your eyes flutter shut, gasping softly as he skims your nipple.

“oscar.” you breathe, the light whimper sending his blood rushing south.

“does that feel good?” he asks, searching your face for answers.

“more.” you sound strained, desperate, and he aches.

his sucks your nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the swollen bud. he toys with the other one, massaging your breast with his skilful fingers, tweaking and pulling until you’re panting beneath him. he pulls away with a pop, licking over to the other side, deciding to test your limits when he nips delicately at the peak. you moan, bucking your hips, hypersensitive to his every move.

you can feel how hard he is, his grey joggers growing tighter with every passing second.

“want all of you, osc.” you plead.

“need to get you ready for me first, okay honey?” he rubs circles into your sides, warm and calloused. you relax fully, lifting your hips.

oscar mouthed over your belly, peppering sunshine-like kisses down your abdomen until he finds the band of your loose shorts. he mumbles something into you navel about taking them off and you nod, enthusiastic and frantic. you can feel his smile branding your sensitive skin. the material glides down your thighs, pooling at your ankles, and you kick them away. he parts your thighs, making himself comfortable on his belly, and thumbs at the crease of your leg, toying with your panties.

he drags his pointer finger over your covered slit, up and down slowly, applying more pressure every time he brushes over your clit. oscar can see where you’re starting to seep through your panties and he stifles a low groan, anxious to peel the cotton off of your body, the final barrier separating him from you, so he does, pulling them slowly down your legs. he studies your face as he does, keeping his eyes firmly on yours. your lip catches between your teeth, aching as you watch, helpless and wet.

oscar kisses your hip bone, sucking gently until he’s stained it purple, and then his warm breath is fanning your cunt. your eyes squeeze shut.

“look at me, baby. gotta keep your eyes on me.” oscar mutters. your pussy clenches around nothing at the tone of his voice. you pry your eyes open, just about managing to prop yourself up on your elbows. “that’s it, honey. has anyone ever done this to you before?”

you shake your head, no. he smiles to himself, like he knows something you don’t, and dives in.

his tongue works in slow strokes, dragging through your slick with intent, eyes locked with yours. you must look like a deer in headlights, pupils blown, shocked with pleasure when you collapse against the mattress. he wraps his lips around your clit, sucking, tasting, and your legs go weak, splayed open all for him. you whimper as he tugs your clit between his teeth, just enough to graze over the sensitive nerves. it sends your hips flying, bucking wildly against his face.

“osc…” you breathe, squeezing your eyes shut.

“‘m gonna give you some more, is that okay?” he asks, nose bumping your clit.

“yes, please.” you don’t know what more is, but you need it like air.

you feel a finger glide over your sodden flesh, rubbing over your entrance. you sigh out, oh, anticipation and bliss sending white heat down your spine. he circles his finger around your opening, coating it in you, and carefully slides it in, feeling out for any sign of tension or discomfort. when you grind your hips onto the single digit, he knows you’re okay.

it feels good, better than anything you’d ever felt on your own, and you writhe against his bedspread. he thrusts a couple of times, experimenting, seeing what makes you squirm for him the right way, and when his finger curls, hooking deliciously, he knows he’s struck gold. you arch off the bed, searching for more, more, anything.

“another one.” you cry, begging, and oscar’s not one to tease. not yet, anyway.

a second finger joins the lonesome first, and he finds some pace, fucking into you faster. he scissors the digits, stretching you out for him, enjoying the pretty view. he’s achingly hard now, rocking discreetly into the mattress, losing his mind as he watches how you drip around his fingers. he wants another taste of you, addicted already to sweet, salty honey, so he has to finish you off, lap your mess off of his long fingers.

“i think- i think-“ you can’t get the words out, they’re lost on your tongue, but oscar knows what you mean.

“that’s it, baby. so good for me, doing so good. cum for me.” he spurs you on, drawing it out of you.

you let go, crashing biblically, the high sending you to heaven and back, two times over. he grinds his fingers, softer, just enough to help you through it and you chant his name like you’re praying at an alter. you know that you’ll never be over this. your oscar.

“holy shit.” you giggle, smiling lazily as you return to the world of the living. he’s licking his fingers clean; you could black out so easily.

“did you enjoy that?” he punctuates with a kiss to your belly, crawling up your body until he’s hovering over you.

“maybe you should do it again, just so that i can really make sure that i did.” you tease. your hand rakes through his hair, pushing it back off of his face. he’s grinning down at you, eyes fluttering shut. “that was amazing.” you whisper. he’s blushing when he kisses you, and then you are too, when you taste yourself on his tongue.

he moans against your lips, making you pull back. your hand leaves his brown strands, joining your other, which is currently voyaging down his back.

“you’re wearing too many clothes.” you whisper, lips bumping his as your hands slide under the waistband of his sweats. something desperate emits from the back of his throat. you push them over his hips, fisting the thick fabric, eager to have him bare on top of you once and for all. oscar helps, kicking them away, boxers too.

you can feel him, thick and wet between your thighs, his breathing uneven. your nails graze his hip and he jolts, collapsing on top of you, his full weight covering your keening body. he kisses into the crook of your neck, frantic; you need him deep, immediately, his urgent change in form leaving you flushed.

“you want me?” he whispers into your ear, leaving you shivering.

“so bad.” you pant.

“i’ll be gentle.” he promises.

he guides himself through your folds, slippery and warm, all for him. he nudges the head inside of you, hips stuttering at the blinding tightness. you gasp, but he catches it in his mouth, softly moulding his lips to yours as he pushes further. you open up for him, pliant, and when he eventually bottoms out, he holds himself there, letting you adjust.

“oh, fuck.” your eyes roll back, nails leaving crescent marks in his shoulders.

“so good for me, so pretty.” oscar grunts. “say when, baby.” he breathes, rubbing soothing circles into your hip.

“move.”

oscar rolls his hips, rocking you into the mattress. he hooks your knee over his waist, driving himself deeper and deeper with every thrust. you’re boneless, lost to the delectable stretch, to the way his cock seems to touch every part of you that makes you quiver.

“tell me how it feels.” oscar murmurs, grip tightening on your thigh.

“fuck, oscar, it’s so good. ‘m so glad it’s you.” your voice shakes, raw with emotion.

“me fucking too.” he mumbles, increasing his pace ever so slightly.

his thrusts lull into more of a grind, reaching your depths and revelling in the way you only get tighter for him. you’re spilling around him, already so close to meeting your end, and all it takes is the calloused pad of his thumb brushing your bundle of nerves to have you convulsing. you’re somewhere else entirely, on a whole other spiritual plane, utterly and completely his as he fucks you through your second orgasm.

when he spills, white hot and sweat slicked, he gushes endless hushed whines of your name. it sounds perfect when he says it like this, rolling off of his tongue with dire urgency.

his dampened hair falls over his darkened eyes, full of stars and total adoration. you’re smiling sleepily up at him like he’s made of sunshine. you always thought he was, and now you know that he most definitely is.

the most beautiful sunshine man.

“hi.” he whispers.

“hi.” you whisper back.

an intimacy, different to the one you’ve just shared, blossoms between you, encapsulating you here with him endlessly.

“i’m gonna clean you up, ‘n then we’re gonna order food.” he gazes fondly, stroking your hair.

“perfect.” you agree.

“put friends back on, i’m gonna run you a bath.” he begrudgingly stands from the bed, trailing towards the en-suite.

“you’re gonna join me in there, right?” you admire his naked frame as he disappears into the bathroom.

“obviously.” he pokes his head out once more to scoff, and you lay there, grinning like the worlds most lovesick idiot, your thoughts dulled by the sound of running water.

when the bath is full of hot water and too many bubbles, he gets in first, and you sink into the revitalising heat. oscar pulls you close, your back to his chest, kissing over your hairline as you mould yourself against him.

“thank god you broke in.”

oh i’m soft

taglist

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lemme know if you wanna be added or removed <3

2K notes · View notes

jamminvroomvroom · 2 months

Text

ruined.

LN x fem!reader - 4k celebration

based on this request!

in which, why wouldn’t they fall in love?

back with another celebration request! thank u anon, love this one sm! so tempted to make something longer form outta this one omg... lemme know what you think of this, hugs hugs hugs

i had to reupload this! sorry if you already interacted :(

songs to set the mood: let’s fall in love for the night by finneas, you are in love by taylor swift, sofia by clairo, till forever falls apart by ashe and finneas

warnings: 18+!! minors go away dni!! smut, fluff, swearing, alcohol consumption, voyeurism? kinda? friends to lovers, mutual pining

3.4k words

“i bring gifts!” you call out, throwing the keys on the side. you shuffle your feet against the doormat, awkwardly balancing the bottle of wine you hold in one hand and the box of pizza in the other. it doesn’t help that you feel like the michelin man, bundled up in a jacket and a scarf. you kick off your boots, leaving them haphazardly in the hallway.

“in the kitchen.” lando shouts back, and you trudge towards the sound of his voice, sliding around in your fluffy socks.

“i hate all of those stupid little cars that everyone in monaco seems to drive.” you tut, sliding the pizza box across the counter, the bottle of wine clinking against the granite.

“even my jolly?” lando pouts. he’s waiting with two wine glasses, even though you’ll drink most of the merlot while he scrunches his nose up in distaste, but this is routine, standard procedure.

“i do miss the jolly, to be fair.” you give him that much, grinning playfully.

five minutes later, your coat and scarf are long forgotten, slung over one of the high chairs that line his breakfast bar. you’re in the living room, sprawled on one end of the couch, him on the other. your feet rest in his lap and the pizza box rests across your knees. some series you’ve been trying to watch for weeks is playing on netflix, but you aren’t really paying much attention.

“so, you’re telling me,” you pause to take another bite of pizza, swallowing between giggles, “you’re telling me that you heard oscar through the wall?” you choke.

“yeah, i’m telling you! little oscar is definitely not… little, from what i heard.” he cackles. “and then afterwards, bless them, they were all dishevelled and he would not make eye contact with me.” lando explains, both of you a mess of giggles.

“oscar piastri, what a minx.” you shake your head in disbelief.

“as if that’s what i needed, by the way! the dry spell was not helped by whatever him and lily were getting at.”

“dry spell? you? don’t lie to me, norris.” you kick him gently.

“what? i’m serious! start of the season has been so busy, haven’t had time to… get busy.” he wiggles his eyebrows and you roll your eyes.

“welcome to my world, you prick.” you tease, kicking him again. you catch his ribs as you do, knowing full well you’ve hit the prime tickle spot.

“what’s your excuse?”

“excuse you, i’m a busy gal! we can’t all be famous jet-setting f1 drivers.” you feign offence, and he grins toothily.

“i meant,” he starts, speaking slowly as if you’re stupid, and for a third time, you kick him, a tad harder than the last two times. “you’re a catch, how are you not getting laid?”

you pray he can’t see the way you’ve gone pink.

truthfully, he’s the damn reason. how can any man live up to the one and only lando norris? how can anyone compare to your best friend? world famous, beautiful, down right hilarious, beautiful!

lando’s the guy that picks up the pieces every time some loser breaks your heart. he’s the guy who’s key you keep on your overflowing keychain, the guy who buys duplicates of the skincare products you use, so you can keep them at his place - you still laugh every time you remember the first time he tried to pronounce salicylic acid. he’s basically your guy, but after 10 years of friendship, you’re not willing to tell him that.

“just… not.” you shrug, tucking your hair behind your ear. he hums in response, sounds like he doesn’t believe you, but he drops it.

you sink three glasses of red, the pizza box is on the floor, and your eyes are drooping, heavy.

“bedtime for you, methinks.” lando whispers, gently shifting your feet from his lap. you frown, missing his touch already. you make grabby hands at him, too comfy to move on your own. “want me to carry you?” you nod lazily, a smile stretching across your face.

he slides one hand under your legs, the other under your back, and hoists you up. he holds you close to his chest, your head resting against his heart, so close that you can hear the soft thrum that keeps him warm.

“thank you.” you murmur as he places you softly on your- his guest bed.

“anytime, honey.” he smiles down at you. he thinks you’re so pretty like this, so sleepy and cosy. he fights the demons that tell him to crawl into the empty space beside you. “there’s some water here, sleep well, love.” he walks away, reaching the door when:

“love you.” you coo. he shivers. you always say it, and he always says it back, but lately, it pains him.

“yeah. love you too.”

lando pulls the door to quietly, leaning against the wood for a moment trying to compose himself.

it’s been an hour, and you’re sobered up, wide awake in the dark.

you try to fall asleep, really, you do, but your mind is moving a thousands miles an hour, and all you can think about is his dry spell. your dry spell.

how can you sleep when you know he’s on the other side of the wall, as needy as you are for a warm body. you also know that you’ve soaked through your underwear. you’re wildly uncomfortable, restless, desperate for a sweet release, whether that be of sleep, or something else.

you can’t ask him, it would be a step too far, despite how torturously close you already are. so instead, you drive yourself insane with the thought of him; the image of him, head thrown back, slick and sweaty, cock hard in his hand.

what’s the harm in helping yourself out?

you’re throbbing, hot all over. you lose the war with yourself and your hand trails shamelessly down your body. you’re so sensitive that you’re instantly stifling moans, hand slapped over your mouth. you can’t get the earlier image out of your head, and you pray he’s on the other side of the wall thinking about you. you’re desperate, bucking your hips into your hand, aching for a release. you wish your hands were lando’s, big and rough, toying with every quivering part of you.

you have an idea, a twisted one, the kind that almost sends you over the edge. what would happen if you let yourself be as loud as you wanted, if you tore your hand away and cried out like you wanted to? every shred of rationality leaves your needy body.

you’re whining, clear as day. your resist calling out his name as your high builds, tweaking your clit between your fingers. you’re so dangerously close, hovering right on the edge. that’s when you hear it.

on the other side of the wall, your vision of lando has become a reality. your faint whines through the wall have him rock hard, fucking his own hand. he wishes it could be yours, and with the way you’re crying out, he doesn’t think you’d oblige to sitting on his lap, wet and pretty, and letting him sink his cock nice and deep.

but he can’t cross that line. not with you. it doesn’t matter how badly he wants you, how he’d go to the ends of the earth for you. one night wasn’t worth ten years of friendship, washed down the drain.

his hand speeds up, his head thrown back, at the same time as you slip two fingers inside of yourself. you fingers curl, hitting deep when you hear a throaty groan sounding from the other side of the wall.

you’d think a millionaire would have thicker walls.

he hears the exact moment you cum, a noticeable change in your sounds. they’ve gone up an octave, breathless, and before he can even register, he’s spurting thick white ribbons that land hotly on his skin.

you clean yourselves up, rooms apart but the same exact things running through your minds.

i just got off to the sound of my best friend.

you nibble the crusts of your toast. the kitchen is quiet, painfully so, and the air is still.

lando has his back to you, making you another cup of coffee. he’s forgone a shirt and you try your absolute best to ignore the warm glow of his skin. he looks radiant. you know why; orgasms can do that.

“lando-“

“we don’t need to talk about it, honey.”

“um, i was just gonna tell you that you’re burning your toast.” you snicker.

“oh, fuck.” he slides along the floor to the toaster, burning his fingers on blackened bread.

when he turns to you, he’s tinged red, grinning bashfully.

“moving on.”

“i need to get home but dinner later? i won’t stay the night.” you wink. you crave the normalcy that once was, the light, teasing nature of your friendship.

“i’ll cook.” he’s still blushing.

“ooh, on second thought.” you suck air through your teeth, pulling a face.

“get outta here.” he sticks his tongue out at you.

dinner was… well, it was edible.

he made spaghetti and some kind of sauce, one that you couldn’t quite work out the contents of but it was good enough.

“thanks, lan.” you smile softly, helping him clear the few plates off the table.

“anytime, honey.” he replies.

you’re standing at the sink, placing the cutlery down when you feel him behind you. you spin around, instantly regretting it, because you’re caged in. he’s leaning up to reach into a cupboard, frozen. so, so close. his panicked breath fans your face and you can feel the heat of his body.

you lean in, because why wouldn’t you? and so does he, so, so close. your hand that rests on the edge of the sinks moves so that you can reach out and cup his disgustingly perfect face but then-

a knife that had been hovering between the counter and plunging into the soapy hot water gets nudged over the edge by your clumsy hand and clatters against into the bowl.

the irritating noise springs you both back to reality and he jumps away like an orange cat. you grimace at the awkward tension, and he scratches the back of his neck. and then you’re laughing, hard, and of course he joins in because this situation is utterly ridiculous and your laugh is so beautifully contagious.

“oh my god, what is wrong with us?” you wheeze through the laughter, leaning back against the counter.

“last night was… insane. and now everything feels weird so, let’s just go back to basics.” lando smiles gracefully. you nod.

“that sounds absolutely perfect.”

“netflix?”

“and chill?” you chime in sarcastically. he glares at you. “couldn’t help it.” you hold your hands up in faux surrender.

you don’t know when you fall asleep, but you conk out, head lulling against his shoulder when you do.

he haunts your dreams, fingers thick between your thighs while you whimper his name. you must be out of it, so deep in your slumber that it takes lando a good few coos of your name to draw you out of it.

when your eyes shoot open, he’s looking down at you, a single curl falling over his forehead, taunting you.

“you dreaming of me?” he grins, something in his eyes that snaps you out of your grogginess.

“wh-why?” you splutter, sitting up. he’s still so close to you, coy smile pulling at the corners of his pink lips,

“kept making these little sounds, panting my name. got me thinking.”

“about what?” you whisper.

“how much i wanted to pin you to that bed last night and make you cry for me.”

“is this gonna ruin us?” your voice trembles with a unique blend of fear and anticipation.

“after last night? baby, we’re already ruined.”

his lips meet yours, tentative for just a brief second, and then it’s passionate, warm, lightning. his hands are firm on your body, pulling you impossibly closer until there’s no other option but to clamber into his lap. your hands find his hair, tugging wildly until his curls are a disheveled mess, pulled every which way.

“you’re so beautiful. want to tell you all the time but-“ lando mumbles into your mouth, urgent and hushed.

“but friends don’t do that.” you cut him off.

he pulls away from you, his nose bumping yours. his eyes are so blue today, sparkly.

“i think we’re more than that.” he mutters, lips brushing yours. “i think we have been for a while.”

“yeah.” you pant. “yeah we have. yeah.” your eyes dart between his and his kiss swollen lips.

and then you’re licking into his mouth, sighing at the relief. he paws at your waist, warm hands sliding under your jumper, gliding over your hips and up, up, up, until he’s dragging the material over you head and tossing it carelessly to the side. he kisses over your collarbone, licking and nipping while his hands smooth over your bra. he plucks at the fasten, and you relax as it snaps open, and the straps slide over your shoulders.

“is this okay, angel?” he whispers.

“perfect.”

his thumbs trace over the curve of your breasts, teasing your nipples gently, enough to send shockwaves through your body. you’re subconsciously grinding down on him, dragging your hips over his crotch, mouth dropping open when you hear the way his breath catches in his throat.

“driving me insane, honey.” he gulps, rolling your nipples between his fingers. “need to get inside of you.”

“hurry up then.” you sound desperate to your ears, delicious to his.

“do you know how hard it was to stay in my room last night? when i could hear you making those pretty little noises? you’re so bad.” he tuts, lifting you off of his lap and laying you back against the couch.

nimble fingers undo your jeans and you jolt as he slides them down your thighs, intimate touches on intimate skin. you lace your fingers through his hair, pulling him down to kiss you, and you moan into his open mouth when his fingers trail beneath your underwear.

lando dips his fingers between your folds, groaning as soon as he feels where your wetness has pooled in your panties. you’re intoxicating, he thinks, and he’s starving for you. he pries his hand from between your legs, lapping at his soaked digits. his eyes fall shut, eyelashes fluttering over his cheeks.

your taste sparks something within him, and he wriggles onto his belly, resting in between your thighs. he toys with your panties, just for a second, and he can’t help but latch on. he laves his tongue over the growing wet patch, eyes fluttering shut. he drags your underwear to the side, lapping over your cunt messily.

“taste so good.” he slurs into your pussy, depraved and ravenous. you buck your hips, the sensation of his words sending rumbles of vibrations to every one of your nerve endings.

you writhe against the plush couch, sinking deeper between the cushions as he fucks his tongue deeper and deeper, burrowing his face as far between your thighs as he can go.

“lando, ‘m so close.” you gasp, tugging hard at his curls, taking your nails across his scalp. he whimpers, whimpers, at the sensation and that’s enough to finish you off.

he keeps going, kitten licking you through your orgasm and you pant, nothing but white behind your squeezed shut eyes. you have you drag him away, overstimulated and twitching against the silvery grey fabric of the sofa.

“fuck.” you laugh, breathless.

“good?” he smirks.

“shut up and come here.” you make grabby hands at him, and he clambers over you, smiling wide, his lips coated shiny and red.

“you’re pretty.” he coos, licking his lips clean.

“so are you.” you whisper.

he collapses on top of you, urgently slotting his lips over yours. he slides his hands all over your frame, memorising every dip and curve, while your hands find the waistband of his joggers. you push the material down his hips gently tracing his hip bone; he shudders at the graze, kicking the fabric away and wrapping his hand around his cock.

you glance down, taking in the sight before you. he’s thick in his own hand, red and slick already, as he runs his hand over himself.

“you want me?” he manages to ask through gritted teeth.

“please.” you whine, reaching to replace his hand, but he bats you away.

“patience, baby. wanted you like this for so long, you can wait a few seconds.” he scolds, condescendingly.

you don’t get a chance to talk back, because he’s sliding inside of you, nice and slow. your eyes roll back at the delectable stretch, he’s bigger than you’ve had in a while, and you hum lowly. he kisses over your throat and you can hear his shaky breath fanning your ear. you’re fluttering around him, adjusting to him with small circles of your hips.

“do something.” you beg, hushed and breathless.

“you think you can take it?” lando taunts, but you can hear the way his voice waivers as your walls spasm around him.

“can you?” you whisper, giving as good as you get. something inside of him snaps and pride kicks in, because before you can even truly gloat, he’s barrelling into you.

you cling onto his shoulders greedily, digging your fingertips in to whatever part of him you can get hold of. he thrusts so deep, all the way in, before dragging fully out, leaving you aching for him to fill you up again. he’s going quick enough that you can’t really complain, but slow enough to tease, to drive you insane beneath him. it feels too good to hurry him up, he knows what he’s doing and you want to take it, feel him like this. you’re quivering, his cock hitting every single spot that makes you tick and you think you can die happy now that you’ve had him.

“i’m so close.” you warn, overstimulated from your first orgasm. he ups his pace, just enough to send you spiralling, and you can’t keep your eyes open as you let go, your legs kicking out.

it’s too much when you open your eyes and find him staring down at you, sleepy and sweaty. he’s gorgeous like this, pupils blown, bronze skin glistening in the low light. he feels the way you throb around him, still buried so deep.

“not done with you yet, angel. c’mere.” lando sits back, pulling your limp body along with him until your right back where you started, sprawled over his lap.

he’s so close to his own release, pained and restless, and you can feel the head rubbing against your clit. even in your state of pure exhaustion, you can’t help but grind down against him, and he lifts your hips enough for you to sink down on him.

your sounds of pleasure ricochet off of one another’s, animalistic contentment spilling from between two sets of equally swollen lips. you’re so full like this, rocking tiredly, backwards and forwards.

“just like that, baby. just like that.” he’s breathing heavily, brows furrowed. his head tips back, neck thick and flexed, and you’re thrown back into the deep end of your fantasy.

“oh my god.” you choke, tears of satisfaction building. “lando!” you cry, meeting his shallow thrusts. he’s guiding your hips up and down, just enough to hammer against that special spot that makes you whine his name.

“cum for me, baby, last one. know you can do it pretty girl.” the praise knocks the last bits of air out of you and you collapse forwards into his arms. he holds you tight, groaning sweet nothings and your name like a prayer, right in your ear.

“you’re definitely staying tonight.” lando laughs softly, coming down. you think back to your earlier refusal, grinning lazily.

“guest room?” you joke, kissing his shoulder.

he pulls you back so that he can look at you, cupping your face.

“you’re never staying in that room ever again.”

he kisses you, then. soft. warm. home.

it’s natural, everything you’ve been missing, and somehow the only thing you’ve been missing in your relationship with him. he already gave you everything you could ever need, tonight was the cherry on top.

“are we gonna be okay?” you whisper, so quiet that you can barely hear yourself. fear pools in your belly.

“i hope so. ‘cause i’m never letting you go now.”

i feel so warm inside hehe

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jamminvroomvroom · 1 month

Note

4k celebration

congrats on 4k love - your writing is absolutely worth all of the hype and even more!!! i adore your work and so look forward to even more people discovering it.

i was hoping to request a lewis fic?? i’m such a slut for a good enemies to lovers situation, so maybe along the lines of reader is a fair bit younger than lewis, but there’s been all of this tension btwn them and it all boils over one night (smuttyyyyy) 🥴

we made up.

LH x fem!rival reader - 4k celebration

in which you can never just bite your tongue

eeeeek i love this request! thank u sm anon for ur sweet words, ur so lovely i hope i’ve done this justice for you! writing for lewis terrified me so this might not be my best work but we move! more lewis requests to come, let me know what you think <3

songs to set the mood: stargirl interlude by the weekend & lana del rey

warnings: 18+!! minors go away!! smut, swearing, degradation, praise, dom!lewis, some switch!reader, implied age gap, slightly inexperienced reader, enemies to lovers, blink n you’ll miss it size kink

2.6k words

you hide admiration with a scowl, curling into yourself, as far away as you can get from him. the couch seems to get smaller and smaller with every overly intelligent, carefully thought out word he says. each sentence seems to be coated in a thick layer of i don’t give a fuck. you don’t know how he’s so good a toeing the line.

after six years in f1, you still couldn’t work out why you didn’t like lewis hamilton.

maybe it was his cool confidence, the way he never lacked composure, while you were called an unhinged, delusional woman by every incel on twitter for so much as breathing. maybe it was his sky high stack of trophies, championships, podiums, wins. you weren’t even halfway close to touching his records. maybe it was the way he was diabolically, inhumanly gorgeous, a truly breathtaking creature. you paled in every single way compared to lewis, so how could you even begin to like him?

it was silly, really, pathetic even, feeling such childish disdain just because he was better than you. he was older, more refined, iconic in every single way that you weren’t. perhaps you’d get there one day, but you simply weren’t there yet.

you’re sat beside him in the press conference, sharing the couch with him, alex, lando, charles and max. it wasn’t the worst combination in the world, but anytime you had to sit in front of a gaggle of hawk-eyed journos and a million cameras with lewis, something unfortunate usually happened. never by design, but you just weren’t very good at saving face in front of the mercedes driver.

“do you think the podium is a possibility this weekend?” someone from autosport whose name you can’t remember asks.

“i’m hoping so, just need to keep the mercs behind us again, but i don’t think that will be that hard.” you respond, without even a sliver of a filter. the material of the sofa shifts as lewis tenses up beside you, inhaling sharply at your blatant disrespect. somewhere beside you, lando sniggers, and max is rolling his eyes.

it was no secret that you didn’t have the softest spot in the world for sir lewis.

“that’s assuming your car makes it to the end of the race.” lewis clears his throat, speaking with confident conviction. you turn you head to glare at him, painfully unable to take what you give. alex slaps his hand over his mouth.

“at least my car isn’t so bad that i’d rather go and learn the alphabet down at ferrari.” you scoff. you avoid the eyes of your comms officer, because if looks could kill, you’d be six feet under already.

“i think we’ll leave it there.” tom clarkson suggests, and you stand from the panel and storm away on trembling legs with a terrible ache throbbing between them.

there’s something about the pettiness, the reasonless back and fourth you two always seem to partake in that leaves you in need of a cold shower.

turns out, you have to apologise.

you spend the better part of an hour being bollocked by your press team, who, for some reason, don’t find it particularly amusing that you’d somehow managed to insult the lewis hamilton, ferrari, and mercedes in the span of two sentences.

so, there you were, begrudgingly trailing towards lewis’s hotel room. it’s on the top floor, because of course it is, it’s him. he oozes expensive exclusively, naturally above the rest. you twist your rings nervously, increasingly terrified of being in a confined space alone with the gorgeous brit. your knuckles rap gently against the wood of his door, intentionally weakly. you pray he won’t hear you and that you can just disappear back into the elevator and into your room, to pathetically let you hands wander between your clenched thighs.

but god laughs, and the door swings open. lewis seems startled by your presence, just for a moment though, leaning cooly against the doorframe. his lips pull into a faint smile. two things alarm you. first of all, he’s shirtless, bare from the waist up, a plethora of delicious tattoos on display for you to feast your eyes on. secondly, and somehow even worse, he’s panting, clearly just back from a work out in the gym. he glistens with sweat, and your mind goes blank, apologetic words die on your tongue.

“something to say, angel, or are you just here to stare?” lewis teases, the words rolling off his tongue smoothly. you pray for the ground to gape open, swallow you hole, suck you into hot lava.

“well, i was gonna apologise but i don’t think you deserve it.” you sneer, crossing your arms over your chest accusingly.

“didn’t think you knew how to apologise.” lewis grins sarcastically, mocking you.

“has anyone told you how arrogant you are?” you bite back, eyes narrowing.

“why don’t you come in here and i’ll show you just how arrogant i can be?” his voice has dropped a few octaves, seductive and low.

the proposition, the suggestion behind his words makes you fold immediately. you’d wondered for far too long about what he was like behind closed doors and under thick bedsheets, and if you had the chance at finding out, you’d be imbecilic not to take it.

you shove his muscled chest, pushing him back into his room. his hands find your waist, pulling harshly at the material of your loose t-shirt. he’s watching you intently, mesmerised by the angry flush on your cheeks tinging you pink. your eyes convey hunger, matching his, and you’re forcing him down to sit at the foot of his bed.

“why are you such an asshole?” you hiss, slotting your knees on either side of his so that you’re straddling him.

“probably the same reason you’re such a little bitch.” lewis growls, tugging you forward harshly on his lap. you feel his work out shorts ride up on his thighs, the material sensitive on your skin.

your pupils blow wide at his words, and you’re kissing him hard, teeth and tongues clashing messily. his lips are so soft, pillowy as they brush aggressively with your own and you lick wetly into his awaiting mouth. he’s addictive, minty, and you fall against his bare chest as he leans back into the mattress.

“i think you need to be taught some manners.” lewis grunts, flipping your bodies over like you’re nothing, and slotting against your body like a missing piece.

“i think the same could be said about you.” you breathe, sliding your hand under the waistband of his shorts. he chuckles quietly, the rumble reverberating through your own chest, cracking you open.

“try your best.” he whispers. your eyes roll back.

truth is, you’re not the most experienced person in the world. yes, you’re in your mid twenties, but a long term relationship with the worlds biggest loser and dedicating your life to a career in a boys club meant that you didn’t have the time to develop broadest set of skills. you didn’t have the luxury of letting loose in a nightclub with a stranger because if that information got into the wrong hands, you’d be slut-shamed off the face of the earth. so now, you found yourself a little bit lost under a literal sex god.

as if he can hear your thoughts, lewis pulls back.

“what’s the matter? do you want me to stop?” he’s softer than he ever has been with you, melting away in your hands, but you draw him back in, tightening your grip on the band of his shorts.

“no, no, i just…” the words die on your tongue. something in your eyes gives him all the information that he needs.

“do what feels right, good.” his nose brushes your jaw, kissing over it and you settle back into the moment.

“teach me a lesson.” you whisper, empowered in his hands, and he springs back into action, his demeanour slipping right back into what it had been.

“is that why you’re so bad in interviews? just want me to fuck some respect into you?” his lips tug amusedly when you nod rapidly up at him.

an experimental roll of his hips makes you keen, hand slipping into his braids and pulling hard. his eyes fall shut, lips parting to let out a soft groan, his eyebrows pinching from the rough pleasure. your fingers graze over the skin of his toned belly, finding sensitive skin that makes him shiver.

“you distracted, lew?” you taunt, with the only intention of riling him up.

his eyes snap open, hard and lacking any sort of warmth, and he tears your hands from where they rest on his firm body, swiftly pinning them above your head with one hand. he plants himself on one knee, balancing himself so that he can fiddle with the button of your shorts. he makes quick work of removing them, forcing the zipper down and skilfully manoeuvring them with just the one hand.

once they’re gone, along with the lace of your underwear, he forces your thighs apart, and slides his fingers along the seam of your cunt, slicking them up. you’re soaked and he momentarily falters, but he doesn’t let himself get too visibly affected.

“fuck, you’re so wet. been thinking about me, angel?” he teases mercilessly, as he rocks the first thick digit into you, twisting and curling until he finds the spot that makes you buck your hips.

“nothing to say now, hm?” lewis tuts, wetting his lips. the feeling of you squeezing so tight around just one of his fingers makes him choke out a moan. you can feel his hot breath fanning over your face, your eyes squeezing shut at the feeling of him filling you up.

“more.” you breathe, stuttering over just one word. he revels in how he’s managed to reduce you to this so quickly.

“you sure you can take it, angel? so fucking tight.”

“make me.” you plead, parting your strained thighs even wider for him.

he lets go of your hands, snaking down your body to get himself closer to where you’re dripping already.

“keep them there.” lewis orders, and you grip tightly onto the pillows to exercise restraint.

lewis presses his forearm over the plush of your belly, holding you down as he adds a second finger, watching in awe as it slips so effortlessly into your pussy. you’re mewling, fighting to buck your hips but the firm press of his muscled arm keeps you in place.

“so pretty for me, angel, soaking my fingers.” he notes, entranced at how responsive you are for him.

“want you inside of me, lew.” you whine, knuckles paper white where you’re fighting off the urge to reach down and touch him.

“wait.” he snarls, ramming his fingers even harder, grinding against the soft spot buried deep. “you’re gonna cum like this first.”

with that, he removes the barricade of his arm, bringing his spare hand to your clit, the pad of his thumb drawing calloused circles into the bud. you lose it, grinding down on his fingers like a woman possessed.

“that’s it, sweetie, fuck yourself for me.” lewis encourages, voice gravelly and low.

sparks shoot down your spine, nothing but white behind your eyelids as he lights you on fire. you can’t warn him, the words lost to the tense air of the room as you barrel towards your first release. he eases you through it, not letting up even a little bit, but it pays off when you can’t help but writhe against the cream of the bedspread.

“god.” you croak, flopping limp as he pulls out, crawling over you.

“learned your lesson?”

“not quite.” you flash an exhausted grin, abandoning your grasp on the pillows to slide them down his thick frame.

you trace the lion adorning his shoulder, the compass, each piece driving you further into utter delirium. your hands graze his waist, snaking around his abdomen until you reach the cross, tracing it until you reach words that keep him going.

still i rise the cursive reads, and he shivers as you rake your nails over it.

“fuck me.” you purr. your hands slide under his shorts once more, gripping at the curve of his ass. you push the material down over his thighs, and he happily kicks them away, his inked hands roughly spreading you even wider.

“desperate little thing, bet you go home after every race and fuck yourself silly wishing it was me, hm?” he adjusts himself between your legs, his thick cock nudging against you entrance, drenching himself in the mess he’d made.

you gasp out a moan as he slides deep, taking his sweet time. you can’t even comprehend his words, totally consumed by the brutally enticing stretch of him, your thighs shaking at the delectable intrusion. he hisses at the sensation of your tight warmth, his head falling to rest in the crook of your neck. lewis licks over the sensitive skin, trailing open mouthed kisses down to your collarbone. you feel the sharp graze of his teeth, gentle nips making you shudder on his cock.

“don’t leave a mark.” you choke, and lewis seems to get it, so he skims his teeth lower, sucking purple just over your heart.

you clamp down around him, allured by the tweak of pain, and it seems to spark something in him, his hips rolling into yours experimentally.

“you feel so fucking good.” lewis pants, his breath warm and wet on your neck.

“need you to move.” you plead, turning your head to capture his lips in an urgent kiss.

he pulls out, slamming back into you roughly, your tummy twisting with anticipation. lewis finds a rhythm that suits you both, hips hitting yours with every thrust, each one leaving you full and spent.

“gonna make sure you feel me for days.” he promises, yanking your legs over his hips. as he does, he hits deeper and you yelp, stars in your eyes. “when you sit in the car tomorrow, you’re gonna feel me and remember how to be a good fucking girl, not an attention seeking brat.”

you ramble his name, eyes flooding with tears of overstimulation, dumbfounded at how he seems to hit a new spot with every slide of his cock. he’s digging his fingers into the meat of your thighs, pulling your hips impossibly closer to his as he drives into you, as if he wants to become a part of you, moulded for an eternity. with the way your stomach knots, butterflies and adrenaline coursing through you, you’d comply; you’d let him do whatever he wanted to him anytime he wanted.

“‘m so close.” you whine, pulling on every part of him your hands can reach. a refreshed sense of determination builds in his eyes and he presses hard on your navel.

“so deep, can see it.” lewis slurs, eyes fixed on your belly.

those five words make you unravel, sending you hurtling over the edge. he can’t help but fuck you through it, hammering home while you spasm around him so tight that he struggles to move.

“fucking addicted to this pussy.” lewis groans, burying himself as deep as he can go.

you’re utterly enchanted as you watch him reach his release, gnawing at your bottom lip when his part in a moan, allowing gentle puffs of air to escape. his long eyelashes rest delicately over his cheeks as his eyes fall shut, your name spilling out of his mouth like a needy prayer.

you’re warm from the inside out, flushed and full when he settles, pressing his body weight into you completely.

two weeks later, you’re in japan, bored senseless in yet another press conference. lewis sits further down the couch, and you have to cross your legs every time he speaks. no one seems to notice, except him, of course.

when it’s your turn to speak, and you’re asked all about your little spat with sir lewis back in australia, you shrug, smirking.

“we made up.”

oof

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